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Chapter 8

If Doyle hadn’t been halfway down the block – the rising sun be damned – Spike would have raced out the front door and chased after the half-breed, demanding the git fix whatever problem was keeping him in the past. He did not want to have to relive history; he’d gotten used to the modern conveniences of his time. Say, electricity and drive-in movies – although, those were a rare commodity nowadays.

Tamping down his frustration, he whirled away from the front door and strode deeper into the townhouse, leaving behind a thoroughly shocked butler. What he needed to do right now was get mind-numbingly drunk, then sleep the day away. He refused to look on the bright side of things – a Slayer on tap, the noble title the Powers had thrust upon him to mollify him for being stuck here (because hey, they had only done it to ensure the safety of their Slayer), the camaraderie of his fellow family members, even if they were just minions, kowtowing to his Master status, unlimited resources to tap, the ability to travel wherever and whenever he wanted, loyal servants giving him the respect due him. No, he refused to dwell on the positives.

Because then he might not have actually minded being stuck. And that was what had him grabbing the first decanter he came across at the bar and swilling half the contents before he even made his way towards the desk.

He bloody well refused to be happy.

~*~*~*~*~

Giles wasn’t surprised to see Angel, Xander, Willow, and Cordelia inside the library when he finally pushed his way through the double doors. Ethan had managed to vanish while he’d been distracted breaking the statue of Janus; after spending the last several hours combing the city, he’d given up and reluctantly returned to the library.

“Where’s Buffy?” he asked, having immediately noticed his absentee slayer. The doors swished back and forth as he paused just inside and surveyed the motley crew. His question, however, was met with silence.

His brows drew together, watching the four trade uneasy looks and carry on some unspoken conversation. Then he really looked at their expression – confusion, worry... a bit of fear.

“What is it? What’s happened?” he demanded.

“We’re not sure, Giles,” Xander spoke up. “One minute we’re being held hostage by a bunch of mini-demons and Buffy’s being bitten by some bleached-haired vampire.”

“Spike,” Angel added in a grumble under his breath.

“Yeah… Well… the next thing we know, the demons are little kiddies again and crying for their mommy. And Buffy... Buffy is just… gone.”

“Gone?” Giles parroted, not sure he’d understood Xander correctly.

“Yes…” Xander confirmed. “Gone… as in vanished… disappeared... without a trace.”

“He’s right.” Angel took over the retelling. “I went over every inch of that warehouse trying to find their scent. The trail led to where Spike had Buffy pinned up against a crate… and then… nothing. The scent just disappeared.”

Giles took off his glasses and began rubbing them furiously with a handkerchief he pulled from his pants pocket. Normally, the gesture would have had Xander and Willow trying to hide their smiles. Right now, it only heightened their concern.

“She’s not dead, is she Giles?” Willow ventured to ask in a small voice.

“Well… ah… That is to say... there’s one way to find out.”

The watcher crossed to the telephone nestled on the wall and picked up the handset, punching in several numbers by rote. It took a moment for the international call to connect, then Giles heard a pleasant voice answer. Since it was midnight in California, there would be someone in the office by now in London, even if it was a Saturday.

“Hullo.”

“Yes, this is… uhh... this is Rupert Giles. I need to speak with Mr. Travers at once.”

“Mr. Travers has yet to step into the office, Mr. Giles.”

“Well, put me through to his home extension. This is rather urgent.”

“Yes, sir, one moment.”

Giles listened to a series of clicks then a sleepy voice answered, “This better be important.”

“Uh… Mr. Travers. Hello. It’s Rupert, Rupert Giles.”

“Mr. Giles, what can I do for you so bright and early on the one day of the year I should be able to sleep in?” It was customary for demons to take Halloween off, and the Watcher’s Council had come to appreciate the one morning that they were assured of no demon unrest in the world. It had become an unofficial holiday among the Council.

“It’s Buffy… has another Slayer been called, by chance?”

The urgent tone in Giles voice had the Head Watcher sitting upright in his bed.

“What’s happened?”

“Uh… we’re not quite sure, sir. She’s missing. I was trying to ascertain her condition in a rather… um, morbid way, I guess you could say. But I have my answer, I suppose. You would have been notified if another slayer had been called, and since you know nothing about a new one, I can only assume she’s just missing, not dead. I’m sorry to have bothered you, sir,” Giles rambled, leaving no room for the Head Councilman to get a word in edgewise. “We’ll… I’ll... figure it out on this end. Goodbye.”

~*~

Giles hung up the phone before Travers could mention Kendra, the slayer that had been called when Buffy had briefly “died” several months earlier at the hands of the Master. He listened to the dial tone in his ear a few moments before leaning over and dialing Johnstone’s number. If the Hellmouth was currently unguarded, the best place Kendra could be was Sunnydale.

~*~

“Well, she’s obviously still alive,” Giles announced as he turned back to the group. Willow, Xander, and Cordelia were wearing identical expressions of shocked horror on their faces. Angel was just scowling. Perhaps he should have been more discreet with his phone conversation and made the call from his office, but he’d not been thinking clearly and needed some quick answers. Finding out if a new slayer had been called was the most surefire way to see if Buffy was actually still alive.

“I’ll hit the streets, see if I can find out anything in the demon world. If Spike has the Slayer, news will travel fast there,” Angel announced abruptly and pushed his way to his feet.

“Very good. Thank you, Angel,” Giles replied. Angel nodded and was gone, leaving the three students and the librarian alone in the room.

“Xander? You, Willow, and Cordelia best be getting home now. It’s after midnight and your parents will be worried.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes at that announcement.

“That’s okay, Giles, we did the ‘round robin’.” This from Willow.

‘Round robin? What did a bloody bird have to do with anything?’ Giles wondered silently.

Seeing his confused expression, Willow elaborated, “You know, I tell my mom I’m staying at Buffy’s, Buffy tells her mom she’s staying at my house… round robin.” She shrugged as if to say, ‘didn’t everyone know?’ Apparently not the older generation, which, now that she thought of it, was probably a good thing. Or else, teenagers everywhere would be in so much trouble.

“Oh… I see… Nevertheless, there’s not much you three can do right now. So, off with you.”

“I know I’m gonna shoot myself for saying this, but why don’t we go to my place?” Cordelia announced. “And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll personally see to it that you both are marked as pariahs in school…. Oh wait… my bad. You already are.”

“Don’t worry, Cordelia. Your secret is safe with us, isn’t it, Willow? We know you’re just scared to walk home alone,” Xander antagonized the cheerleader.

“Pfft, whatever!” Cordelia rolled of her eyes and marched off in a huff, the skintight cat suit accentuating every curve as she moved.

Willow trailed after the beauty queen, with Xander bringing up the rear.

Giles watched them leave before turning towards his office; he sat down behind his desk and couldn’t help the heavy sigh that escaped his lips. He sure hoped Angel would be able to find out something. He feared the worst for Buffy.

~*~*~*~*~

Elizabeth had spent the afternoon picking out bolts of material that would be made into various gowns she would be required to wear, not to mention the outerwear she would need for the cool November weather. William had said spare no expense, and he’d not been kidding. The seamstress and her assistance had appeared to have an unending supply of colors and textures of material to choose from, and Elizabeth had been thoroughly caught up into creating a brand new wardrobe.

It was only once she’d finished and sent the seamstress on her way that she’d overheard talk that William was leaving for London for a few days; she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he was leaving so soon after their night together. True, he’d promised that he wouldn’t leave her and deep inside she believed him.

‘Only for a few days,’ she’d silently admonished. ‘He’s obviously a very important man.’

When he had stormed into her room a little while later, she couldn’t help the sudden thrill that had raced through her body. She wasn’t even conscious of his demon form until he’d cut her as his lips had claimed her own. His tongue had darted out to lick at the trail of blood, then she’d realized. And hadn’t cared one whit.

After last night, she had no willpower where he was concerned, and man or demon, he just seemed to excite her.

Shameful, true, and she’d probably end up in hell over her sinful thoughts. But she just couldn’t seem to find it within herself to worry over it.

After he had stormed out of her room, she’d collapsed back on the bed, dazed from his intense lovemaking. When her heart rate had returned to normal, she’d removed her gown and slipped into her nightgown before her maid could return. She wanted to be tucked in bed so as to avoid the prying eyes of her servant. She’d finally drifted off to sleep, only to dream about deep blue eyes that faded to amber.

Elizabeth’s cheeks pinkened in memory. She stretched, her hand seeking out the fresh set of marks on her neck. The result was instantaneous; the slight caress forced a shocked gasp from her lips at the tingling between her legs. Her eyes widened and, naughtily, she did it again. Her moan was choked off as her bedroom door opened to reveal her maid.

“Feel up to breakfast in the dining hall, m’lady?” the girl asked cheerfully, not realizing the state of her mistress.

“Yes,” Elizabeth managed to croak out, before clearing her throat delicately and adding, “I think I should. After spending all day yesterday stuck up in my room, I feel like exploring the grounds of my guardian.”

“Very good, mistress. I’ll have a bath drawn for you.”

Elizabeth nodded and made quick use of the chamber pot tucked behind the folding screen while her maid was away. The girl was back in a flash with several men carrying buckets of hot water and another two to bring in the tub. When they were gone, Elizabeth stripped and stepped from behind the screen to sink gratefully into the hot water.

Her maid came over and lathered soap in her hair, giving it a thorough scrub before dumping a spare bucket of water over her head to rinse it through. She didn’t spend any longer in the tub than she had to, eager to explore her new surroundings now that William was away.

She stepped out of the tub and allowed her maid to wrap a towel around her before moving to sit in front of the vanity. The girl began brushing her hair, helping it to dry, then pulled it into an artful style on top of her head.

Elizabeth was thankful one the seamstress had brought a nearly completed day dress with her when she came yesterday. A tiny bit of alteration by her assistant afforded Elizabeth something to wear without looking like a street urchin until some of the dresses she’d ordered were completed. Although too informal for the evening meal, the gown was appropriate enough to spend her time surveying the place she’d call home until her family could be located. Besides, she could beg off from dining in the formal hall since her guardian was still in London, instead taking a tray in her room.

Maybe by tomorrow, the seamstress will have finished something more appropriate to wear to dinner and brought it by – William was paying the woman an exorbitant amount of money to put a rush on the huge order – even if she would be dining alone. Alienating the staff by hiding in her room was not something she wanted to do, however, at the same time, she didn’t want to show how much of a pauper she had become since “arriving” back in London either. She did have her pride, after all.

She watched in the mirror at the soft lilac dress was settled around her frame and her maid set to tightening the stays. The dress was gorgeous and the simple style flattered her petite frame.

Elizabeth just wished William was around to see.

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