[A/N: I know I sound like a broken record, and I apologize. I just hurt my arm again – something popped and I couldn’t move it for 3 days, which sort of inhibited my ability to type and just made the writer’s block I was going through worse. However, you can all thank Slinky and Addie for getting me through it. Without either of them – Slinky for her timely mailing of the wonderful soundtrack she put together for me – and Addie for general hand-holding. You two pulled me through. Thanks. Title is from the title of one of the quotes, from a band called Arcadia. . . and if anyone can tell me who Arcadia was (without looking it up) you get a gold star – and anyone like me, who actually owns their album gets kisses. . . and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Christmas is over and life goes on.

Book Two. Chapter 36. Missing

And there's a message that I'm sending out
Like a telegraph to your soul
And if I can't bridge this distance
Stop this heartbreak overload
John Waite, Missing You, from the album No Brakes, 1983

And as I wander down to where you lay
The blood rushed up to meet the roses
In your hair
I thought I saw you smile
But now I don't see you anywhere
Whispering your love song in my ear
How can you touch me
When you're not really there?

Stumbling out i made my way towards the open door
Climbing fast the sun broad streaming
Laughter down into your empty gaze
Where can i find out
How i want to join in your games
I hear you calling
I hear you ... calling calling calling calling
Whispering your love song in my ear
How can you touch me?
How do you really dare?
Arcadia, Missing from the album So Red the Rose, 1986




The first stirrings of an unhappy infant woke her from a fitful sleep and Buffy grumbled into her pillow. So don’t want to get up. Wanna sleep some more. Why do I have to be the one all the time? Connor’s whimpers were becoming full fledged cries and Buffy realized she couldn’t ignore him any longer. Lifting up the blanket, she wrinkled her nose and fought off the rolling nausea that was threatening.

Connor stopped howling when she lifted him into her arms, but didn’t stop his fretting. This isn’t like him. Wonder if he’s sick? He rested his head against her shoulder, but kept crying, his little breaths hiccupping every couple of moments. “Hey little man, it’s okay, Buffy’s got you.”

But that didn’t calm him completely. He settled down enough for her to realize her stomach was as unhappy as the baby. Barely making it to the bathroom, Buffy vomited, narrowly missing the baby’s head.

Something’s really off. Wish I knew what it was. Where’s Spike? He’d know what to do. Buffy stopped wiping her mouth, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Where did that thought come from? Spike’s a pain in my butt. Nothing more. Right? But the niggling thought about Spike knowing what was wrong and more importantly how to fix it wouldn’t go away. Not while she rinsed her mouth, nor while she got herself and Connor dressed. She couldn’t push it aside.

The smell of pancakes hit her nose before she was all the way downstairs and Buffy’s speed picked up as her stomach growled with anticipation. “Hey Wills. Morning.”

Willow was flipping pancakes and stacking them on a plate. Her greeting to Buffy was enthusiastic and the blond smiled back. “Pancakey goodness. Just what every hungry Buffy requires in the morning.”

“Morning you two. How did you sleep?” Willow made a silly face at Connor, but instead of giggling like he usually did, the baby just started wailing again. Willow pulled away, saying “guess someone isn’t a happy camper today.”

“Nope. I think he woke up on the wrong side of the crib.” Buffy shrugged, getting a bottle from the fridge. “So what’s with pancakes this morning?”

“Nothing. Just woke up early and figured I’d make everyone Willow’s special.”

“Ooh! Chocolate chip?” Dawn’s voice sounded from the hallway and she entered moments later all sleepy-eyed and disheveled.

“Yup. Chocolate chippyness coming right up.”

Dawn squealed, hugging Willow then snagging a pancake all in one move.

Connor was fighting the bottle, pushing it away and crying. Buffy jostled him a bit, but he wouldn’t settle down. Dawn made a face, grimacing at the noise. “Can’t you get the spawn to shut up?”

“Dawnie, he’s a baby and he’s obviously not feeling good. Be nice.” Buffy had a reproving look on her face, but Dawn didn’t back down.

“Brat does nothing but complain. You need to find out what his deal is.”

Snagging a rolled up pancake, Buffy left the kitchen, muttering under her breath about bratty little sisters and how they should be more understanding. And even as she did it, something about the wrongness of what she was saying and Dawn’s actions played on her mind. Something was off about this morning and it wasn’t just Connor’s constant crying. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Everything felt wrong.

From the moment she’d woken up until just now.

Something was missing.

Out of place.

Buffy sat down in the big chair, trying to calm Connor and he was just settling down when Willow came into the living room and held out her arms. “Here, give him to me. You get some pancakes.”

After a moment’s hesitation Buffy started to hand him off, but Connor’s entire body stiffened and he wailed his protest loudly, almost hysterically.

Afraid she would drop his suddenly stiff form, Buffy held him close, rocking him against her breast. “Shush.”

Willow made to touch him and the baby visibly flinched again, burrowing closer to Buffy. Pulling him away from the redhead’s touch, Buffy said, “its okay Will, I’ve got him. He doesn’t want anyone but me, I guess. Its okay.”

“You want me to bring you something?” Willow backed away, apology written on her features.

“Yeah that’s fine. Just no syrup.”

It took a while, but finally she got Connor calmed enough so she could eat.

But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very off.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The feeling of wrongness didn’t fade at all as the day wore on. If anything as the hours passed, it got worse.

Tara and Willow were cuddling on the couch, oohhing and ahhing over their gifts and some movie they were watching.

Dawn had gone out with Casey, spending the day together, out to dinner and then a movie. At least that was their plan.

And through it all, Buffy felt off. Wrong. Out of touch with something vital.

Abruptly deciding she couldn’t stand it any longer, sometime around four o’clock, Buffy got out the stroller, bundled up the still whimpering Connor and headed for the Magic Box.

That was another thing. Connor. He couldn’t stand to be near Willow – reacting physically whenever she was near and crying whenever Buffy wasn’t holding him. She was at her wit’s end with the baby, unable to get him to stop whining for any period of time. And she knew that wasn’t like him.

Her slayer sense was telling her something was wrong.

Connor’s behavior was telling her something was very wrong.

She just didn’t know what the hell it was.

Going to the Magic Box to see Giles would help. He and Wesley would start with the research and that would help.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike couldn’t sleep.

He was up, pacing the confines of his crypt, moving from one thing to the next without being able to focus on any one thing.

Something was up. Something was brewing.

Something’s not right.

The crypt smelled wrong, for one thing.

Unused. Unlived in. Empty.

Like he’d been away for a while and he had no memory of leaving Sunnydale at all in the last months. He wouldn’t have done that anyway. Buffy had asked for his promise.

Buffy . . . .

Something wasn’t right there, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was she in trouble? Was Dawn?

Spike stopped his endless pacing, cocking his head to the side, thinking hard. He’d woken up just after daybreak, in his chair, the television on. Nothing really unusual there, only it didn’t feel right. Nothing about today felt right.

He felt like part of him was missing.

Not that he thought it would do him any good, but maybe the watcher would have some answers.

Heading down into the lower level, Spike figured it would at least eat up part of what was left of the day.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Wesley was tired.

Tired of hospitals.

Tired of falling asleep in chairs that didn’t accommodate his height. Tired of beeping machines and over- solicitous nurses and smug doctors and exceedingly tired of listening to bad news.

So he was inordinately easily persuaded by Xander’s request to sit watch over Cordelia.

He didn’t protest when Xander dropped Anya at the Magic Box and announced he was going over to the hospital. Wesley merely waved him off, unaware of Anya’s upset.

Giles noticed.

There wasn’t much about Anya that Giles missed these days. That her face fell whenever Cordelia’s name was mentioned. That her mood lightened the longer she was apart from Xander. That there was an increasingly wistful look on her features whenever Buffy and Spike were nearby.

Wherever did that thought come from, old man? There’s nothing between Buffy and Spike. Right?

Giles was drawn from his thoughts by the appearance of his slayer. Pushing a pram. With a softly whimpering infant.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Four solid walls and twenty-three hours a day in lock down don’t give a girl much more to contemplate other than navel lint and chin hair. That is, if you happen to be a normal girl.

If you aren’t blessed with normalcy and instead are gifted and Chosen, four walls and twenty-three hours of solitude give a girl a long time to consider the meaning of dreams and portents.

And cryptic messages from higher powers.

Faith figured the only good thing about being locked up, aside from the GED she’d gotten, was the patience she’d learned.

Patience had been an indulgence she’d never allowed herself on the outside. Now? Now she had no choice but to learn patience. And to hone her admittedly lacking interpretive skills.

So when the dreams started coming faster last spring, faces and voices disturbing her sleep, some she was more than familiar with and some she’d rather not know – Faith knew something big was going to go down.

And then, one night in late May, Faith had nearly lost it when a light in her soul went out.

She didn’t need the confirmation Angel’s next visit brought. Faith knew. Buffy had died protecting the world. And she’d raged, in her own not-so-quiet way, taking out her emotions on some hapless fellow inmate, earning herself long nights and endless days in solitary.

The dreams and visions had shifted then, and Faith had more than an inkling of where her counterpart had gone. She’d seen – or sensed – what had been done in Buffy’s memory. Somehow the overwhelming, wrenching grief of one vampire reached into the other realms, alerting all super and other natural beings to the depths of his despair.

And it wasn’t the grief of the vampire that possessed a soul.

Faith had wondered, that time she’d switched bodies with Buffy, how William the Bloody had known – but the dreams answered that question. It was more than apparent to Faith Spike’s feelings for Buffy were very real. And very deep.

So when the dreams changed again – and this time including images of Buffy with Spike – Faith didn’t question the truth of them. Somehow, and Faith wasn’t too clear on the specifics, but somehow Willow had brought Buffy back and now Spike was a big part of Buffy’s life.

Only now the dreams were changing again.

For almost the last week, the dreams had been getting darker and darker and more ominous. If she was interpreting them correctly, and she really hoped she wasn’t, there was something up with Angel. And it wasn’t good.

But she hadn’t had any contact with the outside world since before Halloween.

That wasn’t normal.

So when she woke this morning, in a cold and clammy sweat, shaking with tears streaming down her face, Faith knew she had to act.

Time to get out of solitary.

Time to get out of this place.

Banging on the walls of her prison cell, Faith came up with and discarded at least ten different escape plans. One way or another, I am so outta this hole tonight.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Spike was wondering why the hell he was feeling like he was missing a limb. Drusilla wasn’t dust – and it wasn’t quite the same thing as when Darla got dusted.

This wasn’t nearly the same.

This was like his heart had a hole in it.

A Buffy-sized hole.

He stopped walking, his thoughts focusing inward. There were bonds on his heart, in his blood that belonged there – and then there was this new feeling of incompleteness. That was part of the wrongness. Her Watcher might not believe him that something was off, but he would help. He’d earned that much from him.

Resolve strengthening his steps, Spike took off again for the Magic Box, ignoring the other foot traffic in the tunnels.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“I can’t get him to stop.” Buffy was pacing the training room floor, Connor fretting and crying even as she held him. It wasn’t any easier here in the Magic Box, except that the baby had stopped wailing.

He still cried when someone other than her tried to hold him, but he hadn’t stiffened up the way he did with Willow.

Right now, his head was on her left shoulder, snot and tears running down his little face and covering her shoulder. Buffy had one hand rubbing his back while she had the other wrapped around his waist. “Giles he’s crying like his little heart is broken. What is wrong?”

“I wish I knew. My experience with infants is severely limited. I have as much idea about what to do as you.” Giles peered at her from his perch on the couch’s arm. “Have you any ideas, Wesley?”

“Have you tried consulting one of the child-rearing books or websites?” Wesley’s knowledge was as extensive as the other two – which put it at zero. “I’m sorry Buffy, I’ve no idea what could be wrong with the boy.”

Just then Connor let loose with a heartbreaking howl and Buffy turned tear-filled eyes to the two Englishmen. “I can’t listen to this much longer. He’s breaking my heart. It’s been hours now and he’s still crying and shouldn’t he at least be so exhausted that he’d fall asleep?”

“I don’t know Buffy. I’m at a loss.” Giles shared a look with Wesley, but neither one could come up with something useful.

Buffy plopped down on the couch between the two, a pout blooming on her features.

“What am I gonna do with this baby?”

“Give him here Slayer.” The baby jerked his head in the direction of the deep voice, almost jumping from Buffy’s arms.

Spike leaned down to take the crying baby from her and before any of the others could react, had him in his arms and Connor sighed once, then shuddered and promptly, blissfully, stopped crying.

And that was fine until Buffy looked up at Spike, saw the expression on his face and she promptly burst into tears.

“Hey now, what’s this all about?” Spike couldn’t keep the concern from his voice, nor did he object when Buffy unexpectedly launched herself up off the couch and into his arms, nearly pushing aside the baby.

Spike looked to the other two Englishmen, but neither man had an answer for him. They were as shocked as he when the slayer had practically jumped into his arms.

“What’s wrong kitten?” Spike felt like part of the ache that had been gnawing at his heart had been eased by just looking at her – but he’d been wrong, because holding her nearly made it go away. Didn’t matter when she only answered him by squeezing his waist and Spike knew something was seriously wrong when she didn’t let him go.

“Right then. Watcher – something’s not right. Woke up this mornin’ feeling something had gone off.” He stopped talking when Buffy interrupted him.

“Told you something was wonky. I woke up feeling all lonely like and that waking up alone was wrong.” She pouted a bit, adding, “even Connor felt it.”

“All right. So the feeling of being off started when you both woke up. What do you remember about this morning?” Giles got up from the couch, his glasses in hand while he waited for a more detailed explanation.

“Nothin’. Woke up. ‘Cept the crypt smells like it hasn’t been lived in for months.” Spike shrugged as well as he could with his arms full of Buffy and Connor.

“Woke up. Threw up. Got dressed. Willow was making pancakes. Connor screamed and wouldn’t let Willow take him so I could eat.” Buffy sniffled again and Spike automatically nuzzled against her, then reeled back in reaction.

“Spike?”

Three voices said his name at once and all he could do was stare at her, his eyes sparking and nostrils flaring, drawing in unnecessary air. Instead of speaking, which Spike wasn’t even certain he was capable of at the moment, he pulled her closer and inhaled deeply.

“Spike?”

Only Giles’ voice questioned him this time, because Buffy could feel the laxness in his muscles and also the almost inaudible rumbles that were rolling through him in waves. Wesley was too caught up in his study of their faces to speak. There was more going on here, more than just something being off.

“Spike?”

Using his free hand, Spike pushed aside Buffy’s hair and ran his thumb over bite marks on the right side of her neck. Buffy whimpered, then turned a liquid gaze on him. His returning look was tender and fierce. “Slayer’s claimed and mated, Watcher.”

“What? Are you implying some vampire has claimed Buffy?” Giles spluttered a bit, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.

“Implying nothing, Rupes. ‘M stating a fact. ‘ve claimed and mated your slayer. That’s my mark she’s got.”

The silence lasted for long moments and surprisingly it was Wesley who broke it. “Do you think someone’s attempting to break the claim?”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Tara got up from the couch, leaving Willow to go make another cup of tea and grab something to snack on. Riffling through the freezer, Tara spied a container of ice cream. Oh this is good. Huh? The flavor was not one any of them liked, although Oz was known to indulge. . . . where the heck did that thought come from? How would I know Oz’ favorite flavor of ice cream? And why would we have some here? Shrugging away the weird thought, Tara shoved the butter pecan back into the freezer.

Grabbing a bag of cheese doodles for Willow and some chex mix, Tara headed back into the living room. She stopped short at the sight that greeted her.

Willow had turned out all the lights except for the ones on the Christmas tree, and the flickering television, then slipped out of her fuzzy pink sweater, leaving her covered only by a lacy pink camisole and pajama pants. Tara’s face got flush and her mouth watered. Letting her dark lashes flutter over her eyes, she focused all her senses on her delectable girlfriend.

And reeled back in sudden fear and doubt.

Oh goddess. . . what have you done now?!

What in all the heavens have you been doing?

Dark bands of angry colors swirled around her lover’s aura, like snakes writhing about decaying flesh. Repelled, Tara drew back away from the sight, drew back from her lover.

Willow’s voice sounded in the air between them and Tara opened her eyes at the sound.

“Hey baby. Gonna come get comfy?” Willow smiled at her and all negative thoughts fled.

Willow was love. . . . Tara stepped forward, suppressing the shivers that slid beneath her skin, ignoring for the moment, her own intuition.

It had to be some other reason why her senses were screaming at her. Couldn’t be Willow.

Couldn’t be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Claims can’t be broken.”

Why Giles’ softly worded statement filled Buffy with relief she couldn’t say. All she knew was the sudden irrational fear that sprung up with Wesley’s question eased. Spike’s response, however, set her heart thumping loudly in her chest and brought inexplicable tears to her eyes and closed her throat.

“Doesn’t matter – even without a claim I’m not leaving. Never gonna leave.”

Only he heard the hitched sob break from her throat, only he heard the thunderous beat of her heart as his words sounded in the air, his breath washing over her. Only him.

Buffy turned watery hazel eyes on him and Spike felt the ache in his heart constrict, choking him. Staring down into the green pools, he whispered for her ears only, “I love you Buffy. Even if somehow, something did the impossible an’ broke the claim – I’ll still love you. An’ I won’t ever leave you.”

Her lower lip quivered, the threatening tears spilled over and she slipped a shaking finger over his lips. “I . . . “ her voice broke, almost croaking and she tried a second time. “I believe you, Spike. I really do believe you.”

His lips kissed her finger, then brushed over her forehead. Long fingers threaded through her hair, holding her close and Buffy brushed her own lips over the soft skin on his neck, next to where Spike cradled the baby.

Opening his eyes to look at her Spike realized they were alone, the watchers giving them unasked for privacy. Buffy shivered in his arms and Spike brushed another kiss on her temple.

“Need to get you warm kitten. When was the last time you ate?”

As he spoke he moved them toward the couch, pushing her down and handing off the baby. When the whimpering didn’t start up again, Spike covered them both with his duster and called out for the watchers.



Okay, I'm asking for a kind word. . . reviews would go a long long way to making my dark mood lift a bit. . . .