Author Note: Just a short, dramatic, chapter. Thickening the plot, and moving it beyond being a fluffy domestic comedy for a bit. Because the world wasn't going to let them have a 'happy ever after' that easily.

Attack

Buffy had been irritable all week but, best he tried, Spike wasn't able to figure it out, and she was hell bent on denying anything was wrong at all.

Getting out of bed one morning, with a sigh and a frown etched deep into her forehead, her mate finally had enough and pulled her right back under the covers, effectively pinning her down.

"If somethin's upsetting you, kitten, I need to know. I'm goin' outta my mind here," he said.

She sighed again, then gave in. "Okay, okay, let me up."

"What is it?"

"Xander."

Spike closed his eyes and clenched his jaw before asking, "What's he done now?"

"Nothing."

Spike's eyes were open again – looking at her suspiciously – then Buffy clarified, "Nothing new, I mean. Not since last week. I'm just so angry with him, y'know? I think about Caitlin and how she must be feeling and I want to punch him for being an idiot."

"Well, yeah, we're all with you on that one," Spike agreed, while petting her hair. "That really all that's goin' on in yer head?"

"Yeah. Think it must be the mother in me taking it extra hard."

"Guess so. But, pet, him goin' round her place, pissed off his head in the middle of the night to have it out with her isn't any worse than yours truly chainin' you to a wall until you gave me a crumb."

"It is," the Slayer insisted, and Spike was surprised. "I mean it. You were totally dumb, but it was you. I wasn't scared of you. Caitlin must have been terrified."

"Okay, okay," he soothed, "Maybe you're right. Either way, it's not your thing to stress over."

Buffy pouted, then kissed her husband. "I shoulda got that off my chest days ago, huh?"

"Yeah, pet, you should have."

"Sorry. For some reason I really don't understand, you two seem to be getting on better, and I didn't want him upsetting me to ruin that."

Spike shook his head and pulled her closer, saying, "You're such daft bint."

Buffy grinned, and rested her head against his shoulder. "It's funny how that sounds endearing, coming from you."

"It's supposed to be," Spike told her, kissing her one last time before letting her head off to towards the bathroom. She'd been in there no more than three minutes when there was a scream. The worst scream Spike had ever heard – and he'd heard more than most…

Buffy had been undressing for her shower when the sensation came over her. A horrible, terrifying sensation she couldn't describe. There was pain. Raw, hot, pain running through her veins – all over her flesh – and all she could do was scream.

Spike was there in moments. Holding her hands to stop them from ripping at her bump in despair. The skin over her large belly was bleeding, but not deeply. And she wept. Oh, how she wept as she clung to her mate.

Dawn came running, then. "Oh my god! What happened?"

Neither of the pair answered her. Neither knew how to. Not at first, anyway.

"It's…" Spike began, eventually, when she'd calmed down a little in his arms. "It's like something's wrong. Missing… or lost."

"You're feeling her pain?"

"I'm feeling it, I just don't… Can't quite – pet, what is it? Do you know?"

Buffy was trembling and completely unable to say anything.

"Right, okay," Spike said again, pulling away just enough to take his shirt off and slip it over her head. "It's okay. I'll take care of you, pet. I'm here."

"What do we do?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know!" Spike snapped. "I don't know what it is. It feels familiar. I know it, somehow… But not quite. I know –"

His eyes went comically wide, all of a sudden, and the younger Summers felt even more worried.

"What?" she breathed.

"It's her soul," Spike replied, in almost a whisper, as the truth settled on him. "Buffy's lost her soul."

To be continued...