Rupert Giles sat in the office of the Magic Box, contemplating whether or not to telephone the WatcherÂ’s Council in London. The Slayer had disappeared with barely a trace, and her friends were beside themselves, trying to discover what had become of her. Their efforts had yielded no results, but Giles couldnÂ’t be sure if the Council would be help or a hindrance.

Two nights prior, the four other residents of the house on Revello Drive went to bed thinking Buffy would be back from patrol very late. Having only just returned from her meeting with Angel (which she refused to talk about), she had gone straight out after dinner, and had not yet returned by the time the household retired.

Giles had awakened at three oÂ’clock in the morning on the living room couch when he heard the door open. Instead of seeing his surrogate daughter come into the room, he opened his eyes to find the platinum blond vampire standing before him, BuffyÂ’s coat in his hand.

“Found this on a tombstone, Rupert,” Spike said, explaining his presence in the house. “Thought the Slayer might like to have it back.”

Giles sat up, rubbing his eyes. “How did you get in, Spike?” he inquired tiredly.

“Have a key,” the vampire replied. “Used it over the summer, you know that.”

Giles nodded, remembering that Dawn had insisted her sworn protector be given a spare key. He stood and took the coat from the vampire. “You found this in a cemetery, you say?”

“Yeah,” Spike leaned against the living room doorway. “Figured she must have taken it off to dust a few vamps without gettin’ it all dirty.” He glanced around the darkened house, and made his way into the kitchen. “She around, by the way?”

“Er, I don’t know,” Giles replied, frowning. “She hadn’t come back by the time I went to bed, I know that.” He followed Spike to the now-bright kitchen, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “You didn’t see her on patrol?”

“Nope,” Spike answered as he searched the refrigerator for a snack. “I headed down to the warehouse district to get rid of a nest of vamps, but found only dust.” He pulled out a Tupperware container of cold Buffalo wings and peeked inside it. “She must have gotten there before me. I went to a few different graveyards after that, but didn’t see hide nor hair of her.”

“And you came upon the coat just now?” Giles asked.

“Er, yeah,” Spike replied, looking away as he gnawed on a spicy chicken wing. Truthfully, he’d gone back to his crypt to see if she’d gone there, but he wasn’t about to reveal to the Watcher that his Slayer had been spending a lot of time with the vampire in his home.

HeÂ’d caught a trace of her scent when heÂ’d gotten in the door. It seemed as if sheÂ’d stopped in and left a moment later when she realized he wasnÂ’t in. That was when heÂ’d gone to her home.

Giles placed the coat over a chair and turned to leave the room. “I’ll just check her room. I’m sure she’s probably gone to bed,” he muttered, and headed in that direction. He quietly climbed the stairs, and walked to Buffy’s door, knocking on it softly. Hearing no answer, he eased the door open, and his eyes scanned the darkened room. She wasn’t there. Her bed was made, and the windows were closed. Giles knew she still sometimes climbed out of the window to go on patrol out of habit and would leave it cracked so she could get back in. But no, he’d seen her leave by the front door anyhow.

His brow furrowing, he proceeded to check the bathroom and all the other upstairs rooms, careful not to disturb any of the sleeping occupants. Making his way downstairs, he was startled to see Spike waiting at the bottom, and staring up at him intently.

“She’s not anywhere upstairs,” Giles told the vampire. “Perhaps we should look-”

“She’s not here,” Spike interrupted. “I checked the basement and outside while you went up there.”

“I see,” Giles replied, concern beginning to crease his brow. “I’ll go and wake Willow and Tara and tell them we’re going out to look for her.” Giles turned and started back up the stairs.

“Don’t tell the Niblet,” Spike whispered urgently. “Don’t want her gettin’ all worried.”

Giles nodded and dressed; five minutes later, he knocked on the witchesÂ’ door and informed them of the situation before he and Spike left the house, armed and determined. They split up to look for the errant Slayer, their searching turning up very little. After looking all over town, and the many sites Buffy frequented on her rounds, Spike went back to the graveyard where heÂ’d found BuffyÂ’s coat. Approaching the tombstone it had lain across, he sniffed the air to see if her blood had been spilled. Coming up with nothing, he looked for anything else he might have missed, and his eyes fell upon something in the grass. Picking up the wooden stake, he recognized it as her favorite: Mr. Pointy.

He turned abruptly and dashed back to Revello. Even in her apathetic state of mind, he knew she wouldnÂ’t leave that favored weapon carelessly on the ground. The trepidation that heÂ’d pushed down since discovering her coat earlier rose to the surface, and he knew something had happened to her. He held on to a shred of hope that perhaps sheÂ’d returned to the house in his absence.

All the lights were on when he got back to the house, and his unbeating heart sank when he walked in the door. The entire household was awake, Dawn included, and Xander and a sleepy Anya had joined Willow, Tara and Giles as they discussed theories and made phone calls.

The group had fallen silent when they heard the door open, and they glanced up hopefully. However, when they saw Spike standing alone, the discarded stake in his hand, their faces fell. The vampire made his way to the SlayerÂ’s sister who was huddled despondently on the sofa. He sat down next to her, and she attached herself to his side almost immediately.

No one slept the rest of that night. They argued over their options, and at last Willow decided to do a locator spell. GilesÂ’ eyes had shown his blatant disapproval when she announced her intention, but he could see no other choice than to allow it. Wary of her cavalier attitude towards magic, he had been feeling very uneasy around the redhead since their heated argument after he returned from England..

The spell, done over a map of Sunnydale, had not revealed anything to them. Had Buffy run away or been kidnapped? The possibilities began to pile up, as Willow performed the spell once more on the Sunnydale map, and then on a map of the United States, both without success. Panic began to overtake a few of the Scoobies, and Giles took charge.

He called Angel to alert him of the circumstances, and asked if heÂ’d heard from her at all, but the ensouled vampire hadnÂ’t seen her since heÂ’d parted company with her earlier that evening. After promising the very worried Angel to keep him in the loop, Giles hung up the phone, and saw all the anxious eyes that looked at him for an answer. Not finding the one they sought, the gang hurriedly got back to work.

Now, two and a half days later, their efforts appeared to be all for naught. No traces of the Slayer besides the coat and the stake were found; no footprints led away from the spot where they knew she had been last. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

* * *

The night was quiet, and Legolas returned from his walk around the perimeter of their campsite to sit on his earlier perch. The Elf had not sensed any menacing presences nearby, for which he was thankful. Even though Sauron had been destroyed and his minions scattered, he and Gimli knew to be prepared. Bands of orcs and Uruk-Hai still roamed Middle Earth, bereft of their MasterÂ’s will, but still deadly. Although it was doubtful that any would venture this close to Isengard with the Ents still guarding the area, it was best to remain vigilant.

Gimli snored noisily, and Legolas smiled to himself. He had certainly found a true friend in the Dwarf, and when at last he sailed for the Grey Havens, it was clear he would miss Gimli terribly. It was unlikely that the Valar would allow a Dwarf to set foot in Valinor, but Legolas planned to hold off his departure for many years yet, so he tried not to dwell on it.

The Sea still called to him, but so far from the shore was he that it did not trouble his heart too much. Legolas had many places in Middle Earth he desired to walk in, and numerous duties to fulfill. He sighed, thinking that he ought to return to his responsibilities in his native realm. His father surely had need of him to lead their guard against any that threatened MirkwoodÂ’s peace, but for some reason, he was reluctant to go.

The quest he’d embarked on in the last year had stirred in him the deep desire to explore new places, and he felt that going back to Mirkwood and back under his father’s command would stifle the dreams now taking shape in his heart. Thranduíl would most likely be displeased that his son would prefer to wander far from home, but he would not stand in his way.

Legolas was awakened from his reverie by a disturbing sound. Glancing up, he saw Buffy lying on her pallet, still in slumber, but tossing fitfully and groaning. He sat still, waiting to see if it would pass, but she began to speak softly, and the Elf could just make out her words.

“What…oh, God, no…” she moaned, and her hands came up in front of her as if to push against an invisible wall. “No…no!” she cried, and her hands curled into fists as she pounded on the unseen obstacle. Legolas watched, transfixed, as her breathing became rapid and she thrashed in her nightmare, crying out, “I can’t breathe, can’t breathe, no air, can’t breathe!”

She began to claw frantically at the air above her. “Oh, God, oh, God…have to…get out, let me out, let me out, let me OUT!” With a final shout, she sat straight up, eyes flying open, but the Elf could tell she still dreamt. She drew in great gulps of air, and began to weep.

“Gone…it’s gone,” she sobbed, and Legolas’ heart constricted when he saw and heard the blatant despair on her face and in her voice. He crept silently over to her, taking care not to wake her suddenly, and knelt down beside her quivering form.

She stared straight ahead; tears streaking down her cheeks, her arms wrapped around herself protectively, as she shook her head and muttered. “Ripped out… ripped… no…why? Why…It’s gone…lost…”

Legolas instinctively drew her into his arms and tenderly held her to his chest. He began whispering soothingly into her ear in Elvish. “Hush, tithenion. Avosto. You are safe. Sedho.” Her breathing began to slow, and she calmed. He began to sing very softly, the lullaby that had soothed her to sleep earlier that night. He drew back a little, to see if she slept, and was surprised when he met her eyes, no longer unseeing, but lucid and sad.

They held each otherÂ’s gaze for a moment. She stared up at him, her head still cushioned on his chest, and he stared into her green eyes, offering what comfort he could with his own blue ones. At last, Buffy broke their connection and pulled away slowly to lie back down on the pallet. Turning onto her side, he saw her close her eyes to shut both him and the world out, and chanced to reach out a hand to smooth away the golden strands of hair that stuck to her tearstained cheeks. She did not flinch or push him away.

Still watching her, he stood and moved away to sit by the fire, close enough to her to be of comfort, but not so close it would alarm her. By the Valar, what has been done to this child? he wondered to himself. Then he reconsidered his choice of words; from the look heÂ’d seen in her eyes, she was hardly a child in spite of the mere twenty years to which she had laid claim. Her terrified mutterings made it seem as if she had been through the fires of Mount Doom itself, and her sense of loss echoed through his soul.

Glancing over at Gimli, he saw that the Dwarf hadnÂ’t once stirred. Legolas shook his head, thinking that Gimli could sleep through an entire battalion of Rohirrim soldiers thundering by.

The Elf knew he would not question Buffy in the morning, but leave the task of enlightenment completely up to her. Whatever troubled her ran deep, and only time would enable her to reveal her secrets; Legolas somehow understood that the key to her reasons for coming to Middle Earth lay within those secrets, and until she gave them voice, would not find the answers she sought.