When you least expect it…the past comes back to haunt you…Missing Heroes.  

Text by Calypso Woodhaven

 Book 7: Lost


Buffy stared mournfully around the dark courtyard.


“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Wherever you are, please know that I’m sorry.”


She heard the rustling of fabric behind her and tensed briefly before she realized who it was.


“Spike said you’d be out here,” Tara said quietly.  “Is this where it happened?”


Buffy nodded. “Angelus - ” her breath hitched and she shook her head, trying to clear the the memories that assaulted her.


Tara didn’t press. She simply turned to study the darkness. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for.  


She gently took Buffy’s hand in hers. “See.”


Buffy gasped as the world around her shifted. She had never seen anything like it – colors and lights gave even the flattest surface dimension. Everything seemed to pulse with life. It made her a little nauseous and was giving her a headache. She wondered if this is what the world always looked like for Tara .

The colors finally dimmed a bit, and she realized that there was movement off to the left.

A thin, waif-like figure drifted vaguely across the courtyard.

“Dawnie?” she whispered, disbelieving, and then called louder, “God, Dawn, I’m here.”


The spirit turned hopefully toward the sound, searching, but her eyes passed over Buffy and Tara as if they weren’t there.


“She can’t see you. Her soul was trapped her by someone very powerful.”


Disappointment clouded Dawn’s features and she finally turned away and continued on her previous path.


“But she heard me; she turned and looked. She so heard me!”  Buffy said excitedly, “If she can hear me, we can get her out of there.”


“Yes,” Tara confirmed, and then continued sadly, “If you kill the witch who cast the spell, your sister will be set free.”


“So…how hard can it be to find an uber-powerful witch who survived like about a million centuries? Should be a piece of --” Buffy broke off, frowning as realization sunk in. “Oh, no. Please tell me it’s not Willow .”


Tara looked away.  

"Hey, 'bit." Spike called softly across the courtyard.
She turned toward the sound of his voice, curious. Suddenly her face brightened, and she seemed to glide over to him at light speed.
Spike?! Oh my god!
He couldn't hear her, but it was easy enough to read her lips. He touched his ear. "Can't hear you. But yeah, it's me."
She lunged toward him arms outstretched and then withdrew just as suddenly, her expression falling.  He remembered the horrible feeling of not being able to touch anything. He figured all the time he spent ghosty himself was why he could see her when the others couldn't. Well, except for Tara.
Spike held out his hand to her. He didn't flinch as the icy air engulfed him as her had found his, remaining still to offer what comfort he could. "Don't you worry; we'll get you fixed right up."
Willow, she mouthed.
He nodded. "Looks like Red did quite a number on you. We get you anything?"
Tears of mist welled up in her eyes and she looked away, shaking her head.
"What is it?" he prodded.
She turned back to him, pain etched in every line of her face. I'm...lonely. 
"I know, love, it'll just be a bit longer."  Spike grinned suddenly, as an idea struck him. "Mean time, got somethin' to show you. Learned it ages ago from a bloke named Pavayne."  


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