Spike ran through the streets of Sunnydale for most of the night, trying to catch a scent trail of the missing Slayer. All the while wondering why only he saw evidence of the Slayer's life, her room, and her intoxicating scent. All his memories of fighting her and exchanging verbal barbs were intact; unlike her nearest and dearest who had no idea who he was talking about. Spike stumbled to a halt, 'Hang on! Nearest and dearest! The Poof!'

Spike ran towards a payphone and dug through his pockets, searching for change. He then stopped, realising he didn't know the old sod's number. He wracked his brain trying to recall the conversations he had eavesdropped on when he was chained in the Watcher’s tub. "Come on! Spike! Think! What was the name of the ponce's pathetic business?" Spike sank to the pavement and sat on the curb, resting his head in his hands, trying to remember what the Slayer and Red had chattered about all those weeks ago. Half starved and terrified, he had not been focused on the others, too busy moping and wondering what the hell would become of him.

What had become of him? One moment he hated Buffy and now… now he was trying to save her? Spike sighed; he avoided the dark corner of his undead heart, the area he had locked away after Red's ‘My Will be Done’ spell. The memories of the Slayer's hot little body wriggling all over him, the stolen kisses and the furtive groping. Mostly, he tried to suppress the memories of how right it had felt holding her. The depth of the feelings she evoked in him, then and now, terrified the vampire as much as they elated him, something that, until now, he had not allowed himself to investigate.

"That's it! Angel Investigations." Spike leapt to his feet and grabbed for the phone. He reached the operator and within seconds he was connected to the number, it rang for several long moments.

"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless."

Spike rolled his eyes at the chirpy voice. "All right, Cheerleader?"

"Who is this?" Cordelia's sharp tones demanded.

"Umm...is Peaches around?" Spike twisted the phone's cord around one long
finger.

"Spike! Spike? What are you doing calling here?" Cordelia's voice became even colder.

"Look, I ain't got time to shoot the breeze with yah, I need to have a chat with m'Grandsire about the Slayer," Spike growled impatiently.

"Buffy? What have you done with her? If you've hurt her in any way I'll…"

Spike's undead heart leapt. "You know Buff...who I'm talking about?" He could've kissed the annoying bint if she had been near him!

"Yeah, I know Buffy. Spike, what the hell is wrong with you? Has the bleach finally melted your brain?"

Spike slammed the receiver down and did what looked suspiciously like a Snoopy dance. He punched the air and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Yes!" He collected himself and glanced up and down the street making sure no one had seen his antics.

The phone began to ring behind him. Reaching over, he picked up the receiver. "Uhh…hullo?"

"Spike?"

The peroxide blond vampire winced at the annoying sound of his Grandsire's voice. "Peaches! How are they hangin’, mate? Should be nice and blue by now!"

"What are you ringing here asking about Buffy for? If you've hurt her in any way, I'll…"

"Yeah, yeah, rip me a new one, I know." Spike's mind raced, trying to think of a cover story. Last thing he needed was the brooding one sweeping in here and saving the day.

"Why did you call about Buffy?" Angel snarled.

"Uh… no reason, really. Was just wondering if you were still hankering after her?" Spike smirked evilly.

There was a pause. Angel drew in an unneeded breath. "Spike, has life got so boring you need to give me crank calls?"

"Yeah. Catch you later, Peach fuzz!" Spike slammed down the phone and stalked off into the night.

"So the Ponce remembers the Slayer, which means the spell is localised." Spike pondered to himself as he wandered through a small park. "Think, Spike. Who could cast a glamour over the Scoobies and the Slayer's Mum?" Spike began to pace in circles as he contemplated his and the Slayer's predicament. He desperately tried to remember when he had last seen the bint. It'd been two nights ago, just before Captain Cardboard had come to ask him about…

Spike stopped stock-still, as inspiration finally struck. "Oh, how bloody stupid am I?" Spike slapped his forehead. Of course! The blond vampire shook his head, this stank of Dracula and his gipsy tricks.

"You really want me to answer that, Fangless?"

Spike turned to face the newcomer, a sardonic smile lighting his face. He couldn’t resist needling the boy; he was evil, wasn’t he? "Well if it isn't Drac's new butt monkey! How's the Renfield position working out for yah, Whelp?"

Xander stepped forward, twisting his fingers and picking at the scabs on his cuticles. "Don't call me that! The Dark Master is my friend, he has promised to make me a creature of the night!"

Spike looked at the idiot facing him, dressed in his usual hideous Hawaiian shirt and baggy trousers, which were good for disguising the extra pounds the prat had put on. He arched his scarred brow. "So, eat any nummy spiders lately? Your demon bint is not a happy girl. I think she gonna have you dipped in sheep dip before she'll go anywhere near you!" Spike taunted the floppy git, his loathing for the boy apparent in his voice.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut Up!" Xander's voice echoed shrilly through the small park.

Spike watched through hooded eyes, he needed to get the idiot riled up enough that he would bolt for Drac's, in turn leading him there and hopefully to the Slayer. Spike figured that the Slayer had obviously gone to stake the show-off and had been snagged by the Transylvanian gipsy, who had, in turn, made sure that none of her mates and family remembered her. But why?

*********

Joyce remained seated at the breakfast counter. She held the now cool mug in her hands. She glanced over at Spike’s half drunk mug and frowned. She had never seen her midnight visitor so agitated and behaving so strangely. His anxiety and odd questions had unnerved her.

Rising, the middle-aged woman carried to mugs to the sink and washed them out automatically. Once she had finished, the tired woman trudged upstairs. Pausing on the landing, Joyce pushed open the door of the room Spike had been peering into from her roof.

She stumbled for a moment and blinked. Shaking her head, Joyce stared at the room as it changed before her eyes. Posters appeared on the walls, photographs of a blonde girl and her friends popped into existence before her startled eyes. Joyce raised a hand to her throat and stepped into the transformed room. Her eyes scanned the contents as confusion spread across her face, finally alighting on a small stuffed pig, which sat on the bed.

"Buffy?" she whispered as she collapsed in a dead faint on the floor.

*********

"How many is that for tonight?" Willow called from her perch on top of a crumbling mausoleum.

Riley wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and stuffed a stake into the pocket of his jacket. "Seven, I think. Should we try Spike's cemetery and see of those demons are there?"

Willow floated down to the ground. "Sure, why not? I mean, we checked once but maybe they are there now."

The two protectors of Sunnydale disappeared into the night, both unaware of their silent observer. A large grey wolf turned and streaked away into the night

*********

"It's impossible!" Anya slammed the book shut and a cloud of dust floated from it, causing her to sneeze.

"What is?" Tara asked mildly. She carefully turned the page of the Compendium she was reading.

"Xander. He is the only one who can break Dracula's hold. There's nothing we can do!" Anya threw her arms up and paced over to the cash till, reaching in to fondle to bills, trying to calm herself.

Giles nodded in agreement. "We need to capture Xander and reason with him."

"We could lay down a trail of dead bugs for him," Tara muttered under her breath. Giles glanced over at the usually quiet Wiccan, his mouth twitched at the corners.

"I heard that!" Anya whipped around and tried to glare at Tara, but failed and collapsed into a giggling pile on the floor. Giles cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, but began to laugh, propping himself up with his hands on his knees. Tara blushed slightly and eventually their infectious laughter was too much. She began to giggle as well.

Giles wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Anya, but really, the foolish boy is always getting into the most ridiculous scrapes! Hyena possession, falling for a Incan Mummy who then tried to suck his essence from him and… Oh! He also nearly turned into a sea monster!" With that Giles burst into a gale of laughter. "Honestly, if it wasn't for Bu…Willow, he would be the sex slave of a Preying Mantis or worse." Giles froze when he realised his slip. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Another flash of blond hair filled his mind and a vaguely remembered conversation, something about cats for shoes.

*********

"So, Whelp, what you doing lurkin’ in the park at night? Cruising or something?" Spike drawled, hoping that the jibe about the nit's sexuality might finally provoke Xander into running home to his Master. He needed someone to show him the way, the vampire didn’t want to waste anymore time searching.

"What?" Xander looked over that his nemesis in confusion.

"You know, cruisin’ for a boyfriend? Why else would you be out at this time, wandering through a park?" Spike folded his arms and mentally counted. 'One...two...three.'

"You're disgusting, Spike!" With that, Xander turned and began to run.

Spike waited a beat and then began to follow the panting boy.

*********

"And, of course, only in Sunnyhell!" Spike muttered under his breath as he watched Xander disappear into the sodding great castle that stood in front of the vampire. Spike was familiar with the entire area and knew that the gothic monstrosity that stood before him had not been there a few days ago. It had been a dog pound.

Spike squatted down behind some bushes and waited. He sniffed the air and a wide smile painted across his face. 'Slayer's been here and not too long ago.'

Spike crawled closer to the castle. He wanted to have a scout round before entering the proverbial lion’s den. 'Now what do I do? I'm not a bloody hero. How do I rescue her?'

*********

"Master? Master!" Xander yelled as he ran through the ornately furnished corridors of the castle. He stumbled to a halt in the great hall.

Dracula was seated at the head of the table tended by his three vampiric brides. The tallest looked over at the sweating mortal and grimaced. She flounced out of the hall without a word.

The room was candlelit and a roaring fire was at the other end of the long dining table. The minstrel's gallery was behind the Master vampire, where a blindfolded trio of musicians played their instruments. Dracula inhaled deeply, enjoying the stench of fear pouring off the soon to be dead musicians.

"What is it you want, little man?" Vlad the Impaler pushed away the two fawning female vampires and allowed one to settle at his feet and rest her head in his lap. His hand lay on her head, playing with her soft locks.

Xander glanced down briefly at the female vampire and frowned. "I...I want you, Master."

Dracula eyed to sweating boy with an amused glint to his eyes. "And you have me."

"Please." Xander sank to his knees. "Please, make me one of yours! I want the dark gift! Please, I need it," Xander sobbed.

Dracula rolled his eyes at the pathetic mess before him. He had no intention of granting the begging boy’s wishes. The mortal had been a means to an end, nothing more. "All in good time, my son."

"Yeah right! Come on, Drac. You and I both know that you're never gonna lay a fang on the Whelp!" Spike drawled as he entered the hall. He stood, dramatically framed in the arched doorway, slipping his hands in his pockets. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, exhaling smoke through his nose the he eyed the brunette vampire and his simpering minion. Spike tried not to grin at the sight of the whelp simpering and fawning over the Transylvanian Master vampire. ‘Trust Harris to be the weak-minded git who falls for Drac’s mind tricks…’ Spike sneered around his cigarette as he puffed on it.

"William the Bloody, it's been forever! Come take a seat." Dracula waved a hand to the seat at the other end of the table. He wanted as much room between the two of them as possible, acutely aware that the blond vampire was a deadly opponent if provoked. “How are you, my friend? Can’t remember the last time we met in the killing fields.”

"Been a while. Last time I saw you was in Venice, big poker game, remember?" Spike commented casually. As he flopped into the proffered chair, he swung one leg over the arm and eyed the vampire at the end of the long table. His black clad frame was relaxed, belying the tension that ran through the bleached blond vampire. Spike flicked the cigarette into the burning fire behind him, the flames dramatically lighting his sharp features.

"Wine?"

"Yeah, Puffy boy does that a lot!" Spike needled.

Dracula laughed. "True, he does, but the boy had his uses. I meant a drink."

One of the Brides appeared at Spike's shoulder and handed him a glass of red wine. Spike nodded his thanks. His nostrils flared at the scent of the Slayer, which saturated the woman next to him. He took a sip, his pale blue eyes never leaving his seated opponent. Spike sat casually, trying to act as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He could tell that the Slayer was close; he could smell her all over the room.

"So what brings you here?" Dracula asked quietly.

"Heard you were in town, figured I could catch up with an old mate." Spike took a long drink from the glass, emptying it. He held it out towards the silent female next to him, who filled it without comment. Spike nodded his thanks and took a deep breath, deciding to gamble. He knew Drac had something to do with the Slayer vanishing, her scent was everywhere in the castle, strongest in the room he was lounging in now. "Also came to collect on a debt." Spike tossed out the comment casually, throwing down a gauntlet.

Dracula arched a dark brow. "A debt?"

Spike snorted. "Yeah, you owe me eleven quid plus ninety-odd years interest, which you named the rate at. You know it! If I hadn't given you that dosh, those Venetians would've tied you to the to the Dome of the Basilica and I doubt your gypsy tricks would've saved you!"

"True," Dracula conceded.

"Master, you don't owe him anything! Let me stake him," Xander piped up from his prostrate position on the floor.

"Silence!" Dracula bellowed. His shout caused the hidden female vampire at his feet to whimper in fear, drawing Spike's attention to her.

"You got someone under the table? Picked up that trick from Casanova, didn’t you, Drac? She any good?" Spike teased. He leant over and peered under the table. He could make out a small form, whose head was resting in Dracula’s lap. Spike couldn’t make out her features.

"Leave us." Dracula ignored Spike and glared at Xander.

"But, Master! Please don't make me leave your divine presence," Xander begged as he crawled backwards out of the room.

"Go to my chambers and wait for me there," the dark haired vampire ordered.

"Oh, thank you, Master." Xander crawled the rest of the way out of the room. Spike watched him as he left with a large smile on his face.

"Man, that just made my unlife, seeing Floppy boy on his hands and knees." Spike raised his glass in a toast to Dracula.

Dracula turned his attention back to the Master Vampire. "In answer to your earlier question, yes, I do have someone here at my feet, allow me to introduce her." Dracula reached down and pulled the silent vampiress to her feet.

Spike choked on his wine as the small figure turned to face him. ‘Jesus!’ Spike mentally grimaced at his last comment, he felt the alien sensation of shame flood him.

"May I present my latest triumph...though I admit I was a bit disappointed." Dracula sighed.

"Bloody hell! You turned a Slayer?" Spike rose to his feet, the glass shattered in his hand.

"I did indeed." Dracula cupped Buffy's chin and turned her face towards Spike. "Show him," he ordered coldly.

Spike gripped the table, trying to stop himself from falling to his knees. He was too late. He couldn’t understand the wave of anger and sorrow that flooded him, but he knew that there was no way he was leaving this godforsaken place without the Slayer. He felt disgusted with himself at his comment about Drac being served under the table, now that he knew who it was…

Buffy's eyes flashed into a pale lavender hue, much like her sire's, and she smiled, revealing her tiny needle sharp fangs.

"Good girl." Dracula stroked her shining blonde hair and patted her on the head.