The Circle of Slayers Series 9/35 Incomplete
Chapter 9: Agony
By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com
Rated PG-13 for violence
Keywords: Buffy and Spike…what else could there be?
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. They belong to Joss Whedon. Yadda
yadda yadda.
Summary for Chapter 9: Everyone must deal with the fact that Buffy is
missing and they have no idea where.


Chapter 9: Agony

Sunday, November 25th, 12:04 AM

    “Willow,” a gentle voice behind the Wicca said. She turned to see Tara
crouching by Spike casting a healing spell. Blood poured from an open wound
in his forehead and dark purple bruises aligned his jaw and cheeks. As her
eyes quickly checked over the rest of his body, she winced at the more than
noticeable way the left ribs in his stomach caved in. Bile rose in her
throat and she quickly swallowed it down, looking toward her lover’s eyes
instead. “I need help,” Tara told her, “We have to do it quick or he’ll
suffer permanent damage.”

    Dismissing her distrust of the vampire, Willow knelt down next to him and
added her power to Tara’s. It took several minutes of hard work, but they
finally got the bleeding stopped, the tissues healed and the bones knitted.
The vampire moaned painfully and slowly opened his eyes, still not fully
aware of where he was. He stared up at the two women and lightly grazed his
hand over his temple.

    “This is turning into a habit.” Willow murmered to herself as Spike tried
to sit up. He hissed in pain and slid back onto the floor.

    Tara gently pushed him further onto the floor, “Lie still. You were lucky
Riley didn’t impale you on that thing.”

    “Buffy…” Spike murmered as he struggled to sit up. Tara took his shoulders
and helped him, “Where is she? Where did that ponce take her? I have to get
her back…have to get her back…”

    Tara laid a maternally gentle hand on his shoulder, “We don’t know, Spike.
Riley has her.”

    “Then I’ll find him,” Spike growled as he ran his fingers through his hair,
“I’ll find him and I’ll tear him to shreds!”

    “There’s not much you can do, Spike.” Tara answered, “That staff…it gave
him immense power. Buffy could hardly fight him. We need to find out what
happened to him, what that staff is and where he could be. But that’s all we
can do right now.”

    “I don’t give a bloody damn what happened to him! I’m going to get her
back!” he shouted with a viciousness that none had heard from him for years.
He clenched his fingers into fists, holding back the demon that struggled to
arise within him, “I’m not losing her. Not again!”

    “We’ll get her back, Spike.” The vampire looked up at the source of the
quiet voice. It was Dawn, walking silently out of the mess and rubble. Spike
looked into her hazel eyes, both worldly and innocent. The horrifying
nightmares that child had gone through, it was enough to make him sick. “We
have to. We always save the day, remember? You’ll see.” The young girl
smiled, struggling to bring forth all the hope and confidence she could
muster.

    Spike was humbled by her strength. He knew she was feeling the same
hopeless desperation he was. As Dawn kneeled down beside him, Spike smiled
and laid a strong hand on the child’s shoulder. “You’re right, Sweet Bit. We
always win in the end.” The vampire struggled to his feet, wincing with pain
from the recuperating wound in his side.

    “Here, let me help,” Dawn said as she quickly stood up. She slung his arm
over her shoulder and slowly led him to the doors to the alleyway. The
alleyway where only an hour go he had been kissing her and touching her and
holding her. While Spike fell into his memories, Dawn jerked her head toward
a less injured Xander, stooped near the bar. Her eyes asked for help as she
struggled with the vampire’s weight. For a moment, Xander stood there,
distrust in his eyes. But silently, he walked forward and took Spike’s other
arm. The blonde vampire looked toward the man questioningly, but did not
refuse their help. Together, the three of them made their way slowly out of
the Bronze and down the alleyway. They did not speak once as they ambled
toward the cemetery.

~

    Xander lowered Spike onto his chair. Dawn turned toward Xander, who brought
her aside and spoke to her in a quiet voice, “I have to go back to the
Bronze and check up on things. Do some Harvey Boy stuff. I can take you home
now, Anya is there.”

    “It’s okay, I can go myself.” Dawn told him.

    “Big O-Nay, Awn-Day,” Xander told her, “There are scary things out there
and I don-“

    “Look, my house is just six blocks away. I will be fine. You’re needed at
the Bronze, not here with me. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

    “All right, but no making out with ‘I Was A Teenage Vampire’? All right?”

    Dawn blushed at the Halloween memory and forced herself to smile. She found
it harder and harder as the shock of Buffy’s disappearance had worn in,
“I’ll be home soon.”

    Xander, “See ya later, Dawnmeister.” He pulled the girl forward into a
quick embrace and kissed the top of her head before he let her go. She
squeezed his hand in reassurance and Xander gave one quick (almost
concerned, Spike thought) look at the vampire and left the crypt.

    Turning back to Spike, Dawn perched herself up on the stone sarcophagus.
The vampire had leaned his head back and had his eyes closed as if he were
asleep. Dawn sighed shakily and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her
knees and her head in her hands.

    ‘Why do these things happen?’ she thought to herself, ‘I just got her back,
I can’t lose her now. What happened to Riley? Why is he like this? Tonight,
Buffy was happy. Truly happy. And that stupid jerk had to come and take her
away! Everything was normal, I was dancing and Buffy was smiling and
everything was okay. Why d-‘

    “You don’t have to stay for me, Nibblet.” A strangely quiet voice spoke,
startling Dawn out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Spike staring at
her from his seat in the chair.

    “Huh?”

    “I said you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, pet. Just need to rest
for a bit.” Spike forced himself to give her a weak smile.

    “It’s okay, Spike,” Dawn answered, “Really.”

    Spike nodded and looked down towards the ground. They both sat there for
who knows how long. Simply in silence. Both thinking their lost thoughts.
Both knowing they were thinking the same thoughts. Both feeling a sickening
familiarity of being alone.

    “We have to get her back.” Dawn whispered. No one would have heard her, had
it not been for the strained silence or the vampire’s keen senses.

    “Yeah, luv.”

    “We don’t have a choice. We just get her back. We find the monster and save
the day, right? Just like old times.”

    “Just like old times.”

    “And we did do it for a while without her, right? Before she…came back. So,
really, we shouldn’t be worried…because the good guys always win in the end.
We always win.”

    Spike merely nodded and the room fell back into silence. It was a long
while before Dawn spoke again.

    “What’s wrong with Riley?”

    “I don’t know, luv.”

    “It was like he was crazy or something…and that staff he had…I didn’t think
anyone could do anything like that, especially Riley.”

    “People change, remember, Bit?” Spike said, looked up at her, “Sometimes
for the worse, sometimes for the better.”

    “Yeah,” Dawn answered, looking down at her hands, “I think I should go
home. I need to be alone for a while.”

    Dawn hopped off her perch and walked across the crypt to the door. Spike
got up and followed her, limping slightly. He opened the door and walked out
with her, silently walking her home. They did not speak until they reached
the Summer’s home. Dawn opened the door and turned around, staring deeply
into Spike’s troubled eyes.

    “We will find her.”

    “I know, Nibblet, I know,” Spike said with forced conviction. Sighing, Dawn
opened the door and went into the house, leaving the vampire alone in the
dark.

~

    Spike stopped when he reached the door of his crypt. He seemingly stared
into nothing; everything had lost its touch, its purpose. When Buffy had
died, he remembered his aimless wanderings around the cemetery, part of his
mind hoping that he would catch her finishing off a vampire. He would pop
out of the bushes and they would once again fight, and brag, and cry…and
fight. He stood that way in front of his empty home for some time; how long
he didn’t know.

    Eventually he turned around, sighing heavily. He stared up at the dark sky,
noticing the full moon shining down upon the grass. He remembered the way
the moon had shone upon her delicate face before the attack. He remembered
the way she had blushed when she had taken off his shirt to dress his
wounds. And he remembered one night where he and his Slayer had become one.
Was it only two weeks ago that Buffy told him she loved him?

    He realized it was nearly 2 AM, but it seemed so early for some reason. And
to think, only three hours ago, he had been dancing with his golden angel.
She had been staring into his eyes with only comfort and love. He could
still feel her heart beating against his chest, as if it yearned to make his
beat. And though it did not beat for him, he knew it beat for her. Always
for her.

    She was gone. He suddenly found an unnatural need for breath and cursed
himself for forgetting to buy cigarettes yesterday. No…she couldn’t be gone.
Not now. She was just somewhere else. All he needed to do was find her. He
turned back to the door of his crypt and opened it, walking across the crypt
and down the ladder to his bed.

    He kneeled down beside the bed, placing his arm upon the sheets and resting
his forehead against them. He remembered the feel of her, surrounding him
and the sweet taste of her mouth. He could still feel her rapid heartbeat
straining against his and her breath ragged and warm in his ear.

    He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the memories, but he knew he
couldn’t. She was in him and he couldn’t ignore that even if he wanted to.
His stomach was feeling nauseous and his throat was horribly constricted. If
it was if his body was accepting what his heart could not. Buffy was gone.

    He breathed in once again, heavily, trying to relieve his incoming headache
and winced slightly at the pain in his side. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open
and his head jerked up. It was there…the scent of her. Metallic blood
coupled with vanilla and rose.

    “Buffy?” Spike called out into the encroaching darkness, “Buffy, are you
there?”

    Spike got up and wandered without purpose through his dark abode, hoping
with all his heart that she would be there. He shifted his duster, but as
the familiar leather brushed his face, he realized where the scent came
from. The warm, comforting smell of his fair angel had drifted onto his coat
when she had worn it, only a couple hours before.

    “Oh, god no…” he whispered as his throat went even more raw. The
overwhelming grief he had been holding back now spewed forth, his body
shaking in tune with his choking sobs. With a roar of rage, he kicked his
chair away, which hit the floor near his television. He stumbled blindly and
came up heavily against his sarcophagus. Leaning against it, he let his head
fall forward as his anguish overtook him. His fists clenched at his sides
and his face twisted as the tears poured down his face. He slid down the
stone surface with his knees drawn up and wept.

    When he could weep no more, he just sat there, staring into the shadows of
his home. Buffy was gone. He had failed. Again. Over and over in his mind,
the memories trapped him, taunting him for not being there. For not winning.
He knew he could have won. He could have stopped him, but he didn’t.

      Riley…The name filled him with rage as overwhelming as the grief that
still gripped him. Pushing himself up from the floor, he jumped to his feet.
Tearing aside the television set, he found his blade. He ripped off his
duster and threw it down the ladder.  He caught his sword up and without
further thought, hurried out of his crypt.

    He nearly ran through the trails, leaping past gravestones and racing past
mausoleums. He turned a corner and saw a startled vampire, her demonic
visage tinged with surprise. Before she could growl a response, she exploded
into a pile of dust as her head was neatly cleaved from her shoulders. He
paid it no mind; there was only one thing on his mind now. He had to do
something to alleviate this rage.

    This side of the cemetery was deserted, as he thought it would be. There
were no tombs around here for vampires to hang out in. That was fine; he
didn’t want an audience anyway. Weaving his sword through the air, he
marched through the dark shadows of the night, prowling and hunting for
anything. He gripped the sword tightly in his hands, so tightly that his
fingers ached from the pain. But he enjoyed the pain. Pain made him forget.

    His knee slammed into a hard surface and he didn’t bother biting back a
heavy oath as he stumbled to the ground. He looked up at what he had hit and
he growled deep in his throat.

Buffy Anne Summers
1981-2001
She Saved The World
A Lot

    They hadn’t taken out the tombstone? This painful reminder that she was
gone? That they had no way of bringing her back? With a roar of animal rage,
he got up, raised the sword over his head, and brought it down upon the
grave. The sword could not slice through the cold stone, but a large piece
chipped off the side. He threw the sword down and attacked the tomb, using
his strength and primal anger to rip it out of the ground. He used his
bleeding fists to break the stone apart until there was nothing but rubble
on an empty grave.

    It wasn’t enough. He moved to the next tombstone, and punched, again and
again. Soon that grave lay in ruins at his feet as well. And again he moved
on down the row of tombstones, his anguish driving his strength on like a
wild fire.

    But soon his strength failed him and stopped, his breath coming out in
pants, blood pouring down between his knuckles and dripping off his
fingertips. He stumbled back to Buffy’s grave and shame filled him at what
he had done. Turning, he walked away from what he had done, leaving his
sword behind.

    Back in his crypt, Spike walked in the dark corridors of his dark chamber.
He walked toward the bed but stopped. He couldn’t go in there now. Instead,
he turned and walked to the ladder. He found his duster there, strewn
carelessly on the ground from where he had thrown it. He took it and wrapped
it around himself, collapsing into the nearby couch and closing his eyes.
Tears leaked out from underneath his lashes as he sobbed.

    “Buffy…”


~

    Riley seemingly phased into existence, the dark glass ball tagging along
behind him. He had seemed to come out of the shadows and he smiled at the
ebony staff he held, and casually twirled it with both hands. The room he
entered was dark, shadows swallowing every hint of light. With a casual wave
of his hand, glowing balls of light seemed to appear out of nowhere along
the walls, casting the shadows aside. The lights revealed sumptuously, if a
bit gloomy, decorated room. The colour scheme was red and black, with a few
touches of gold. A bed with red satiny sheets lay in a corner and a
fireplace crackled with an unnatural blood red glow. Couches and chairs
adorned the rest of the room.

    He turned back and stared at the dark bubble, floating before him, and he
smiled. ‘She’ll fit in quite nicely here’, he thought. If he could keep her
from destroying the place, that is. Ah well, that didn’t matter anyway. This
flimsy phase of existence could be recreated in a second. It’s quite handy
to have a portal parting staff. He went to twirl the staff with one hand
this time and winced in pain.

    Blinking hard, he turned to mend his wounded shoulder. Damn that stupid
blonde, he thought to himself. He had been too confident. With this new
weapon, he thought no one could touch him, let alone hurt him. No one should
have been able to touch him. And that look of loving confidence he had had
when he wrapped his arms around her. It was sick. Utterly twisted. Spike was
going to be a bigger problem than he thought. He’d have to watch him.

    The wound was no worse than a bleeding aching bruise and one delicate touch
with his staff was enough for it to heal in no time. Once that was done, he
turned to the woman encased in glass. He passed the staff over the surface,
chanting a few words as he did so. The bubble fell in pieces at his feet and
dissolved into a black mist.

    “Riley!” Buffy shouted as she was released from the spell. “What the hell
is wrong with you? Where am I?” She glanced around frantically before
turning back to him; her eyes filled with confusion and fear, “Never mind,
just take me back. Now.”

    “Now, now Buffy,” he purred, stepping forward and taking a delicate hand in
his, “You just got here. Why don’t you stay a while, maybe you’ll like it.”

    She jerked her hand out of his grasp, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,
Riley, but this isn’t you. This is…something else. Now, just take me back
and we can figure something out. Help you. Just take me back, Riley,
please.”

    Riley’s easy smile turned more primal and vicious as he spoke, “What’s
wrong, Buffy? I thought you like a little monster in your man. That’s what
Spike said anyway.”

    “You’re not a monster, Riley.” Buffy stammered, “I need to go back home.
I’m needed there.”

    “By what, Buffy? By the next monster ready to rip your head off? Or your
little friends hounding you at every turn? Or maybe from your next romp in
the ditch with your new boy toy. I can set you free, Buffy. I can make you
forget about all of this. And them.”

    “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here,” Buffy answered, anger
tinging the tone of her hard voice, “But you are going to get me out of
here, now.”

    “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.” Riley told her, walking closer to
her.

    “Why?” Buffy asked, a horrible anxiety creeping into her features.

    “Because I want you, that’s why,” he said. He moved forward, grasping her
waist with his arm, the other arm still holding the staff, and plunging her
toward his mouth. He wrapped her into his arms and thrust his tongue into
her mouth, reveling in the taste and feel of her.

    Startled, Buffy tried desperately to fight back, but her terror and panic
made her feel weak. She was helpless as his tongue roughly explored her
mouth, so unlike the tender kisses she was used to. She kept on fighting
back, but Riley roughly took her hand and clenched it around the staff he
carried, his larger hand keeping hers in place.

    Through the connection with the staff, Riley sent his consciousness into
hers, seeking out her memories. He saw birth, love, and death. He saw Spike.
Spike making love to her and whispering beautiful things into her ear. With
an angry growl, he ripped the memories from her mind.

    The Slayer screamed as pain ripped through her mind, and pushed herself out
of her grasp. He had been in her, prowling through her mind and pillaging
her thoughts and dreams. Riley grimaced; he knew she was strong, but he
hadn’t expected this to happen. He didn’t know that she would cling so
strongly to her memories of that blonde idiot.

    He roughly grabbed her arm again and pushed the staff into her hand,
crushing her fingers into the rough wood. She fought him, kicking him in the
stomach, but his hold on her remained the same. She roughly turned and
twisted against him, and Riley could feel his grip on her vanishing and
desperately pushed her hand into the wood. She grimaced as the wood serrated
into her hand, roughly cutting the soft skin.

    Before Buffy could react once more, the power tore into her mind again.
She could feel it drowning her memories and raping her thoughts. She had
never felt so naked and helpless and she sobbed in desperation. As the pain
drew to a climax, she stiffened and fell limp into the ex-commando’s arms.
He lowered her gently to the floor and quickly checked her over. She was
breathing slowly and her heart was still beating.

    “Buffy,” Riley whispered, stroking her cheek, “Wake up.”

    To his great relief, she opened her dazed hazel eyes and blinked. She
looked up at him with a confused look.

    “Are you all right?” Riley asked.

    Her eyebrows drew together in confusion and her eyes were uncomprehending,
“I-I don’t know…” She sat up and looked around herself, and then at him,
“Who are you?”

    Startled, Riley sat back on his heels with a dumbfounded look on his face,
“You mean you don’t know, Buffy?”

    As Buffy stared at him, puzzled, Riley prayed to himself that he hadn’t
stole the wrong memories from her.

    She shook her head. “I’m sorry…I don’t know you,” She looked down at her
hands and brought them up to her face, “Who’s Buffy?”




The Circle of Slayers Series 10/35 Incomplete
Chapter 10: A Bonding of Souls
By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com
Rated PG-13 for a teensy weensy bit of violence
Keywords: Buffy and Spike…what else could there be?
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. They belong to Joss Whedon. Yadda
yadda yadda. Archibald the Pytho Demon and Jariath the elf belong to me.
Summary for Chapter 10: Spike learns a bit more about his gift to Buffy.


Chapter 10: A Bonding of Souls

Sunday, November 25th, 8:03 AM

    The scaled sword master wandered the cemetery; idly hoping a few stupid
teenagers would show up so he could swallow their entrails. He lurked in the
shadows of the trees and thought he saw something strange up ahead.
Archibald moved forward to get a closer look.

    The Pytho Demon froze: An entire line of tombstones had been reduced to
rubble. Archibald walked slowly along the line of graves. Nothing remained
of them except chipped and bloodied stone and the few traces of names and
dates. He picked one piece of rubble up and examined it the beaten remains
of a word on it.

Buf-

    The Slayer’s tombstone.

    As he scanned the rest of the cemetery, he spotted something in the trimmed
grass of the yard. He came to a stop over it and looked down on it in
silence only for a moment before picking it up. Dusting off the hilt, he
recognized it and frowned. He turned quickly and strode off into the
shadows, now dimly illuminated by the rising sun.

~

    “Spike, stop.”

    “Sod off.” The vampire answered flatly. His head pounded relentlessly and
his eyes felt as if he had just stared at the sun for a couple hours. He had
gotten up before dawn after only a few hours of restless sleep. He had
broken into the Magic Box before the sun rose, where the Scoobies found him
pacing the store like a caged lion. His eyes stared furiously at the floor
and his fists were clenched at his sides, hard enough to leave deep red
welts of his fingernails into his palms. He was dressed in his normal
attire, having cast off the poncey clothes he wore yesterday. “I’m going to
find Buffy,” he said suddenly, turning and grabbing up his trench coat.

    Giles stepped forward and grabbed his arm before he reached the door, “And
where do you propose you’re going to start?” the Watcher asked, “We don’t
have as much as a clue as to where Riley has taken her. She could be
anywhere.”

    “The Initiative Caves.” Spike replied shortly, shaking Giles’ arm off and
shrugging his duster around his shoulders.

    “Do you really think the Initiative is involved in this?” Giles asked.

    “It’s a place to start.”

    “Think for a moment, Spike. Even if the Initiative had something to do with
this, why would they take the Slayer? You know as well as we do that this is
a personal agenda. Riley wants Buffy back, plain and simple and he has
obviously gone to any means to do so.”

    “Maybe I’ll find something there.” Spike answered.

    “All right then, be a daft git and go out into the sun and take a pleasant
noonday stroll. Or maybe you’ll be lucky and run into a couple demons that
have taken over the place and fancy ripping your head off. You wouldn’t last
two minutes out there, chip or no chip.”

    “I’ll manage.” The vampire answered, his tone becoming more menacing.

    “You won’t!” Giles shouted sharply, adding even more tension to the scene
before them, “Not by yourself. As much as I dislike you or whatever you have
been doing to Buffy, I will not let you kill yourself on a fool’s errand!”

    The blonde vampire growled ferociously and walked forward toward the
Watcher, “A fool’s errand?” he yelled, “Is that what finding Buffy is to
you? Am I a fool for wanting the only person that will ever love me back?”

    The Scoobies stared at Spike, angry at his accusations and shocked at the
idea of the Slayer being in love with him.

    Exasperated with the century old vampire, Giles grabbed the collar of
Spike’s duster and drew him roughly forward to him, “Listen to us, dammit!”

    Spike gave the Watcher a hard look and growled in a low voice, “I thought
you loved Buffy like a daughter, old man. It’s good to know whose side
you’re really on.”

    Giles snarled and drew his arm back, punching Spike across the face and
sending him to the floor in a muffled heap. “How dare you?” Giles grated,
“When only two years ago you would have jumped for a chance like this.”
Spike grimaced from the pain but stood up. Two pairs of eyes were locked on
each other, each challenging the other to throw the next punch.

    “Stop this!” Willow ordered. Neither man looked away from each other. She
stepped forward and put both her hands on each of their arms. “Spike, you’re
upset. We all are. But just because she’s missing doesn’t mean you should go
off and kill yourself.” The steel behind her words broke through their
intense anger. Spike looked away from Giles’ eyes to hers.

    “We all want her back and going kamikaze is not going to help. I don’t know
what you and Buffy have, but I have the feeling if anything happened to you
she would shove a piece of wood through #our# chests.” She gripped both
their arms a little tighter, willing them to stand down. “Just listen to us.
We need every single one of us to find a way to get her back. We need to
work together and I won’t allow any fighting, do you understand? Once we get
a plan, every one of us has claim to a chunk of Riley’s ass, k?”

    “I just can’t stand here.” The tone in the vampire’s voice was
heartbreaking.

    “We need time.” Giles said as he stepped back and went to the window to put
the “Closed” Sign up, despite Anya’s muffled complaints, “Time to find out
where she is and how to defeat Riley.”

    Spike’s mouth twisted bitterly and he walked to the stairs, resting on top
of them with his elbows on his knees.

    “Well, at least Spike’s chip isn’t working anymore.” Anya chirped, her arm
around her fiancée's waist.

    “Huh?” Everyone looked up at the blonde proprietor.

    “Well, he can’t hurt people right? And he hurt Riley, who is a person, last
night. That would mean that his chip doesn’t work.”

    Spike stood up and slapped Giles in the head, and both grabbed their heads
in pain. “Nope…” Spike grunted.

    “Then maybe Riley isn’t a person…” Dawn started for the first time that
morning, her cheeks still showing the red tracks of tearstains, “Maybe he’s
a vampire-“

    “Riley is no vampire, luv.” Spike told the girl, “I know vampires and that
wasn’t it.”

    “That means you can hurt him,” Dawn said excitedly, “You can fight him, so
at least we have someone here who can fight…not like I’m saying no one here
can fight….”

    Tara nodded and walked toward the couch, sitting on the armrest, “No one’s
doubting you can fight him, Spike, and if you can it would do a lot of help.
I have a feeling we’re not going to get out of this without someone getting
a black eye.”

    “A lot of help that did me.” Spike muttered.

    “You managed to hurt him last night, Spike, when no one else could get at
least six feet near him,” Tara told the vampire, “But you can’t just fight
him with a big stick, you’ll need some sort of spell or enchanted weapon.”

    Spike managed to smile for the young girl. He knew the girl didn’t know him
long enough to really distrust or hate him and she probably was the closest
person she had to an ally right now after Dawn. “Thanks, luv.” He told her,
patting her hand that smiled shyly at him.

    “Sorry about that, Jeeves,” Spike said to the Watcher who only nodded back,
still rubbing the ache in his head.

    Giles shook his head, “I guess it’s understandable. You’re upset. Very
upset. But one thing is certain Spike, we will get Buffy back. Leave it us
to find a way.”

    “So am I just going to twiddle my thumbs while you aces conjure up a master
scheme to save the day?” Spike asked.

    “Get your strength back,” Dawn said, who had plopped next to him on the
couch. She hugged him furiously, “Be in the best shape when we find Riley so
you can kick the crap out of him.”

    Unable to resist, Spike chuckled and put his arm around the teenager, “You
can count on it, Bit.”

    “Do you want to help us?” Dawn asked, while the rest of the Slayerettes
winced and shook their heads at her.

    Spike shook his head. “I don’t think so, Nibblet. Magic and me don’t go
well together, if you get my drift. And I won’t be any good here, anyway.”

    The brunette smiled at him, “We’ll be here all day probably. If you need
anything…or if you just want to talk or something, you know I’m here.”

    Spike stroked the young girl’s cheek affectionately. “You’re a lot braver
than a lot of people give you credit for, luv.” Dawn took his hand and
squeezed it gently, reassuring the vampire and got up and went back to the
table with Tara.

    Spike sighed and got up off the couch. He turned, grabbed his familiar
blanket that he had left by the door when he had come in and rushed out, the
Scoobies already reaching out for their books.

~

    Spike was distracting himself with an episode of Gilligan’s Island. He had
been in his crypt for who knows how long, desperately waiting for the sun to
come down. Feeling restive, he got up off the chair, turned off the TV and
wandered down the ladder to his sitting room. He found himself at the couch
where Buffy had been busy researching swords for him and he found a book on
Medieval Daggers resting half underneath the couch. He picked it up and
leafed through the pages, filled with drawings and labels of different
weapons. He set it down casually on the couch and sat down. This is where
Buffy had set, where she had kissed him, where everything had changed. He
could still remember how her hair had been up and what shirt she wore.

    Suddenly, Buffy’s presence was too much for him and he found himself
desperately wanting out. He turned around and swiftly made his escape before
the uncontrollable grief escaped him.

~

    Spike wandered through the dark streets without really seeing them or
knowing at all where he was going. He simply walked and didn’t stop. He
focused on the steady beat of his footfalls and the dim streetlights. He
didn’t want to think of anything else. He eventually found himself at the
warehouses and ignored all manner of demon or human that came around. It was
with little surprise that he found himself back at Silver City. Hesitating
for only a moment, he turned and headed for Jariath’s shop. The friendly old
eyes of the elf would be a comfort to him.

    A new bell that the elf had installed tinkled over the doorway as the
vampire entered. Spike looked toward the counter and peered into the musty
darkness beyond. “’Ello? Jariath?” he called out.

    “Coming, coming,” came the voice of the merchant from behind the curtain.
The familiar elf came out and smiled at his familiar friend, “Spike! What
are you doing here? No, wait, have you brought over your girlfriend for me
to see? Did she like the gift?”

    “She’s not here.” Spike said mournfully.

    “Why not? I told you to bring her along, didn’t I? If this is about the
armbands, you know that there are no exchanges, refunds or return policies.
What you take is what you get.”

    “No,” Spike told the elf, “It’s not like that…she’s gone. She was taken
away last night-“

    “Taken away?” Jariath interrupted, walking up in front of him. “What
happened, boy?”

    The blonde vampire sighed and lowered his head, “It’s a long story, mate. I
don’t even think I know what bloody well happened.”

    The elf took the vampire’s arm and led him around the corner and past the
curtain, “Come inside and we’ll have something to drink and you can tell me
everything.”

~

    “And she was just…gone…” Spike finished off his beer and set it back down
on the table. He stared at it as he spoke, his eyes seemingly lost in the
glass, “We don’t even have a bloody clue as to where she is,” He voice broke
as he told the elf his greatest fear, something he had even refused to
consider before, “Or even if she’s still alive.”

    “Spike, you don’t think she’s dead, do you?” Jariath asked.

    “I…I don’t think so,” he replied slowly and then firmly shook her head,
“She’s not dead…I would know. I always know. Ever since last night, it was
like she was inside me. It was like there was this giant light, you know,
making me see everything. God…the beer must be getting to me.”

    Jariath took his left hand and tapped the gold band with his index finger,
“The bands I gave you. They’re Soulbonding Bands.”

    “Soulbonding?” Spike asked incredulously, one eyebrow raised.

    “Yes, the connection of two souls through an enchanted piece of jewelry.
Haven’t you heard of that before? Geez…”

    “Sorry to disappoint you, mate, but there’s only one soul in this
relationship.”

    “Oh Gods, you demons and humans with your stupid soul stories!” Jariath
cried out, exasperated. “What do you think a soul is, vamp?”

    “I don’t know…something that makes you feel remorse…and get all broody…and
sappy…and style your hair really bad…”

    “Look, Blondie. I’ll tell you about souls. See, a soul is what divides
stone from flesh. If you can feel, you must have a soul, or you’re a rock or
something. See, the thing is humans believe that a soul allows you to feel
mercy and love, which it does, but anger and passion are apparently
not…happy emotions. And when someone kills without guilt or remorse and does
so many horrible things humans are so freaked out that they believe that
something that is so evil must not have a soul. It’s what mortals do to
separate themselves from monsters, make themselves believe that they could
never be like them, because of a soul. But that’s not true. Some of the most
horrible killers have been humans and some of the most decent guys I’ve met
have been demons. The true is, friend, anything that can feel anything must
have a soul. It’s that simple.”

    “But what about Angel?”

    “When a human is turned into a vampire, their soul is changed, not ripped
from them. It’s changed into something more primal, more vicious, more of a
rabid animal’s. When Angelus was cursed, his soul was changed to that of a
human. But the soul was still there, the whole time. Just changed. You have
a soul. Everything in this world has a soul of some sort or another.”

    Spike swallowed, still trying to digest this information.

    “So, you’re saying these…Soulbonding Bands…they connect us together…read
each other’s minds…”

    “Oh no, dear child, a piece of jewelry does not have that much power.” The
old elf smiled and patted his hand, “These bands only amplify what is
already there. True Soulbonding has nothing to do with that. True
Soulbonding comes from here.” He put his hand over the younger man’s
unbeating heart and fixed him with a look that was both scowl and smile. “I
can tell that you’re bond is already strong; you’ve probably been bonded
longer than you recognize. You have always felt as if you knew what she was
thinking, feeling, yes?”

    The vampire looked down at his hands, “Well, yeah…but I just thought I had
a knack at reading personalities. Good judge of character and all
that…but…yeah, I’ve always…felt her in me, even when I wanted to kill her.”

    “There you are then,” Jariath nodded, then leaned forward suddenly, “Do you
want to find Buffy?”

    “What kind of stupid question is that?” Spike started, already tired of the
elf’s cryptic statements, “Of course I want to find her, you soddin’ git!”

    “Then look for her with your heart. Use what you have – the Bands will help
you.”

    “What the hell are you getting at?” Spike looked down at his wrist and
remembered the feeling of shock that he and Buffy had felt when they put it
on.

    The silver haired elf sighed and shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.
Not because I don’t want to, mind you, but because it’s something that you
can’t describe in words. You have to find out yourself.”

    “Oh!” Spike barked, “Just what I need! Another soddin’ clue! That’s it,
then?”

    Jariath shook his head once more, “I can’t explain it, it’s not something
that can be understood. It has more to do with well…your soul. It’s the
language of souls, how they speak to each other. When you are bonded by the
bands, it becomes more clear, easier to recognize. It’s both fantastic and
frightening at the same time. The souls merge together, so that the two
separate minds can recognize thoughts and feelings. Just take what you have
with her…and focus it. Then you will find her.”

    “So I focus? I bloody focus it! All right then, I’ll focus. I’ll focus as
hard as I bloody well can.” Spike was becoming even more exasperated.

    “Again, it’s a matter of finding out yourself. There is no trick, you just
have to find it and use it.”

    The vampire sighed and lifted his head, his blue eyes darkened, “Well, at
least I know I can start somewhere…thanks, Jariath. You have no idea what
this means to me.” He shook himself and his eyes wandered the cluttered
room, “I should be going back now.” Standing, he headed towards the curtain
that separated the back room from the shop. He’d just moved the cloth aside
when Jariath spoke up behind him.

    “Remember, Spike. Feel, don’t think. That’s the only way you’ll find her.”

    Spike stared at the tall elf mournfully for a moment, then disappeared
through the curtain, out of Jariath’s sight.

~

    After the teeming warehouses, the graveyard seemed deathly quiet. Excuse
the pun. Spike deliberately took a wrong turn to avoid having to go back to
the crypt that seemed so empty without her. Just like he felt.

    He wandered along the walkways that traveled through the cemetery and then
walked through the streets, past finely trimmed hedges and streetlights. He
soon found himself at Willy’s Bar.

    He was drawn inside the dimly lit Bar. There were still quite a couple
vampires and a few demons hanging around so he went to one of the back
booths to avoid everyone. The atmosphere was restful however and he found
himself comforted by the familiar surroundings and smells.

    Over the next few minutes, the demons wandered off into the streets, a few
at a time. He was aware of the curious glances that they shot at him, but he
shrugged it off. He kept his eyes fixed to the lights coming off the clear
ashtray set in the middle of the table.

    “Need anything, buddy?”

    “What?” he asked and looked up. It was Willy of course, washing his hands
off with a dishtowel.

    “I said do you want anything?”

    “No,” the vampire answered, “I’m just…I just need to think. Someplace
quiet.”

    The bartender looked as he was about to protest, but thought better of it,
“You know, I usually don’t like loitering, but I’ll let it slip just this
once. If you need a beer, just let me know, k? I’ll be in the back…and the
cashier is locked, so don’t even think about it.” Spike nodded and Willy
wandered into the bar’s backroom.

    Alone in the bar, Spike leaned forward and rested his elbows on the
tabletop; his hands clenched out in front of him. He thought about Jariath’s
words about the Soulbond.
Turning his hand over, he stared at the band on his left wrist. He ran his
deft fingers over it; if he really concentrated he could almost feel the hum
of something inside…a hidden power locked. Jariath had told him the power
amplified what was already there and that he just needed to focus it. Taking
a deep breath, Spike decided it was better to try here than anywhere else.

    He bowed his head, closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing upon his
longing and willpower to find Buffy. He imagined the emotions concentrated
inside the band. He felt something leap within him, expanding until it
completely filled him. A warmth that was undeniably human. He tried to grasp
it but it slipped through the cracks and disappeared as soon as it had come.

    Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind for another attempt. Jariath had
told him to feel, not think. So Spike decided to feel. He felt the way her
soft lips brushed against his bruised lips after he had been tortured by
Glory. The clear light shining from her eyes when she leaped off the tower.
The way she stumbled when she was drunk. The way her warm breath filtered
into his ear as she told him she loved him.

    Suddenly, the warmth filled him again. He felt human. His heart was
beating, yet it wasn’t. And he was breathing, yet there was no breath. He
took in a deep breath to steady himself and stopped.

    Blood and vanilla.

    Buffy. He was in Buffy. She was there. Before she could be lost, he reached
out to her.

    #Where are you, Buffy?# he thought along the bond, his feelings of longing
and joy shaping the words, #Tell me where you are and I’ll find you!#

    Darkness was his answer. Darkness…desire…relief…confusion. They were
unformed images giving off the general sense of them. He felt her reaching
for him. Then very clearly, he felt a frustrated, #Who are you?#

    Startled, he sat back. The sudden shock shut off the bond and he could feel
the warmth cruelly tear out of him.

    “Buffy?” he dimly whispered into the dimness of the bar, “What has he done
to you?”