Little Bitty Puzzle PiecesBy PJzallday
Restrain
Hunched slightly and with his hand still on his head, Spike only moved to cock his head to the side. As he did so, his jaw dropped along with his hand. He tried to speak but he could find no words save, "Buffy..."
Buffy couldn't believe her eyes. Sure, she'd listened to Faith tell her that Spike was alive — actually alive — and staying at the Hyperion; she knew he'd probably be there when they arrived, but somehow seeing him in that moment left her breathless.
Between the sudden fight and the equally dramatic interchange between the two old... friends, the rest of the group were looking on stunned, murmuring amongst themselves, and trying to figure out what was going on. But Buffy and Spike weren't moving.
Faith stepped up. "OK people. Here's the deal," she began. "Everybody's gonna get a room, but you gotta share. The little girls are gonna need babysitters, so somebody's gotta keep track of who likes kids."
There were some groans from the crowd.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Faith mumbled as she rolled her eyes. "Anyway... I wanna thank... um... John," she said uncertainly, "for helping demonstrate the new security measures we got here at the Hotel. It's an anti-violence spell. Believe me when I tell ya, you're gonna get worse than you give if you mess with it. And the spell covers the whole property, so play nice. If you really wanna beat the crap outta each other, you're gonna have to take it out to the street," Faith indicated with a thumb toward the door behind her, before jeering, "If you can get out, that is."
Amidst the panicked "huh"s, several members of the group decided this arrangement wasn't for them and were shoving their ways through to the exits. Once there, they stopped abruptly as if they'd hit an invisible wall.
"What the f-?"
"We can't get out?!"
"Hey, what's goin' on?"
"Forget it girls. No one's gettin' outta Hogwart's," Faith explained with arms wide to the Hotel, "until you prove you can handle yourself outta class." Deliberately, she folded her arms across her chest. "Until then, you're gonna need a hall pass to leave."
"Hogwart's?" asked Vi. "You saw Harry Potter on the plane too?"
"No, I read the books in the slammer," Faith replied defensively.
"You can't keep us here!" shouted one of the adult women.
Another voice sneered, "This is like prison!"
Quickly Faith's head snapped to face the girl who'd yelled out. "Hey, this is nothin' like prison. In here, you're gonna be safe. You don't wanna know what prison's really like." She scanned over the crowd. "But the way I hear it, summa you were already half-way there."
Nervously, several in the group looked around. Were they afraid of the others? Or afraid of being handed over to the police?
At the same time, Spike turned to glare at Carrie.
Their gaze broken, Buffy tried to see what had caught his attention. "Hey, I used to have a sweater like that," she remarked.
Hearing her voice, Spike turned back, blushing, to meet Buffy.
Faith rolled her eyes at the blond then sternly faced the group again. "Look. You're not prisoners. You're not hostages. You're here to learn how to control your power. How to be responsible with it," Faith said frankly. "Um... Buffy? Maybe you could-"
The other young woman stood dazed and entirely oblivious to anyone and everything but Spike.
"Yeah... right," muttered Faith. "So ah... We're all really strong, fast. Me and Buffy, summa the other girls, we know how to handle ourselves. It can be really hard, believe me, I know. And summa you have already had a taste of power gone bad. We gotta put a stop to that. You can't go around hurtin' people."
There were some groans and sarcastic chuckles.
Faith frowned. "You're not just here to protect those people on the outside; you're here for your own safety too," she cautioned. "You keep throwin' your power around, people are gonna wanna hunt you down - and I don't just mean the cops or demons." Finally, Faith raised her hands and decided, "Enougha the lecture. Not really my thing anyway." Looking over to the office off the front desk where the men appeared to be hiding out, hoping to avoid the notice by the estrogen convention, Faith yelled, "Yo guys! Get your asses out here. You got guests." Directing the Slayers to the desk, she ordered, "You gals: line up. First come, first to get the hell outta the lobby."
With the masses looked after, Faith turned her attention to the other issue at hand by marching down the stairs grabbing Spike by the arm and dragging him up to Buffy. "Why don't you two go upstairs or out back or somewhere. You got lots to talk about. I'll look after things here."
The shell-shocked pair smiled weakly but appreciatively at Faith before turning their awed gazes back to each other.
Virtually unnoticed, Faith smirked and shook her head as she stepped around the dazed figures on the landing to descend the remaining stairs and join the crowd of Slayers.
"How's your head?" Buffy asked with a mix of concern and amusement.
"My...?" Reactively, Spike's hand went back to his head then with a quick comb of his fingers through his hair and a couple of pats, he dropped it again by his side. "Oh... it's fine." He smiled. "Thought for a bit they'd shoved that bloody chip back in there."
Buffy returned Spike's smile but when they found each other's eyes, the smiles faded and their hearts skipped beats. She bit her lip.
He swallowed hard then his lips parted ever so slightly as he slowly let out a breath. Breaking their intense gaze, Spike looked around without actually focusing. "Ah..." Directing with his outstretched arm, Spike encouraged Buffy toward the stairs.
When the two started up, Buffy clutched the railing on the left side of the staircase, while Spike gripped the one on the right.
***
Tossing down his filing, Andrew leaned across his desk to grab the phone. "Hello?""Andrew? It's Dawn."
"Oh hi. How's your trip?"
"Um... I think we've kinda hit a snag," Dawn grumbled.
As he moved around the desk to settle into his chair for what he expected might be a long and important call, Andrew spun around trying to untangle the phone cord. "They're not paying me enough," he mumbled as his papers tumbled off the end of the desk.
"What?"
"Nothing. So what's the problem?" he asked.
"Well, we've hardly started but we keep finding girls whose parents won't let us take them," explained Dawn, her frustration clear. "Willow tries to assure them that everything's gonna be OK and that this is for their safety and whatever, but they're not going for it."
"Hmm..."
"And then there's a bunch who'll only let the girls go if one of them comes with," she continued. "Like, I understand why they're concerned: some of these girls are really young. But..."
"Oh..."
"Hey, did anybody think about that?" Dawn wondered aloud. "I kind of assumed 'cause all the Potentials that showed up before were like my age, that all the Slayers would be too. But some of 'em aren't even in school yet. And some others have little kids of their own or big deal careers they don't wanna leave."
The young man harrumphed. "Dawn, I'll make a note of this and run it by Mr. Giles. He'll have an idea what to do," Andrew insisted. "Keep us posted."
"Sure. Bye."
Andrew replaced the receiver. "Mr. Giles is not going to be happy to hear this," he grumbled as he got up to go inform the Council Head of the latest developments.
***
They walked silently through the hall, still on opposite sides, afraid to touch. Afraid to discover the other was only a figment.As they approached Angel's room, Buffy's focus shifted. "No... no... no..." Buffy repeated under her breath dreading that Spike would stop at Angel's door.
Then he did.
Halting abruptly, she closed her eyes and cursed softly, "Shit." She couldn't go in. Not into Angel's room. Not with him gone. Not with Spike. It was just... wrong. With her chin to her chest, she opened her eyes to look at him through her lashes. "Spike, I..."
But she didn't need to explain; he understood. "Um... This is my room," he said pointing to the door opposite Angel's. Not since he woke up after the procedure had Spike been able to use the vampire's room except to scavenge for wardrobe changes and toiletries. Once things had settled down a bit and he had a chance to get his life in order, he'd stop that too.
Buffy jumped out of the way as he reached for the door knob. "Oh, sorry."
The door creaked dramatically when he pushed it open. Meeting Buffy's face again, he gave a nod to welcome her inside.
***
Giles removed his glasses. "What is it now, Andrew?" he asked, as he rubbed his head. For hours, he'd been pouring over papers and rifling through books. He'd even spent time trying searches on the internet."Dawn just called from the States," he replied. "She and Willow have been tracking Slayers on the east coast."
"And?" the other man sighed. "How's that going, then?"
"Not well, I'm afraid."
Giles lifted his head to his young associate and raised an inquisitive brow.
"Um... They're having trouble convincing some of the Slayers or their parents to go along with this plan," Andrew explained.
"I see." Rubbing his thumb across his jaw, the Council Head leaned back in his chair. "I can't say this comes as a complete surprise. The Council has had similar problems in the past. That, you see, is why I insisted we continue to look for other options whilst giving Buffy some time to oversee her plan."
"Oh, right," Andrew acknowledged as if he'd believed all along that it would be necessary to have alternatives to Buffy's proposal. "Is that what you're working on now?"
Maintaining a look of superiority, Giles simply stated, "I am."
"Do you need any help?" Andrew, ever the helpful assistant, offered as he rushed to his boss' desk.
Taken aback, Giles slammed shut the book he'd been reviewing. "You just see to coordinating the current plan, I'll investigate alternatives."
After a quick scan of the papers and computer screen, Andrew remarked, "Oh... you're looking at the scythe. And that Caleb guy?"
Shiftily, but trying to sound unconcerned, the older man explained, "Just thought if I could establish what exactly Caleb planned to do with the scythe that might give us some insight."
"Oh. OK." Andrew paused a moment, smiling and nodding understandingly. "Well, I'll let you get back to that then," he said as he backed toward the door. "Just give me a call if you need anything." Pulling the door closed behind him, the young associate disappeared into the hall.
"Oh thank god," Giles muttered as he turned back to his research.
***
Spike's room was decidedly simpler than Angel's — which stood to reason since he was only a guest. It was smaller, just a basic room rather than a suite, and it hadn't been redecorated, Buffy supposed, in decades. Pivoting suddenly on her heel, she found herself almost buried in Spike's chest. "Oh!" she squeaked in surprise."Sorry," he mumbled, taking a painfully self-conscious step back.
Mentally Buffy chided herself for making him feel awkward. "No, Spike please. It was my fault." She crossed the small room, looking for Spike's approval before sitting on the end of his bed.
Cautiously, he crept forward to stand opposite Buffy then he leaned back against the wall, trying to appear at ease.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
"So, um... Spike?" she broke into the silence. "Where have you been?"
As he slowly lifted his eyes from the floor to meet Buffy's, they filled with tears. With her so close, apparently concerned about him, Spike was shattered. "Lost." Dropping to his knees in front of her, he raised his hands to cover his face. "I've been so lost," he sobbed.
Buffy's heart ached for him. Empathetic tears stung in her eyes. Tentatively, she extended her hand. At the moment her hand first touched him, she twitched ever so slightly, surprised that he was really there. When she began to stroke his head, Spike dropped his hands to her knees and looked up at her through his glossy eyes.
Her gentleness left him bewildered. Her presence gave him such a sense of completeness. When he gazed into her warm olive eyes, his lips quivered and he had to look away. When she leaned forward, pulling his head to her chest, he wrapped his arms at her waist and both were lost in the cathartic flow of tears and soft incoherent whispers.