“Would you please move slower?” Will said sarcastically, shifting his full bags.
“Sod off,” Spike growled, finally getting the door open. Buffy was normally home when they got back from work, so the door was either unlocked or she’d open it for them, so neither of them had had their keys handy. She must be in the shower or something.
Spike frowned at the dark apartment. Apparently, Buffy wasn’t home. Maybe she’d run some errands after her…stop by the office.
Will set his bags down in the kitchen, grateful to be rid of their weight.
“Where d’you think she is?” Spike asked, a small frown worrying his face.
“Dunno,” Will murmured, his mind busy making plans. “But you know what that means.” Spike’s frown slowly stretched into a smile.
“Surprise,” he said with satisfaction.
“Surprise,” Will agreed, already arranging the take-out in the oven so it would stay warm while they waited for their lady-love and arranged the apartment—and bedroom—to their exacting standards.
***
“The bath’s all done,” Spike called, drying his hands. He surveyed his handiwork. There were candles everywhere, ready to be lit. The water was steaming hot, figuring there’d be time for it to cool a bit before Buffy arrived. Fluffy towel, check. Vanilla scent, check. Raging erection, double check.
“Bedroom’s almost ready,” Will hollered from the other room. Curiosity getting the best of him, Spike wandered towards their room. He didn’t think it was possible, but he became more aroused at what Will had managed.
Black satin sheets covered the bed, while the pillows were dressed in blood red. Large pillar candles burned slowly (so there’d be enough wax for later, Spike thought with a huge grin), and various instruments were scattered around the room, within easy reach should the mood strike any of them to use them. The ideas that sprang to mind had Spike groaning.
“Not yet,” Will said with a wicked smirk. He smacked a crop against his hand, grinning when Spike’s eyes widened. “Later.”
“Promise?” Spike asked, grinning saucily.
“Unless Buffy beats me to it!”
***
“Sit down, you’re drivin’ me barmy,” Will snapped. Spike’s pacing was grating on his already frayed nerves. Spike just growled at him and continued pacing.
It was late. Well, relatively late. But Buffy should have been back by now. It was ten o’clock. Not that she had a curfew or anything, she just…didn’t stay out until ten. Not unless she called or left a note or SOMETHING. Spike walked by again, and Will ground his teeth. Down and back…down and back…down and—
“SPIKE!” Will roared. He glared at his brother, who faced him with crossed arms and a tense jaw. But underneath it, Will saw his worry and fear that something terrible may have happened to Buffy, a fear he knew was reflected in his own eyes. Sod it. He needed to know if his girl was alright, and damn any lecture about independence Buffy might give them.
“I’m calling her,” Will said, heading towards the kitchen phone. Spike let out a grateful sigh and followed after his brother. He was on the verge of doing that very thing. Will dialed her number, gritting his teeth when her voicemail picked up. He redialed, only to get the same response. Spike grabbed the phone from him, a flash of anxiety on his face when he got the same response.
“I’m calling Faith,” Spike said, dialing a new number.
“I’m calling Lorne,” Will said, pulling out his cell phone.
“Hey, Faith, it’s Spike. I was just wondering if anything came up at the dojo, or if you’ve seen Buffy today.”
Faith gripped the phone and felt a flash of alarm go through her. Robin caught the movement, and came over with a questioning look in his eyes.
“No, it was her day off. She never came by, and I closed up at seven. Why?”
“She’s just…she’s not here and we had this big surprise planned from her. We’re just trying to see when she’ll get home.” Spike knew Faith wouldn’t be fooled by that, but he couldn’t bring himself to give voice to the fears floating in his head. That would make them too real.
Faith felt like someone had sucker punched her. She’d known Buffy for a long time now, and the girl was a creature of habit. And there wasn’t much that could have her running off without telling anyone.
“Right. You—you just keep me in the loop, got it, Blondy?” Fait hung up, feeling disconnected from the world.
“Buffy’s missing,” she said to no one in particular. Her mouth tasted like ash.
Spike turned to Will, who was still talking to Lorne, his face grim.
“Thanks, mate. We’ll let you know,” Will said. He looked at his twin, worry in his expressive blue eyes. Systematically, they went through a list of their mutual friends and acquaintances, and anyone else they could scrounge up a phone number for.
Willow and Tara were alarmed, which didn’t help Spike and Will’s tempers, but they agreed to call a few people the twins didn’t know. Anya told them she’d given Buffy a few shops to look at, but that it shouldn’t have taken this long. Their last stop was Gunn, who they were calling as a friend and an officer of the law.
“Hello?” a tight voice answered the phone. Will stifled the urge to growl at the Whelp; this was not the time to start fights.
“I need to talk to Gunn.”
Xander’s face hardened when he recognized the British accent on the phone. He was tempted to just hang the phone up, but then they’d just call back, and things with Gunn would be more strained. He contemptuously tossed the portable phone at Gunn before slamming the door to his room.
“With that reaction, gotta be a Twin,” Gunn said jovially.
“Yeah.” The voice sounded tired and strained. Gunn sat up, immediately alert.
“What’s up, man?”
“We…is Buffy there?” The pleading desperation, the sound of a man hoping desperately that he could change what he knew was true, was one Gunn was all to familiar with.
“No, man,” he said gently. “She hasn’t been here since…” He trailed off, briefly remembering the time Willow had brought Buffy over to try and make peace with Xander. But his stubborn roommate wasn’t having any of it, and they’d parted in a bad way. But that was neither here nor now; something was wrong.
“She…she hasn’t come home.” The voice on the phone sounded broken and scared. This was not a side of the Twins Gunn was used to seeing.
“Have you—“
“We’ve called everyone. No one’s seen her since she left our office today. Her cell goes straight to voice mail. She’s…she’s just gone.” Gunn felt himself slip into cop-mode, shoving his feelings to the side.
“When and where was the last place you saw her?”
“Our office, I guess around three.”
“Do you know what her plans were?”
“It was her day off. Anya gave her some, um, shops to check out when she left but other than that…”
“What was she wearing?”
“Blue shirt and black skirts.”
“And you’ve called all of her friends, they—“
“Bloody hell yes!” There was arguing, and the phone switched hands.
“Look, what do we need to do to get her back?”
“File a missing person’s report in the morning.” He could hear Spike and Will begin protesting loudly, and waited as patiently as he could for them to settle down. “You can’t do it before then, they’ll just tell you to come back, BUT while you wait, I’m going to call my precinct and see what I can do. Just…stay there, keep trying her cell.”
After extracting a promise from the Twins, Gunn ended the call and sat dejectedly on the couch. Images of the worst ran through his head, every horrid case he’d handled in his years on the force coming back to him…with Buffy’s face. He shook those thoughts away, refusing to concentrate on them.
“You look like someone just killed your dog,” Xander said.
“Xander…” Gun trailed off, not knowing how to continue. Xander visibly tensed.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s…Buffy. She…we think she’s missing. She didn’t—didn’t come home tonight.” Gunn frowned when Xander just snorted, and continued eating the ice cream cone he retrieved from the freezer.
“It’s about time she left those scumbags. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll turn up in a little while.”
Gunn stared at Xander in disbelief, unable to come up with anything to say. Xander’s casual dismissal of his friend’s disappearance was a love spat? By the time Gunn regained his ability to talk, Xander had walked away. Ignoring his frustration, Gunn started making calls to his friends on the force, desperately begging any higher power he could think of that Buffy Summers wouldn’t show up in a ditch somewhere.
A/N: Happy turkeyday to all you Americans. Happy late Thanksgiving Day to you Canadians ;) And thaks for putting up with us obnoxious, celebratory Americans, Paris. Oh yeah...
That's right! Readers choice at the Spark and Burn Awards...so if you have time and are so inclined, why not stop by and vote for me? ;) Haven, Singlets, and Leto are all up for awards...and so am I! For best new author!