Buffy awoke hours later, her body marked and sore, pleasant satiation set in her bones. Tired eyes crept over her bed partner, and suddenly the memory of what had happened earlier jolted her sleepy awareness like a spark.

Her mate. His hair was in short tangles of white, his lips were parted as he sucked in air that he didn't need. His chest, decorated by reddened trails left from her fingertips, moved up and down slowly. His dark eyelashes fanned themselves against his high cheekbones and lent a softness to the razor edge of his face that even in sleep made you think of devils and angels.

Gluttony had invaded their bodies. Memories bombarded Buffy's mind and brought a blush with them. She and Spike had been taken over by the connection, lust and greed and love. It was corrupt, unexpected, and totally consuming.

Even now she sensed the attachment, the power, of the claim. Buffy could feel him. The sheets crumpled beneath her body she touched through his skin. The air she breathed swirled in his lungs. And her heart pumped inside two chests.

It was incredible. It was daunting.

Very slowly, she took a deep breath and let it out. Raising a hand to her neck, she tenderly stroked the bite mark there in new acquaintance, her nerves buzzing outward from her touch. It was like wearing a medal, a sign of belonging; Buffy stared at her own mark on Spike's throat in pride.

She dropped her hand with a shudder and ran her tongue along her teeth. It was about time she got a toothbrush over here- As a matter of fact, it was probably time she moved more than just a toothbrush into this house.

The taste of blood lingered very faintly on her gums, mostly from memory. Soon she'd be sharing more than just body and heart with this vampire. He'd want her to move in, she knew it as surely as she knew the sky was blue and Spike's blood was hers.

She wondered what might happen when he was awake. Right now, Buffy felt- if her gut was on mark -his existence. She had assurance he was alive not just from seeing him, but from sensing it, like the guarantee that time was passing even when you weren't looking at a clock.

How strong could this bond get?

Spike had explained to Buffy the effects of being mated before they'd even been close to doing it. Their connection would not only grow over time, but calm as well. They would crave each other in a way that was drug-like until the bond matured. The heat would never be gone, but would settle down to a simmer.

Based on how they'd always craved each other, Buffy hoped she was prepared for the upcoming intensity. Last night had been... powerful; though that fact wasn't truly clear without morning light.

Time would tell. Either way, they would work on problems that arose. It was one very good thing about Spike; he never walked away from a fight, never tried to AVOID the difficulties. And neither did Buffy, because he didn't let her on the rare occasions when she wanted to offer up the silent treatment instead of a battle. There was no sweeping things under the rug for them.

The girl looked at her lover once again, all tangled in the sheets. Sometimes he slept like a rock, other times he could be woken up by no more than the whisper of a footstep. Tricky man.

Nature calling, Buffy wedged away from her vampire and slipped out of the large comfy bed, shivering in the air of the room. She searched for the closest thing to throw on, and at spotting her sweater on the ground stepped forward, only to bump something with her bare foot.

Looking down, she smiled. Grabbing the black wad of cotton at her feet, she happily threw it on and stuck her neck through the collar. The hem of Spike's T-shirt reached her upper thighs and just covered her behind.

Buffy's smile grew; she liked wearing his clothes.

A few minutes later, she'd both relieved her bladder and washed away the cakey blood from her neck and body. The wounds were healing rather... quickly, she thought. It was likely a result of the claim, though Buffy didn't feel very different asides from a pleasant sort of warmth all over.

She couldn't explain that, it was like... the sensation you get when a favorite song comes on the radio. There's a familiarity, a fondness, and you turn the volume up. It was like that feeling only stronger and more tangible. Otherwise, nothing was different. She was simply living within a gentle clutch, loved, with all of her emotions shared.

Buffy stretched her arms above her head and then ran fingers through her messy hair. It had grown a little longer since she'd moved to MayBell, and she'd neglected to cut it because Spike always touched it and played with the ends. It made her believe he liked it long.

"He certainly seemed to like tangling it," she mumbled to her reflection, then looked at the cracked open bathroom door in alarm. No sound followed her words, so she breathed a sigh of relief. Spike was definitely in heavy sleeping mode.

Was it very long ago that they'd worn each other out? Buffy wondered. She couldn't hear anything from downstairs, and her body felt rested as if she'd had a full night's sleep. Had the guys gone to bed?

She left the bathroom and walked over to her pants where they dangled haphazardly from the arm of a chair. Then she remembered, she'd lost her phone during that earthquake. Buffy had no recollection of dropping it, or seeing it slip from her pocket, but all the same she had no phone.

And there was no clock in Spike's room. Buffy's indecision as to whether she should brave the downstairs and see if the guys were up or not was cut in half by a growl from her stomach.

Okay, nature called again, just in a different tune this time. She grabbed her pants and slipped them on, buttoning and zipping before turning towards the door. Spike hadn't moved an inch, he looked dead for a split second. Buffy shuddered, then shook it off.

His chest didn't always rise when he slept, he didn't always breathe. She approached the bed and tucked the sheet draped over him a little bit higher, running gentle fingertips along his still abdomen. Imagining those blue eyes, currently hidden, without emotion in them scared her. She didn't like the fact he was dead because she had never thought of him as anything but alive. However, the claim somehow, in a way she didn't understand yet, assured her he was not ash, and that Spike was very much with her. He was here.

Sighing softly, she left the room, rubbing her arms against the chilled air that she hit after passing the hallway and walking downstairs. The living room was empty except for a sleepy Princess draped over the back of a couch.

The tabby lifted her head and twitched her ears, glancing at Buffy with disinterest before resting again.

Buffy smiled and pet the cat's back as she walked by, heading to the kitchen.

It was empty, too, except for papers and books scattered around. That was nothing new. Dylan was the only one who never used a lot of paper for scribbles, and when he did he threw out anything that wasn't of lasting importance. Mainly, he just stuck to his computer, which was even now sitting on the table by the wall.

The closed computer. Alright, half-demon definitely not in residence. Dylan always had his laptop open if he was nearby. Let's see... no coffee was on, and it didn't smell like any had been made recently. Buffy approached the stove and touched the pot... cold.

She turned around with a frown on her face. Closing her eyes, she listened carefully for any noise coming from somewhere else in the house, maybe the basement; the guys had never been really quiet before.

Where could they have gone? Without telling anybody? Maybe someone had woken Spike up earlier and said something to him, and she'd simply slept through it.

Just as that thought started to cement in her mind, Buffy caught sight of a single piece of paper on the island, far from the mess of the rest. Piles of notes and sketches, open books, everything was in disorder. But that one slip of paper was straight and had an uncapped pen lying on top of it.

Buffy walked over and bent her head, picking up the note when she saw the starting line of Ace's handwriting.

"You two were sending Rex into a tizzy so we went out to eat. We're hoping to be back well after the headboard thumping stops, but if we aren't leave a sock on the door or something. The front door.

-Sincerely, those actually trying to get something done.

P.S. The Gem is on top of the fridge, we didn't want to take it out of the house and no one knew a better hiding place so Rex stuck it up there."

Buffy blushed, even though there was no one around. They'd heard... Crap, they'd LEFT because they'd heard... Oh, God.

Sighing with annoyance, she set the piece of paper down. Dumb bird ears.

Poor bird.

Buffy cringed. She was only grateful- if she really wanted to find a bright side here -that Grams was back at home. It would have been so much worse than a simple note implying irritated resignation if SHE'D heard something. Anne did own a shotgun.

Belatedly, Buffy looked up at the clock on the wall. She should call- Oh. It was almost morning. Grams would still be asleep.

The girl caught her lip between her teeth. It was going to be hard to explain everything that'd happened last night. It was going to be hell explaining what Spike was. And immortality... Crap.

Buffy sighed with gusto this time, pushing the worries to the back of her mind. There was nothing for it right now, she would have to talk to Grams later. Perhaps after Spike had eaten a couple dinners at the house and some weeks passed. No need to rush the unveiling of "Oh hey, my boyfriend is a vampire and I'm kind of tied to him for eternity. And why yes, that DOES mean I'm immortal now."

Buffy groaned softly, tugging at her hair as she looked to the clock again. The guys must have all gone out for breakfast or something if they were still gone even now, she knew there was a cafe in town that opened ridiculously early and closed before six PM. Maybe that note was older than she realized.

Her gaze rested on the refrigerator, and to relieve her mind of the newest concerns starting to take precedent, she moved closer and reached high. Searching blindly with one hand, she caught hold of the only thing up there and brought it down.
The Gem was quite beautiful, for all its trouble causing worth. It glittered with pride and looked like amber, nearly identical to her nightmare bracelet. The stone was just a bit rounder and larger in this setting.

Buffy slipped the pretty thing on, both admiring and studying it as she clipped the old clasp shut. She shook it around her wrist very gently, raising it high in the light. It positively glowed at moments.

Her stomach grumbled again, and suddenly she recalled the reason she'd come down here. Buffy opened the fridge. Peering inside, she found the remnants of Spike's newest trip to the grocery store, and subsequently the remnants of everyone else's snacks.

There was lunchmeat and spicy mustard, most likely Stevo's choices. She opened the freezer and saw a pint of rocky road ice cream that could be anyone's. Greedily, Buffy took it out before removing the lid and digging in with a spoon. She stood and ate, while still looking for more goodies.

There were some uncooked steaks, a jar of dill pickles, peanut butter and jelly. Next to some beer cans there sat three gallons of milk. Those were for everyone. She'd never seen so much dairy consumed in one house, often used as a substitute for coffee creamer.

Her ice cream, with the spoon sticking out of the container, was set on the counter before Buffy reached for a gallon. She got a glass from a higher cabinet and filled it.

It was nice to snack like this all alone in the kitchen. She just needed some music and she'd feel like she was fifteen again. Her iPod was back at home, however, in her bag that she'd neglected to take with into town yesterday. Buffy still didn't know how she'd forgotten it.

If she hadn't, maybe she wouldn't have lost her phone. She'd need another soon, and maybe she could get one for Spike, too. It would be nice to be able to reach him when he was out, the guy was always getting into stupid situations and fighting. He needed a freaking tracker injected underneath his skin.

Buffy puffed out a little laugh at the thought. Her protectiveness wasn't strange to her, just expected. However, the vampire upstairs still seemed thrown at moments by her worry over him.

Buffy capped up the milk and opened the refrigerator again. After putting the gallon on its shelf, she caught sight of something she'd missed before. Bloodbags.

There were several piled up in there like a vampire buffet. Buffy wondered how many Spike could consume in one sitting, how many he usually drank in a day. The fact was no longer so surreal after all she'd learned and what they'd experienced together, after falling for him. The concept, however, was still yucky.

*Really? Even after last night? You drank it, too,* she reminded herself.

Making a decision, Buffy reached in and grabbed a bloodbag. She had seen Spike heat these up before.

She closed the fridge door and opened the microwave, setting the fluid filled bag inside before pressing the same buttons she'd watched Spike press a hundred times before. She'd also seen him consume numerous amounts of this stuff on the daily, never consistent was he with his diet. She tapped her foot impatiently after closing the little microwave, trying to avoid her own thoughts.

It was a simple gesture, nothing to get worked up about. Spike would appreciate it, he wouldn't look into it, he wouldn't look at her with that wonderful stare of warmth and awe as if she were priceless either. She wasn't. He knew that, and he loved her anyway.

Buffy didn't want praise for something she, frankly, felt guilty for not doing before now.

"Ugh... bloody hell," she mumbled dryly, opening the microwave door when the machine finally beeped. Scrunching her nose in distaste, she grabbed a mug, and next the bloodbag.

Buffy paused, used the scissors that were in a nearby drawer to cut open the bag, then poured its contents into the awaiting coffee mug.

Frowning, she leaned in and took an experimental sniff. Pulling back with a grimace, Buffy sighed again, suddenly feeling admiration for her vampire. He had to drink this stuff all the time... Surely, he enjoyed the smell and taste more than she did, actually preferred it coming from a live body, but still, what a fate.

Spike ate other food; spicy wings, anything with onions. Hot sauce got put on lots of stuff, Mexican was a big hit with him. But she knew he didn't get to enjoy the flavors the same as humans did.

Hadn't she seen him add a... herb to his blood once in a while? Setting the mug down, she started to search for the unnamed additive. If she was going to wake him up with "breakfast in bed" she wanted to do it right.

All lower cabinets proved to be unhelpful. The overhead ones had many spices, but not the right one. She checked the drawers in the refrigerator just in case, but came out empty handed. Beginning to consider substitutes as she opened one of the lower cupboards again, she almost didn't notice when a thud came from the door off the hall.

Buffy looked belatedly around the corner of the doorway, remembering the tree branch that hung just close enough to the house to make a banging noise when the wind blew. She turned back around, but then the sound came again and startled her into almost bumping her head against the doorframe.

She elected to ignore it, until the banging got worse. It started coming in annoying little taps that wouldn't quit. Finally, letting out a loud groan of annoyance on her way, Buffy went to the noisy door.

She didn't know where any shears were, and so the moment Buffy realized she shouldn't have opened the door, she couldn't really recall what she'd planned on doing with the annoying tree branch. It had earned a glare, at least.

Unfortunately, she was wrong. The branch did not deserve any blame for the noise. The wind was nonexistent and all of the trees were still. But the yard was not empty, and neither were the indigo eyes, so dark they matched the unlit sky disappearing behind day's light, that stared at her with a tagalong smile.

"Hello there."

All color went out and Buffy fell to the ground.

***

Above stairs, a vampire lay tossing and turning in his bed. His skin broke out in shivers, his blood started to itch inside his veins.

Sweat beaded along his brow. He fought his own unconscious state, the relentless pull into deeper sleep clawed and wrenched; his demon was struggling.

It had been howling, thrashing in its slumber. Then the heart inside him, the humanity, roiled too. All had sprung up and started to fight, sluggish scrapes and screams, waking Spike, jolting him. Making it so his body slept but did not rest.

He couldn't wake up. Something was stopping him. Spike's game face came forward in his sleep, his fingers ripped the sheets. He became an animal. Something was wrong.

A light of golden white blinded him behind his eyelids. Then softness, touching his face and calming him, loving hands. Buffy...

Then it was ripped away, and Spike awoke at the snatch.

"Buffy?" he croaked. His fangs were out. His yellow eyes took in the sight of an empty bed, the roiling in his stomach threatened all sense of even fickle calm, and then he saw that her jeans were gone.

Hopping from bed, Spike grabbed his Levis from the ground and stepped into them, leaving the bedroom quickly. The stairs were cold beneath his feet, the first floor even colder. Why was it so cold?

He immediately saw the back door open. Spike stuck his head out into the graying light of dawn and quickly scanned the area. A paw touched his foot.

"What the bleedin hell are you doin out here?"

Like she'd answer. Princess just sat and stared at him.

Spike picked her up and wondered who would be dumb enough to leave the door open, but the answer was nobody. Especially not Buffy. Where was she? And everyone else? Why was there this sickening feeling in his stomach?

Spike shut the backdoor and then walked into the kitchen. There was a carton of melting rocky road on the counter, beside a mug of- Was that blood?

Sure enough, Spike approached it and found the cup full of O-neg. He picked it up and tasted. Lukewarm. It had been heated.

He frowned hard and then bumped into an open cupboard door with his leg. "Why..." He kneeled down and found nothing out of place, so closed the cabinet and stood back up again.

Spike's game face hadn't gone away. He tried to calm himself, tried to make it recede, but refusal was his answer. Something had him on edge, something was creating a black hole inside, and he couldn't seem to figure it out.

He found Ace's note next, and panic sped up his thinking.

If she wasn't with them, where was she? "Buffy?!" There was no answer to the shout.

Spike went into the living room. "Buffy?!" He ran to the room where she liked to fill vases with flowers, he called her again, screamed from the top of the basement stairs and all the way down them. She wasn't in the house.

She wasn't in the house and the door had been left open. The cat had been outside. There was an unfinished container of ice cream with a spoon sticking out of it on the kitchen counter. She wouldn't leave chocolate about for Princess to get sick on. She wouldn't leave a door open. And his gut was on fire.

"BUFFY?!" Spike screamed into the morning air, heedless of the sun rising steadily behind near translucent clouds. Her name was beginning to form a ball in his throat. Nostrils flared as he consciously inhaled, his demon eyes closed to the nature around him as he searched out Buffy's scent.

What Spike smelled nearly knocked him over. Buffy's scent mixed in with something powerful, something foreign and nasty. He didn't like it, he recoiled away from it. Then as quickly as he'd found her trail, he lost it. He couldn't smell anything anymore.

Spike snarled without realizing it. He tried to sense her, tried to use the new claim to reach out... It was so faint. The connection had gotten virtually no time to strengthen itself; being close to your mate was the chief thing that helped that.

Right now he couldn't even find her using the connection, just his vampire senses and those were numbed. He couldn't scent her, he couldn't hear her voice...

Spike pictured Buffy in his mind, that hair, those eyes... He focused on nothing else, forcing concentration as he called out mentally to her. He reached for her blood with his own. He could find her. He had to.

Blackness met him. Her location was a mystery, but the flash of nothingness shocked him, only lasting a second. Spike blinked and breathed in deeply, calling her name softly as he tried again. Once more, darkness slapped him, a tremor of a heartbeat, and then nothing.

Suddenly, the realization came, and Spike nearly fell to his knees. She was knocked out and she wasn't in good company.

The roar that rang throughout the forest had birds shooting out in flocks from light soaked trees. The clouds around the sun blew away, causing the vampire to flinch and burn. He jerked under the beams. He started moving farther out into the forest until finally the blaze of the morning forced him inside like an evil punisher. It would not let him look for her, as blind as Spike's search was to be.

Once the door to the outside slammed behind him he grabbed the kitchen entryway and held on, cracking the molding beneath his fingertips. She couldn't be gone. She couldn't have been taken. Right from under his nose. No... No. She couldn't have been.

Futilely, he searched the house again. But once the frantic seconds of denial and desperation finally ran out, Spike went mad.
________________________

END NOTES: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Please take a minute to let me know what you thought! *hugs*





You must login (register) to review.