Little Bitty Puzzle PiecesBy PJzallday
Revelations
After an abbreviated Christmas dinner, Giles went with his two young companions to the Council office where they previewed Andrew's presentation for the planned meeting the following week.
"So you see Mr. Giles," Andrew said, "things are much worse than any of us realized. I was hoping that we could at least get through the holiday without having to get into this, but..."
"What are we going to do, Giles?" a concerned Dawn asked.
"Andrew, see what you can do about getting the Council together sooner," the Council Head instructed. "If it's at all possible, we should move the meeting up. Some hard decisions are going to have to be made and it would be best if we had as many members present as possible. Start with the senior members. Dawn, give him a hand with that, would you please? Use my office." Without taking his eyes off the report, Giles got up from the board table and headed for the door.
"Mr. Giles?" said Andrew.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be in your office," the man said sharply. "I want to see all the original correspondence. There has to be some other explanation for all this."
"But Mr. Giles..."
The older man pushed past the younger. "It's evil. Rising evil makes us all act oddly."
"But Mr. Giles-" Andrew repeated before the man shot him a stern look.
"Consider when the First convinced you to kill Jonathan. Is that something you'd have done of your own accord?" Giles inquired slyly.
Swallowing hard, Andrew conceded, "You're probably right. There must be another explanation." With a sigh, he turned to Dawn. "I'll start at the top of the list; you work up from the bottom."
***
Fred came down the stairs deep in thought. "Who is John really? Angel never mentioned havin' a friend named 'John'," she muttered to herself, "well, not that I can remember." The idea that the vampire even had friends outside their little circle came as something of a surprise. But this visitor wasn't just someone who Angel had known. "Buffy knew him too — or at least he knew Buffy. Or so he says..." When she arrived in the lobby, Fred was brought out of her thoughts by the smell of coffee."Happy Christmas, Fred." Wesley smiled warmly as he poured a mug of brew.
"Wes, you're out early," the young woman noted. "We weren't expecting you until some time after noon."
"Think he was findin' his place a little cramped," remarked Faith, who appeared out of nowhere to grab Wes' coffee.
"Oh Faith. It's... nice to see you again." The shy woman turned back to the more comforting face of her friend. "Could I talk to you for a minute... in private?" she asked quietly, tipping her head toward the hotel office.
"Certainly," the man replied. "I'm sure Faith can find some way to amuse herself."
Faith nodded. "Hey, knock yourself out."
Wesley motioned for Fred to proceed into the office then followed, closing the door behind himself. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"Well..." the young woman began as she pulled a folded paper from her pocket. After opening it, she handed the sheet to him and said, "It's this."
"A drawing?" He examined the sketch briefly then inquired, "Where did you get this?"
"Charles found it in one of Angel's sketchbooks." She glanced nervously from the drawing to Wes and back again. "Do you know who it is?"
"I'm not certain." Wesley switched on the computer. "It bears a strong resemblance to Spike."
"Spike?"
"William the Bloody. Long-time adversary of Angel's," he explained as he tapped at the keyboard. "Ah yes, there he is." Wesley turned the monitor so his friend could see the screen. "From the hair and the clothes, it's evident the drawing is much more recent than this lithograph, but I should think they're the same being." Fred looked stunned at the image on the screen. "He was a vampire; one of the most infamous on record. Says here, he earned his nickname by torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Charming," the man mumbled sarcastically. "He fought and killed two Slayers in the previous century — so clearly he was a formidable opponent," the Brit noted before turning his gaze from the monitor and relaying from memory what he'd learned from Giles, "-until a few years ago when he was captured by government scientists. Remarkably, he spent the last couple of years fighting demons in Sunnydale."
"He knew Buffy then?"
"Yes."
"But you've never met him?"
"Well, no. My tenure on the Hellmouth was short," the former Watcher remarked in a tone mixed with bitterness and shame. "Spike had left Sunnydale before I arrived and didn't return until some time after I'd relocated to Los Angeles."
"But it'd be reasonable to assume when he got to Sunnydale, Spike intended to kill a third Slayer?" Fred asked attempting to put together the pieces of what John had revealed.
"Certainly." Curiously, Wesley inquired, "Why the sudden interest? It's only a sketch."
Too focused on her own train of thought, Fred ignored the man's question and posed another of her own, "Were they..." She cleared her throat. "Were they involved? Spike... and Buffy?"
"Honestly, I don't know the whole story. From what Mr. Giles said, Spike was in love with her; he sought a soul for her-"
"A soul?"
Wes tipped his head and shrugged. "She was... protective of him. She trusted him. I can only assume they were close."
Fred's eyes began to tear. "She was the love of his life."
"I suppose. Ah... that's possible." He nodded thoughtfully. "And then he died helping to save the world."
"What?" Fred asked with a start.
"He was one of those lost when Sunnydale collapsed into the Hellmouth," explained Wes matter-of-factly.
"But..." She turned to the door.
"What is it Fred?"
***In the Hyperion lobby, Faith was perusing Angel's weapons cabinet, when suddenly she heard a voice.
"Excuse me... Fred?"
Instantly on edge, she peered around the frosted glass door to see a familiar and now unwanted face. "What the hell are you doing here?" she barked.
John, surprised by both the appearance of the stranger and by her tone, was taken aback.
"I dunno what you think you're gonna get outta this. Ya got the wrong Slayer here, pal."
"Slayer?" the man repeated to himself. When the dark-haired woman advanced on him, John took a step back toward the stairs. Like a cornered animal, his eyes darted around the room seeking out the best means of escape as he cursed himself for ever having come to this place; he should have stayed in Santa Barbara. Had he still been there, maybe he could have protected Jude — at very least, he could have been with her now when she needed him. Instead, he'd landed himself in unfamiliar territory with an even more dangerous Slayer than the two he'd already encountered. They'd only seemed to want to spy on him; instinct told him this one meant to harm him. Though she was talking, he was too fearful to process anything she said.
"Look, I know who you are and your mind games aren't gonna work on me this time," she sneered. "And I can't fight you my way 'cause..." She took a swing at him, sharp in the abdomen, knocking him to the ground and winding him.
"Bloody... hell!"
"What the f-"
"Stop!" shrieked Fred as she burst from the office. "Faith, what are you doing?"
"Shit..." grumbled the baffled Slayer as she shook out her fist and rubbed it with her other hand.
"Faith? Fred? What's going on here?" Wesley asked. Catching sight of the man on the floor, his jaw dropped. "Spike?"
***
"Willow? It's Dawn.""Yes Dawnie," the witch greeted cheerfully. "Are you having a good-"
Getting right down to business, the girl interrupted, "Giles wanted me to call and let you know the Council meeting is being moved up. We need everyone to come as soon as possible. Can you make it here tomorrow? I don't think we'll be able to actually hold the meeting until the weekend, but... well, you need to know what's going on."
"Dawn, what is it?"
"I can't really get into it right now, Will," she replied, "but it's bad. Is Buffy there?"
"She's taking a walk, why?"
"She should be here too. It's really important."
***
Stunned by the situation, everyone spoke at once."Hey, I thought he was the First."
"I thought he was dead."
"I thought he was human."
"What do you bleedin' Slayers want with me?"
"Now wait just a moment," Wesley insisted waving his hands in the air to silence the din. "I gather this is why you were asking about the drawing," he said to Fred before turning to Faith and noting, "and that we've established he's not the First."
"First. Last. Whatever. You Slayers just couldn't wait to get your hands on me," an hysterical John ranted. "Did I do somethin'? Or is this some sort o' daft L.A. holiday tradition I'm not familiar with?"
"No, it isn't," Fred assured.
John raised a defensive brow at Faith. "You'll call off your Slayers, then?"
"Hey man. Sorry," the Slayer said with hands high in surrender. "I didn't know."
Looking to the man who'd come out of the office with Fred, John added, "And you'll get 'em to stop followin' me?"
"Wait a minute. Slayers?" Fred questioned. "Following you? But-"
"Right then. Um... I don't think we've been introduced although I've heard a bit about you from Mr. Giles. I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," the dark-haired man declared offering a hand to his fairer-haired counterpart.
"John Smith."
Bewildered by the response, Wes exclaimed, "I'm sorry? John... John Smith?"
"By the look on your face, I assume you were expecting someone else," the visitor stated. "Look mate, like I told Fred and that Charles bloke last night-"
"Last night?" Wes shot Fred an inquisitive glance, receiving an awkward smile and a shrug.
"Like I told 'em last night, I don't remember a whole lot about my life. Not since I turned up in Santa Barbara last spring."
"Since he woke up in the hospital," stressed Fred.
"In the hospital?" This morning was proving to be one surprise after another for Wesley. Curiously, he reached again for the other man's hand. "Do you mind?"
Recalling the disturbing experience when Alex Harris lunged at his throat, John was well aware of what the man was doing so he shook his head and held up the wrist.
"Remarkable," Wes muttered at detecting the man's pulse. "And you say you don't remember anything prior to... when? May? June?"
"S'ppose it was the end of May. I was unconscious a while," the traveler explained. "Got some flashes here and there."
Wes cupped his chin and rubbed it with his thumb, nodding thoughtfully. "Oh, please." He motioned to the pair of red couches in the corner. "Do sit down. I'd like to hear more. P'rhaps we can help you fill in some of the gaps." Once the fair-haired man had taken a seat and the others gathered nearby, Wesley, who sat opposite the visitor, directed another question, "What brought you here?"
John recounted the tale of his seeing Alex Harris on television and of their subsequent meeting.
"So he knew you in... your other life as 'Spike'?" Wes reiterated.
"Yeah, and daft as the stuff he told me sounded, made sense of some of the bits that might've been memories."
"What sort of 'bits', John?" asked Fred.
"Don't know exactly," he replied. "Fightin' and scrappin', disfigured faces... Something... familiar about bein' around chatty birds — women... girls. Got some sort o' thing about basements," he admitted awkwardly. "Not real comfortable goin' below ground."
"Makes sense," chimed Faith from the background.
The others turned to her.
Self-consciously, the Slayer cleared her throat. "Well, could be 'cause of that last fight when we went down into the Hellmouth. Or it could just be 'cause of living in the basement at Bu-"
"That's very int'resting," Wesley interrupted as he turned back to the visitor. "Is there much else?"
"Smells... tastes... situations make me remember things."
"Like the sketchbook last night," prompted Fred as she made for the stairs. Wesley asked with a look what she was doing; she just smiled and gave a knowing shake of her head before she turned to hurry up the steps.
John suddenly became more uneasy, squirming where he sat and unable to meet either of the new faces that surrounded him. "Yeah," he admitted softly. He was quiet for a time then just as Wesley was going to ask another question, John cleared the lump that had formed in his throat. "There's one... woman in particular. Long, golden hair. Soft sad green eyes. She haunts me." Quietly he repeated what he'd told Gunn and Fred the previous night, "I loved her. I... I killed her." Then with a look desperate for answers, he turned to Wes. "Is that why I got a soul?"
"A soul?" questioned Gunn from where he appeared on the stairs accompanied by Fred with the book.
"Yes, Charles. Wes told me earlier that Spike had a soul."
"Well, yeah. That's how come he wore the amulet," exclaimed Faith.
"Amulet?" the others repeated.
"I guess Angel gave it to Buffy-"
John's heart skipped. "Buffy..."
"-and said that it could only be worn by somebody strong with a soul and-"
"And that's what destroyed the Hellmouth," Wesley concluded, without waiting for a reply of confirmation from the Slayer. "The vampire with a soul... Fiends unleashed... Apocalyptic battle... Shanshu!"