Fallout (Part 1)

"How do we know this hasn't happened because she's having a demon baby?" Xander asked Giles, while he thought Spike was still asleep, but the resulting growl from the other room told him otherwise.

"That wouldn't make any sense," Willow informed him, with a warning glare.

"Of course," he agreed, "Shutting up now."

Opening his bedroom door, Spike found the researchers in almost the same positions he left them, the night before. He ran a hand through his hair – not caring what style it ended up in, for once – then asked if there was any progress.

"A human soul is a vital ingredient to a dozen or more spells," Giles told him. "And the soul of a Slayer specifically would be considered, by many involved in dark magics, as something highly collectible. I haven't came across any relevant prophesies that relate to the situation, so far, but I think it's fair to say whoever took it did so by magical means, and they knew exactly who they were taking it from, and what she was. It may well have been an act of revenge, of some kind, from someone Buffy has defeated in battle previously, or a consort of someone she's fought."

"Right," the ex-vampire's brow furrowed, as he processed what he'd been told. "There's not much use drawing up a list of all the beasties Buffy's battled, is there?"

"Perhaps not," Giles agreed, while cleaning his glasses in frustration.

"So," Spike then addressed Willow, "Is there some kind of tracking spell you can do on the soul? A locator?"

"I've tried," she told him, "Whoever has it, has it cloaked."

"Cloaks can be torn, though?" he asked, feeling very much like he was clutching at straws.

"Maybe," the Witch replied, more for the fact that she was scared to say no, than from the belief it was possible.

"Right," Spike said again, "Well, look into it. An', in the meantime, I don' want the Slayer sedated anymore. The worst of the pain's eased a bit, and the shock's gone."

"Okay," Willow agreed, getting to her feet, "I'll wake her up."

Giles spoke again then. "Dawn has told me that Buffy fainted before she fell pregnant. Around the time she discovered you were alive," he said.

Spike shook his head, "I didn't know."

"Well, I think it's important. Those occasions of unconsciousness may well have been failed attempts to extract the soul before now."

"You're saying the fainting wasn't stress, or tiredness? Wasn't us?"

Giles looked confused, "Wasn't you? I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I thought…" he trailed off, and shook his head again, "Doesn't matter."

"Have you slept?" the watcher asked him, then, but he didn't get a response. Giles didn't want to exasperate Spike, especially not when he'd calmed down and was thinking more clearly – most likely due to Buffy calming down, he presumed – but he thought it best to warn him in advance that Angel was on his way. To both his and Xander's shock, Spike barely reacted to the news at all. He just nodded solemnly and headed back to his mate.

Willow had gradually been bringing Buffy out of slumber, and as she rose to the surface of consciousness Spike wanted to be there. He was the first thing she saw, when she opened her eyes, and immediately she quieted down.

"You been having nightmares, sweet pea?"

The Slayer nodded, and wound her arms around his neck, to bury her face against his shoulder as she sobbed.

"Tha's okay, luv. Let it out," he cooed.

"I'm gonna give you a minute," Willow told them.

"Go home," Spike replied, softly. "All of you, until Angel gets here."

The Witch nodded, and left the room.

When the door had shut Buffy only clutched harder at her mate.

"Spike, I need you!" she pleaded, with tears still running down her cheeks. "You make it hurt less."

"I know, baby. I know," he replied, in almost a whisper before kissing the tears away.

The Slayer leaned forward, catching his lips with her own, and they kissed properly – tenderly, and passionately, and then aggressively – as they found their way back to the bed and removed each other's clothes.

"I need-" Buffy began to say again, but he cut her off with another kiss.

"Shhh," he said, as he ran his hand over her belly. "It's okay. I'm here. Love you, Buffy. Always here. Gonna give you what you need."

When the couple was sated, and the link between them sang with harmony, Spike finally drifted off with Buffy's arms wound tightly around him.

Upon waking, however, she was gone. The bed he shared with her was empty on her side.

Spike tried not to panic that his mate was not at his side, for he could feel through the claim that she was nearby – likely in the next room – and his senses also picked up that she wasn't feeling as bad. Still, he got up and went to her.

Buffy was in the kitchen, drinking straight from the neck of one of Spike's whiskey bottles. Panic fully took hold of him at that point. His eyes practically bugged out of his head as he approached her and snatched the drink from her grip. She cried at the loss of it, and he knew he couldn't be mad at her. Alcohol was his first port of call when he was suffering, and the lack of a soul made the line between right and wrong fade so much you could barely see it. He understood, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Pouring the rest of the expensive bottle Giles had given him right down the drain, Spike took his crying mate in his arms without saying a word.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, as she felt his turmoil through the link.

"I forgive you," he said, but she shook her head.

"I thought having no soul meant you couldn't love – couldn't feel anything. And I justified what I did to you because of… And I was wrong, Spike. I was so wrong."

"Pet," was all he was able to choke out in response, as he pulled her tighter. Then, after a few moments of silence, he repeated his early sentiment, and said she was forgiven.

When the Scooby gang returned to the house, not long after that, to find Spike barefoot, shirtless, and with his flies unbuttoned – Xander's face fell, and he dropped the box of books and magical ingredients he was carrying.

"Tell me you haven't been doing it," he said, in complete horror.

The ex-vampire ignored him and tried to push past to get to the table, but the carpenter pressed an accusing finger to his chest and wouldn't let him by.

"Please tell me you didn't just go in there and, and…"

"And what?!" Spike snapped.

Xander shook his head, his anger growing, "You've been with Buffy!"

"Happen I have."

"You're sick!"

Giles got between them at that point. Admonishing the younger man, he said, "What Spike and Buffy do is not our concern. He would never-"

"Ha!" Harris spat, and Spike's eyes narrowed.

"Don't make me throw you out, Whelp," he warned.

"Giles, do something. He can't take advantage of her when she's like this!"

The older man sighed and tried again, "Xander, they are mated" – holding up his hand to fend off another interruption, he continued – "They have a link; A part of each other, and as a result Buffy will no doubt be most calm, most herself the closer she is with Spike. I'm convinced his, uh, intimacy at this time is possibly the best thing for her."

There was silence for a minute, as that sunk in. Xander remained speechless, but Spike realized something. "This is why the Powers wanted us to do the claim. Buffy was right in going ahead with it."

"It would seem so," Giles admitted, polishing his glasses. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

He waved him off, "Doesn't make any difference to me. Should apologize to the Slayer when she comes round, though."

"Indeed."

To be continued...