Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Recognize

Lorne strolled down the hall of the Wolfram and Hart executive suites with two assistants, each hauling files with documents for him to sign, while he carried on a conversation on his hands-free telephone. "Yes, Cath-honey, you'll look fabulous at the gala. Don't you go worrying that gorgeous little head of yours. Ciao." Turning to one assistant's stack of papers, he feigned frustration, "These big stars: you gotta hold their hands every step of the way." After signing several pages, the tall flamboyant demon sighed dramatically, "Enough with the paperwork already. I need a drink." Waving his assistants off, Lorne strutted into the Angel's office, calling back, "Just put that stuff on my desk. I'll have a look at the rest in the morning."

Lorne fixed himself a cocktail then sat down on the corner of the desk of the firm's Chief Executive Officer. "Oh thank my lucky stars someone around here stocks your bar." After a long satisfying sip, the demon added, "No offence, Angel-cakes, but left up to you this place would be inhospitably low on the libations."

"Was there something you needed, Lorne?" asked Angel, barely looking up from the file he was reviewing.

Lorne leaned over and slapped a great green hand across his friend's papers. "I'm taking you out."

The vampire just glared, unimpressed with both the action and the suggestion.

"Look, you've been cooped up too long. You gotta get out before you get yourself completely lost in the great big evil that is work."

"I've got too much to do," the C.E.O. groused pulling the papers from beneath Lorne's hand causing the demon to tumble backward and spill his drink.

"Now look what you've done," Lorne complained as he climbed from the desktop whisking Sea Breeze off his jacket. "It's not as if I buy this stuff off the rack." He rolled his eyes and hummed his annoyance before turning back to his friend. "I've gotta see a client up in Encino. Figured you could join me. Consider it business. We'll have a few drinks. Maybe that'll loosen you up and you can-"

"I'm not singing," Angel stipulated sternly.

"Oh good god no," his friend replied too eagerly for the vampire's liking. "But maybe you can open up a little about what's been going on in behind those big beautiful brown eyes." He paused as Angel looked up with a question on his face. "Look, it doesn't take a tune for me to see you're troubled. The new business. Cordy passing on. Buffy… Well, it's all gotta hit you pretty hard. So come on, let a pal lend an ear."

"Alright already. Let me get my coat."

"Of course. I wouldn't hear of you heading out sans fabulous coat," Lorne teased. "Besides, you didn't think I was going in this, did you? P-lease. I've got an image to maintain. I can't go around covered with cranberry stains."

"As if anyone would notice," Angel joked nodding to the demon's garish shirt and bright red suit.

***

"That was gross," one young Slayer declared as she combed slimy chunks from her hair, flicking the goo onto the pavement.

Another agreed, "Yeah, who expected exploding eyeballs?"

"Everyone present and accounted for?" Giles inquired from below a street light.

One of the girls nodded. "Just a few minor injuries in my group, Mr. Giles."

"I've got Jane bandaged up," another replied.

A third called from nearby, "Think Mickey's gonna need a splint, but otherwise we're OK."

The band of Slayers gathered around their teacher awaiting further instructions as they attended to each others cuts and scrapes.

"I'm very proud of you girls," the Watcher announced, eliciting smiles from the Slayers who seemed to stand taller at the declaration. "We've a few days before our flights. P'rhaps we can plan some proper sightseeing. In the mean time, let's all head back to the hotel, get cleaned up and have a rest," he instructed before heading to the driver's side of one of the rental vans.

"Rest?" one of the Slayers questioned. "Who can sleep now?!"

"Not me. I'm so stoked," another exclaimed.

"That was way cool."

Helen, a German Slayer suggested, "Ve shood go to a club."

"That'd be brill," Natalie, a Brit, chimed in.

"But how're we gonna get into a club?" grumbled Dallas, an American more aware of state liquor laws than the foreigners.

Natalie added, "And whatta we going to tell Mr. Giles?"

"We don't really have to tell him anything," said Sandy, an older American, who'd been assigned as the driver of the second rental van. "We'll just… make a wrong turn. And don't worry about I.D., we'll get in." She smirked slyly at the others who giggled as they climbed aboard the van.

***

Lorne and Angel sat at a booth in the dimly lit lounge. On stage was a peculiar looking individual with frizzy hair, far too much eye-makeup and a distracting number of body piercings, belting out classic Madonna hits as she gyrated between her lead guitarist and the bass player who were literally covered in tattoos.

"Somebody stop the room spinning, I wanna get off," Lorne declared as he attempted to flag down a waitress.

"Intense reading?" Angel inquired, unable to take his eyes off the performers.

The green demon smiled and nodded as he waved his hand over the table indicating they wanted another round. "Oh come on, Angel-hair, this is bad."

"You mean evil?" Angel asked with what might be considered enthusiasm at the prospect of having a good fight to take his mind off his troubles. "Do they sacrifice babies? Are they trying to raise some sort of demon? Is it the apocalypse?"

"What?" Bemused, Lorne looked to his friend. "No, I mean this is bad. You stand a better chance of landing a record deal. No offence."

Angel scowled then sarcastically replied, "None taken."

When the wailing from on stage ceased and the applause died down, another shrill voice shot over the crowd. "Well look what we have here, girls: Demons!"

Instantly, Angel was thrown from his chair to the ground while Lorne found himself pinned against a wall by two incredibly strong young women while a third pummelled him.

"Hey, easy does it," Lorne squealed. "This isn't wrinkle free!"

***

John arrived home from work just before dawn to find a basket of muffins, still warm, on his door step. "Sweet ol' bird." He smiled at his landlady's thoughtfulness then opened his door. Inside, he dropped his bag apathetically on the floor and went to the kitchen to brew up some tea. With the kettle on, he flopped down on the couch munching a muffin and clicked on the television.

>> … an increase in teen violence across the country. More disturbing, violence among young women has-<< News. John changed the channel.

>>…jealous of the rest of the kids who're gonna get to experience you next year 'cause they're going to get to be with you and I'm not…<<

"Oh Pacey, you blind idiot…" he grumbled.

>>… for just three easy payments of nine- << Infomercial.

>> … Harris, the foreman on this Habitat project. Thanks for letting us come out and tour your site. <<

>> Hey, no prob Bob. It's great to have you here. <<

That voice. That face. "I know this bloke!" John said aloud as he leapt to his feet pointing at the television. "I know 'im!" He closed his eyes trying to concentrate, trying to remember from where he knew the stocky guy in the plaid shirt. "Bugger." He grabbed the phone and dialled hastily. "Jude! It's John."

"John? What's up?" she asked groggily, "Besides not me. What time is it?"

"Sorry… and again, 'm sorry about the… ah… misunderstanding the other-"

Frustrated, she barked, "What do you want?"

"Jude?"

"Why are you calling me at…" Judith paused to look at her clock. "…a quarter after seven in the morning on my day off?"

"Oh… right. I found someone I know," he exclaimed. "From before." Without a pause or a breath, he launched into what might well have been a conversation with himself. "Guess I didn't actually find 'im. Not… exactly. I saw 'im on the telly. And his voice… it's just so… I dunno. Bloody great coincidence, too. If I hadn't already seen that episode of Dawson-"

"Whoa… hold up a minute. What?" John was speaking so quickly Judith couldn't follow. "You saw somebody?"

"On the telly."

"What channel?" she asked.

Shyly John replied, "T.L.C."

"The Learning Channel? Hang on," his friend ordered as she grabbed her remote. "John… that's just Bob Vila."

"Not 'im, th' other one," John insisted.

"Are you sure you know him?"

"Quite. He's a carpenter or some such," he noted. "Works in Oregon. Eugene, I think 'e said."

"So you might have lived in Oregon?" Judith asked with cheerful curiosity.

"S'ppose."

"Did you get a name?"

"Harris." Something just seemed right about the name. "Alex Harris."

"Hang on a second, John."

He could hear a computer boot up then tapping on a keyboard.

After a short while she was back. "Hmm… There's more than a hundred and seventy Harrises." Another pause and more clicking. "Hey! There's an 'A. L. Harris'."

John sat quietly holding the phone with whitening knuckles. This was the first solid lead to his past he'd encountered since apparently washing up on the beach up the coast. "Jude…" Helplessly, he asked, "What do I do now?"

 

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