Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Relocation

"You sure you want to do this?" Angel asked.

Buffy nodded. "I'm sure. You know things have been getting… kind of… hard." She met his warm gaze. "Being so close to you all the time…"

He leaned in to her. "Yeah…" He cleared his throat impulsively. "Hard…"

Her tone was soft and breathy. "And I don't want you to feel…"

Her mouth was so close to his he could feel the bursts of warm breath against his lips.

She swallowed the lump building in her throat. "…awkward."

As their lips met, the pounding of Buffy's heart was suddenly drowned out by pounding on the window.

"I suppose you get the bigger bedroom, right?" Dawn grumbled from the sidewalk, duffle bag in hand.

"You should go get settled," suggested Angel.

"Yeah," Buffy sighed. With a quick peck, she was out of the car and grabbing her bag from the backseat. "I'll call you later. Thanks for the ride." A small wave from the lobby door to her father's condominium complex then Buffy disappeared inside with her sister.

***

After several depressing nights in a homeless shelter, with Judith's help, John found a job as a night parking lot attendant and a place to live. Even before John left the hospital, Judith checked around to find somewhere for him to stay. The search wasn't easy since most people she knew weren't comfortable opening their homes to a total stranger and (she'd concluded) John had a strong aversion to basements. Somehow, she managed: a co-worker who was moving in with his girlfriend was looking for someone willing to run errands and do yard-work, to take over his place at his grandparents' home.

The elderly couple lived in a quaint house in the "nice" older neighbourhood in which they'd lived almost half their lives. Around the back of the house, in the converted attic space over their garage was a cozy "suite". John had a bathroom with a shower, a tiny kitchenette and a living space fitted with hide-away bed, a table and a couple of chairs. The homeowners were quiet and friendly without being overly so, and they appreciated having a younger man around the place to help out. And the landlady loved to have someone else for whom to cook and bake, so John was soon a regular at Sunday dinner.

Work wasn't terribly exciting, and though John was comforted by the quiet nightfall seemed to bring, he thrilled at the occasional incident. Vandals to chase off. Would-be squatters and thieves to move along. Prostitutes and Johns. Drug dealers.

One night while patrolling the lot, John caught sight of a couple of teenagers making out in the shadows. Initially, he chuckled and mentally wished them luck as he continued his rounds — he'd ensure they'd gone when he finished his tour. But as he sauntered away, a strange feeling struck him. He couldn't pin point it, but knew something wasn't right, so he crept back.

Just as he was about to call out, another figure flew upon the pair shoving the larger one away. Instantly, the smaller two were hunched and circling each other with a fluid elegance.

"Cat fight." John grinned until the new arrival stepped briefly into the lamplight. In that instant, John caught a bright glimpse of long golden hair.

He glided one hand over the side of her head twisting a lock of her hair through his fingers. Soft. Silken. "You know, I still love this hair."

Startled by the flash, he shook himself. "What the-?!"

As he refocused on the scene before him, John noted that one of the women was gone and the other was kneeling over the guy who was propped up against the building. Walking toward the two, he turned on his flashlight. "Hey there," he called out. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," said the girl, holding up a hand and squinting in the directed light. She was much younger than John had imagined and though he didn't recognize her, there was something oddly familiar about the girl, or the situation, or… something.

"This your… brother?" he asked.

The guy looked dazed but the girl was completely straight-faced when she replied, "Yeah. Mom wanted me to find him." She dragged the guy to his feet and headed toward the parking lot gate.

John followed suspiciously behind. After he secured the gate, John stood watching the pair as they wandered down the street. They stopped for a brief word at the corner before the girl waved off the young man and disappeared again into the darkness.

***

On his way back from the library and copy shop, Andrew stumbled across the cobblestone street. Though he'd been following the same routine on that same street for weeks, the young man still hadn't become accustomed to the uneven roadway. "Why can't English people do stuff more like Americans?" he grumbled as he gathered up his books and bundles of papers. His last errand before returning to the small suite of offices on the ground floor of the row house in which he lived was to pick up milk for Giles' tea — at least he'd not been carrying the bottle when he took today's tumble.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Roberts," Andrew greeted as he went habitually to the dairy case.

"'ow are you today, luv?" asked the bespectacled woman who was stocking shelves near the shop entrance. "And your dashing Mr. Giles?"

"Fine thanks," he replied digging in his pocket for the change to pay for the milk. His errands complete, the keen young man hurried back to the house.

He set the books and papers down on the kitchen table, poured a bit of milk in Giles' cup and set the kettle to boil. As he waited, ever the efficient worker, he grabbed a pop for himself from the fridge and set out some biscuits. When the tea was ready, as had become habit over in recent weeks, Andrew carried a tray down the hall and popped his head into his boss' office. "Mr. Giles?"

"Andrew, do come in. I was just bringing Willow up to speed on what we've established."

"Willow," Andrew greeted with squinty eyes as he set the tray on the Englishman's desk. "Nice to see you again. Did you enjoy your holiday in the Hamptons?" He spoke very formally, suggesting he was less than sincere, in reaction to his demotion in the line of command with Willow returning to the fold.

"Yeah, it was great. I hear you've been really busy," Willow encouraged. "What can you tell me?"

"Just a minute," Andrew replied gleefully before darting down the hall to his office. He soon returned proudly hauling his large world map affixed to a display board on wheels. "Each of the red push-pins represents significant vampire activity. The green ones are other demon groups. These large clusters," he noted with his laser pointer, "are identified hellmouths."

"There's more than one?" Willow grimaced.

"We've been aware of others for years," explained Giles while reaching for a biscuit. "But having previously only one Slayer and as — aside from Cleveland and… ah… Sunnydale, of course — the hellmouths are in largely unpopulated areas, we've concentrated efforts elsewhere."

Looking anxious, the younger man cleared his throat.

"Ah yes… Andrew, do continue." Giles waved him on as he sipped his tea.

"The white pins are Slayers — new ones. These," he said indicating white pins with happy face stickers on top, "are the Slayers that survived Sunnydale."

"What's that one with the gold star?" Willow inquired.

"Oh, well, that's Buffy."

"O-K…," Willow said, trying to suppress her amusement. "So what's the plan Giles?"

"Well, I realize it's rather outside your area of expertise," the Brit prefaced, "and I'm sure you're eager to get back to the Coven, but I wondered if you could help with recruitment... for new Watchers."

"Alright…" Willow agreed with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

Giles smiled. "Splendid. And you'll be available to assist with the selection and acquisition of volumes for the new library? It may involve some inter-dimensional travel…"

"That sounds great!" the witch squealed.

Giles breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. I truly need your help, Willow."

"Count me in."

 

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