"Oh, Rupert, it's so wonderful of you to come all they way across town just to join me for breakfast," Joyce said at the bottom of the stairs after opening and closing the door. Blushing at her ruse, Giles answered that it was his pleasure to come all the way across town. Both smirked at each other, remembering their steamy night together. "I'll go wake Buffy up and see if she'd like to join us." Joyce skipped up the stairs as Giles watched her ascend, focusing on her hips, then shook his head to clear it.

He went into the dining room where he had helped Joyce set out a fantastic spread of waffles and sausage just minutes before. He heard Joyce calling for her daughter upstairs, and reached sneakily towards the mound of Koolwhip sitting in a glass bowl for a tiny taste.

"BUFFY!" he heard his girlfriend shriek, causing his precarious hand to land completely in the mass of cloudy white. Wiping it off on his pants, he vaulted to and up the stairs, to find Joyce hyperventilating in her daughter's empty room. The bed was unmade, and the window hung open, letting a chilly breeze into the room. Joyce was at the window, leaning dangerously far out, craning her neck for the daughter that wasn't there. "I can't believe this, I can't believe this, she is in SO much trouble!" Joyce ranted, but Giles heard an edge of panic in her voice. The last time Buffy had disappeared...And of course, she couldn't even sneak over to Riley's after recent events. Joyce snatched the cordless phone from Buffy's bedside, and dialed her daughter's cell phone. It rang on the dresser next to Giles. Cursing like Giles had never heard Joyce curse before, she dialed another number, apparently Willow's. He heard her talk to the girl, and ascertain that Buffy was not there. Then she called Xander. The same story. She went as far as to call Riley, but again, no Buffy. Then she really started to panic.

"Rupert, should I call the police?" she asked frantically, pacing back and forth in the girly bedroom. He didn't see any signs of foul play, but still, with Buffy...

"Do you have a copy of the school directory?" She nodded absently. "Go call everyone Buffy has ever mentioned to you, making sure they know to tell her if she's there that she won't be punished if she comes home now."

"Oh, she'll be punished alright, the little sneak."

"Joyce, we need to get Buffy home safely; you know this. For now, offer amnesty in exchange for it. If it doesn't draw her out, we won't know where she is. And after last time, we need to know where she is." Joyce stopped her pacing, and looked at him quizzically.

"You are not Buffy's father, my husband, or anyone who should play a significant role in this family. I have no reason to do what you're telling me." It stung, especially after last night. But he swallowed his pride, and tried to focus on what really mattered; making sure Buffy was just gallivanting around in the teenage way, and had not fallen prey to any nocturnal creatures. Because the scene of the supposed crime was her bedroom, he had less reason than normal to suspect Vamp involvement; they needed an invitation to get in, Buffy knew it, and knew she was not to give it to them. But he was still anxious, just because of her record with disappearing and turning up in Spike's claws.

"You do not have to listen to me. But if you weren't so shaken up, you would have decided to take the same course of action without my help anyway. Regardless, for Buffy's sake, you should do something." Not thinking twice, Joyce rushed downstairs, taking the phone with her. Giles reached into his pocket and removed his wallet, from which he took a miniscule, folded-up brown-paper parcel. From said package, he dumped a sprinkle of lilac powder into his hand, which he tossed up in the air, and watched it sink down upon the room, losing its ability to be seen as it dispersed.

He had spotted a scented candle on Buffy's dresser, barely burned, upon entering. A lighter in his jacket pocket quickly set the wick ablaze, and he threw another pinch of the powder into the flame, which promptly turned a deep purple. The powder on the room's surfaces seemed to be blown about by an invisible wind, as he chanted the first spell he'd had to learn by heart.

"This room alone knows what did conspire. Tell me it's secrets, revealing fire. You walls that screamed silently against their presence, clinging to a bloody, Hellish essence. High, unknown powers, did this room see a Vampire?" He looked directly into the flame, assuming it would turn blue, praying it would turn blue. A sickening red met his eyes, and he gasped. A Vampire had been in here after all.

But why the bloody Hell would Buffy invite one in? It was terrifying, thinking of the possibilities that could have possessed her to do such a thing. Once again, his heart felt heavy and cold. If they had her again, they probably would not be so flippant with her safety this time. She was more than likely dead. And at least one of them had access to the house, where Joyce Summers was still alive. Thank heavens it was sunny out; he'd come back later to seal the house to their kind yet again. Block out the invitation he was positive had been tortured out of Buffy. But before that, his number one priority was finding out if there was anything left to find. With this new information causing him to forget to make amends to Joyce, he practically ran to his car, started it, and was down the street before his lady love looked out of her doorway at his retreating, zooming vehicle.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

That had been that morning. Buffy and Spike had slept through the entire discovery of her disappearance. During the day, he had propped himself up on his elbow, and watched her sleep for hours. Simply soaking in her radiance as she rejuvenated her body and mind felt like rest to him, and he knew that one of the best day's sleep he would ever get, wasn't being spent sleeping. There were many choices to be made when she awoke. Where would they live? What would they do for money? Would she/they take up fake identities? Should he let her call her mother, just to let her know she was okay?

But for now, he listened to the rhythmic, regular sound of her musical heartbeat, and felt her lungs inhale and exhale the stale, motel air. He needed to get her out of here. This place wasn't good for Buffy, and that wasn't even counting the body in the dumpster. He needed to get her someplace cleaner, airier. She needed to be able to stay there safely when he went hunting, or on the prowl for cash. Should they really rely on him to steal money, or could they work for their living? Buffy would probably want to feel a shadow of somewhat independent, so she'd probably like that idea. But he couldn't let her wander off on her own to a job during the day or night; LA was crawling with Vamps. He'd had many a good night here. He realized his brain was racing again, and was able to quell it with simply running his fingers through her silky hair. It would need to be washed soon. She'd need soap, and shampoo, and of course a change of clothes. All they had was the clothes on their backs, some of his money, her stake, his lighter, and their bus ticket stubs. He'd eaten not long ago, but she had to be starving. Once she woke up, if it was dark enough yet, he'd take her to a nicer joint for some dinner, to make up for the shotty motel. Thinking again. He lowered his free hand to her sensuous hip, made just for his hand to rest upon. No more thinking. Only Buffy. But he needed to think about Buffy. He'd do that later.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Five hours after screeching into his driveway, Giles scratched his head at the result of his magical research lying before him. He'd done a locator spell in Sunnydale, and Buffy had not shown up. He'd momentarily broken down, before doing an older, more complicated spell to search her out organically instead of spiritually. He wanted to find her body before anyone else, in case it was dumped in a lake or hastily buried behind a warehouse or anything typical of Spike's lackeys. To see if he had to stake her (God no) or not. But, strangely, her body was not in Sunnydale. Bizarre. He'd expanded his search to a few towns around, knowing the Vampire aptitude for partying outside city limits. Still no Buffy. He expanded to all of California, as that was the next largest map he possessed, and found her to be in Los Angeles.

What in the blazes was she doing there?

But a sudden streak of hope had possessed him to revert to the original, spirit-seeking spell, that would only locate living beings. He'd felt like crossing his fingers as the glowing crystal pinpointed a living Buffy in Los Angeles. He'd felt like dancing, before being struck by how bizarre the situation was yet again. He'd say that she'd went with friends, or to see her deadbeat father, if he was not positive that a Vampire had something to do with her disappearance. Rearranging his materials, he did a locator spell for the only Vampire he possessed an artifact of; he'd nicked Spike's black nail polish several years back. He couldn't even remember how or why. It was not important. His search proved that a living Buffy and an undead Spike were in the city of Los Angeles. She may have been alive, but the news did not make him feel any better when he learned this new fact.

Gathering up some of his more favored weapons, he remembered Joyce. He needed to un-invite Spike, if that was indeed who had kidnapped Buffy, from the Summers home. And he technically needed to apologize to Joyce, though his time could already be running out.

He hurried over to Revello drive, where he found Willow and Xander trying to comfort Ms. Summers, breakfast cold on the table. He deeply cared about Joyce, it suddenly occurred to him, but Buffy was in trouble, and he didn't have long to stay.

"Hello, Rupert," she tried to smile up at him from the couch where she was crying with Xander's awkward arm around her. She seemed to be too distracted to care that he'd run out on her that morning. "We're getting ready to call the police. We decided that if she wasn't home by 2, that would be the cutoff time." Willow slid past him carrying a cup of tea for the distraught mother, looking quite distraught herself. Willow and Xander knew that it had been Vampires who kidnapped Buffy the first time, and without the knowledge of her being alive that Giles had, were probably the most worried of the four of them.

Willow...

An idea occurred to him that would get him on the road to the city even faster. Pulling the red-haired witch aside into the kitchen, he quickly handed her some of the items he had carried in with him in briefcase.

"No time to explain. Go up to Buffy's window, and seal it to all supernatural visitors." She blanched.

"What? How? Why? Do you know where Buffy is?"

"I might. I'm going to go rescue her; she's alive, but I don't know how long she has. Please do the spell Willow. I believe in your abilities, and if I take the time to do it myself, that's time away from my Buffy campaign."

"Sure, of course. Um, how do I do it?"

"I lent you a book on protection spells. Plum-colored, browning pages, coffee stain on the back cover?"

"Oh yea, the coffee stain book! This spell is in there?"

"Yes, it is to un-invite Vampires into a residence once they have received an invitation."

"Wait, Buffy let a Vampire in here?" Willow freaked out. Giles shushed her.

"Please, not so loud. I don't want to alarm Joyce. I believe so, but she would have been forced too. Buffy knows full well the Vampire threat- I've been training her for it. I will do everything in my power to stop whomever took her, but I need you to make sure that Joyce is safe."

"Of course. Is there anything else I, or Xander, can do?"

"Keep her company, be positive. Don't mention anything that would scare her, such as the truth. You can explain to Xander what is going on if you must, but not a word to Joyce."

"Cross my heart," Willow sheepishly made the motion.

"Well then. I'm off."

"Break a leg!" Willow nervously called after him as he returned to the living room.

"Joyce, you know that I want to stay here with you in your time of need, but I just got a call that my brother has died back home, and I must go to his family despite the inappropriate time."

"Please stay, Rupert. I know you care about Buffy too. You should be here, waiting for her to come home safely." No, he thought. I should leave to see if I can't get her home safely. The look in Joyce's eyes made his heart ache, but she spoke again before he had to further lie to extricate himself from the house. "No, I'm sorry, I'm being selfish. If your brother is dead, that's more important for you to take care of. I'm very sorry for your loss." He approached the couch to take her hand, raise it to his lips, and kiss it gently. This woman was very important to him, and the unusualness of his approaching task was so evident that he felt it would be a fateful errand. Something inside him spoke of impending death. For him, Spike, Buffy, or any combination, he had the steely feeling in his gut that it was near. He might not make it back to see Joyce again. But he'd do all in his power to make sure her daughter could return to her safely.

"I care about you, and your daughter, Joyce. I'm sure she'll be home safely by the time I return."

He left the Summers house as he heard Joyce mumble behind him, "I guess I forgot that he had a brother."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

As much as he hated the thought of being among Protectors again, Giles had no choice but to contact them. He couldn't very well carry his magical belongings around everywhere, and leaving the lot of them in his car, or even a hotel room, while he sought out Spike and Buffy, and any other Vamps that could possibly have accompanied them. The council owned an office in a secure building, made even more secure by magical safeguards, where Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, a young pipsqueak of a Protector operated from. He normally had an assistant, but to Giles' knowledge, the woman was dead to date.

"Allow me to understand, Rupert. You need to make use of my official headquarters for a personal mission, involving a missing girl, while your own post sits neglected, for an indefinite amount of time?"

"Wesley, first of all, the girl was kidnapped by a Vampire. Secondly, this Vampire, whom I know is in your city, is the Master of Sunnydale, thereby reducing the threat-level back in town. Thirdly, I am your senior, and you should accommodate me in my task, nay, assist me."

"Well well well, wait until the council hears about this. Loner Rupert Giles requesting favors of us." Giles wondered if it was possible to sound any smugger.

"Not the council, Wesley. Just you." He didn't have time for this; he was in the office parking lot, wasting time.

"I represent the Council in Los Angeles," Wesley replied in the same voice he had been using since finding out what Giles' request was, spitting out the Protector textbook answer.

"Can you help me or not, my good man?" Giles finally sighed.

"I would be delighted to have company on my patrols tonight. I will buzz you in now."

"No no, wait a minute, I'm here on my own mission, not to help you."

"Rupert, your cooperation will make things much easier. You will be free to run your own investigation when I do not have need of you, and in doing so, you may use me and all my resources. I find it a very fair deal for the both of us, and am somewhat disappointed we didn't think of it sooner, us being such close neighbors and whatnot." The phone clicked the ending to the call, and Giles gritted his teeth and he quickly made his way into the building. Perhaps this would work out after all. Or perhaps, he didn't have any time to loose.

Wesley met him at the elevator, and they shook hands warmly. Though Giles despised what the Council had come to stand for, it was a nice change to see someone else in tweed. The young man seemed much less haughty in person, and before Giles knew it, they had sat down to tea and to discuss.

"William the Bloody is in this city, and he has one of my charges with him."

"William the Bloody, are you serious?" Wesley popped a sugar cube raw into his mouth, and sucked on it like a child as he thought. "It should have been expected; we're so dense, Rupert."

"And why are we dense, my young counterpart?"

"Because Angelus just happens to also be in town." Giles nearly spat out his tea. Of course it couldn't be coincidence that the two fateful males were in the same city at the same time. But how did Buffy play into that?

"What about Darla and Drusilla?"

"They don't seem to be here. Sources have them in Dublin as recently as a week ago. But there is no doubt in my mind that Angelus and Spike, as many of the Vampires I slay know him by, are working in tandem here." Giles nodded absently. Perhaps his time would be better spent hunting Angelus, if Spike was indeed with his grandsire. Two birds with one stone. Get Buffy, take out two prominent members of the Aurelius line.

"I will help you, Wesley. But if I don't like your methods, I work alone, with mine, for my cause. Agreed?"

"Of course, sir. It's lovely to have you on board. Shall we review my planned patrol for tonight?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

He sensed the younger Vamp somewhere in his domain. Angelus growled at Spike's scent, floating to him over the fumes of automobiles and unspilled blood. What the Hell was Spike doing here; he hadn't asked for him to come to him, and Spike normally tried to avoid him as much as possible. Of course, it was probable that Spike didn't know he was here; he favored Europe to this strange industrial world, and Spike wasn't in tune with his family enough to feel Angelus' presence like the elder felt the younger.

The rage curling up within him caused him to be even more brutal in picking his target than usual. A large, but crippled old man jovially crossing at a sidewalk, tipping his hat to the cars he passed, carrying a single grocery bag. Angelus noted the wedding ring on his left hand, and licked his lips. Wifey and kids would miss the old geezer. Perhaps there would even be some grandkids to whimper over his death. And with an annoyingly friendly personality such as he had, he was no doubt beloved by his community. Wouldn't they be sad when he showed up nailed to a police barricade?

He tried to clear his head of all but the hunt as he stalked his oblivious prey. Spike was really the last thing he needed right now. Darla and Drusilla had proclaimed their bitchy little selves to be 'bored' of 'tedious' Angelus. Yawning over his well planned-out and artistic killings, they'd ran off to Ireland with a pack of younger Vampires, excited about their fresh unlife, ready to fight off mobs and kill because they could, not because it defined them as it did Angelus. It reminded him so much of Spike, that the mere thought of the punk being anywhere near him disgusted him. Maybe he'd finally do what he'd wanted to all those years ago, and put a lovely chair leg through Spike's heart. With the girls gone, there was no one to stop him. Or was he slipping? Of course he was; he could cause Spike far more pain than that. Torture him a little, physically, mentally. Take away his toys. That was the way to do it. The ladies didn't like it drawn-out to an art form? Well, that's why they were humping the little freckled Vamps. They'd return within the year, he knew their pitiful ways. And he'd have a lovely pile of dust to hurl at them, making them both, Darla with her secret soft spot, Drusilla with her insane adoration, regret leaving him to do what he pleased to whom he pleased.