Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Return

"OK… What do I do? What do I do?" Spike asked himself trying to shake the cobwebs from his head and figure out where exactly he was. "Buffy?!" He scanned the area then with a mix of relief and disappointment, realized that the portal worked as Fred has said and Buffy had been left behind. Patting himself down, he found the box of micro-whatsits. "Let's see if these things really work."

While wandering down the street, Spike figured he'd start small: withdraw some cash from a bank machine, grab a bite to eat and find a place to stay. He pulled the box of mini-computers out of his pocket so he'd have one of the special ones ready, but as he rounded the corner, he bumped into someone going in the opposite direction. The little black tiles tumbled out of the box and scattered across the sidewalk and onto the street. "Bugger," Spike grumbled as he dropped to his knees to collect the fallen devices.

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry," said the little old man.

"S'alright," mumbled Spike absently while pushing the computer tiles together into a pile.

"But I wasn't watching where I was going and now…"

That voice. Spike looked up: Doc, that little demon; the one who'd stabbed him and tossed him off the tower. Spike glanced around, thinking that if he could just kill that creature — snap his neck right there on the street — time would be corrected because he wouldn't be able to slash poor little Dawn. No. He couldn't do it, not yet; not there. Though Doc appeared as a frail little old man, Spike knew that even when he was a vampire, the demon had the strength, speed and cunning to put up a good fight. Besides, a fight in the middle of the street would draw too much attention; he'd have to wait. Maybe after dark, when the old guy is alone, Spike could take him out.

Motioning near the wall, Doc told Spike, "You missed one over there."

"Thanks, mate," he replied grudgingly as he reached for the other "domino".

"Good day."

Spike watched as Doc toddled down the street. Sneering, he was determined to get the old geezer.

***

Spike had dozed off in the motel room he'd rented and it was now late night. "Time to go." He grabbed his jacket, the knife he'd bought at the sporting goods shop, and a stake he'd fashioned, then he set off for Doc's place.

There was something peaceful and comforting about the quiet dark streets of Sunnydale that put Spike in a positive and relaxed state. Had someone been watching him as he moved down side-streets, they'd have noticed the distinct shift in his stride from self-conscious plod to confident saunter. He'd gone several blocks when all of a sudden a strange sensation came over him: it was as if for a moment his heart had stopped and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Sliding his hand around his back, he whipped the stake from the pocket of his jeans and turned in a flash, driving the stake in his fist through the air.

Sure enough, in one seemingly quick fell swoop, his would-be attacker exploded into dust. In what might have been a moment of triumph, Spike's breathing was laboured and his heart pounded in his chest. He was shaking — shaking to the point he could hardly hold the stake in his hand. Doubling over, Spike began to retch.

When the sensation began to pass, with the back of his stake hand pressed to his lips and his other gripping his gut, he straightened. "Oh god." He could have been dead — killed before he'd had a chance to complete his mission, before he could save Buffy. "What the bloody hell am I doin' out here?" Spike asked himself with his jaw locked tightly and his arms thrown high in the air. Pacing, he grumbled, "Not a vampire anymore, you git." Then he turned abruptly to continue in the opposite direction. "Not safe to go wanderin' the streets at night. Got a job to do." Again, he changed directions. "Can't go-"

In an instant, that strange feeling returned so he ducked into the shadows, putting his back against a brick wall to ensure no one could sneak up on him from behind.

"You breathe a word of this to Buffy," Spike heard his vampire self say. "I'll see to it that you end up in the ground. Got it?"

"Yeah," young Dawn replied. "Got it."

"Come on Platelet."

Spike remained out of sight listening as the clomp of his other self's boots faded. This wouldn't be the night to kill Doc.

***

They wandered into a musty old shop scattered with maps and books, and strange old trinkets.

"Hey!" Spike called out. "Anybody home?"

From behind the thin curtains veiling a back room, an old man appeared in a tattered bathrobe putting on glasses with large round lenses. "I know you," the fellow announced with a slight look of surprise.

"Don't think so, mate," Spike countered offhandedly.

"No, no, you're that guy, that… that guy, hangs around down at the corner mart," he insisted, waggling his finger at the bewildered Spike. "Big into dominoes, aren't you?"

"Can't say as I am," said Spike politely, not wanting to put the old man off. "Look, we came here because-"

The old fellow chuckled. "That's crazy, isn't it? I mean, I-I… I'd swear you were that guy. I mean, your hair's a different color and you're a vampire," he began to mutter in an increasingly bewildered manner, "but uh, other than that..."

Dawn turned to Spike with her apprehension clearly visible in her eyes. "Maybe we should just go."

"No. Now, just because the lights are dim," the old guy said, "doesn't mean the juice is all gone. What can I do for you?"

"This one's mum kicked it a few days back," Spike explained, trying to curb the hoarseness caused by the lump forming in his throat.

Wrinkled hands clasped together at the man's chest and sympathetic eyes looked at Dawn through his huge lenses. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

"So we were wondering," added Spike, "what's to be done about it? Heard you were the one to ask."

***

Back in his motel room, Spike kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and went to take a shower before turning in for the night.

"So that's when this is," he remarked as the warm water washed over him. He'd been sent back to the week after Joyce died. If he and Dawn were out looking for Doc that would mean this was late the day after the kind lady's funeral. How Buffy must be suffering. "Buffy…"

Spike finished his shower and his bedtime routine. Cuddling a pillow to his chest, he settled in for the night thinking of Buffy.

***

He lay beside her, cradling her glistening body with his own in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Spike?" Buffy spoke with a ragged voice.

"Yes luv?"

Burrowing back against him and pulling his arms tighter around herself, she whispered, "This could be it," as if she was afraid to hear herself say it.

"Yes luv." He knew it would be, knew that tomorrow they'd be parted again — this time, forever — but for now, he just wanted to savour those last moments with his beloved Buffy.

"Spike, I can't lose you again," Buffy insisted.

Lifting his head up to nuzzle against her neck, he pressed kisses to her sensitive skin as he hushed her.

"But Spike… I love you."

He chuckled as the tears came to his eyes.

"Should I start this program over?"

***

Spike bolted upright in bed, awake. "Bugger!" Rubbing his hands briskly back and forth through his hair, he groused, "I gotta get that robot! Buffy can't find out about that."

He leapt out of bed in a panic. Stumbling around the room, he pulled on his clothes. After he'd tied his shoes, Spike raced out the door.

Spike had run only a couple of blocks when his mind started to muddle, slowing him to a trot. "Wait." He stopped completely. "What was I doing?" he wondered. As he began to look around for something that might point him in the right direction, his vision started to blur. He was getting dizzy and feeling nauseous. "Oh no!" In a near-final moment of clarity, Spike realized he'd dashed off without his stabilizers; he had to get back to his room.

After fumbling to get the key out of his pocket and into the lock, Spike threw the door open and lunged desperately at the nightstand where his micro-computers were. Clutching them to his chest, he collapsed with a heavy but relieved breath onto the bed.

"Alright, so lesson the first: don't go out after dark," he recapped. "Lesson the second, don't go anywhere without Fred's computer thingies."

***

By the time he'd regained his full faculties, Spike realized just how stupid running off to kidnap the Buffybot was. "Can't take the robot; Buffy needs it." Although Buffy had believed it to be "gross and obscene", the robot had proved useful in the fight against Glory and ultimately after Buffy was gone, it had protected Sunnydale for months, leaving Spike more time to watch over Dawn. "Nope. Won't need the robot for that this time," he assured himself. "Buffy won't have to jump; she'll be here to protect Sunnydale herself." Spike would see to that, but first, he'd have to survive until then.

After a quick stretch and a rub of his tummy, Spike decided he needed to get some snacks and supplies to tide him over while he awaited his big moment. "Bright sunny day: check. Computer domino things: check. Room key: check." One more scan of the room to see if anything else sprang to mind — nothing did — and he was off.

At the bank machine, Spike realized that Fred's little devices worked extremely well and without anyone raising so much as an eyebrow, he had plenty of cash to last him… a while. With the bundle of twenty dollar bills and his little electronic mind controllers tucked in his pocket, he wandered to the mall for clothes and supplies to last him a few days. A couple of new shirts, a package of pens and a notepad, a book, some snack foods and a case of beer, and Spike decided he'd be prepared for a couple of days at least.

On his way out of the mall, he caught sight of Xander in a jewellery store. "Must be buyin' the ring for Anya," Spike supposed. "Maybe things'll turn out differently for them as well." Holding the case of beer on his shoulder to block his face, he continued past the store.

Out on the street heading back to the motel, he was struck by that same strange… awareness he'd had the night of the vampire attack. He slowed, cautiously glancing around before stopping completely, baffled by the feeling. "What the…" Though it was getting late in the afternoon, the sun was still bright. As a vampire, he wouldn't have been caught out even under his blanket with the conditions as they were, so he ruled out the sensation as being some sort of new found gift of vampire detection. Looking around, he caught the briefest glimpse of a pair of brown robes in his peripheral vision. "Bugger!" Clutching his bags and his beer, he ran — while it was likely Glory's minions weren't actually looking for him, he didn't want to wind up her afternoon snack.

Safely back at his motel after what might have been another "close call", Spike realized that he should probably hold himself up in his room until he figured out exactly when he'd make his attack. "No time like the present," Spike said as he set out his computer devices then dug into his shopping bag for his paper and pens. He sat down at the small table to plot out his plan. Maybe he'd have another crack at taking out Doc. He'd be more prepared this time and he wouldn't assume that because the bloke was old that he was also frail and weak. Or maybe he could find Ben and kill the poor sod who housed Glory before the evil hell bitch figured out that Dawn was the Key. Spike had spent more than a hundred years taking human lives, what would one more be in the name of humanity?

Unfortunately, Spike had no idea what either of them did over the course of those days and the micro-computer things Fred had provided didn't give any insight into their whereabouts in that time either.

"Hang on." There was a time he could remember: Ben was with Buffy and the others at the abandoned gas station out on the highway just a couple of days before the ritual. They'd be on their way there any day now. "No…" Spike couldn't go there. He had no transportation and even if he did, there'd be a significant risk of fatal injury. Between the Knights of Byzantium in their attack on the Scoobies and Glory herself, who would slaughter every living thing within a three mile radius of Willow's protection field, he wouldn't be safe outside the station. But if he went out early, before the rest of the gang arrived at the station, he wouldn't be able to avoid Buffy seeing him and that wouldn't do because Buffy's awareness of his future self could influence her actions.

He'd pondered trying to catch Ben on his way out to the station, but realized that wouldn't be a good idea either: Giles would die. For a moment, he considered Giles' behaviour over the past couple of years and wondered if perhaps letting Giles die wouldn't be such a bad idea. But no, Buffy needed the man. Spike knew Buffy was already destined to spiral into a emotional puddle that left the Slayer in a fugue state for the better part of a full day; she wouldn't be able to take losing Giles too. Spike had to let most events play out exactly as they did.

He'd have to wait until the battle itself before he could act.

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