Calling the Cavalry

"Her soul?" Dawn repeated, almost hysterically. "How could she have lost her soul?"

"Someone ripped it from her," Spike said, with certainty. He could feel it – the anguish she was in.

"But how?!" Dawn yelled.

"I don't bloody well know, Niblet. Get the Witch. And Rupert. We need them here."

"But-"

"Now!"

He knew he'd regret snapping at the girl later, but at that time he couldn't think straight; Couldn't focus on anything aside from easing the pain of his mate.

"Luv," he spoke to her, gently, "Luv, I'm gonna put you back in bed."

She gripped at him, so hard it hurt. "Don't let me go."

"'m right here. Not leavin'."

"Oh, Spike," she cried, "Spike, it hurts so much."

"I know, kitten. Come on, let's lie down."

After a lot more tears, and a lot more grabbing, the Slayer finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, and by that point Willow had arrived.

"Have you got anything that'll calm 'er? While we figure out what bastard did this?"

"Umm. Yeah. I think so. There's a book of-"

"Good. You do that," Spike cut her off. Even while Buffy was out of it he was so aware of her suffering and, by extension, how uncomfortable his sprog was with a deeply distressed mommy.

"Do you need anything?" Willow asked, cautiously.

He shook his head, trying to hold back tears.

"Okay. I… I'll sort a spell."

"Thanks, Red."

It didn't take the Witch long at all. Soon enough she had the Slayer sedated with a spell that would hurt neither her nor the baby, and Spike was able to slip away to work on some kind of action plan. Giles walked in the door, not long after that.

"How in the bloody hell d'you get here so quick?" asked the vampire.

"Willow teleported me."

"Huh," Spike grunted, as he handed him a book. He'd have been impressed with the Witch's steady growth in power, if he wasn't so damn terrified.

After some argument Giles got him to put down the books for just long enough to tell him everything he knew – which wasn't much.

"Buffy's been fine until this point?" asked the ex-watcher.

"Yeah," replied her mate. "Apart from the tiredness, and a little heartburn."

"She did faint a couple of times," Dawn added.

"Well, yeah," Spike countered. "Like I said, tiredness."

Giles' frown deepened, which caused Willow to ask if he thought it was more than that.

"I'm afraid it might be," he said, lifting the book again. "Only one way to know for sure."

After eight hours of relentless research it was decided that a break was necessary, and that Willow would gently lift Buffy out of her slumber so she could bathe and eat. And at that point Giles also suggested she see a doctor.

"What's a doc gonna do?" asked Spike.

"I was thinking a mystically inclined practitioner might be able to shed some light on what's happened. I have a friend…"

"Make the call, if you want," Spike jumped in, while running anxious hands through his hair. "Can't hurt, I guess. But we know what it is, init? I'm right about the soul."

"Yes, I believe you are," Giles conceded.

"So we should be focusing on finding out who the hell took it, ripping the bloke limb from limb and putting it back in 'er. Not getting confirmation of what we already soddin' know!"

Giles didn't rise to Spike's outburst, but instead stepped outside to call his friend, just to quell his need of feeling useful, if nothing else. The books they had were almost useless, and he hadn't thought to bring his own collection from London. Willow may have been strong, but there was certainly no way he was going to make her teleport him to England, and then back to California a second time – certainly not all in one day. No; he'd have to make use of the resources he had, which was precious little.

The man grimaced, just as his friend answered the phone.

"Hello, Patrick? I need your help…"

Patrick was no help at all. He suggested terminating the pregnancy, to alleviate some of the stress on the already suffering Slayer and Spike all but blew a fuse and tried to murder him.

"He doesn't come back in this house!" the vampire boomed at Giles.

"Agreed," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck off with your sorry," Spike spat – so livid the watcher actually feared him. "I'm going back to Buffy. If you wanna keep your bits you'll have answers by mornin'."

Giles gulped, knowing he was in no way exaggerating.

"He's psychotic," Xander commented, once he walked away, with a slam of his bedroom door.

"You have no idea what he's going though," Willow told him, which earned him a quizzical glance from the carpenter.

"And you do?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. I've been exploring how to tap into the waves empaths pick up on, but even without that, his emotions are hanging around the place in the baddest atmosphere I've ever felt."

"You're not wrong," he said. "Dawn's staying at my place 'cause it's upsetting her so much. God, what're we gonna do?"

His question was met by silence, which was only broken by the sound of Buffy whimpering in her sleep.

"I'm calling Angel," Giles said, finally.

To be continued...