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She felt arms embrace her from behind and the vibrations of a voice against her ear as it offered soothing comforts in sympathy. She didn't hear a word of what was spoken, her eyes tear-filled and unwavering as she stared at the sight in front of her. Her knees buckled, body threatening to fall to the icy snow covered ground from the weight of her sorrow, but the arms around her held steadfast.

Tears fell freely down her cheeks as she shook her head, wishing that what she was seeing was simply a terrible dream and that when she opened her eyes her father would still be alive. Her eyes opened and a sob escaped her. He was still gone. She brought her trembling hands to her face, her devastation striking her whole body. She didn't see the look on either of Giles or Spike's faces as they stared at her with concern and worry, but she felt the weight of their silence.

Spike eased his hands from her body and bent towards the snow while Buffy watched on with watery eyes as he started gathering discarded items from the ground that had been strewn all over. The brown satchel in which the items had fallen from; the one that Spike was hastily shoving things back into, looked to be brand new. The leather was so pristine in condition with not one mark or telltale bend or blemish in its folds to show that it had ever been used. She didn't know where the bag had come from or how long it had been there, but judging from the two looks of the men in front of her it wasn't either of theirs.

Her eyes drifted towards her father's body again.

His eye's cold and distant.

Her vision blurred as Giles delicately began lifting the frail and broken form of her father into his arms, her eyes instantly falling to the blood-stained blanket of white beneath him. All around her the snow was marred with patches of blood in the shape of bodies and she was struck with a memory. She recalled a time in her life when everything had been simple, surrounded by two loving parents, she couldn't have been more than four years old, but her mother and father were teaching her how to make snow angels. It was winter and they had their arms and legs brushing out against the fresh powder as they lay in the snow to create an image.

Buffy's face was motionless as Giles started walking, crimson drops falling from her father's body into the snow beneath him. Spike touched her lower back, satchel hung over one shoulder as he nudged her forward to follow, face flinching when he realized what she was staring at and wishing that they had walked ahead.

"Oh my god!"

"Is she ok?"

"There's so much blood...."

"Is he dead?"

"What happened?"

Buffy couldn't recall the walk from the snow up the short pathway back into the warmth of the castle, but the gasps and worried shouts that came from the tenants as soon as they walked through the large windowed doors only echoed in the background of her mind. Just like being in a deep sleep, the voices around her seemed to fade in and out in a clouded haze of incoherent murmurs.

She could feel her mates eyes on her, watching intently with concern etched on his face as he flooded her senses with his emotions and worry. She furrowed her brows, eyes brimming with tears as she pushed him out of her mind before slamming their connection shut.

"Give the lassie some room tae breathe."

Aileen's worried voice reached her just as Spike touched her arm causing her to flinch at the unexpected contact. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings by closing their link, but she needed time to process her own thoughts before she added his to the mix. How could she handle his emotions when she didn't even have a hold of her own? She briefly met his gaze before stepping closer to Giles and form of her father that he still held in his arms.

He looked so tiny. His face was gaunt, cheek bones slightly protruding, a defining attribution to the severe malnutrition he had clearly suffered. His hair was a matted mess, his beard scruffy, skin dirty as if he hadn't properly bathed in a while and his eyes...

Oh god!

His clouded eyes were still open, empty and lifeless.

Buffy let out a small hiccup, reaching forward to close his lids with shaky hands.

"Ceannard, you need tae calm your tenants before all hell breaks loose!"

"Angelus and Drusilla..."

Buffy flinched at their names.

"Take her upstairs. I'll be righ' behind you, luv."

"I-I'll help w-with Buffy." Tara stammered, already gently taking Buffy's arm through hers.

"Me too. Come on sweetie, let's get you cleaned up." Willow spoke softly, the free arm that wasn't cradling her child slipping around Buffy's.

"My father...."

"I'll take him to the library." Giles murmured, flinching when Buffy shouted.

"No!"

"Pet?"

"I-"

"Perhaps, given the current circumstances it would be best if I take him to Buffy's old room?"

Spike nodded his agreement, watching Buffy as she walked behind him, her eyes downcast and staring again at the small droplets of blood that were still dripping from her father's body.

"Christ..."

"Mo chridhe is still-"

"Oz and a few of the others as well....No one leaves until sun up."

"Ye best explain yerself then, before they all start fleein'. If it's nae safe out ye need to tell them why."

"Right."

Buffy could hear the whispered voice of her mate as she walked away, eyes watching the small red drops falling onto the marble floor of the ballroom as they walked. She hadn't seen Willow or Tara rush over when they had first entered the ballroom, but was glad they were with her. They did their best to support her walking up the steps of the castle, her body suddenly overcome with a crippling weakness, limbs not cooperating with her minds demands. The adrenaline from the event was running its course, leaving her weak and exhausted in its wake.

"C'mon sweetie, just a few more steps."

"I'll put him on the bed." Giles whispered, breaking the silence moments later when they reached the hallway that held the openings to the bedrooms.

"He's cold..."

She was met with silence, the gazes of those she had come to call family all staring at her with utter sadness in their eyes. Her fingers were lifting the stray pieces of hair that had fallen across her fathers forehead, her lip trembling as she fought off her tears.

"I-I'll warm a fire?"

Buffy nodded, a small smile gracing her features as Giles exhaled in relief, unsure if his suggestion had been appropriate. After all, a fire would do little for the deceased man in his arms.

Standing in the darkened hallway she watched Giles walk away, every step he took taking her father further from her and in that moment she felt more adrift than she ever had before.

A short while ago she had heard her fathers voice crying out to her in the night, a sound she had only heard in her dreams. He was there. He was alive! He had wrapped his arms around her in a hug that had instantly erased any doubts and fears that she'd had over the evening, for there was nothing that a hug from your father couldn't fix.

She had found her comfort, her home again.

And Angelus had taken it all away from her.

She felt numb.

Adrift.

Floating in a sea of darkness with nothing to hold onto to keep her from sinking into an empty abyss.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"You'll always be alone."

"This way sweetie."

Willow's voice echoed from down the hall as she ducked into a room. Buffy let Tara direct her down the familiar hallway and through the doors of the room she shared with Spike. The next few minutes passed in a blur as she was sat on the edge of the bed left to watch with unfocused eyes as the two witches flurried about with tasks in front of her.

Little baby Oliver gurgled behind her on the bed and she turned to see him sandwiched between two pillows so he wouldn't roll away. Buffy took the time to take in her own appearance while the witches worked and a fresh onslaught of tears flooded her. Her once golden gown was now covered and stained with red. The material was torn in numerous places, but the most damage having been made by the post that had ripped through her body. Her fingers touched the tender flesh of her chest, stomach tightening at the thought that she should be dead right now, laying cold and gone in the room down the hall with her father. Her eyes fell down to her hands and her blood stained fingers, eyes catching sight of the gold band wrapped around her pointer finger, a green gem set beneath it's entwined surface.

What are you?

Her hands were taken by both Tara and Willow as they helped her stand from the bed, noticing for the first time that a fire had been lit and a bathing tub set opposite it. She allowed them to slip the sodden dress from her body, letting it fall to the ground with a slop. A fresh set of goosebumps rose across her skin, not having realized how cold and wet her gown had been. There was steam rising from the tub, indicating the two witches had used their magic to warm it and she happily stepped into the hot water.

"What happened tonight?" Willow asked, brows furrowed as she watched Buffy's back dip beneath the water as she descended into the tub.

"Drusilla and Angelus got through the barrier." Spike spoke from the doorway noticing Buffy flinch when he said their names.

Stepping into the room he started unbuckling his jacket and belts, uncaring as he tossed them to the ground.

"What? How?"

"That shouldn't have been possible. We made sure of it!"

"They didn't get in, per se, but the sod threw something through the barrier." Spike rephrased, eyes lingering on Buffy as she stared at the hand that lay gripping the side of the tub, golden ring glinting in the fire that she was opposite.

It was unlike her to be so silent and now that she had shut him out from their connection he had no way of knowing what she was thinking or feeling. He knew she was barely hanging on by a thread, the brief glimpses he had seen earlier had her jumping from one extreme thought to the next and it worried him.

"The m-man Giles brought in... that was h-her f-father?"

"Held captive by Angelus and Drusilla for god knows how long."

Buffy's hand slipped back into the water with a slosh, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

"W-we should leave you two alone..."

"I'll bring something by in a little bit to help her sleep." Willow whispered, having already picked up her child from the bed.

"Thank you." Spike held their gaze, his words sincere and eyes full of worry for his mate.

The witches nodded, casting a glance to the woman crying her heart out in the tub by the fire as they exited the room. Spike closed the door behind them and continued to strip the clothes from his body, moving to the tub and stepping in to sit behind his mate. She collapsed against his chest as his arms wrapped around her, hugging her in a tight embrace.

"I'm here, luv."

"I'm so sorry."

"I've got you, pet."

He whispered words of comfort to her, covering her in kisses as his arms every so often tightened their hold to let her know he was there for her. After a while her tears seemed to ease with only the occasional sniffle, her face left red and blotchy from her crying. Spike started running his hands down her arms and legs, fingers brushing off the blood that marred her skin. He lifted her in the tub, turning her around so she sat in his lap, kissing her lips chastely before wiping the dried blood from her face where she had coughed it up. Her eyes remained distant the whole time as he washed the blood from her skin, face an empty shell of the woman who had danced earlier that evening without a care in the world.

Once she was clean he quickly dried himself off before wrapping Buffy in her nightgown and bringing her to stand in front of the fire. She swayed on her feet and he helped her into his chair. Pulling her feet up off the ground, she curled in on herself, the nightgown tucked over her knees as she moved to lay her head on the material of the chairs back.

"Buffy-"

There was a knock on his door and he quickly grabbed the pants he had worn earlier that day before dressing for the gathering. He met the grimacing face of Deorsa when he finally opened the door. After seeing the state his friend was in he raised one eyebrow, cast a glance behind him and stepped from the room, closing closing the door behind him. Buffy didn't need to see anymore blood tonight.

"Ceannard... How is the lass?"

"Not good. She... jus' tell me what happened."

"Aye well, we gave chase ye ken. They ran straight tae the road and tried tae get intae a carriage, but we caught up. There was a fight, little Benji didnae make it, but I got a good swing at the baw heided dolt for his doings. I tell ye, that wolf is sure good in a fight!"

"Are they dead?"

"Ehhh no."

"Did they escape?"

"Aye-"

"Fuck!"

"Aye, hang on a minute, I'm nae finished yet! Ye see, we got in a few good licks, that dolt sure does like talking oot his fanny flaps. Lying wee bugger! After Benji... I knew we didnae have enough strength tae take the two of them so we let them escape, didnae make it easy on them though."

"You followed them?"

"Aye!" Deorsa smiled, talking animatedly with his hands, still charged up from the fight. "They're in the village, hiding in a wee tavern."

"Daybreak will be soon."

"It will be safe for the tenants tae leave then, but I would like tae stay and help, ye ken."

"You've done enough, Deorsa-"

"Aye, well it's nae finished yet."

Spike knew better than to argue with a brachen demon about such matters and simply nodded his head in answer. He watched Deorsa tip his head in a small gesture of a bow before taking his leave, leaving Spike to stand alone in the darkened hallway. He could hear the chattering of his tenants below in the ballroom, all worried about the threat that lay outside his walls and the events that had transpired earlier. He knew they were scared and wanted answers, but he had none to give.

His demon was fretting within, feeling the turmoil its mate was going through and unable to ease her through their connection. Buffy had put up a wall, shut him out and barely spoken since he had pulled her up from the snow. Stepping back into his room he saw that the cause of his worry had not moved from her seat, legs still curled beneath her on the chair, eyes staring emptily at the fire.

"Pet? Would you like to lay down?"

Spike set about getting their bed ready, gathering Buffy's ruined gown from the flood and placing it in a corner of the room out of sight, she needed no reminders of the evening. As he pulled down the sheets and placed the pillows back at the head of the bed his mind was already formulating a plan.

"Buffy?"

Once daylight broke, Angelus and Drusilla would be stuck in the tavern in which they were hiding until the sun set on the next day. He knew that they would be gone the moment darkness came and Deorsa knew it just as well. Spike had known Deorsa for long enough to know that if there was ever a need for a fight that his hand would always be the first up to offer his services.

Buffy didn't speak a word as Spike helped her up from the chair, tucking his arms under her knees and back as he carried her to the bed. As soon as he placed her against the soft pillows she curled in on herself, face crumbling as a fresh onslaught of tears streaked down her face.

Crawling in behind her fully clothed Spikes eyes narrowed, Angelus would die tomorrow for the suffering he had caused her.





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