Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Release

Buffy and Angel returned late from a night out. They'd been to a movie then gone for a decaf mocha latte. Together as they strolled back to the Hyperion hand in hand, Buffy beamed happily. Moonlight and the scent of jasmine filled the air as the pair wandered into the courtyard behind the Hotel. Pausing at the wishing well, they gazed lovingly… longingly into each others eyes.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Angel inquired.

Buffy smiled reflectively. "I did."

"Suppose we should go in?"

"Yeah… I'm pretty tired," Buffy replied.

But neither of them made any effort to go inside. Instead they drew closer: Angel, wrapping his strong arms around Buffy's petite figure; Buffy, sliding her palms up his broad chest. Cool smooth lips meeting hot glossy ones. He pulled back an arm to run a hand across Buffy's shoulder blade then up to comb through her hair. She sighed in response, relaxing her head back into his hand. The kiss intensified; the sensations heightened. Before long Buffy was clutching the lapels of Angel's jacket while the swell of his trousers pressed against her abdomen.

In a gasp for breath, Buffy pulled away. "Angel!"

His mouth freed from her lips, the vampire buried his head at the base of her silken throat. The hum of her blood called to him; the heat of her body made the demon inside scream for more. His grip tightened. Kisses became hungrier. Flecks of gold sparkled in the chocolate pools of his eyes as a low growl surged from deep in his chest.

Buffy startled, thrusting him to arms length; the spell was broken. "We really should head in now." She took his hand and led him to the door.

Inside, both went to speak.

"Buffy, I've got work-"

"I'm going up-"

The two chuckled softly then Angel pressed one last gentle cool kiss to Buffy's soft lips. "Sleep well."

"See you in the morning?"

Angel nodded then headed back out the door while Buffy took to the stairs.

When she reached for the door to her room, a shrill voice scolded from behind, "So that's it?! You've forgotten all about Spike?!"

Turning Buffy asked, "Dawn, where's this coming from?" Her tone expressed her frustration.

"He died, Buffy! And you never shed a tear," her sister growled. "You're too busy swooning over your true love to give any thought to the guy who died for you!" The younger woman's eyes swelled with angry tears.

The Slayer's jaw clenched as she grabbed her doorknob, forcing open the door. "Dawn. Please." She motioned for her sister to enter her suite then followed in after her.

Buffy offered her sister a seat but Dawn just stood defiantly with her arms crossed.

Defeated, she dropped onto the edge of the bed. "Dawn-" she began but was abruptly silenced.

"He's hardly been gone two weeks! But here you are traipsing around with Angel as if Spike never meant anything to you. Are you really that heartless?"

Buffy's pulse was racing; chest aching; head throbbing. She felt as though she couldn't breathe. "You don't know…" she choked out. "You don't know how hard it's been for me… without him." She pulled her palms to wipe the tears from her eyes then dropped her head tangling her fingers in her hair. "I can't be alone without thinking about him." She looked up at her sister whose stance had softened considerably. "Dawn…" she said weakly. "I loved him."

"Oh God, Buffy…" Dawn sat on the bed taking the weeping woman in her arms. "I know. I know you loved him."

Buffy pulled back and looked squarely at her sister. "But did he?" she asked doubtfully, with pleading eyes.

***

Though the world was crashing down around them, all seemed to grow suddenly still. Quiet. The reflection of the sun's glow burst from him lending a warm golden tone to her skin.

Her wide eyes glistened with tears. "I love you."

***

"There's no medical reason to keep him here any longer," the doctor insisted.

Nurse Judith countered, "But he doesn't know who he is."

"That's a Psych problem," he said callously. "They're calling it 'Dissociative Fugue' and agree he doesn't need to be taking up a bed."

"He's got nowhere to go," Judith argued.

"I'm discharging him," stated the doctor, signing off the paperwork. "See if Social Services can find him a place to stay."

Going to John's room, Judith found the man staring out the window, his hand against the glass and the morning sun washing across his face.

"John," she called softly to get his attention. "You're up early."

"Mornin' Jude." Her patient continued to gaze out the window. "You've got news." Somehow he knew.

"Well, today's the day," the nurse announced plainly. She couldn't sound cheerful and tell him he was going home; he had no home that they could find.

He glanced over his shoulder in Judith's general direction. "Figured," he acknowledged, with a single brief nod before returning his stare to something in the distance beyond the window.

The nurse shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She glanced around the room as if something on the walls or ceiling might have the answer to all life's questions. "Come with me," Judith coaxed with a sly gleam in her eyes before turning to the door.

John followed her to the elevator then off again on a lower level. "Jude?" he began, "not quite sure what you've got in mind, but I…"

She grabbed his hand and grinned. "Come on."

As Judith pushed open the door to the subbasement, John hesitated: something felt wrong. When she pulled him through the opening and he started down the stairs, apprehension was overshadowed by terror. With each step, the feeling swelled within him. Shivers ran up his back. His breathing became shallow and laboured. His mind burst with images of fire, and screeching, and crowds of people. He got dizzy, paled then stumbled on the across the landing knocking into the wall.

"Geez John," Judith cried as she steadied him. With the firmness of a seasoned professional, she helped him settle on the step with his head between his knees. "Take some deep breaths." She began to gently rub his back, but he flinched away. Still her instinct was to comfort him, so she just held her hand over him, brushing softly in the air. "Shh… take it easy."

On the stairs, his audible breaths turned to sobs and he fisted clumps of hair in his hands. "I don't… don't understand." He pulled his fingers down the side of his head to press tightly at his tense shoulders then he looked at her with tearful wide eyes. "I don't understand why I can remember the lyrics to all the Sex Pistols songs, or that Manchester United has won fifteen National Championships, or that I like chicken wings and deep fried onion thingies, but I don't know who the bloody hell I am!" He gulped for breath. "I can even quote soddin' Shakespeare," he exclaimed hysterically, placing a hand to his chest and outstretching his other arm. "'My heart expands — tis grown a bulge in it — inspired by your beauty effulgent', but I-"

"Ah… John?" the nurse interrupted hesitantly. "I don't think that's Shakespeare."

He dropped his hands and turned back to face her, having quickly sobered and looking quite baffled. "Oh?"

Judith bit her lip to suppress a giggle at his expression. "No," she replied with a sympathetic smile.

Both turned to look back down at the floor. They sat quietly for several minutes as John regained his composure and his balance. He lifted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He rolled his shoulders and gave himself a shake. "Sorry Jude."

"Oh hey…" She just shook her head knowing he wasn't ready to leave the hospital, feeling powerless to help him. "Are you feeling… better now?" She gave little time for him to respond before firing another question, "Can you walk?"

He gulped hard and pulled himself to standing. "Sure, pet."

They continued slowly down the half flight of stairs. At the bottom, the nurse pushed the heavy fire door open and lead John out into the corridor. In the hall, he breathed a little easier until they stopped in front of a storage room door. Looking up to her face, John caught her coy grin, but looking back at the door, he felt a sense of foreboding.

Judith opened the door to a storage room and flicked on the light. "Get in there," she playfully ordered.

He didn't budge. He couldn't. Part of him was paralysed by flashes of the past, part by fear of the future.

Meeting his concerned face, she smiled comfortingly. "John." As she slid an arm behind his back, Judith huffed a disappointed chuckle and explained, "I just thought you could use some new clothes."

He cocked his head and raised a questioning brow.

"Well, not new exactly," the woman corrected. She gave him a shove. "Just go have a look. Maybe you can find something you like." Smirking at his attire, Judith added, "Or were you planning on spending the rest of your life in hospital jammies?"

"Got a point there," John conceded. "So, where'd this lot come from?" he asked as he scanned the racks of garments.

"You probably don't want to know," she replied grimly. "But we keep some stuff around for… people in situations kinda like yours. Take what you'd like." As John began to rummage, Judith inquired, "Have you given any thought to where you'll stay?"

***

Dawn awoke with dry sore eyes in her sister's bed; Buffy, exhausted, was still asleep beside her.

What began the night before as a crushing tirade against Buffy had transformed into catharsis for Dawn. For more than a year, the younger sister had internalized her hostility toward Spike for his attempted sexual assault on Buffy. For longer still, Dawn had been angry with him for abandoning their friendship and jealous of Buffy for the time she'd spent with him. And in the days since he died, she'd lived with the burden of never having told him how she felt or having tried to rebuild their relationship. Through the darkest hours, the two young women had poured out their hearts: weeping, laughing and comforting each other. They reflected on their fondest and worst memories of a man they had both loved. They shared their deepest regrets over what they'd done and said to him in the past years — and of what they had failed to do and say. And they mourned their loss of him.

After drawing the drapes left open the previous day and carefully laying a blanket over her sister, the younger Summers quietly slipped from the room.

"Dawn," Angel greeted awkwardly. He'd been on his way to see Buffy before turning in for the day and wasn't prepared for a run-in with her sister. "How are you this morning?"

She scowled at him, holding a finger to her lips to insist on quiet before motioning him to follow her down the hall. Once at what she considered a safe distance, the young woman's expression softened. "Buffy's still asleep," she explained. "We had a rough night."

Looking toward his love's door, Angel wanted to go to her but asked, "Is she… Is everything alright?"

"Look, I know everything's going great between you two," Dawn began with a sneer and an eye roll, "but she's hurting — over Spike."

Angel's face dropped.

"He was an important part of our lives. And for Buffy…" The young woman wasn't sure what more to say. "Please… for now, just let her sleep."

***

"Hey," called one of the school bullies. "I thought I told you before: this is our turf." The group stood blocking the sidewalk, taunting and jeering a pair of younger girls.

"I told ya we shoulda gone the other way," mumbled Emily, a chubby pre-teen.

Her gangly friend, Taylor stood her ground. "We're not gonna let them push us around anymore." Boldly, she growled back, "Back off. We're goin' this way."

"You hear that, Courtney? They wannus to let'em through." The tough girl got up into Taylor's face. "Make me."

Taylor gave the other girl a shove and was swiftly met with a punch in the face.

"Don't you dare!" shrieked Emily as she ploughed forward to help her friend. The previously shy quiet girl grabbed her friend's attacker by the arm. In one swift movement with a pop and a crack, she twisted the arm behind the girl's back then tossed her several yards away. The other girls just stood and stared as Emily offered her friend a hand up and the two walked proudly down the sidewalk.

 

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