CHAPTER 1 --
A/N: Yeah, I know, I need another WIP like I need a hole in the head. But I’d been watching FBI Files on the Discovery Channel and I was inspired. Otherwise I know squat about how the FBI works -- anything I got is from the FBI website, so I took some liberties. Oh, by the by, this is my work and no one else’s -- don’t plagiarize me.
A/N: Who has a monster virus on her computer and couldn’t write or post for weeks? Don’t be shy, raise your hand. (You can’t see me, but my right arm is currently stretched towards the high heavens)
Buffy Summers sat at her kitchen table, staring at absolutely nothing, ignoring the coffee in front of her that had long ago gone cold. A half-dozen police officers filtered through her house, their heavy boots echoing off the walls -- a constant reminder they were there to Buffy, who would give anything at the moment to curl up inside herself and temporarily forget everything.
One uniformed man was on her phone, another two were huddled over her kitchen counter pouring over stacks of papers, and she could hear some others upstairs taking stock of her daughter’s room.
Molly.
Buffy had been sent by her local law-enforcement agency to the FBI because of the threat of her daughter being taken over state lines. In less then half a day she’d had local, state, then FBI law enforcement take over her house, setting up their temporary control center. The individual officers were faceless to her. Only the shade of blue of the uniforms changed.
Her front door opened and closed for the one-thousandth time in the past ten hours. The slamming rattled the doorframe and surrounding walls but Buffy showed no sign of having heard it. She was to sit and wait until she was needed to answer a question or answer the phone in case whoever had taken her daughter tried to contact her. If she was so called upon, she was to do it as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Though Buffy didn’t understand how she was to be both at once. But nothing had really made sense to her for hours now. She vaguely remembered Willow sitting by her side while the police asked her questions. It seemed so long ago now, but only a few hours could have elapsed.
So she sat. And the officers, for fear of getting emotionally involved, basically ignored her.
Ten hours. It had been ten hours since her Molly had been reported missing.
“Giles,” one of the officers acknowledged from her living room.
“Giles,” Buffy thought. She hadn’t heard that name yet. He must be new. So far she had encountered and Officer Joseph, Platt, Menendes, a hand full of Smiths . . .
“Ms. Summers . . .”
Buffy jumped in her seat at the sound, which was deafening to her ears. She took a moment, taking a deep breath, before swiveling in her seat to look up at the new officer before her. He was younger than most of his FBI contemporaries. He seemed to be of average height, lean, and muscular for what she could tell under his blue windbreaker which had ‘FBI’ emblazoned across the left breast and back. Though his most telling feature was his hair, which was dyed an unprofessional shade of blonde.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” the man apologized. “Ms. Summers . . .”
“Buffy,” she interrupted quietly. “Call me Buffy,” her voice sounded flat and lifeless and she made no attempt to pretend she was okay.
Agent Giles nodded and lowered himself into the seat across from her. He regarded her with gentle firmness that suggested he’d done this many times before. “I’m sure you already went over this with the local officers, but I need you to answer some questions.”
Buffy nodded in consent.
“Do you have a recent picture of your daughter?”
“Oh . . . Yes,” she fumbled for and reached into her purse, sliding a picture across the table. “I took it last week,” her voice cracked, “At her fourth birthday party.”
Spike picked up the picture, studying it. A little girl with blonde pigtails and bangs beamed at him. And hazel eyes. She looked just like her mother.
“She weighs thirty-five pounds and is forty-two inches tall.”
Spike looked up from his paper, surprise at her anticipation of his next questions. Buffy shrugged, “This is the fifth time I’ve gone over this today.”
William “Spike” Giles was content with her answer. Good, she was talking and offering extra information. An agent he had talked to earlier told him he feared she was incapacitated, but Spike could see she was anything but.
“I’m sorry.”
Buffy made no answer.
Spike’s brow furrowed, “Who’s this with her?” he asked, pointing at the other two people in the picture.
Buffy leaned forward to see, “Willow and Xander, friends of mine. They’re practically family.”
“And her father?” he questioned his absence.
Buffy shook her head, “Haven’t seen him since I told him I was pregnant.” Spike continued to study her, “We were never married,” she added.
He opened the file in front of him. “It says in here she was abducted from her room.”
Buffy nodded solemnly, “That’s correct. Her aunt, my sister Dawn, was babysitting her. I first noticed she was missing when I came home and she wasn’t in bed where she was supposed to be. Or anywhere else for that matter,” she added quietly. “That was around a quarter after ten at night.”
He couldn’t help it, but a little bit of Spike’s heart pained for Buffy. She looked like a broken angel. But that was all she was going to get from him because Spike Giles never got personally involved. Ever.
“And where were you?”
His question must have sounded accusatory because the color drained from her face. “I was at . . .” she choked up, “at The Bronze with Xander and Willow. It’s the first time I’ve been out in years.”
“It’s not your fault,” he found himself saying.
“That’s what the police kept telling me,” she looked down at her hands that rested on her lap. “Do you have kids, Agent Giles?”
Spike was momentarily thrown by the random delve into his personal life, but gamely answered, “No, I don’t.”
He had never had a affinity for kids. Not that he hadn’t ever thought about it. He was an only child and a loner of one. He had never been around small children and was in no position to settle down anytime soon. His job required more time than he could ever fairly split with a woman.
“Buffy, do you have any idea who might want to hurt you or your child?”
Buffy shook her head, “No one. Molly’s popular with the kids at school and I don’t have any close friends outside Willow, Xander, and Xander’s girlfriend Anya.”
“Was she at the party also?” Spike asked, motioning to the picture.
“Yes.”
“What about family?”
“We don’t have any. It’s me, Dawn, and Molly.”
Spike nodded. “Ms. Summers, I know this is going to sound trite and in no way comforting, but we will find her.”
Spike hoped she didn’t take note of his leaving “alive” out of his promise. He’d been on one too many cases where that promise would not come true. She answered with a nod that ended with her head hung towards the floor.
Though a parent’s worst nightmare had come true for Buffy Summers and she was rightly devastated, Spike knew that she was anything but defeated. She had conviction, although it was currently hidden behind sorrow, and he had the suspicion that Buffy Summers was going to show him a thing or two about what it meant to be strong before this ordeal was over.
TBC
