He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Angelus wasn’t sure what it was, if it was something to do with the insurgents he’d just finished off, or something else – something Buffy-related – but it was something. Bad. 

Buffy. 

His skin felt tight and itched, his spine cold, and the sixth sense he’d cultivated in his long years as a predator screamed at him that it was wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have left Buffy alone, but at the time it seemed safest for her; keep her away from those who would see her harmed. 

Angelus had already called London, determined to speak with Buffy, and had been less than happy to hear that she was on her way to the airport with Connor, and from there, to Ireland. 

“Why is she leaving?” He’d growled at Spike, worry making his voice sharper than normal. “I thought I told you to keep her in London with you.” 

“You did,” Spike admitted, and Angelus wondered at the note in his voice. There was something there Spike wasn’t admitting. Why wasn’t the childe saying anything to the sire? For some reason, that worried Angelus more. 

“But with this whole uprising, and the rumors of more,” Spike was saying, “I thought it best Buffy leave here and go to that monstrosity Connor’s building for her. Farther away from the troubles on the Continent in case they decide to cross the Channel to get her while you’re still over there. You know as well as I do that Connor will destroy the island before letting any harm come to her.” 

“And why,” Angelus demanded, “Aren’t you with her? I thought I told you not to keep her in your sights at all times, William.” 

“Angelus,” Spike barked, detecting a rising note of rage in his grandsire’s voice. And when it came to Buffy, Angelus-rage equaled Angelus-insanity, and usually world ending prophecies of doom. 

“I know that,” Spike tried to placate the elder vampire. “I’m leaving tomorrow night for Ireland. There are a few things I wanted to check out here first; Saffir and Willow heard something while they were hunting. Someone’s after us, but no one seems to know who.” 

“If anything happens to her,” Angelus trailed off, the threat implicit in the words. 

“Yeah, yeah, torture, maiming, torture, a little sunlight,” Spike rolled his eyes. “I know, Angelus. Just get back here soon. She needs you.” 

Angelus had said nothing, merely growled and slammed the phone down. Considering there weren’t that many left that actually worked, breaking one that did seemed foolhardy. Angelus didn’t care. He was worried about Buffy, and a phone was of no concern. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” was all Angelus said as he looked blankly down at the mangled bits of phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Giles demanded. He didn’t like the way Angelus was pacing the room, nor did he like the itch between his shoulder blades. Magick was heavy in the air, and as it wasn’t Family in origin, Giles was understandably nervous. And there was that feeling of offness, of wrongness, though Giles couldn’t have said what the source of that was. 

“Is something the matter with Buffy?” Paul asked, rising elegantly from his seated position and wandering to the windows. Giles looked twitchy, and Angelus just mad, pacing the room like a caged lion; something was wrong. Nothing seemed amiss out there, nothing that told him they needed to fight, to protect their family. 

And it was his Family; he’d grown…accustomed to them over the years. More than accustomed, actually. If he could love, then Paul would think that that was the emotion clouding his judgment when it came to the other members that formed the ruling class of this new society. And his feelings towards Willow. 

He wasn’t faithful to her, and was under no illusions that she was to him, not like Angelus and Buffy were with each other at least. But they had a relationship and understanding. And affection. He could only be grateful to Angelus for introducing him to Willow, for tempting him with ideas of power in a new world. In their world. 

His most trusted guard and servant, Toga’sha still insisted on following Buffy nearly everywhere, protecting her, and was probably even now with her on the plane to Ireland. Paul smiled, his palm coming to rest on the cold windowpane. Something about her inspired loyalty, blind unending loyalty. 

Willow was a prime example of that. Even with all her powers, even with the knowledge she’d garnered these last years, she still followed Buffy. Buffy was the leader, Buffy would know, Buffy would do. Buffy was. Willow considered herself strong, capable of making decisions on her own involving a wide variety of needs. But sometimes, she had to ask her longtime friend. 

Or maybe it was just that Willow missed talking to Buffy, and used that as an excuse. 

Cold fingers gripped Paul’s heart at the thought of Willow, and suddenly he feared for her life. He couldn’t have said why, only that it was, that somehow Willow was in danger, that something was wrong. 

“Is Willow with her?” He asked a still pacing Angelus. “Buffy, is Willow with Buffy?”

“No,” the other vampire said, not stopping his movements. “Only Connor, Toga’sha, and the pilot.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?” 

“They’re splitting us up,” Paul said, as Giles stood, moving to gather the few things they’d brought. “The three of us are here, why?” 

“Because of a small uprising,” Giles said as he haphazardly threw things into random bags. He was a fool. “Because of rumors and an uprising that could have easily been stopped by someone else.” 

“And Buffy’s heading for Ireland,” Paul called over his shoulder as raced into their anteroom to collect the rest of their things. They needed to leave. Now. The sun could set the last few inches with them already heading towards the airport. “With Connor, yes?” 

“Yes,” Angelus rumbled, coming to an abrupt stop in his pacing. Dread gripped his heart…he couldn’t feel Buffy. The comforting pulse that beat where his heart should have was suddenly gone. The constant tingle on the side of his neck where Buffy had marked him itched with an absence Angelus had never experienced. 

He tried to calm himself, tried to control the terror threatening to drive all reasonable thought from his mind, but couldn’t. 

Buffy, he thought, desperate to find her. Where are you, my love? 

“Drusilla, Dawn,” Paul continued, coming back into the room, not noticing Angelus’ distress. “They’re in LA with Lilah and Faith, right?” 

“Yes,” Angelus said again, fear rooting him to the spot. How could he have been so blind? But then…who was doing this, who had enough power to take them down, to destroy all they’d spent years building up? Certainly not his former AI gang, they were having problems simply surviving. 

“Who?” He demanded, eyes glowing golden in the room. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Giles said, but then stopped. He doubled over in pain and screamed, “Buffy!”
~~~~~~~~~~
He was exhausted and hyper-scared at the same time. It was a strange mixture of emotions, and ones that Connor wasn’t familiar with. 

Connor had fed Buffy one last time before they left, letting her drain as much as she could from him in an effort to gather her strength. He’d eaten well beforehand, making sure he had enough for his sire. He was worried about her, she didn’t look good, pale and shaky, and he was honestly scared for her life. 

They had made it down the stairs, and Buffy claimed tiredness as her excuse for leaning so heavily on Connor. The boy doubted that either Willow or Saffir believed her. But they hadn’t questioned anything, hadn’t asked, simply hugged Buffy goodbye and promised to visit in a week or so. 

Spike wasn’t sure Willow was going to let Buffy leave, not without telling her the reason for her lethargy first, but she hadn’t. Instead, Willow had simply kissed Buffy’s cheek, told her to take care of herself, and that they’d find the spell soon. 

“Once we do,” Willow soothed her sick sire, “You and Angelus can take a nice vacation, okay, Buffy?” 

Buffy, in an attempt to pretend nothing was wrong, had smiled and talked with the other two women a while. They made plans for what they’d do after finding the spell, where they’d go. how they’d have a girls-only night together. It was only at Connor’s prompting did she leave. 

“I’m meeting Angelus in Ireland,” she said as she walked out of the London house under her own power. Only pride and secrecy had allowed her to do so. “We’re taking a small vacation there.” Her smile was wicked, conveying just what sort of vacation they were taking. “We should be back in two weeks. Then we’ll all take a little trip to Africa,” she laughed, and Willow and Saffir did, too. 

“I’m sure they’ll be less than surprised to see us,” Willow smirked. “But I’m so looking forward to seeing Oz again.” 

Connor had finally got Buffy out the door, finally bundling her into the limo, tucking her under a blanket and settling her across the seat. She hadn’t protested, and that scared Connor. As far as he could tell, only Angelus pampered a sick Buffy and lived to tell of it. 

Now, with the plane ascending, Connor tried to relax. Buffy was safe, Toga’sha was there guarding her – and only her, but Connor could appreciate that – no one else save the pilot was onboard, and there was nothing and no one who could harm her. Once they reached Ireland, it was a simply matter of getting Buffy from the runway to the castle, only a few miles south. 

Connor couldn’t help but worry. 

Something wasn’t right. Something other than the fact that Buffy’s shakes, though ebbed, still continued unabated. That she often called out to Angelus, and that even Connor’s blood, her childe’s blood, didn’t seem to help her. He had his suspicions as to what was wrong with her, but said nothing. Connor knew that his Sire and surrogate mother was prideful and a very private person. 

And as much as he cherished this time alone with her, the sooner Angelus arrived in Ireland, the better. 

If she wanted him to know, she’d have told him. Or he’d have found a way to get it out of her. But she was being extremely secretive, and that – more than anything – worried him. 

Now, with her head resting on his lap, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the worst of the chills, though Spike had assured him that vampires didn’t necessarily feel the cold, she just looked lost. Small and lost, and young. God, she looked young. Not at all like the venomous vampire he knew her to be, not like the loving Sire, the loving Mate. 

“You’ll be okay, Buffy,” he said to her as his fingers combed through her long hair. “Dad will be back soon, and you’ll be fine. Just…hang on, okay?”

“Angelus?” Buffy asked, sighing in her half sleeping state. 

“He’ll be here soon, Buffy,” Connor said. “I promise.” 

She smiled, groped for his hand, and drifted back to sleep. Sighing, Connor leaned his head against the airplane seat and closed his eyes. He was tired, drained from the past day, worried and scared. Buffy wasn’t supposed to look like this; she wasn’t supposed to be weak. She was strong, she fought, and she won. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, fingers tightening on hers. “It’ll be alright-” 

But she wasn’t there. Buffy had disappeared. Connor’s eyes shot open, his hands frantically searching for her. She’d been right there, laying along the couch, head on his lap, hand curled in his, blanket covering her. Now she wasn’t. The blanket wasn’t there, and he couldn’t feel her anywhere. 

Toga’sha looked equally surprised, his sword already drawn as if the assailant had somehow gotten onboard and kidnapped Buffy right from under them, several thousand feet in the air. 

“Where is she?” Toga’sha demanded, though he knew as well as Connor that neither had an adequate answer for his question. 

“Buffy?!” Connor shouted, as if that could somehow bring her back, as if she’d somehow answer. Nothing. Only the sound of the plane echoed through the night. Racing to the cockpit, Connor slammed the door open and faced a startled pilot. 

“Turn around,” he snarled. “Do it now. Take us back to London.” 

“Angelus,” Toga’sha rumbled, “Isn’t going to be pleased.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Then we’ll poison the witch, not kill her,” the Hart warned as he sipped from his goblet. “We’ll want her magicks eventually. But in poisoning her, in incapacitating her while we negotiate with Angelus, it will give us more time to…play.” 

The Ram laughed. “Play, is that what they’re calling it these days?” He shook his head in amusement. “And this witch, she’s powerful enough to do what needs to be done?” 

“The Family,” the Wolf said, emphasizing family in disdain, “Seem to think so. And if she’s part of their plan, then we want her.” 

“Need,” the Hart corrected. “We need her.” 

The Wolf shrugged, “We’d like to have her.” 

“We’d like to exploit her,” the Ram corrected. 

“Either way,” the Hart interrupted, “She’s poisoned, not dead.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Willow was following her unwilling prey with all the grace and stealth of the predator she’d become over the years. 

So long ago it seemed another lifetime, she remembered what it was like to be weak, too smart and very under appreciated, meek and powerless. Buffy changed that. Oh, they’d had their ups and downs during the many years of their friendship, but that was life. It was about change, fights and arguments, make-ups and agreements. 

He turned a corner, walking deeper into the darkness of the night. He looked left and then right, checking out his position, alert, and yet stupid enough to be out at night in the first place. Was he meeting a secret lover? Was he smuggling weapons, food, medical supplies? Or better yet, humans? 

Pausing at the back entrance of a bottom feeder pub, he shifted nervously from foot to foot. Willow could hold back no longer. Just as he was about to knock on the door, presumably for entrance, she pounced. Leaping through the air, landing directly behind him, she sighed in rapture. 

Dread, nerves, and adrenaline all pumped through the man. And the best part was that he didn’t even know that his life was about to end tonight. Smirking, feeling her face shift into that of her demon’s, Willow gently, almost reverently turned him around to face her. 

“You smell delicious,” she told the man who was one step up from a street bum. “Absolutely delicious.” 

“Wh-what?” Monty stuttered, now truly terrified. He’d been on his way to deliver the drugs Madman Horace demanded as payment for Monty’s continued existence on this planet. Personally, Monty could care less whether he lived or died anymore, things were getting so out of hand, were changing so much, that he didn’t want to live in this world any longer. 

His daughter was another matter. And Monty would do anything for her. Including paying her way to Africa. To do that, he sold his soul to the devil – or at least the human version of him, not the Family currently ruling the world. Monty didn’t see the difference. 

Willow licked the side of his neck, sighing in ecstasy. “Yes, delicious,” she murmured. 

With one smooth move, her fangs pierce his neck drawing deeply on his blood. So good, she thought, intoxicating even. Ahh, the sweet, sweet rapture that came with every drop of blood that pumped rapidly out of him and into her, nourishing and feeding. Dropping the now dead Monty to the ground, Willow stretched slowly. She felt absolutely wonderful; sated, calm, and powerful at the same time. A slow tingle hummed through her, and she giggled. 

Leaving the alleyway to find Saffir, Willow didn’t notice that what she thought was graceful movements of her feet were actually her stumbling along the wall, her legs clumsy, her head lolling to the side, her face ashen. 

By the time Saffir found her moments later, Willow had stopped. “Why are you leaning against the wall?” Saffir demanded. 

Willow didn’t answer. Moving to her side, Saffir looked into the younger vampire’s face. Her eyes, while open, looked blankly out and were a milky white, and her body was limp. It was amazing that her legs continued to hold her upright. 

“Willow?” Again, no answer. “Willow, damn it, answer me!” Still nothing. Truly alarmed now, Saffir grabbed Willow by the arm and muscled her along the street. They hadn’t brought a car, and only a few guards were with them. For a moment, Saffir debated letting them know that one of the Family was weak, but quickly dismissed that. 

“Willow,” Saffir forced a laugh. “What have I told you about drinking the drunks?” She shifted her friend to a more firm position and continued the walk along the nearly empty street, all the while keeping the inane chatter up for appearances. They hadn’t ventured far this night, worried about Buffy and why Spike was racing around like a madman trying to find answers to questions he wouldn’t share. 

Saffir had maneuvered Willow to the castle, and was never so thankful to see a structure in all her life. Just as they crossed the threshold, Willow turned to look at her. 

“Where’s Buffy?” She asked, then, “Buffy’s in trouble,” Willow said before falling to the ground just inside the castle door.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Dad’s going to kill me,” Connor mumbled as the plane taxied along the runway and rolled to a stop. 

The car was already there, waiting for them as the pilot had requested, and Connor and Toga’sha wasted no time climbing into it and ordering the driver to their London mansion. Connor knew that Buffy’s disappearance was planned. By whom, he couldn’t say, but someone had very carefully orchestrated this entire thing. 

He shivered again, the comforting pulse that told him Buffy was there and alive, and would always be there, no longer beat within him. Connor was terrified. Toga’sha was angry, and the driver had never moved so fast in his life. 

The drive was short, and before the car could pull to a complete stop, Connor and Toga’sha had already jumped out and were racing to the house. Spike was there to greet them. He looked frazzled, and not a little upset. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more bad news. “What the bloody hell are you doing back here? I thought you were taking Buffy to Ireland…” he stopped. “Where’s Buffy?” 

“Missing,” Connor gasped. “She’s gone. Disappeared right off the plane. Don’t know what happened to her. She’s GONE!” 

Spike muttered a curse and lighted yet another cigarette. “First Buffy, then Willow, now Buffy. What’s going on?” 

“She was taken,” Toga’sha said in that rumbling voice of his, “By strong magicks. I could feel them in the air, they were heavy and focused.” 

“By who?” Connor demanded, not caring that his voice was rising. “Who would take her? And what do you mean ‘then Willow’?” 

“Willow’s sick,” Spike said, eyes drifting upwards. “Saffir thinks she’s been poisoned.” 

“Poisoned?” Connor echoed. “Who cares? Buffy’s missing! We have to find her!” 

“Calm down,” Spike snapped, though he was far from calm himself. He’d already gone through most of his cigarettes and knew he’d need more before the morning was out. “We will, Connor, we’ll find Buffy. Angelus is on his way back, he’ll be here within an hour.” 

“And until then?” Connor demanded, not at all calmed. 

“What’s going on?” Saffir questioned as she quickly walked down the steps. “What are you doing back here, Toga’sha? I thought you were with Buffy?” 

“She’s gone,” the guard said, clearly not happy. “Taken by strong magicks right off the plane.” 

“Gone?” Saffir echoed, feeling suddenly adrift. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she’d heard raised voices; this wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she found Willow. Hell, this wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she joined up with the Family; to feel something for them, to care, to worry. “What do you mean gone?” 

Spike smirked, but then sighed in annoyance. They weren’t getting anywhere this way, and time, he had a feeling, was running out. Not of the good. Connor was going crazy with the disappearance of his sire, Willow was poisoned, Angelus was going to kill him, and Dru, should he live through this, probably wasn’t ever going to talk to him again. 

“We need to calm down,” he repeated, “And since when am I the bloody voice of bloody reason? We need a plan,” again he laughed at himself, but went on before his own rising panic could overwhelm him. “First things first, we have to figure out who has enough power to pull something like this off. Angelus is going to be here soon, and we need something before he arrives.” 

“She’s gone!” The shout wailed through the castle, echoing off the stone walls and ceilings. All four of them looked upwards to see Willow, pale and sickly looking, with a faint sheen of sweat beading her face, standing at the top of the steps. 

“Where is she?” 

“Bloody hell, luv,” Spike mumbled and raced up the stairs before she could fall down them and harm herself even more. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

“Where is she?” Willow whimpered. “Where’s Buffy?”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Not dead,” Angelus said again, but even he didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or the other two men in the plane. 

“She’s not dead.” The rising sun was not far off, even now lighting the eastern sky as they raced from Portugal to London. He didn’t care about the eminent death the sun represented. Without Buffy, nothing mattered. “Please, love,” he whispered, “Don’t leave me.” 

“Where is she?” Giles demanded again, apprehension causing his voice to rise. “Where is she?” 

Paul said nothing, he couldn’t. He didn't know what to say, nor was he entirely certain what was happening. Giles was acting like he abruptly lost a part of his brain, and Paul had a sinking suspicion that something had happened to Buffy to cause the normally calm vampire to act that way. Luckily, Paul had only ever heard of it, never actually witnessed the phenomenon himself. 

It was said that when the sire and childe were especially close that when one dies, the other can’t go on. Giles was acting like that was the case now. Angelus was much worse. 

Mates shared a bond that couldn’t be broken, not even in death. If something had happened to Buffy, if she was, in fact, dead, then Angelus wouldn’t be far behind. Except that Paul had a feeling that not even Family would survive the devastation Angelus would wreak if Buffy were truly dead. 

“She’s fine,” Paul finally said for lack of anything else to say. Neither of his companions seemed to hear him. “We’ll be landing shortly, and I’m sure we’ll find out what happened then.” 

Angelus heard but didn’t respond. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the work they’d done in securing this world, the power they had, the power they were going to gain when they broke the spell surrounding Dawn. He just didn’t care. 

Not without Buffy by his side. 

Buffy was all that mattered. And he couldn’t feel her. There was nothing there, no hint that she was alive and waiting for him. That warm and reassuring presence that throbbed through him had been cut off. Anger welled within him, a tidal wave of emotion and he was helpless to control it. WHERE WAS SHE? 

“I’m going to kill everyone who touched her,” he snarled. His nails lengthened into claws and those claws dug into the fabric of the seat, ripping it to shreds. “Anyone who dared to think they could touch her, harm her, I’m going to kill. Tear them to pieces and dance in their blood.” 

Paul just sighed. Then again, he expected nothing less. 

“Please, baby,” Angelus sighed, all the anger leaving him in a moment. It wasn’t gone, far from it; no it still simmered there, waiting to once more boil over. But that was for later. Now was for hoping. His voice dropped once more. “I need you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello Miss Summers,” a voice said from out of the nothingness of white she suddenly found herself in. “We’re so very pleased you could join us here.” 

Using the last of her energy, Buffy forced herself to stand straight, the blanket falling unheeded to the ground. Slowly turning in a circle, she surveyed her new surroundings. White, white, white, there was nothing else. No doors, no windows, not even a construction seam. 

“Nice décor you have here,” she said, willing her voice to carry along the length of the room. “Needs something, a little color, maybe a skylight or two.” 

The disembodied voice laughed. “Ah, but it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, we’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Word tends to travel,” she said but nothing else. Her body was screaming for Angelus, and now…now she couldn’t even feel him. 

“Indeed,” A new voice echoed. “We weren’t expecting you quite so soon, I admit, but surprises are always so pleasant, aren’t they?” 

“Not really, no,” Buffy sighed, affecting a bored air. She hated surprises. “It’s so much better to know, but then I suppose that’s why you maneuvered this little kidnapping, isn’t it.” 

“We mean you no harm,” A third voice said. 

“That’s nice,” Buffy interrupted. “But you three are going to be dead.” 

A laugh, followed by two more. They seemed quite confident in their ability to deal, Buffy thought. Why was that? What did they have that made them think they were safe? What power did they possess that made them think Angelus wouldn’t kill them? 

“Who are you?”

“We’re what your planet refers to as the Senior Partners,” the first voice, a female Buffy decided, said. “And you have something that we want.” 

“The world?” She smirked, figuring that they could probably see her even if she couldn’t them. 

“Something much bigger, so much more important.” The second voice corrected, a male Buffy determined. 

“The Key.”

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