They came back to a sort of hell.

A vampire who'd lost sight of his mate, a man who'd lost the woman holding his heart.

"I don't like this," Ace choked out, his voice a raspy declaration of both disgust and concern.

"You're sure as hell not the only one," Blake countered. He stared at the blade of a large sword, one he'd been sharpening for over an hour. He didn't dare lose concentration, lest he lose his head.

Stevo stood over the gypsy journal, frantically grinding herbs and measuring them, memorizing chants. He'd tried a locater spell on Buffy, even after Spike had done three; but concentrated energy from someone who WASN'T bordering on the edge still hadn't managed to find her. Their girl was somewhere simple magick couldn't reach.

Dylan was helping finish a spell they might be able to use on Flora, if she was, by chance, susceptible. Stevo had been working on sketching it from another spell for weeks. "I need more cedar oil," he asked softly.

Dylan dutifully handed over a little brown glass bottle. "You're sure this is going to work?"

"No, I'm not. But I think it will." Hope was his altar today.

That was all they had at the moment. Hope, ideas and suggestions. Before, when they were contemplating ways to find Flora and the Gem, and figure out what Drusilla's visions meant, brainstorming and researching was fine. Hell, it was paramount. It was necessary, in order to figure things out.

Not anymore. They had no time.

One of their own had been taken. More importantly, Buffy had been taken. She was human, newly mated, and extra strength would be slow in coming to her. She would feel bereft, lost, possibly dazed at times away from Spike so early in their claim. And he would react the same. Worst, they had no idea where she might be.

"Whoa!"

Stevo looked down at the jar he'd just broken and blinked. It had been empty of the herb he'd wanted, Stevo didn't realize until after doing so that he'd thrown the container instead of setting it down; slivers of clear, jagged glass shined in the light. "Sorry."

Dylan sighed. "It's okay." He understood. Everybody was worried and barely keeping it together. Nothing was okay. Anger was simmering beneath the very thin layer of control that was only a pretense at keeping calm. "I'll get a towel."

The half-demon went to the sink while Stevo stood in silence, still as a frozen pond. After a moment, he asked, "Do you know if Rex is still on the phone?"

Dylan shook his head and turned off the water. He approached again and started to wipe off the glass sprinkled countertop. "No." He glanced at the man flipping through a book thicker than two Holy Bibles, "Ace, would you check?"

The man stood up and left the room, a minute later returning, after an irritated rush of words had been shared between himself and the thunderbird. Yes, Rex was off the phone, he'd just hung up with Drusilla. And no, there was no news. No visions had been seen, no hints as to where Buffy might be were delivered to the vampire's psyche.

The sound of a door slamming rang throughout the house like a gong, followed quickly by footsteps leading into the basement. Rex had gone to wail on the punching bag.

Blake sat on a stool beside the kitchen island, rubbing his bruised arm at random moments in between cleaning the weapon he still held. There had been a fight earlier, both brutal and drawn out. The guys had all walked away with minimal injuries, though; cuts here, bruises there, almost less than the usual. Not even a pulled muscle among the five of them... but it had taken a long time to end the fight.

It had been a distraction. An extended, exhausting distraction. Vampires came from the corners and behind trees, jumping onto them three at a time and wielding axes and knives. It wasn't pretty, and now much of the forest floor between Spike's house and town square was covered in ash. The fight had lasted hours, the vampires involved were many and those that went un-dusted had refused to tire.

No one realized until later that they had been inexhaustible on purpose. It was the opening needed, before sunrise, for someone else to steal Buffy away.

"I miss her," Blake nearly mumbled, staring hard and blankly at the sword in his hands; its blade would draw blood at the merest touch. "She'd be bandaging us all up right about now."

Ace sat beside him and studied a map of the area that was on the island countertop. There were red circles and marks all over the thing from places they'd guessed she might be; all had turned up as dead ends. Sun was almost setting, and they'd been working for hours to locate Buffy. "She probably would be..." Ace replied, "if she were here."

"It wasn't our fault," Stevo suddenly blurted, before mumbling his next sentence, "We got into a long fight, it lasted hours."

"How were we supposed to know..." Dylan shook his head after he trailed off. "No. I take it back. We should have noticed it was taking too long. We should have known there was a reason why they weren't tiring out."

Ace cursed under his breath. "Fuckers. They knew how to play us. And she was with Spike, we assumed-"

"Assumption got her kidnapped," Stevo interrupted. "And now Spike is losing it."

The last was said quietly, like a secret no one wanted to share or hear. At that moment, the vampire was upstairs, trying to catch her trail again and again. He kept sticking his nose out of windows, extending himself to the edge of shade. He picked up her clothes and inhaled Buffy's scent from every inch of fabric like he was trying to get high off it. Spike was still using chants and spells out of numerous books in order to locate her, too. He'd tried three by the time the guys had finally returned but now he'd lost count. He thought he'd reached thirty, maybe five spells ago. It didn't matter, not a one worked.

There was a furious sort of feeling in his body, like a snake was coiling and snapping inside his gut. Every time he thought of her face, imagined where she might be, without him, at someone else's cruel idea of mercy, Spike lost it just a little bit more. There was a blue dimming light coming inside from open windows and it reminded him of the color of her veins at her wrist. Spike remembered puncturing one, he remembered how her blood tasted, he remembered how she was his. The demon inside him was shivering and howling, and peace couldn't be found. He didn't want to find it before finding her.

Death was never something he'd enjoyed thinking about as a human, but he had contemplated becoming ash before. He'd contemplated many ideas of demise, whether hell would be a reprieve from the loneliness he felt on earth or not. Then, he'd stopped. Spike had grown up and realized self pity was nowhere for his thoughts to dwell.

Buffy coming into his life was like a shooting start across a daylight sky. He'd never even seen her coming. Then, all of a sudden, she was there, in his library, in his heart and his thoughts, in his bed. Now she was in his veins. She had set up residence within his blood, not just by way of the claim, but because Spike loved her. If anything happened to Buffy, he would never recover.

Thinking clearly and trying to figure out where she may be wasn't easy, his head wasn't on straight, and the claim kept trying to rile him into action. Go out, find your mate, bring her back and make sure she's safe.

He couldn't do those things and it was killing him.

Spike forced himself into focusing and thinking logically. He knew the guys were working their asses off. He knew they weren't calm either. The house felt heavy with the emotions bouncing around its walls; it was a wonder Blake hadn't taken to leaving every half hour or so in order to breathe, the empath had to be suffering.

Spike had to stifle his own emotions every other minute just to think, to close his eyes and try and connect with Buffy. It felt like he was reaching her unconsciousness less and less. Even passed out, he'd be able to find her if the claim were stronger. But it wasn't, and as a result he could barely set apart north from south or what direction his gut was hinting at him to follow.

He knew who'd taken her. The witch. There was no doubt in his mind now that she- whoever the bitch was -had been working with Flora this entire time. She wanted the Gem, and they still had no idea why. Perhaps she wanted to try and harness its power for something else, a spell maybe- No one knew. They just knew that she wanted it. She must have cut a deal with Flora, and Spike bet his ashes were the deal breaker.

But how this witch had learned Spike would find the Gem, he didn't know. It didn't make sense that she had begun working with Flora recently, not if their goals were different. No. The witch had to have known she could use Flora to help find Spike or the Gem for a while, either way it meant somehow he was connected to that fucking piece of rock, and the witch had known all along.

Maybe it was promised to Flora once her partner was done using it. Perhaps the witch didn't need its power after all, or at least not all of it. Spike didn't think Flora's desire for vengeance had quelled at all, and he didn't for a second think she was willing to grant him mercy for any sort of "exchange."

So, simply, the witch wanted the Gem, and Flora wanted Spike. Instead, they had Buffy.

And he knew that his mate was in the worst form of danger if Flora was nearby. The idea of Buffy being in the same room with that vampire bitch made his skin crawl.

***

Downstairs, the phone started to ring. The only person who ever called this number was Buffy, so naturally, the house took a collective gasp at the first chime.

Stevo ran to the cradle as Spike pounded down the stairs. The gypsy picked up the line, nearly yelling into the receiver while his heart beat a mile a minute. "Hello? Buffy?"

"Um... Sorry, dear." It was Drusilla. "I have news on the young human, though."

He sighed. Spike did, too, except his breath was more of a whimper if you listened closely enough. He should have known, Buffy was still in the dark every time he reached out to her. "What does she know?" he demanded.

"Tell Spike," Drusilla began, "that I just got news from those powers who so like putting images in my head. Apparently, this witch's name is Antonia."

"Antonia?" Stevo repeated, frowning hard. "I feel like I know that name."

"She's been in plenty of books. The woman is older than me. She's powerful, too. And I... Well, I'm pretty sure- with what I felt and what I saw, as well as who she is..."

"Spit it out, Dru!" Spike shouted from the doorway.

"She's been looking for the Gem for months. She... Well, tell Spike he's part of a prophecy. I know how he'll react to this news but-"

The vampire was already pounding his aching head against the wall. "Tell the bird I can hear every word she says from here."

"Well I can't!" Ace swiftly interrupted. "What the hell's going on, Stev?"

"It appears Spike is part of a prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

Drusilla spoke up again. "That's a tricky bit. You see, it is written- I have the words embedded in my brain from that bloody vision, I swear I've never had such a headache before-"

"Focus, Drusilla," Stevo reminded.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyways, it isn't quite... clear. Spike, 'a vampire unlike others, strong, cursed with self control and a human ability to feel,' will find the Gem. Then, he must protect it or discard it, because another source of evil wishes to use it to cause... well, destruction. That is all it says."

"That's it?" Stevo asked.

Dylan scowled. "Seems weird that this Antonia woman would look for the Gem for so long based just on that. How would she even know how to use it for evil?"

"That is what I thought," Drusilla continued. "Then I remembered something I'd read long ago. It was in the Codex."

"What?!" Spike demanded.

"The Codex," Stevo explained to Ace's silent questions. Rex suddenly came in, having heard just about everything up until now from the living room; the moment the phone rang he'd sped up the stairs.

"The Codex specifically named the Gem of Amara, and then described the witch who would harness it's power to become 'a great evil in the world where humans reign.' But only if said witch could find it, which she never would do without the help of a vampire. She's trying to become a kind of God, Stev. Between my vision and both prophecies, I'm sure of it."

"And Flora's just helping because she wants Spike's head," Dylan added.

"Seems that way," Drusilla agreed.

"But instead she has Buffy."

"I believe you should be expecting a phone call from her or Antonia very soon. No doubt the girl will be used as trade for the Gem."

Rex ran a hand roughly through his short hair, and Ace rubbed his palms over his face, still unsure about half of the conversation. Spike replied. "We've figured that out, Dru. Been expectin it. But we sure as hell haven't stopped looking for her. So do you have any clue where she is or not?"

He sounded impatient, Drusilla noted. She could tell simply by his voice how Spike must feel about this human he'd claimed. She hoped with all of her shaky soul they found Buffy before time ran out. "I don't know where she is, but I have a spell you can use to find her."

Suddenly, Spike felt something spark inside of him. It was hope... and it wasn't alone.

Buffy was awake.

***

Buffy had the insanely familiar feeling of when she'd fallen out of a tree.

She was five, and she'd been climbing in a low limbed magnolia during springtime. It was wet out, humid, and she was filled with lemonade and too much energy. She'd neglected to retie her shoelaces, and Buffy got a broken wrist for climbing too high then losing grip, even though she'd told herself she wouldn't dare go down until she was ready.

Now she remembered hitting the concrete, the pain that had speared through her entire body. Her head meeting the sidewalk like a hammer meets a nail. Her mother was near tears when Buffy called out and Joyce had found her lying there, cradling a broken body part and weeping beside an anthill.

Buffy felt like that now, confused, hurting, her head seemingly ringing from the force of a fall. She didn't want to open her eyes, so instead she allowed memories to foggily trail back to her. Her mind felt thick, how could a brain be filled with soup?

She recalled blacking out. All she could sense now was a need, like she missed somebody. A dread had settled in her unstable gut. Was she nauseous? She felt like she might be nauseous.

Then, with lightning, it came back. It all came back as fast as Buffy could take a breath.

Indigo eyes and a smile she never wanted to see again. Had she... Had she been kidnapped?

Determined, fighting fear, the girl allowed her eyes to open. She immediately took in a shadowy room which reminded her of a castle. She was definitely not at Spike's.

Suddenly, it felt like she'd just watched a bird dive into the mouth of a cat. In a minute she might go "tweet" but really, she wanted to scream.

Buffy didn't dare. The air was still, as if sound might crack it as a punch would a mirror. She had something lodged in her stomach, something heavy and draining. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be with Spike.

Her mate.

*Oh fuck.*

Buffy released a sigh. She knew she was supposed to be able to sense him, feel him somehow... God, could she even attempt to? Surely there would be some... innate instinct that might wake up her ability to connect with him.

Buffy closed her eyes again, briefly relieved by her own sight's ignorance. It was so much easier to pretend you weren't where you shouldn't be, when you could imagine the place you belonged. She called out Spike's name in her mind, she tried to imagine his face, where he might be, listening to his voice in her head... Nothing. She got nothing.

She took a deep breath and tried again, never lifting her eyelids, which felt heavy.

Fifteen minutes of reaching out to him- if she was even doing this right -and still, Buffy got nothing. There was so little mental connection to ANYTHING, that the feeling of emptiness and unease she'd been trying to ignore jangled as if seeking attention, rather than quieted.

She rubbed her eyes and, noticing some shackles that were trailing out of a wall not ten feet away, thanked the little luck she had that her arms were free. Her feet were, too. There was nothing tying her down that she could see.

Buffy moaned when she rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. The floor was stone. Where the hell was she, a dungeon? Oddly, the girl felt just a little like she was in The Wizard of Oz. Except Dorothy had ruby slippers, while Buffy had-

Her gasp could have startled a statue. She quickly looked down at her wrist and then released a great sigh of relief. The Gem was still on her person. She hadn't lost it, it hadn't been taken.

That, she found weird, but was too thankful to think on it overly much. The obvious assumption was the woman who'd taken her didn't know what the Gem looked like. That, or she wasn't interested in it, but Buffy found such a case hard to believe.

She looked around her. The room was bare except for a wooden table beside a matching chair, both of which looked so old they were probably covered in splinters. There was a window, too. It was dirty and very well might be nailed shut. No door.

How had she been put in here if there was no door? What, was she lifted in by a crane like some grand piano? Buffy stood up and moved quickly and silently to the closed window. She tried to open it, only to give up five minutes later after realizing the drop to the ground wasn't survivable, and there were no trees to be climbed and no ledge to try and tip-toe along. She had to admit, this was discouraging.

Buffy turned around at the sound of something high pitched but quiet, and with that turn, her brain seemed to spin. Sudden dizziness, weakness... it was like someone had sucked out half her body's blood supply.

The idea of blood made Buffy think of Spike, the memory of biting him, his teeth sinking into her skin, the claim- This all brought along a flash. It was so quick that once it ended, she wasn't totally sure it had happened at all.

She saw him. She sensed his presence, and for an instant knew all of his emotions. Worry, fear, anger, more fear, and a strong dose of determination mixed in with relieved surprise. He knew she was awake. He'd also known, until this instant, that she'd been unconscious.

Buffy leaned against one of the cold stone walls, trying to steady herself. God, she had felt him. He seemed so far away. She pressed a hand against her chest as unwelcome nervousness slithered through her body, surely leaving wrinkles on her skin from the inside out. She twitched and started to breathe oddly, gasping and shaking. Crap, this wasn't fun.

It took her a minute to get a hold of herself, and when she did, Buffy was madder than she'd been after first realizing she was captured. The claim was upset, and she missed Spike for more than simply being afraid and wondering if he was okay. Her whole being, soul and body, were suffering without him. It had been so short a time after the claim... They'd gotten absolutely no time to properly connect and build it up. Now, they were apart, and their ties were being stretched just like some stiff muscle.

Buffy grit her teeth and stood up straight, ignoring the fire that burned beneath her breastbone. She couldn't expect Spike and the guys to rescue her, though she knew they'd try. She would be grateful if they did, but they'd need help from her if any plan they came up with was going to succeed. And before Buffy tried to get herself out of this, or even contemplated relaying information to her mate through the flimsy connection they shared, she needed to know why she was here, acting out the part of some princess stuck in a tower.

"Hey! I'm up! Anyone wanna come and chat with the person they've locked up?!" No reply came to her shouting, and Buffy walked over to the splintery looking table and chair, throwing the latter into the wall before yelling again. Courage was welling up to match her anger. "I'd love to know how you got me in here! I mean, I don't even see a door! Is there a special stone you press?! A chain to pull?!"

She threw the chair again, hauling it back with all her might before letting it fling. The old thing was coming apart, and Buffy felt adrenaline speed through her blood like an eel in water. The chair made yet another loud crashing sound as it hit the wall a third time, finally falling to the ground it splintery pieces.

Just then, Buffy heard another quiet sound, a squeak. She spun around fast, only to notice a rat scurrying past the window to nestle into a corner. She blinked, and the half a second allowed the rat to wiggle into a hole in the wall. Buffy witnessed its dirty tail disappear as if it'd been eaten in quick bites by the stone.

She suddenly thought of Princess. She missed that cat.

In the moment of turning back around, Buffy got the chills. It was like that sensation you have when a cold wind suddenly whips by on a hot day, and you can smell a storm coming. Instead of the foretelling of a storm or even lightning, though, it was the opening of a wall.

Well then, there was a door.

In stepped two tall women, one with short brown hair, wearing jeans and a dirty black jacket. The other had on a drape-y gown of cream and gold that looked incredibly out of place in this grungy room. It was the woman who'd knocked Buffy out, the one with indigo eyes as deep as the ocean. Her tanned skin was in stark contrast to the other woman's pale, wrinkle-free face. One thing they did have in common, neither female looked very friendly; the smile on the one in the dress made Buffy want to shrink back.

Instead, she stood as tall as her height would allow. Noticing you were barefoot wasn't helpful when trying to keep your heart rate in check, and fighting lightheaded-ness. It was never a good thing to notice when you'd been kidnapped.

Suddenly, she really, REALLY wanted a pair of shoes.

"Quite a voice for such a little thing," the gowned woman commented, that smile still chilling and frozen in place. Her teeth were perfect.

Buffy refrained from pointing out that she could get a lot louder. "Okay, so let me take a guess here..." She casually walked closer, pointing at the short haired brunette in jeans, "You're one of the flying monkeys, and you're," she pointed at the grinner, "the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't have any ruby slippers stuck on my feet- As a matter of fact, I'm without ANY shoes. So why don't you just let me go?"

The witch chuckled while the monkey fumed. "She's funny."

"She's an idiot."

"That's rather hypocritical of you, don't you suppose, Flora?" Antonia gave her a sidelong glance.

*Flora...* Buffy mentally took a gulp. Shit. She was in deep, deep shit.

The woman in the dress approached, her smile finally beginning to fade in light of a considering glint behind dark blue eyes. "Is your name truly 'Buffy,' little thing?"

She cocked a brow. "Elizabeth, thank you very much.

Antonia hummed almost condescendingly as she looked down at her. "Hmm. Buffy's the nickname then." Suddenly, she glanced peculiarly at the woodpile that used to a be a chair, almost with disinterest, like she had expected her hostage to do something like this and only wondered why it had taken so long. "Well, I like Elizabeth much better," she declared, tearing her eyes away from the chair.

Buffy frowned hard as the woman came closer. Refusing to step back, she glared up and into the face of this person who'd kidnapped her. The air in her lungs stilled and her heart slowed. The woman was lovely, her eyes alone were enough to draw you in, but with thin lips and high cheekbones, a long yet thin nose, she looked... elegant, even if you only saw her face.

Buffy realized with acute clarity, that this woman was actually a witch. Probably THE witch, the one Drusilla had warned about.

The dark hair on her head and the way she stood proud and confident, almost cocky, and the strange flicker in her bright purple-y eyes... Buffy just had this impression... a feeling. It was like the hairs on the back of her neck were all standing to salute. This person was a witch.

She slowly shook her head as her kidnapper, finally, came to a stop no more than two feet away. "Man, I'd like to burn you at the stake," Buffy sneered. She'd always been on the side of the persecuted when reading about the Salem witch trials, but this was so not the same thing.

Antonia rose her eyebrows. "I see that claim is already starting to set in, distance be damned."

Buffy was so stunned she couldn't hide it. She knew about the claim? How in the hell did... Oh, right. Witch. Fucking fuck.

"I'm Antonia. And yes, I'm the one who wants the Gem of Amara. You see, you're my leverage." Her, with her indigo stare and perfect posture, smiled again. She did it so understandingly it made Buffy want to gag. "I'm sure anyone who cares about you as much as Spike does- your MATE, after all -will want you back more than he'll want to keep that burdensome jewel. I'm almost jealous of you, in a way, you've already seen it, I bet. You know exactly what it looks like."

Buffy's wrist started to itch and burn.

She swallowed hard and said nothing, to which Antonia just smiled again.

Changing the topic, Antonia said, "You know, you wouldn't have been able to tell I was a witch without that little bite mark on your neck." She reached out so fast, Buffy didn't see her fingers jump forward and touch her throat, grazing the scar. She fell to the ground as spasms shivered through her limbs like electricity.

It died down almost as quickly as it'd arrived, but left Buffy gasping and shaking. She watched from the floor while Antonia kept talking. "It's because of the claim. You're receiving a few of the same senses Spike holds. Fun, no? Wouldn't you find that fun, Flora?"' She turned with the address, lifting one shoulder casually. "If you were mated to a human, you'd very possibly be able to feel a heartbeat every once in a while, even endure sunlight for longer than a minute."

Buffy rubbed her neck and calmed, but she felt unsettlement from somewhere inside her, somewhere far away. It felt like... Spike. She felt Spike. And he wasn't happy. She wondered if he knew what she did now, or only felt her and what she was going through. Buffy didn't know and at the moment she didn't really want to think too hard.

"I'm sorry," Antonia said, not all that regretfully, "The claim mark is sensitive to any touch that isn't welcomed, especially another demon's or... like me, an evil witch's." She winked again.

Flora stepped forward then, grabbing Antonia's attention long enough for Buffy to feel comfortable standing back up, albeit on unsteady knees that insisted on knocking together. "Will you stop talking to the brat and just silence her already? Her yelling will push me over the edge, and if you want her to live long enough to trade her for the Gem, then I can't even be NEAR the edge."

The vampire looked at Buffy and glared, almost seeing through her. Those eyes were so cold. "You're lucky I cut a deal with this fucking woman." She nodded at Antonia, crossing her arms with petulance over her black jacket. "The best revenge on Spike would be killing the woman he loves. I don't really think he actually loves you, but you're his mate, and that's enough."

"But you're not going to do that," Antonia declared, rolling her eyes so slowly and dramatically it was surprising her irises didn't disappear. "I understand that you don't understand this, but he does love her. Spike isn't any ordinary vampire. And she," Buffy got pointed at, "isn't yours to kill."

"But Spike is."

The blood in Buffy's body turned to ice. Everything suddenly boiled down to the two women heading back out the way they came. Antonia sighed with disgust, glancing at Buffy and then back to Flora. "You're very much an idiot, Flora."

"I don't care if she knows." Her voice was a grating slither of loathing, directed straight at Elizabeth and her standing as Spike's mate.

"People get desperate..." Antonia was saying in a hush as she lead the way out; Buffy thought she heard her say, "You've just made this more difficult on yourself."

Sometimes confusion was ever-present even when something was being explained to you with absolute competency. And sometimes, there was no confusion for even the most vague and half-baked ideas, just utter clarity, fueled by instinct. As the door/wall closed tightly, leaving Buffy alone once again, she felt fire and anger tie together beneath her skin, weaving like a snake around every nerve ending and blood vessel.

No one, absolutely no one, was going to touch her mate.

Buffy absently wondered, as she walked slowly over to the wall where broken wood bits decorated the floor in front of it, why Flora and Antonia had even bothered coming in to silence her yelling. She had gotten no duct tape put over her mouth, and all they'd really done was manage to piss her off.

*Maybe that's what they wanted...* she mentally growled. Her whole body was tense, like a sparkler stick or a tire iron.

Buffy still managed to kneel. She rifled carefully through the debris of the broken chair; all that angry tossing had done the trick.

She had herself a stake.

________________________________________________
Thank you all for the reviews! I'd love more feedback, let me know how you liked this chapter, please? Thanks for reading! *hugs*





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