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A/N: This story picks up right after Entropy, so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for the purposes of this story…but otherwise, just assume that everything else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the exception of Spike going to get his soul…Hopefully I’ll fill in some gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn’t make sense…and if it’s not a part of the mystery I’ll do my best to *make* it make sense! J


Three months later…


“Buffy, how can you not even *care*? Aren’t you just the littlest bit worried about him? Buffy – he’s been gone – for – for…” Dawn stopped for a moment, trying to do the math, then giving up and shaking her head before looking back up at her sister through imploring eyes, “…so *long*! What if something happened to him?”

“Then I guess he should have thought about that before he decided to up and leave town,” Buffy snapped back impatiently – trying very hard to maintain her façade of indifference to the fate of the vampire that, in her absence last summer, had become like a brother to Dawn.

But in the privacy of her mind, the thought continued, with a worried tone of frustration.

*…chipped – defenseless – somewhere who knows where, where I can’t even look out for him – stupid vampire!*

“Spike wouldn’t have just taken off like that, Buffy. He – he loves you – he wouldn’t…” Dawn’s hesitant voice trailed off completely when her sister suddenly turned to face her, a startlingly cold, bitter anger in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me how much he *loves* me, Dawnie. Because obviously he doesn’t. We’ve been over this before, haven’t we? I went to his crypt – and even though you’re not supposed to be going to places like that, especially on your own – I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it for yourself…”

Dawn made no attempt to deny the truth of her sister’s words. She *had* been to Spike’s crypt – more than once, against Buffy’s orders – and had seen for herself that the vampire had, to all appearances, left town. His clothes, his television, even the small refrigerator he had kept there to keep his blood relatively fresh – all were gone, leaving the crypt as desolate as it had been before he had moved into it.

All signs of life had vanished – unless of course one counted the alarming amount of spilled “life” that was clearly visible on the floor in various spots around the crypt. Dawn had been terrified to see how much blood had apparently been shed in that place – but in spite of what she saw as obvious evidence of foul play, Buffy seemed determined to believe that nothing was out of the ordinary.

“He just left, Dawn,” the Slayer stated flatly, a weary sound to her voice as she rose from her seat on the couch and moved to the mantle, idly fidgeting with the items that rested there. “He just couldn’t deal, after – so – he just skipped town. That’s all there is to it.” She paused for a moment, then added quietly without turning, “Yeah. He really cares *so* much.”

“Buffy – there was so much blood,” Dawn’s voice was soft, slightly pleading – with an edge of fearful uncertainty to it that made Buffy finally turn to face her sister, feeling compassion and concern for *her*, even if she would not allow herself to feel it for the blonde vampire that refused to leave her thoughts.

“He’s a vampire, Dawn. For all we know, he just – spilled his lunch. Or – or maybe he got hurt patrolling. Spike is always getting in fights, Dawnie, you know that. But one thing’s for sure – as long as it’s blood and not a great big pile of dust – then he’s alive, Dawnie…he’s all right…”

“Unless someone took him somewhere – or he was trying to get help but was hurt too bad to get very far, and got caught in the sunlight…”

“Dawnie,” Buffy cut off her little sister’s rising, tremulous speculation, emphatically shutting down her worries, refusing to allow Dawn to see how concerned *she* really was. “He’s okay. If Spike got hurt and made it to his crypt – he wouldn’t be stupid enough to take off across the cemetery in that state – at least nowhere near morning. If the blood in his crypt was his – and it was a – a fatal injury – then there would be a big pile of dust in the crypt – honest.”

Buffy knew that her argument was terribly weak; she was just stretching to find some way of calming her sister’s fears – though her excuses did little to assuage her own.

“Spike’s not that big.”

Buffy shook her head slightly, drawing herself out of her thoughts with a frown of confusion. “Huh?”

“You keep saying -- *great big* -- pile of dust,” Dawn clarified in a soft, halting voice, not quite meeting her sister’s eyes. “Spike’s – not that big.”

Buffy’s heart gave a little lurch inside her at the genuine fear in her sister’s voice – the very clear subtext of her words – and she found it harder than ever to ignore the insistent little voice inside her mind, the voice that urged her to go out and look for him *just one more time*…

Because Dawn was right.

For all his Big Bad persona – not to mention his incredible fighting skills – Spike really was not all that big. There were plenty of nasty creatures out there that Buffy could imagine – or didn’t have to imagine, having faced them before – that could probably overwhelm the vampire sheerly by force of superior size and strength.

And the last time she had seen him – he hadn’t exactly appeared to be in top form.

If she knew Spike at all – and if the last few months before his disappearance had been any indication, then she certainly *did* -- he was most likely drinking heavily at this point…which would only serve to throw him further off his game. And with the chip in his head making him defenseless against humans…

Well, there was just any number of ways that he could have been hurt, or even dusted, in the past few months.

It was a thought she didn’t want to entertain.

Instead, she focused her attention on her little sister, standing in front of her now with tears streaking her face.

“Dawnie,” she said gently, her voice softening as she moved in close to wrap her arms around the trembling girl. “Honey – it’s all right. I’m sure he’s fine. He’s *Spike* -- he just -- *won’t* dust. Ever. Believe me – I’ve tried, so I should know…”

When that comment – not surprisingly – failed to merit so much as a smile from her sister, Buffy studied her sister’s miserable face more closely, and realized that she was very deeply shaken by the disappearance of someone that, whether Buffy liked it or not, had become one of her best friends.

*She’s lost too much these past few years,* she thought with a suddenly overwhelming sense of sorrow. *Dad – then Mom – then me – then Tara – and – Will and Giles both leaving – not to mention, somewhere along the way, her entire understanding of *reality*, and who she is, and now – Spike…*

Buffy blinked back the tears of pain and regret that inevitably followed in the wake of that train of thought, drawing on the anger she felt at a lifetime of disappointments and abandonments, and pulling it to the surface, trying to focus on that, instead of the pain.

It was the only way that she could survive all that had happened.

*When I *do* find that vampire, he’s gonna wish he’d never done this to us -- *her*,* she amended hurriedly, not really ready to admit to herself how hard Spike’s disappearance had been on *her* as well as Dawn. *If he’s alive and well and just doesn’t care to come around – or even to say goodbye – to Dawnie of course – I am *so* going to dust his white, British…sexy, gorgeous…*

*No!* she sternly headed off that line of thinking before it could go any further. *I meant – annoying, irritating…lying, cheating…*

Except – he *hadn’t* cheated – and he’d never been one to lie to her. At least – not since the last time they had actively considered each other “mortal enemies”. And even then, come to think of it, Buffy was hard pressed to think of an instance in which he had been less than honest and straightforward about his intentions – even if those intentions had not been for her good.

Right down to every last detail.

*What happens on Saturday?*

*I kill you.*

Spike was nothing if not straightforward.

*And you *dumped* him, Buffy,* a quiet but insistent voice in her mind reminded her.

*I was never *dating* him!* she insisted back, fighting back a sense of panic that inexplicably came along with the thought.

*You told him it was over – you told him to move on…and he did.*

*But – did it have to be with Anya? Did it have to be someone that I have to look at almost every day? Someone I know, so I can never really forget it, every time I’m around them? My best friend’s *fiancée*?*

*Ex-fiancee.*

*Whatever.*

Buffy’s internal argument was cut short as her sister’s tense body suddenly seemed to wilt, leaning into her embrace. Dawn was sniffling back tears as she leaned her head on Buffy’s shoulder and whispered, “I just – I just hope he’s okay…”

*So do I,* Buffy finally admitted, if only in her mind, as she silently held her sister closer to her, wishing all the while that her mother was still with them to do these mothering acts that she was still sure she had no idea how to do properly. *So do I.*

“He’ll be fine, Dawnie,” she said aloud, her voice firm and reassuring as she ran her fingers slowly through the younger girl’s long, dark hair. “He’s Spike,” she added simply with a slight shrug, by way of explanation. “He doesn’t know *how* to lose a fight – unless it’s with me,” she amended for the sake of her pride, “…and he never knows when to quit. Anybody who messes with him is in for more trouble than he is. Unless they’re me, of course.”

Dawn raised her head long enough to roll her eyes at her sister’s comment – knowing as well as Buffy did that no fight between Spike and Buffy had ever had a *really* clear winner. But then her expression grew troubled, as she corrected Buffy’s words quietly, her voice heavy with worry.

“Unless they’re human.”

Buffy did not respond. She really had no good answer for that argument – though she was fairly certain that the greatest danger to Spike’s safety was not humans – most of whom would have no idea that he could not defend himself against them – but rather, on of the many fights he seemed to find so easily, with other vampires or demons.

Of course – she was not about to attempt to use that sort of insane Buffy logic to soothe Dawn’s fears.

*Don’t worry, Dawnie – he’s much more likely to get torn to pieces by some huge monster from hell than he is to get hurt by a *human*!*

*Right. That’ll go over well.*

“He’ll be all right, Dawnie,” she repeated, unnecessarily, as neither girl was convinced by the words. “You know Spike. He’ll turn up. Probably at the worst possible, more inconvenient time. Because that’s what he does. He has to – so I can kick his butt for putting you through this.”

She was surprised herself at the fact that her tone held more affection than annoyance, in spite of – well, everything. She sighed as she just stood there and held her sister close to her, focusing on comforting Dawn, instead of the rising fears swirling through her mind.

Yes, when Spike came back – because he *had* to come back – she *did* want to give him a piece of her mind, if not the back of her hand – for Anya – for running off like this and scaring her to death – for making her care at all, let alone this much…so much it hurt to think of him out there somewhere alone and outside the realm of her ability to protect him.

Mostly – she just wanted him to come back.

*Oh, Spike – where are you?*

**************************************

For what felt like forever, there was nothing but…nothing.

Darkness.

Silence.

Complete, terrifying aloneness.

And then…over time…bit by bit…

Things started to come back to him.

The first thing to return – was pain.

Terrible, overwhelming pain that consumed him, coursing through every nerve ending in his body until he could be aware of nothing else – had there even been anything else to be aware of.

It seemed to radiate out from the back of his skull – which felt as if it was on fire most of the time – throughout the rest of his body in random, almost electrical impulses, as the undead nervous system governing his body’s responses went thoroughly haywire, trying to compensate for and repair the terrible damage that had been done.

The next thing to return – several weeks later -- was hunger.

He didn’t know how long he had been – wherever he was – unable to move, or speak, or even think beyond the blinding agony that his existence had become – but he was certainly not capable of getting any sort of sustenance for himself. The burning emptiness that consumed his veins was nearly as powerful as the pain.

If he had been capable of putting together a coherent thought at that time – the pain and hunger would have kept him from it.

After that – a long time after -- came scent.

The first of all senses to develop, it was among the first to return as well, as Spike’s body worked desperately, with very little help, to repair itself. It was frustrating to the vampire, sensing in some part of his damaged mind that the things he could smell around him should have been familiar, though he could not put names to them or identify them.

Had he had any memory of the time before – before his entire universe had been reduced to this – he would have recalled the scents as those that one would generally associate with being underground…cold, damp, earth and stone…musty, contaminated water nearby…

…and – something else…

A new scent, one that somehow intensified the ache of hunger constantly gnawing at his stomach, one that caused the mouth that would not yet work to form speech for him to salivate, longing for the nourishment that that scent somehow seemed to promise…

Had he had his memories – Spike would have known that the elusive, often absent scent was that of a human being…flesh and sweat and a myriad of humanity’s emotions, underscored with the faint tang of fresh, hot blood, pounding through the human’s veins…

But he could *not* remember.

And while he was trying so hard to place it – frustrated at the failure of his body and mind to cooperate as they once had, though he could not remember it – another of his lost senses was returned to him – in a shock of abrupt violence and pain that drove the fledgling beginnings of thoughts from the vampire’s shattered mind.

Fear.