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Author's Chapter Notes:
See what reviews do?! I was so blown away by the response to the last chapter that I was inspired to sit down the afternoon and write the second half! Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading!

I'm still having trouble with my margins, so I apologize for that!
The car ride was quick and silent. Spike tried to organize his thoughts, to come up with a game
plan, but his mind and body were buzzing with apprehension and he finally gave up, figuring he would just have to go with his instincts. When they arrived, he turned to his two companions.

"Stay in the car for now. We don't want to make more trouble than we have to."

"How will we know if you need us?" Xander asked.

"You'll hear screaming," responded Spike grimly. "Lots of it."

He jumped out of the car and sprinted to the front door. Every cell in his body was reverberating with fear and tension, screaming the need to find her, touch her, make sure she was okay. Ignoring the bell, he pounded on the door. It opened swiftly, flying inward while Spike's fist was in midair. "I need to see Buffy," he bit out roughly, dropping his hand to his side, fingers beating a nervous cadence against his thigh.

Surprise flickered behind Angel's dark, impassive eyes. Like Willow, Spike was surprised at the lawyer's appearance, but his eyes narrowed at the sight of the scratches on his cheek. Stark and red, they looked an awful lot like defensive wounds.

The two men stood for a moment, locked into a silent stare. Spike stood straight, tension playing on his spine, angry and afraid, but desperately trying to keep a cool head while Angel was slightly hunched, fatigue creating lines on his face where none usually existed. Despite the weariness his body wore, though, his eyes glinted with venom for the blonde man on his doorstep. The two men had only met once, but any pretense at civility was well over and they both knew it.

"She's not here." Each word came out harshly, stinging with spite. A swift hand tried to slam the door, but Spike was prepared and before the wood came near the latch, his shoulder made contact and he was past the door and into the kitchen.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," he spit out sarcastically, voice ice cold and climbing in intensity. "Her purse is here. Her cell phone is here. Her car is in the garage," he ticked off the points one by one. "Where the hell else would she be?"

Angel remained silent, impassive.

"I'm going to find her," Spike growled and started for the living room.

Angel caught him by the shoulder, roughly pulling him back. His tone was just as jagged and even more vindictive. "She's not here. Get out of my house!"

One hit was all it took. One hit imbued with all the fear and hurt and anger that was boiling in Spike's heart and Angel was down. Ignoring the other man's groan, he again headed through the living room. There was no sign of Buffy, so he ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time, stopping at the top where he was confronted with a row of doors.

Spike had never been upstairs in this house, and had no idea which room was most likely to hold her. "Buffy?" he called gently, his soft voice a marked contrast to the harsh tones he had used with Angel. "Are you here, luv?"

He pushed open the first door, seeing nothing but an empty bedroom, probably for guests as it wasn't big enough to be the master. Determindedly, he strode further, toward the next door, still calling for her. "Kitten? It's alright, just tell me where you are.." It killed him to think that she might not want to answer him, but even worse was the fear that she wasn't able to.

The next two rooms were empty as well, and finally he pushed open the last door at the end of the hall, the one that must be the master bedroom. The room was dark and still. And empty. Frantically, Spike flicked on a light, hoping to see something more. Maybe she was on the floor, in the closet, in the bathroom. Desperation swiftly mounting, he thoroughly checked the room, but finally had to accept that Buffy just wasn't there.

Turning on his heel, he raced down the stairs and back to the kitchen, stopping abruptly at the sight of Angel, who had pulled himself off the floor and onto a bar stool. One hand was propped on the counter, holding his forehead and the other was mopping his bleeding face with a wet rag.

"Where is she?" Spike asked again, voice so sharp he was briefly surprised that it didn't shatter the crystal vase on the bar before reaching Angel's ears. Menace in his swirling blue eyes, Spike took a threatening step forward. "Have you got her stashed away somewhere, is that it? What have you done to her?" he roared, self-restraint at last gone, vaporized under the fear he could not shake.

With a sigh, the other man raised his head to face him. "Nothing," he answered in a voice gone flat, only the very edges tinged with disdain. "I didn't touch her. She left."

"Why should I believe you?" Spike sneered, now close enough to invade Angel's personal space.

"I don't really care what you believe."

"If you've hurt her..."

"I didn't!" Angel shouted finally, repeating himself. "I didn't touch her!"

"Then why would she leave? Without her wallet, her phone, her car?" Spike emphasized. He was starting to believe she might not be here, maybe even that Buffy's husband didn't know where she was. But he just knew with a certainty that chilled him, that a rational Buffy would never have walked out without any of her belongings. "If you didn't hurt her, then why did she leave?"

"I was...upset with her," Angel finally started, eyes dropping to his lap. "When she went to see you." His voice was quiet now. He had finally reached his limit, and realized that he might as well tell the truth. Couldn't let this idiot who seemed to have stolen his wife go on thinking she was hurt. He might do something stupid like call the police, and then what would happen? Angel's reputation might be ruined, his job threatened. Doubtless the truth was a better alternative than whatever crazy scenarios Spike would come up with.

"She came home earlier than I expected. Darla was here." He finally glanced up at the blonde, wondering if he was going to have to spell it out. He wasn't. Sickening comprehension flooded Spike's face, picturing what his Buffy, who was already broken apart, must have walked in on. His fist itched, and after very brief consideration, Spike saw no reason not to let it have it's way.

"That's for cheating on her," he grunted, knocking Angel off the stool and onto the floor. He shouted in surprise and tried to get up, but Spike was on him again before Angel could plant his feet. "That's for the bruises." One punch. "For the sprain." Another. "For the mind games." Another. "For-" Suddenly Spike was grabbed from behind and hauled away from Angel's prone form.

"Spike," Xander and Oz were dragging him backward. "That's enough. You have to stop, man," Oz insisted. Briefly, Spike struggled with them. So many more things Angel deserved to be punished for.

"Spike," Oz spoke urgently, but before he could finish, a car door slammed and Anya and Willow came through the open door at a run.

"Spike," Willow gasped, sparing only a small glance at Buffy's husband unconscious on the floor. It was no more than she had expected after all. Really she was just glad he seemed to still be breathing. "We've found her."

Immediately, Spike stopped struggling and stood stock still. Carefully, Oz and Xander let him go.

"Where?" he demanded in an almost whisper.

"Willow means I found her, or at least a friend of mine did," Anya spoke up importantly, a self-satisfied smile hovering on her lips. "I had a PI friend of mine who owed me a favor do a quick look around, and he found her almost immediately. I'm surprised we didn't think of it."

"Anya," Spike said through clenched teeth. "Where is she?"

"Well, she was at the bus station. She showed up on a security camera, buying a ticket."

"How could she have bought a ticket, with no money?" Xander wondered aloud, unintentionally interrupting his girlfriend.

Willow slapped her forehead in consternation. "I forgot. She always keeps around $50 on her. She said it was her emergency money in case she lost her purse."

"It must have taken all $50," Anya mused.

"Where is she?!?" Spike was thoroughly frustrated now.

Anya laid a comforting hand on his arm. "She bought a ticket to California, to Sunnydale. She should be arriving in..." she looked at her watch and counted swiftly. "About six hours."

Spike looked wildly around him, thoughts swirling. She had gone home. But she had no money. No family or friends left there. All alone, with no money, what would she do at night? What could happen to her? Blindly, he turned and raced out the door.

"Spike, wait!" Anya cried, reaching him before he could throw himself inside the car.

"Can't wait. Have to get to her. She's all alone," he said imploringly, voice thick with emotion.

"I've already booked you on the next flight. It leaves in three hours. She'll just barely beat you there," said Anya officiously. It was usually her job to manage travel arrangements for the band, and she took the position seriously, even if it was paying exorbitant sums for a same-day flight so the lead singer could chase down his errant, married girlfriend.

Spike stopped and took a deep breath. He knew where she was. She was relatively safe for the moment. He could get to her. "Thank you," he said sincerely, blue eyes shining with gratitude.

"No problem," Anya shrugged, smiling. "It's what I'm here for. You should know, though..." she hesitated. She didn't want to add to his concern, but he needed to know, when he found her..."Spike, the attendent who sold her the ticket said, and it was even obvious on the video tape. Buffy was kind of out of it. Distant, like she was on autopilot, not really thinking clearly."

It was no less than Spike expected. He had seen her hurt before, knew firsthand how her eyes glazed over when she was dealing with too much. It did increase his worry, though. Would she be coherent enough to take care of herself, both on the bus and after she got there? He had a few minutes now, to think. To consider. Why the hell had she decided to run all the way to California? "Why didn't she come to me?" he mumbled, rubbing his hand over his forehead, not even really aware he had spoken out loud.

"Spike," Xander took a step forward, cheeks flushed with apprehension. "I need to tell you something."

Spike looked up curiously. "What is it, Xan?"

Xander's eyes roved the ground, the sky, anywhere, anything but look at Spike and face the confrontation he knew was coming ever since he heard about Buffy's disappearance. "At the concert, the other night. I saw her before you did," he mumbled. " I...said some things."

"What kind of things?" Spike's voice was deceptively calm, but his eyes started flashing.

"The truth," Xander burst out defensively. "I told her the truth. That she was hurting you. Damn near destroying you, even. That she should leave you alone..." He trailed off. In the clear light of day, while he still thought his reasoning was sound and the sentiments true, it seemed like less of his business.

Tightly fisting his hands and dropping his head, Spike fought for calm as the puzzle pieces dropped into place. She couldn't be with him. Was afraid of hurting him more. For the second time in less than an hour, he badly wanted to hit someone.

"Do you know what you've done?" He pushed the words out of a throat so tight he felt like he might be choking. "How dare you try to get between us!"

"I wasn't!" Xander exclaimed. "I just...I saw how you were, and she obviously couldn't see it, and I just..."

"Enough," growled Spike. "I can't listen to this right now. I have to go." He turned away, fingers tightly clenching the door handle.

"Spike," Xander called him softly, heart heavy and confused, but not wanting to leave it like this. "I'm sorry."

He turned to look at the people gathered, all of them here, worried, because they cared and him and about Buffy. He nodded shortly, a look of understanding passing between him and his oldest friend. Then, without another word, he got in the car and drove away. The others could pick up the pieces here. Spike had to get to Buffy.





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