Missing


A/N: Probably should have mentioned this at the beginning, but this story is going to alternate between Buffy's POV and Spike's POV (just in case it wasn't obvious). So Spike's up now...

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“I can’t believe she’s really moved on,” Spike repeated, not for the first time since their return from Rome.

“Her taste in men has really got bad. Point in case,” Angel commented with a smirk in his direction.

He frowned at his grandsire and sat back on the couch, arms crossed.

“Just didn’t think she’d move on so quickly.”

“You haven’t been together for two years, Spike. Get over it,” Angel said, sitting beside him and picking up the games controllers as he turned the television on.

“Yeah, we weren’t together together. But we had a connection.”

“And she’s supposed to hang around mourning that?” the other vampire asked, holding out the controller to him.

“Well…” he trailed off. Of course he couldn’t expect Buffy to sit around mourning him forever, but just some sign that she had been affected by his death would have been nice.

Seeing her dancing in the club had only showed him just how happy she was in her new life though. Even if it wasn’t quite as vampire-free as he might have liked for her.

“Well, at least she’s happy,” he got out, even if it pained him to do so.

“Yeah,” Angel answered absentmindedly, his attention on the television.

Rolling his eyes, he sat forward and forced his own attention to the game.



It was only when he was alone in his room that he could finally be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts, of course, of Buffy. He had thought he was doing just fine without her, fighting the good fight at Angel’s side – but one look at her in that club had him yearning for her in a way he hadn’t done since he’d become corporeal.

She had always called to him when she was dancing, right from that first moment he had laid eyes on her back in Sunnydale. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame when she was lit up so, her whole being focussed on the music, on the dance. They had been forced to leave though after their bag had been stolen and soon he had forgotten about her again, if only for a short moment.

Hearing the confirmation of her new relationship from Andrew had only made him force more painful thoughts of her from his mind. But now he was back in LA, all he could think about was her. What if he’d gone up to her? Would she have been happy to see him? Or would she – and this was definitely more likely – have punched him square in the nose, all righteous and angry and beautiful as anything?

Angel was right, they hadn’t been together at the end, but he liked to think those last few days of closeness had meant something to her too. They were friends if nothing more and he hoped she had at least mourned for him along with the other inevitable losses of that great battle. Especially after her last words to him. He sighed and flopped back on his bed, eyes swimming with images of Buffy. Groaning, he stripped off his clothes and slid under the covers, hiding his face in his pillow and willing sleep to come to him quickly.



“Spike, you’re alive!” she whispered in awe, one hand rising to touch his cheek, her skin so warm and soft against his.

“I am. I’m back, Buffy.”

“I missed you so much,” she got out tearfully, big hazel eyes looking up at him and sending a jolt right to his undead heart.

“I’m here now, love. Never gonna leave you again.”

“I know you won’t, Spike,” she murmured, but even as she spoke, she took a step backwards, “But you’re too late. I’m leaving you.”

Another form appeared beside her and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. The Immortal.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she said, giving The Immortal a smile and a look full of love, “I love him.”



He snapped awake with a groan and thumped his pillow. It had been bad enough when The Immortal had taken Drusilla… but Buffy? Buffy was too sweet, too pure for filth like him. And now he sounded like Tall, Dark and Forehead, thinking he knew what was best for Buffy. But she had never had the best luck in relationships and getting into one with a vampire even older than he and Angel put together, well it just didn’t seem like a good idea in his slightly biased opinion. Vampires hadn’t exactly done right by her in the past and the two who claimed to love her weren’t much better.

He frowned and sank back against his pillows, even though he wasn’t sure if he could sleep again. The dream of Buffy, however unpleasant it was towards the end, had still had the usual effect on him and made sleeping practically impossible now. How was it she still had this hold on him from thousands of miles away and despite the fact he hadn’t been near her, hadn’t talked to her in six months?



After deciding that any more sleep was out of the question, he dragged himself out of bed and after a quick shower, found himself in the lounge. Sitting in the dark, brooding. He really was getting as bad as Peaches. He switched the light on and decided to waste what little of the night hours there was left playing on the games console that had become his and Angel’s most prized possession. It probably wasn’t a good idea that they compete virtually – they were bad enough in real life – but at least it got his mind off things. Buffy-shaped things.

He looked up suddenly when he spotted a figure in the doorway.

“Peaches,” he remarked, “Not getting your beauty sleep?”

“I just got a call from the Rome office.”

His mind instantly screamed Buffy, danger and he pressed ‘pause’, turning to face his grandsire.

“What is it?”

Angel looked surprised and a little confused and it wasn’t exactly helping his state of mind.

“Peaches, tell me what they bloody said.”

“The Immortal’s dead.”

Not what he had been expecting.

“What?!”

“Someone killed The Immortal. Just last night. Rome wanted to know if we had anything to do with it.”

He didn’t care about Rome and he didn’t care that the bloody poofter was dead. Good riddance, if you asked him.

“And Buffy?”

Angel was silent for a long moment and then turned those dark, sorrowful eyes on him.

“She’s gone missing.”