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Author's Chapter Notes:
It’s been about a year since I last posted a chapter of this fic and this is just a small chapter to hold you over while I get to writing more. Long story short, I had tumors in my brain and have been having surgeries to remove them all, but its left me legally blind and out of action for a while. I’m just getting the ability and energy to do things again. I do plan on finishing this story, it’s just taking a little longer than planned but I hope you guys understand.

Thank you so much for all the reviews. They are very much appreciated and a constant source of self-esteem when I’ve had none.

Staring down at his feet, Spike continued to walk, passing by his car and avoiding every person walking past him, already missing the slight buzz he had gotten at dinner due to the wine and wishing for nothing more than a good bottle of whiskey. Something strong to slide down his throat and burn away the numbness and hurt and anger he figured he would soon feel due to her deceit.


'How could you?' She asked herself, finally gathering enough strength to pick herself up after long moments. Wiping at her eyes, Buffy walked out of the alley and down the street in the opposite direction that her husband had gone, ignoring the people asking if she was okay.

'I have to get home,' She thought before realizing she didn’t have a home to go to. 'You fucked that up, didn't you Buffy? Fucked it up when you hurt your home. When you hurt William.'

*****

Chapter 32: Worried


The first day Spike didn't show up at work without calling, Angel thought it weird.

The second day Spike didn't show up at work without calling, Angel got pissed off.

The third day Spike didn't show up at work, and wouldn't answer his phone, or his cell phone, didn't answer the door at his home, and neither did his wife, Angel got worried.








"And you're sure neither of them are at home?" Cordy asked a distraught Angel, closing the door to her office to have some privacy for her call.

"Yeah, baby, I went earlier and no one answered. His car wasn't even in the driveway."

"The hospital?" Cordy suggested. "Maybe something happened with Buffy" 'or the baby.' she finished in her mind hoping to gods that wasn’t, and would never be, the case. "Maybe she went into labor."

"I checked, Cordy. In every hospital in this damned city. All 130 of them. Twice! They're not anywhere. Oh God, what if something really bad happened?"

"We're not sure that anything--"

"But you can't know that!" Angel interrupted, slightly hysterical.

"I can't, Liam, but you need to calm down. If something did happen you are not going to be helping anyone any if you panic."

The stern tone to Cordelia's voice made Angel's thoughts stop for a mere moment. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out in a sigh, "you're right, sweetheart. You're right."

"Of course I am," Cordy joked lamely, trying not to show her husband how worried she was herself. 'Spike is a grown man. He is. And he's capable of taking care of himself and very much capable of taking care of his wife.' She went on in her head, trying hard to convince herself of the fact.

"And anyway, If something were to have happened," Cordelia continued after a few moments with her thoughts, "you'd be the first to know. After Buffy, he named you his next of kin, remember? When he signed the insurance papers?" She reminded him.

"Right." He breathed. "You're right. So, it's nothing too bad... right?" Angel asked, his tone not quite pacified but slowly and surely getting there.

"Right, but--"

"Something did happen." Angel continued his wife's sentence. "It's not like William to go off like this without telling anyone, and it's not like Buffy either. But... I can't just sit around here, waiting to hear about them, baby, I need to do something. He's my best friend, I owe it to him."

"I know, baby, but what can you do?" Cordy asked.

"I don't know," he sighed before, eyes widening with an idea, he exclaimed "Wait!" Pausing, he got his thoughts in order.

"Waiting..." Cordy said, encouraging him out of his thoughts.

"Do you still have the spare key? The one you made for that designer friend of yours? The one that helped you decorate when Spike was buying the house for Buff." Angel asked his wife.

"Yeah, I do," she answered, jumping on his train of though. "It's on the key hanger by the coat rack. Are you thinking of going over there again?"

"Yeah," answered Angel. "I think I am. I have to know, Cordy, if he's alright. I'm his only family."

"I know you do, baby." Cordy said sympathetically wishing she could leave work to go help her husband look for their best friends and hoping nothing was wrong with William or his family as well, even though a feeling of dread slowly filled her every pore.








Angel unlocked the door to Spike and Buffy's house, hesitating for a brief moment before poking his head in. He scrunched up his face, his nose wrinkling as the stale, musty smell oozing out of the house in copious layers hit him. Trying very hard to push the images of crime photos from some of their more ghastly cases out of his mind, he righted himself, took a deep breath of fresh, clean air and widened the opening in the door walking in.

Even with the house as dark as it was, Angel could see it was a mess and a quick flick of the light switched proved useless in shedding light to whatever had taken place. A quick glance to the ceiling revealed a broken light bulb.

Angel sighed. He hadn't seen Spike's car in the driveway when he drove up to the house earlier that day and it was still missing. He briefly considered taking stock of their things to see if anything else was missing from their place but knew he didn't have the mind to.

"Spike?" Angel called out walking further into the house not bothering to close the door behind him. "Will- William! It's Liam."

Angel's heart thundered with each step he took until he could feel every thud-thump of his heart in his toes, the sound deafening in his ears. A look at the kitchen revealed broken glass and cracked cabinet doors. The dining room table laid in pieces against the back door and what looked like weeks old pasta and other more unpleasant looking once-foods stained the walls.

What had happened here?





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