Buffy hung up the phone and started a frantic search of the house for plastic bags and a jar.

"Come on, there's got to be a damn jar somewhere!" she said, as she tore open cabinets, only seeing a can of green beans and one ready-to-explode can of fruit cocktail.

Finally, she found a half-empty mayonnaise jar in the back of the refrigerator, dumped out the contents, and washed it out about half a dozen times.

She found a clean, unused bag that had come from the local Safeway under the sink.

"I love you, Spike, hang in there, baby, I'm gonna find you," she whispered, then blew into the bag, sealing it inside of the jar. She tightened the lid, duct taped it shut, and bubble wrapped it. She found a small carton and some packing peanuts, and placed the jar inside. She sealed the carton and addressed it to Willow.

It was 4:00am and she knew the FED EX didn't open until 8:30am. She sighed, and made herself a pot of coffee. It was going to be a long four and a half hours.

By 6:30am, Buffy had already showered, dressed, and was working on her second pot of coffee, when she decided to check her email.

"You've got post!" said the British voice that she'd elected to hear when she logged onto AOL.

Spam, spam, and more spam! A letter from the Alumni Association at CSUSM, more spam. Make your Penis Larger! Lose Weight, Get Rich by Using the Power of the Internet! Check out Girls from Russia! Viagra for Women, etc.

Finally, she came to an email from Dawn.

"Dear Buffy," it read,

"You'll never believe whom I ran into the other day, while out for dinner! Andrew! He said he emailed you about something important about the amulet about a year ago, but that you'd never answered. I told him I didn't think that you had received it, but he said it never was returned as an invalid email address. ? I think he said the email was at Hotmail. Didn't we both open an account there about 8 years ago? When we first were using Willow's computer, before we had one? I may have given him that email a long time ago, just to shut him up. J ?

I think he's got some information that might be important. He didn't want to go into it right then, as he was in the middle of interviewing someone for a story. I got his email for you; it's awells@aol.com.

Love, Dawn

Buffy had forgotten all about that one, she didn't even think she knew her ID or password anymore. She typed in hotmail.com and got the login page for mail.

"Okay, here goes," she said to herself.

User name: 'bsummers' she typed, don't think I was ever too original, she thought to herself.

Password: 'slayer' she typed.

"I'm sorry, your password is incorrect, please answer the secret question that you picked when you opened this account in order for us to mail you your password." "Your question is: What was the name of your first pet?" Buffy typed "Fluffy," it was the little dog she'd gotten for Christmas when she was 8 years old.

"You password has been sent to your email now!"

"Well, I hope it's the other email, or I'm back to square one!" Buffy said out loud.

Buffy went back to her AOL email account, more junk mail, then she saw, 'Your password from Hotmail."

She opened it up. "Your password is: Angel."

"Shit!" Buffy said.

She went back to her Hotmail account and typed in "Angel." She then clicked "Change Your Password." Buffy tapped her fingers on her neck as she thought about it, her fingers unconsciously playing with the chain on her necklace. All of a sudden it became clear. Under the "Enter New Password," prompt she typed, "Lovebirds," then again, when it asked her to repeat the process.

Buffy went to her email and there it was, two emails from Andrew:

June 29, 2007

9:30pm

To: bsummers@hotmail.com

From: awells@aol.com

Dear Buffy, how have you been? I’m out of school, well, sort of quit, because I got this fab job working for The National Sun. This is why I’m emailing you, tomorrow I’m set to cover a story about this archaeology professor who’s been digging at the Sunnydale crater. I’m to take my photographer and go cover this story in 2 days. They supposedly have uncovered a bunch of stuff from there. Thought you might like to be present. I’ll tell them you’re my assistant if you come along. Just thought you might like to know.

How is everyone? I haven’t talked to anyone except Xander in the past year.

Let me know if you want to come.

Your friend,

Andrew

And this one:

July 7, 2007

1:30pm

To: bsummer@hotmail.com

From: awells@aol.com

Dear Buffy,

I thought you might want to know that today I was called into the office of a Mr. Angel at Wolfram & Hart (the parent company to my newspaper) to ask about the Sunnydale dig.

Besides wanting to know all about the dig and the professor, he wanted to know if I knew any of you guys. Or Spike.

I sort of remember you guys mentioning him once in a while. Wasn’t sure that he was the one. In any case, I told him that Willow used to tutor my brother Tucker, but that I didn’t know any of you. Or Spike.

One more thing, Angel is a vampire. In case you didn’t know, but you probably do. The whole thing kinda gave my ‘spidey’ senses a work out. Don’t know what he wanted, but thought you should know. Please advise.

Your friend,

Andrew

"Shit!" Buffy said for the second time that morning. Andrew had tried to get a hold of her almost a year ago! If only she’d looked at that freakin’ Hotmail account before now.

"Well, nothing to be done about that now, but what to do NOW, that’s the question," Buffy said.

She wasn’t sure if she could even trust Andrew, now that she new he was working for the newspaper owned by Wolfram and Hart. And Angel, she thought darkly. She knew he’d been jealous of Spike that last time he’d seen her, when she told him, that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but that, "He’s in my heart." Buffy frowned, thinking of why she just hadn’t come right out and told Angel, "Yes, Spike is my boyfriend, my lover, my everything, I love him…"

But she knew the answer. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Angel with the whole truth. NO! That wasn’t it! She couldn’t look anybody right in the eye and tell them that she’d loved Spike, even though she kept telling everyone that she needed him, that he was the one who always had her back. She just couldn’t say, "I love Spike," to everyone. It had been confusing, it seemed selfish to make everybody deal with it, but she wished she had, oh how she wished it! She’d barely been able to say it to him again those last few days, the last moment, when saying it meant that they both knew what they were about to lose.

It had only been here, in this house that the words in her heart had flowed easily from her lips.

"Five years, and I’m still confused, still in pain over the way I hurt you, the way I’d denied you for so long," Buffy said out loud.

Did one wonderful weekend make up for it? Did a few nights together at the end, make up for all the pain?

She didn’t know. All she knew, is that if he was alive, she would never, ever let him go again, never let a moment slip by when she wouldn’t remind him of how important he was to her, how loved, how…

Buffy woke with a start, she had dozed for a little, while thinking of all the things she would do to make up for lost time, if she found Spike.

If…

She looked at the clock, it was 7:30am, still an hour to go. She picked up the phone.

"Hello?" a groggy Dawn answered.

"Hey!"

"Buffy?"

"Yeah, it’s me, listen, I’m sorry to wake you up, but this is important."

"What is it?" Dawn said.

"I got your email about Andrew, and you were right about that Hotmail account. I’d totally forgotten it and Andrew had emailed me last year. What I need now is how to get in touch with him. Now," Buffy said.

"Hold on, Buffy, he gave me his card, I’m gonna go get it, " Dawn said, putting the phone down.

"Okay, I’m back," Dawn said, "I got his business card. Here, let me give you his phone and pager numbers."

"Thanks, Dawn," Buffy said, after taking them down," go back to sleep, it’s still early."

"Wait, Buffy. What’s going on? Have you found out anything about the amulet from Willow lately?"

Buffy took a deep breath, "Yes."

"Well?" Dawn asked, exasperated with her sister.

"He’s alive, Dawn," Buffy said in a whisper.

"Who? Spike?" Oh my God? Where? How?" Dawn sputtered.

"I don’t know where, I just know that he is. He’s been sending me messages lately…in my dreams, and Willow, she found out that there’s a prophecy associated with the amulet, that a vampire with a soul, once he’s completed his destiny; survived evils, an apocalypse, and a bunch of other stuff, will get his reward," Buffy said.

"What reward? Coming back to life?" Dawn said, now squealing.

"To become human again," Buffy said, softly.

"Oh my God, Buffy, that’s…"

"I know."

"So Spike is alive now? And human?"

"Yes. I mean, I think so," Buffy said.

"That’s great Buffy, isn’t it?" she asked, noting her sister’s lack of enthusiasm.

"Yes, but he’s out there alone somewhere and I don’t know where, and in my dreams he’s been…"

"What?" Dawn asked, worried all of a sudden.

Buffy took a deep breath, "he need my help, he’s been saying, ‘help me,’ in my dreams, for over a week now, every night. Every night he asks me to help him and I don’t know how," she said, all of a sudden feeling very helpless.

"You will, Buffy! We all will, you, me, Willow! We’ll find him and bring him home to you, to us! I promise Buffy! Okay? Buffy?"

"Thank you Dawn," she said, feeling better having her sister be so commanding.

"Just let me know what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you want," Dawn said.

"I will. As soon as I find something out, I’ll let you know. Thanks, Dawn," Buffy said, "I gotta go run some errands now."

"Okay, Buffy. Call me! I mean it, as soon as you find anything out!"

"I will, I promise. Bye, Dawn."

"Bye, Buffy."

Buffy looked at the clock, it was 7:55am. Just enough time to get to the FED EX near the San Diego airport.

Buffy was out of FED EX by 8:35am. They had assured her it would be in London and to Willow in about 14 hours.

Buffy stopped at a Radio Shack in the older part of downtown San Diego, and went into the back, through an employee’s only door to where Clem was working.

"Hey Clem," Buffy said.

"Well, hi there, Buffy," Clem said, pleased at seeing his ‘neighbor,’ "how’s it hanging, er, I mean, going?" he asked her.

"I need two phones that can’t be traced, no G.P.S., no nothing," she told him.

"Sure thing, Buffy," he said going under the counter and pulling out two small red phones, "going undercover?" he asked, laughing.

"Not exactly, just need to be sure about someone’s intentions, that’s all," Buffy said.

Clem looked at her, there was something different about the way she looked to him, something more forceful than he’d felt from her in a long time, something more slayer like than her new persona, Elizabeth the Montessori school teacher, that was for sure.

"You know," Clem said, programming the untraceable, anonymous, pre-paid minutes into the phones, "if you need my help, you know I’m there for you," he said.

"I know Clem, and I will, I do right now, that’s why I’m here getting these from you, because I know I can always trust you," she paused, "I think that…I’ll have some very good news to tell you, soon. Just, not right now."

"Okay," Clem said, cheerfully, "always can wait for good news."

"Thanks Clem," Buffy said, handing him a couple of hundred dollar bills for the phones and the pre-paid minutes.

"You’re welcome, Buffy," he said, taking the money, "let me know if you need me for anything else."

"I will. Bye, Clem."

"Bye, Buffy."

Buffy bought some fast food, a 6-pack of bottled water and headed south to the border. By 9:30am, she stopped at a little ‘restorante’ across the border in Tijuana that had a pay phone. She dialed the pager number that Dawn had given her and waited. 10:00am, 10:30am, 11:00am, finally at 11:15am the phone rang. She picked it up.

"This is Andrew Wells," the familiar lilting voice said.

"Andrew! Do you know who this is?" she said, "if you do just say yes, don’t use my name."

There was a long pause.

"Yes."

"Oh my God! It’s been ages. I just ran into," he started to say Dawn’s name, then caught himself, "er, you-know-who, the other day! Oh, guess you know that, since you have my pager number," Andrew said, "how are you?"

"Andrew, I just got your email last night. I haven’t looked at that account in almost 7 years, that’s why I didn’t know you’d emailed me last year."

"I wondered why you hadn’t emailed me back," Andrew said.

"I need to see you," Buffy said.

"Okay, where and when?"

"Meet me in front of the Panda Exhibit at the San Diego Zoo, 1:00pm. Find the nearest phone and wait for my call."

"Okay," Andrew said, "I’ll see you there, but better make it 1:30pm, I’ve got to come all the way from L.A."

"See you at 1:30, then," Buffy said, and hung up.

Andrew arrived at 1:25pm and quickly saw the telephone. He waited and waited and waited.

Buffy watched Andrew from a number of different vantage points for over an hour, waiting to make sure that he hadn’t brought anybody with him or that there was no signal. Finally she walked up to him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself," Andrew said, half smiling, "thought you were going to call."

"Nah, just always wanted to say that," Buffy said, hugging him.

"Hey!" Andrew said, as Buffy’s hand went down his pants and under his shirt.

"Sorry, Andy, nothing personal," Buffy said, completing her search for wires, microphones, etc.

"Well, it is personal!" Andrew said, "how’d you like it…?"

"Don’t even go there, Andrew. I’m not the one working for The National Sun, a paper owned by evil lawyers in cahoots with the demon world, now am I?" Buffy asked.

"I don’t work for them either, anymore. And besides, I didn’t know that’s what they were when they hired me, I just thought they were a regular paper," he whined.

"How can I believe that you’re not working for them anymore?" she asked.

Andrew just looked at her and shook his head. She’d been the right person for the slayer gig, that was for sure! She was still thorough, and demanding. He sighed.

"Guess you haven’t seen my stories in The San Francisco Chronicle for the past 5 months, have you?"

"Why would I?" Buffy asked.

"I don’t know, guess you wouldn’t have. Got a job reviewing gay-friendly restaurants. That’s how I ran into Dawn. Though, don’t think she knew it was gay-friendly," he said, laughing.

Buffy rolled her eyes, then asked, "How did you manage to quit The National Sun?"

"Well, I quit about 6 months ago. I was sort of afraid to, if you know what I mean," he said.

"I might, why don’t you tell me about it."

"Well, as you know, Angel called me in for a meeting, and something just had me very nervous about that, especially when he started asking me about all of you guys and especially Spike," Andrew said.

"What did he want to know about Spike," Buffy asked, her eyes steely.

"Just what I told you in the email, did I know him? Had I heard of him? That kind of stuff," he answered.

"Nothing else?" she asked.

"No," Andrew said, "but after that, I had the feeling that I was being watched. Never saw by whom, but figured it out when I came home one day and my apartment had been ransacked. All my notes on the dig in Sunnydale were missing, so I knew who it had to be."

"What was in your notes?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing other than what was in the story. Oh, maybe just that the professor was going to be digging in Egypt that summer and something about his life in Chicago, before he started teaching in San Bernardino, but that’s all."

"The professor’s dead. Died in Egypt, of natural causes, so his assistant in Chicago told me," Buffy said.

"You think the same people who ransacked my apartment…?"

"Could be," Buffy said, nodding. "I was going to meet with him when he was home for a few days last summer. By the time Dawn and I got there, he was already dead and his apartment ransacked, also."

Andrew looked at Buffy, shaking his head, then asked, "How’d you know about him, if you hadn’t gotten my email?"

"I saw your article up in the display case at CSUSM, when I was taking a class there last summer. I just didn’t know that you wrote it. Sorry, I didn’t know your last name," she said, shrugging.

"That’s okay," he said.

"So, how did you get hired in the first place? Did they, do you think they know your connection to me?" Buffy asked.

"I really don’t think so, it just happened that I wrote an anonymous piece for a contest. We didn’t use names, just numbers. Just so happened that mine was chosen and I got an internship with The National Sun for the summer and they offered me a position that fall," he said.

"And how’d you quit then?"

"Well, I just played dumb. I know, you probably don’t think that’s too hard for me, huh?"

"Dumb like a fox, my mom always used to say," Buffy said, smiling.

Andrew smiled back, "Well, I figured that if I quit after the break-in, that it would look like I suspected something, so I just started screwing up. Wrote bad stories, misquoted sources, and came to work drunk a few times. Think they finally just got tired of all the complaints they were getting about me. Finally, I told them that my grandmother was sick up north. Actually, she was very sick, so it wasn’t a lie, but it worked. Told them I had to quit to take care of her."

"I’m sorry, did she…?"

"Yeah, she died. About 2 weeks after I got there," Andrew said, "last of my relatives, too."

"I am sorry, Andrew," Buffy said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"I…I was with someone for a while, but it didn’t work out. He didn’t want to move when I went north to San Francisco, plus the whole getting broke into thing, think it freaked him out," Andrew said.

"I’m sorry," Buffy said, again. She knew what it was like to feel alone.

He shrugged, "Anyway, didn’t exactly want to use The National Sun as a reference. Didn’t want them to know where I was. But in this business, your name follows you; it’s your trademark, so figured they could find out where I was working anyway, if they wanted to. So, I used them as a reference, and guess they gave me a real glowing one, since the paper put me on the oh-so-prestigious, ‘gay friendly restaurant,’ beat," he said, laughing.

"Well, hey! You’re working, you get to eat, see cute guys, it could be worse," Buffy said.

"Yeah, it could," he agreed.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, while Buffy was trying to decide something. Finally she decided to tell Andrew about the amulet.

"Wow!" Andrew said, when she was finished. "Wow! And you think Spike may be alive? Now?"

"I think so. And he needs my help, Andrew. I have to find him, somehow," Buffy said.

"You will Buffy, you will," he said, comforting her.

An hour later they parted outside the zoo. She gave him the other phone and told him she would call him if she heard anything. He had promised to help her anyway he could, to either help locate Spike, or to help her once she found him.

He seemed to have grown up a lot in the past 5 years and had a new confidence about him; an integrity that hadn’t been there before. He had quit The National Sun, with what must have been easy money and could have been a big lure over to the darkness. She was proud of him.

She smiled as she got into her car. Andrew, who would have thought it? From guestage to ally.

A light was glowing high up on a shelf in section 405 in The Field Museum's warehouse. All of a sudden the light glowed brighter before going out. Boxes fell off the shelf as a form displaced them.

"Mother?" a voice, said, in the dark.

"Ahhhhh!" it screamed as its form turned over, falling 10 feet to the concrete below.

The man screamed again, as he hit the ground with full force. His head hit the corner of a box that had fallen off moments before, cutting into the right side, near his temple, but preventing him from losing consciousness or his life, as hitting his head on the concrete may have done. However, his left shoulder was dislocated in the fall and his elbow was fractured, as was his tailbone.

He lay there, tears springing to his eyes in response to the pain, trying to think of where he might be. His last thought was of being at a party where Cecily was, his brother and his brother's friends.

His brother! "If this was his brother's idea of a joke..." he thought, "get William drunk and dump him somewhere..."

But where? He tried to look around him, but could only see darkness.

He moaned as he tried to sit up, the pain of his dislocated shoulder, fractured elbow, and tailbone bringing tears to his eyes again.

He felt around with his right hand until he felt the shelf on the other side of the box he had hit. He pulled himself up carefully, until he was standing. He reached down, to feel his for his glasses and realized in horror that he was naked!

"Wait till mother finds out about this, Henry," William said, "you'll be sorry! She'll disinherit you for sure!"

William put his hand to his face and felt the warm and sticky liquid. He tentatively stuck his tongue to his finger and became woozy, when his taste buds confirmed that it was indeed, blood.

He trembled as he stood there, not knowing what to do. Every bone in his body ached, some lots more than others. He took a step and almost tripped over the fallen cartons. Almost cursing, he righted himself. He decided to 'follow' the shelves until he found an exit.

Slowly, he inched his way along the shelves. He knew he was moving slowly, because of the pain, but he was sure he had been moving for at least 10 minutes with still no end in sight. Finally he came to the end of the shelves, but still there was darkness and he didn't know what to do. He slowly walked forward, one half foot at a time, until his right foot hit the beginning of another row of shelves. He walked down this row, too, until finally, his eyes saw the distant glow of a small sign. Another 100 feet and he could make it out. EXIT it read. He stopped, looking at it. He'd never seen a sign lit up before like that.

Finally, he came to the end of the shelves and slowly walked to toward the EXIT sign. As he got closer, he could see the outline of a door. Breathing a sigh of relief, through his pain, he made his way over to it.

He found the push handle, and opened the door, stepping out into the hall. He immediately stopped as he came face to face with the bust of an Egyptian head in a case.

"Where am I?" he gasped, as he looked around the mostly darkened hall.

Painfully aware in the dim light of his nakedness, he tried to go back into the warehouse, to get a carton to cover himself, but the door had locked behind him.

He moved forward and found himself in a room that looked was filled with ancient artifacts from Egypt; mummies, gold, bones, pictures of pyramids, and recreations of burial rooms. He gasped as he looked at things that he'd never even seen in books before.

He came to another EXIT, this time he was in a large hall. As he walked he went past a cafeteria and a McDonalds, past a photo gallery and finally he came to a set of stairs. Painfully, he made his way up them.

Entering the main floor, his eyes widened in fear, and he let out a loud gasp, as he saw the enormous bones of the worlds largest dinosaur, It was Sue, the most complete T-Rex skeleton ever found. He had never seen anything but a few small dinosaur bones on loan to his school during his last semester, and a few crude drawings that were making the rounds in his brother's circle of friends.

Heart pounding, he stood staring at this monstrous thing. Surely, it was some sort of joke. Nothing so large could have lived on this earth. How would Adam and Eve have lived in the Garden of Eden if something so huge had lived? It had to be a joke. All, a horrible joke.

He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet from dizziness. That's it. It had to be a joke, a dream, it couldn't be real! He would close his eyes and when he opened them, he would be back safe in his own bed at home, for this was surely the thing of nightmares.

He willed himself to breathe deeply, "That's it, I'm lying in my comfortable room, mother is downstairs having her tea, and I'm going to wake up and join her now!" he said.

He slowly opened his eyes, tears sprung to them, as he found himself once again across the room from the monster.

"Hey!" a voice cried out to him, startling him, "you! What are you doing here?"

He heard footsteps running toward him and without knowing why, he started to run.

"You! Stop!" the voice, said, "Stop or I'll shoot!"

He ran harder, he didn't know why, just instinct telling him he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A deafening sound exploded, as he fell onto the tiled floor, pain shooting through his left leg, above the knee. The last conscious thought he had before he passed out was, "Help me!

After seeing Andrew that day, Buffy had gone home, had dinner, and gone to bed rather early. She was emotionally exhausted from the past couple of days.

"Help me," Spike said.

"I'm trying baby, I'm trying," Buffy said, tears running down her cheeks in her sleep.

Just then the phone rang.

Gasping, as she was jarred out of the dream, she picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"Buffy, it's Willow. I got it today, and it worked Buffy, it worked!"

Buffy threw off the covers, sitting up, her heart in her throat, "It worked?"

"Yeah, clear as a bell, must be like you said, Spike's essence merged with yours, because I got a clear read on where he is. And Buffy, this ‘read’ is for an alive, human Spike!"

Buffy's throat had suddenly gone dry, all that she'd never, ever dreamed possible, was all of a sudden real. Spike. Alive. Spike. Alive. She couldn't make herself speak.

"Buffy? Are you there?"

"Uh-huh," she whispered.

"He's in Chicago, Buffy. Just like you suspected. The amulet must have been there, somewhere in the city, after all," Willow said.

"Chicago?"

"Yes, most definitely, yes!"

"Willow," Buffy said.

"What is it Buffy?" her friend asked, knowing that Buffy was most likely in shock.

"I'm scared."

"I know you are, sweetie, but don't worry, he's going to be okay," Willow said, soothingly.

"What do you think he’ll be like?"

"I don’t know Buffy, I think there’s more to the prophecy, but I haven’t been able to get past that firewall yet. I’m working on it."

"I've got to find him!" Buffy said.

"I know. You will!" Willow said.

They talked a few more minutes then hung up, with Willow promising to come and help Buffy look for Spike, if she wanted or needed her.

Buffy picked up her red phone and dialed Andrew's number.

After about 20 rings, he picked up.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

"It's me. Spike's in Chicago," Buffy said.

"He is? He's alive?"

"Yes, Willow did a locator spell. He's alive, Andrew. He's in Chicago and he needs my help."

"I'll start looking tomorrow," Andrew said, "check out the local reporters, all that stuff."

"Start now!" Buffy said.

"Buffy! Not going to be able to get anything from anyone if I call them up in the middle of the night," he said firmly, "we're just going to have to wait until morning."

"Okay, you're right. Oh, and Andrew, be discreet, okay? I don’t want…the wrong people knowing we’re looking for him."

"I know, Buffy, I will be. What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going to Chicago!"

Buffy hung up and made a phone call to Southwest Airlines, making a reservation for the earliest flight to Chicago.

She then called Dawn.

"Hello?" Dawn said.

"It's Buffy, Willow located Spike. He's alive Dawn, and he's in Chicago."

"Oh my God!" Dawn said.

"Yeah. I booked a flight to Chicago in the morning. The flight leaves at 7:00am, that gives me an arrival time of 9:00am, Chicago time, what with the time difference."

"You know where he is?" Dawn asked.

"Um, no, but I need to start looking. Andrew is going to start calling tomorrow morning, too."

"I should come with, Buffy," Dawn said, "you don't know what condition he's going to be in, if you do find him."

"I know, but you've got your stuff," Buffy said.

"My stuff can wait, book me a flight, Buffy, I want to come, too!"

"Okay, call you back," Buffy said, hanging up.

Buffy called Dawn back in a few minutes.

"Sorry, Dawnie, that was the last seat on that flight, unless you want a later one, but I think I'll be okay on my own, why don't you just hang tight and if I need you..."

"You won't call, Buffy, I know you," Dawn said, hurt.

"That's not true, I did call, didn't I?" Buffy said.

"I'm calling you every hour on the hour and you'd better answer your call and let me know what's going on!"

"I promise," Buffy said, "night Dawn, go back to sleep, I'll call you as soon as I get there."

"You'd better!" Dawn said.

"I will," Buffy promised.

They hung up and Buffy went to pack some things. Before she was done, she got a small stepstool and stood on it in the closet, pulling a box off the top shelf. It was the box that Spike had Clem pick up from Sunnydale and bring here before...

She took the box over to the bed and opened it. She took out a black t-shirt and a black pair of jeans. She brought the t-shirt up to her nose and inhaled. His scent was still there. She folded the t-shirt and jeans and put them in on top of her clothes before she zipped her suitcase shut.

Then she slowly opened up the blue blanket, taking the pictures he’d drawn out. A few minutes later, having done what she’d wanted, she finished packing.

It was 5:00am, too early to go to the airport, too late to go back to bed, without risk of not waking up. She padded around the house, put on some coffee and made sure everything was in order.

Finally, she sat down at the desk and opened up a notebook.

"Dear Spike," she wrote:

"I can't believe that you've been gone for 5 years. Sometimes it feels like yesterday and I ache with the knowledge that I didn't love you longer, didn't love you better. Other times, it feels like you've been gone forever, that you were only a dream. Sometimes it feels that my whole former life was only a dream.

And yet, here I am, heart in my hands and in my throat coming for you. You're alive! You're alive! You're alive!

And you're human!

I don't know why that almost scares me the most. Maybe because you're vulnerable now, like all humans. Maybe because human Spike won't...

...that maybe human Spike won't want me anymore...

That you'll see all the options that are now open to you that weren't before and that you'll 'seize the day,' (forgot the Latin, non-scholar here, even if I did spend the last 5 years in school!) You'll 'seize the day,' and that 'day' won't be me. That 'our days' were over 5 years ago, that..."

Buffy put her head down and cried, all the fears, hopes, hurts, and anger overflowing. She cried for about 15 minutes, then picked up the pen again.

Whatever you decide, in regards to 'us' I will always be there for you, just as you were always there for me, and I'll always love you. You are in me, always. You aren't just in my heart, Spike. You are my heart.

Love Always,

Buffy"

She stood up and closed the notebook. It was now 6:00am, time to go to the airport.

Buffy arrived at the San Diego check-in at 6:30am. She picked up her ticket and turned to see Dawn standing there, suitcase in hand.

"Dawn!" Buffy said, "what are you doing here?"

"I got a seat after all, someone cancelled," she said smiling, "didn't think I was really going to let you go on your own, did you?"

The ambulance and police units arrived at The Field Museum at the same time.

"Where is he?" the ambulance crew asked.

"Over there," said the security guard that had shot him.

They knelt over the bleeding naked man; taking his vitals, "Man this guy doesn't look so good!" said the first paramedic.

"Looks like shit," said the second.

The heavyset, detective was interviewing the guard.

"And you say that he was just running through the museum naked?" he asked.

"Well, he didn't start running until I yelled out to him. Don't know what he was doing," the security guard answered.

"How'd he get in here?" the detective asked.

"Probably just hid out after the museum closed. Couldn't have gotten in any other way."

The detective walked over to one of the policeman, "Find his clothes? Any ID?"

"Nope, nothing, but it's a big place, too," he answered.

"Well search it!" the detective ordered.

The man on the ambulance stretcher struggled for consciousness. He was in severe pain. He felt people hovering by him, felt himself being poked with sharp things, felt himself lifted and moved. He wanted to say something, to cry out, to yell, anything, but he couldn't.

Once in the ambulance, the paramedics radioed in his condition, to the hospital that took their call.

The ambulance’s screaming siren jarred the man’s unconsciousness. That and the prodding that was being done to his person. He felt the rapid, forward motion beneath him, a motion so fast he thought he must be drunk. This was not the motion of the clippety, cloppety movement of a carriage ride, but something totally unworldly.

"Can you hear me sir?" the loud voice said right next to his ear. On the opposite side, another man was attending to the cut on his face.

He opened his eyes and looked around him in fright of the liquid things hanging on poles, connected by tubes to his arms. Of the motion he now knew was of something he was inside. Was this some Jules Verne nightmare he was having about time travel?

"Sir, sir? Are you awake?" the voice, asked again.

"I'm Ed McLawton, I'm a paramedic, and this," he nodded toward the other man, "is Roger Dalton, not Roger Daltry, in case you're wondering," he said, chuckling at a joke that was lost on the patient.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The man shaking with pain and fear, said, "William Worthington."

"Say it again, couldn't hear you, man," the paramedic said.

How strange these people talked!

"William Worthington," he said again.

"Good. How many fingers am I holding up?" paramedic Roger asked him.

"Three," the man said quietly.

"And what year is it?"

"Eighty," said the man, closing his eyes.

Ed said to Roger, "He say eighty?"

"Naw," said Roger, "meant eight, good thing, or he'd be about 28 years off!" he said laughing.

"Still say he said eighty," Ed grumbled.

The man woke up again.

"Know who the president is?" Ed asked.

What an odd thing to ask. President? Did he mean of the United States?

"Victoria is Queen, and Rutherford B. Hayes is President of the United States," the man answered.

The paramedics looked at each other, then back at the man again.

Ed cleared his throat, "What year did you say this was?" he asked.

"Eighty. Eighteen Eighty," the man said, not understanding why they kept asking him the same thing again.

The paramedics nodded to each other.

Roger picked up the radio-transmitter, "We got a 'live' one," he said to the emergency room physician taking his call.

The paramedics still tended to the man, but now their demeanor had changed. The man could feel it, but didn't understand it.

"Where do you live?" they asked him.

"Twenty two zero three, Highgate Rd. London," he answered.

"Do you know where you're at now?" Roger asked him.

"London," he answered.

"Sorry, to disappoint buddy, but you're in The Windy City. Home of the Bears, the Cubs, the White Sox..."

"The Daleys!" Ed chimed in, laughing.

"Worlds tallest building, best pizza joints, 2nd largest city in the country, okay, maybe 3rd," Roger conceded.

"Still don't know?" Ed asked, looking somewhat sympathetic at their bewildered, naked patient.

"You're in Chicago, William!" Ed said.

William closed his eyes, welcoming the unconsciousness, once again.

June 5, 2008

"Please buckle your seatbelt for the descent into Chicago, until the captain has turned off the buckle your seatbelt light. The time is 1:10pm and the temperature is 83 degrees Fahrenheit, with a relative humidity of 78%. It's going to be a muggy day in Chicago, folks," said the flight attendant into the intercom.

Dawn looked out as the city came into view, "It's a big city, Buffy," she said, "where are we going to start?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe we could check in to the hotel...oh crap!" Buffy said.

"We don't even have a reservation anywhere!"

"Yeah we do, while you were napping, I booked us in at the same place," Dawn said.

"You did? How?"

"Power of the Internet," Dawn said, patting her backpack, which contained the all-important laptop, "figured you might have forgotten."

"Remind me to kiss you," Buffy said, smiling.

"Consider yourself reminded!" Dawn replied.

"Rent or cab?"

"Cab!" they both said together.

"Hey, Buffy, remember the cabbie that gave us his card? Maybe we could call him and have him take us around to all the places we want to look. Once we figure that out."

"That might be a good idea. Probably cost us and arm and a leg to have him wait everywhere while we go checking, but it would be nice to have someone who knows the city and not have to get another cab each time." Buffy said.

"Got money?"

Buffy just looked at her.

"Credit card?" Buffy asked sheepishly.

"Don't worry Buffy, went to the bank machine this morning on my way to the airport. Took out about a thousand."

Buffy looked at her questioningly.

"Hank's," Dawn said, "well, part of my summer allowance."

"I'll pay you back," Buffy said.

"I know you will," Dawn said, laughing.

After they checked in, they went up to their room and called the cabby’s pager number. He called back in 10 minutes. It was his day off, but he agreed for $100.00 plus gas, to drive them around as long as they needed him to. He told them he’d be by to pick them up at 3:30pm. That gave Buffy and Dawn time to start plotting where they were going to look.

"It’s too bad you don’t have a picture of Spike," Dawn said, "would make it easier than trying to describe him. Although having those distinctive cheekbones and blue eyes will help," she said, trying to remember what he looked like.

Buffy went over to her luggage and opened it up.

Dawn gasped when she saw the familiar t-shirt and jeans, "How did you…" she asked.

"Spike had Clem get a box of our things to take up to the house, before…about a week before, I think. He had those in there, so he’d have…"

Dawn walked over to Buffy and took the t-shirt from her, she placed it under her nose, "Still smells like him, Buffy," she said, smiling, as the familiar scent of smoke, leather, and Spike came back to her.

"This makes it, er, him seem so real again," she said, then thought sadly how Buffy must have felt to have this scent on his clothes when she never thought she’d see him again.

Buffy pulled back some of her clothes until she came to an envelope. She took out some pictures that she had scanned of those he’d drawn of her and him. There was the one of him and her under the canopy and pictures of him and her from his little imaginary drawings of them at the Eiffel Tower and some other places. There were some copies of those same pictures, except where she had removed her image, just leaving his.

"Spike!" Dawn said at seeing his face for the first time in over 5 years. How did you? How? When?"

"He drew them, Dawn. They were in the box, he drew this whole imaginary life he wished we could have," she said, sadly.

"Oh, Buffy!" Dawn said, "maybe you still will. You’ll find him and he’ll take you to these places for real, you can do anything now, he can do anything now!"

Buffy wasn’t so sure. She wanted to feel excited like Dawn in a happy way, but she had to find him first, and when she did, she wasn’t sure what she was going to find. Or even if he…

She shook her head, bringing her back to the present, "Let’s figure out where we’re going to start and order some room service while we look at the map," Buffy said.

They were finishing a late lunch when Buffy’s phone rang.

"This is Bernie Jadzewski," said the voice, "I’m here to pick you ladies up. "

"We’ll be right down," Buffy said.

"Oh, got a 4 door red Ford Taurus, that’s what I drive on my day off," he said.

"Okay," Buffy said, hanging up.

"Let’s go," she said to Dawn.

Bernie was parked in the cab queque, being honked at, by the on-duty cabby’s as they came out of the building.

"Hi, sorry, we came down as fast as we could," Buffy said.

"No problem, How you ladies doing?" he asked, as he held the back door open for them.

"We’re alright, but we’re here to look for someone. He’s…missing, we don’t know where to start," Dawn said.

"That right? You know where he was last seen?" he asked, as he got into the driver’s seat.

"No. We don’t know if he’s been seen. I mean, somebody must have seen him. Recently, most likely. But we don’t have any idea."

"How long has he been missing?" Bernie asked.

"Who said anything about him being missing?" Buffy asked, suspiciously.

"I just figured. I mean, you don’t know where he is, so I figured he’s missing. At least from your point of view."

"Five years," Buffy said.

Bernie whistled, "Long time. You just find out he’s in Chicago?"

"Yeah. He’s been…away. I just found out he’s here, though. Just got here."

"I see," Bernie said, "any ideas where you might want to start looking?"

"There’s someone we want to talk to at The Field Museum, if that’s alright," Dawn said, looking at Buffy, who nodded.

"Field Museum it is. What is he, some scientist fellow?"

"No, just…a fellow," Buffy said, looking at the tall buildings as they got onto Lake Shore Drive.

"What kind of a name is Bernie Jadzewski?" Dawn asked.

He laughed, "Yeah, strange one, isn’t it? Well, my mom was Jewish and my dad was Polish. Met in the concentration camps during the war. Dad’s family was trying to hide some Jewish friends of theirs and they got sent to Auschwitz for it," he shook his head, "dad lost all his family, as did my mother there, but they found each other."

"I’m sorry," Dawn said, looking at him in the mirror.

Bernie shrugged, "Don’t be. There’s lots of evil people in the world, but eventually, they’ll pay the price."

Dawn and Buffy looked at each other thinking of all the evil they’d seen, of a different kind.

Bernie pulled the car up to The Field Museum, "I gotta go park in the lot, since I don’t have the cab. Just call my pager number when you’re done and I’ll come around to pick you up," he said, adding,"only open for another hour, so you’d better hurry."

"Thanks," Buffy and Dawn both said.

Buffy and Dawn asked at the desk if Donald Johanson was in. The woman called down to his office and after a few minutes informed them that he was on vacation.

"Damn!" Buffy said.

"Excuse me miss, I’m going to have to ask you to move," said a man with a ladder.

Buffy moved and watched as the man went up ladder to the top of the entryway carrying a camera.

"New security," said the woman at the desk, "we had a break in a few weeks ago in the middle of the night."

"Oh," Buffy said.

"Another woman working the front desk said, "Oh, you talking about our crazy naked guy? Or the crazy one who tried to climb up on top of Sue?"

"Either one! All sorts of crazies out there," she said.

"Yeah, crazies out there trying to get in here," said the second woman, walking off to help someone else.

Buffy had the strangest feeling, "What happened?" she asked.

"Oh, some homeless guy was in here one night. Guess the guard ran him off," she said.

"Do you know what he looked like?" Buffy asked.

"Why?" the woman asked, eyeing Buffy strangely.

"It’s just that…I had a…a brother who used to do crazy things. He’s been missing a while. Do you have any pictures or anything?" she asked.

She shook her head, "No, our security cameras weren’t working, that’s why we’re getting these installed, " she said.

"I see. Well, thank you," Buffy said.

Buffy paged Bernie.

"You think that was Spike?" Dawn asked as they waited.

"I don’t know what to think," Buffy said, "probably not."

"It’s too weird. But Buffy, the thing about him being naked and homeless? Maybe that was him. She said it was a couple of weeks ago, that would make it around the time you started having the dreams!"

"Tell Bernie I’ll be right there," Buffy said, as she walked back inside.

She walked over to the desk again and waited to talk to the woman. Finally it was her turn, "I’m sorry to bother you," she said, "but could you please tell me what day the naked man was found in the museum?"

The woman nodded and made a phone call, after a minute, she came back to Buffy, "Security says it happened on May 20^{th, hope that helps. Miss? Miss? Are you alright?" she asked.}

Buffy gripped the desk, as her heart pounded wildly in her chest, "Thank you! Thank you!" she said and ran out the door.

She ran down the stairs and got into the car, "Dawn, it was May 20th! May 20th!"

"Oh my God!" Dawn said, grabbing Buffy’s hand!

"Where do we look?" Dawn asked.

"Bernie, we need to start talking with some homeless people!"

"Okay. How ‘bout I stop at a few shelters around here and you can talk to the people who run them, as well as the people in them."

Buffy nodded.

"Wasn’t that the same girl asking the questions before?" the second woman asked the first woman.

"Yeah, wanted to know about the naked guy. Thought it might have been her crazy brother," she answered.

"Did you tell her the guard shot him?"

"He shot him? Shit! I didn’t know that, I was on vacation that week. Man! I never know what’s going on around here!"

May 20, 2008 - 4:00am

Once again, the man's unconsciousness was jarred, this time by the gurney he was on being taken off of the moving machine he had been on. He opened his eyes and saw Ed and Roger at his head and foot as he was wheeled through big doors that magically seemed to slide open, without anybody touching them.

His eyes hurt as the bright tubes of light shone down from overhead. He had never seen such lit up tubes as these. But he didn't have much time to wonder about such things as lighted tubes, as he was wheeled into a larger room.

"Ready?" asked Ed.

"Ready," answered Roger and a dark man in a maroon uniform of some sort.

"On my count then. One, two, three!" Ed said.

"Aggghh," moaned the man as he was moved from the gurney to an examining table.

"Okay, guys, think we got it from here," the nurse told him.

"Bye William, you take care now, you’re in good hands," Ed said.

The man briefly opened his eyes at hearing his name.

The dark skinned man was at his bedside now, taking his vitals and talking to him.

"Says your name is William Worthington, that right?" he asked.

The man opened his eyes and looked at the other man, fear in his eyes.

He nodded.

"Good. Know where you live?" he asked.

"Twenty two zero three, Highgate Rd. London," he answered, "who are you?" he asked.

"You visiting from out of town?" the man asked, "I’m Leroy Roberts, I’m your nurse."

Now he knew something was terribly wrong! There was no such thing as a male nurse, no such thing as a black nurse where he lived. He had only seen a few black people in his whole life and they had been servants to one of his classmate’s family for a brief time.

"I don’t believe you, there is no such thing as a male nurse, nursing is a woman’s profession. And you’re…a Negro, too," the man said, "tell me where I am!" he said, his voice shaking with fear and pain

Leroy took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. Still after all these years, here comes some moron caught naked running around in a museum, and he’s gonna tell me who I am and am not! Asshole!

"You’re in the emergency room at The University of Chicago," the man said.

"NO!"

"Yeah man, you are. Now why don’t you just take it easy," he leaned in close, "so my black-male-nurse’s ass can help you here," he stood back up, then said in his best old southern accent, "yous looked like you been in a heap ‘o trouble tonight, boss."

The man lying on the table looked shocked, but didn’t say anything.

"Why were you in The Field Museum?" Leroy asked, looking at the notes from the paramedics.

"Where?"

"The Field Museum, where they found you."

"I don’t know," he answered.

Field Museum?

"Says the guard shot you after he found you running naked through the first floor of the museum."

"Shot? Shot?" the man asked, starting to panic.

"Yeah, man, you been shot, join the ever growing club of the ‘been shots’ in Chicago," he said.

"I don’t know, I don’t remember. All I remember was the party," the man said.

"Ah…party, lots of bad stuff starts with a party," Leroy chuckled, "tell me about it."

"Well, it was at my brother’s friend’s house. His sister Cecily was there and some other girls. I was sitting there and then…"

"Then you don’t remember what? You take any drugs?"

"Drugs? Certainly not! What do you take me for," he said, as a wave of pain hit him again.

"Don’t take you for anything man, seen lots of people, good, bad, rich, poor, all colors, messed up because of drugs."

"Not where I come from, only the lowest of the low classes every touch opium."

"Opium, huh?" Leroy said, shaking his head. This was one strange dude!

"What about drinking? Do any of that?" Leroy asked him.

"Of course I have a cocktail every now and then. A sherry or a brandy. Nothing much, nothing…" he stopped.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just that…my brother, I think…"

"What about your brother?"

William closed his eyes. That must be it! How else could he explain all this strangeness.

"I think my brother poisoned me," he said.

"What? Poisoned you? With what?" Leroy said, taking a close look at the man.

"Absinthe. Think he must have slipped some into my other drinks," he said.

"Absinthe, huh? Don’t come by that too easy ‘round here anymore," Leroy said, remembering the old stories his grandmother used to tell of people going blind and crazy from drinking that stuff.

"Well, we can test you for that, see if that’s why you don’t seem to know much ‘bout what’s going on. Got a few more questions for you, then doc will be in to see you," he said, turning the page on his clipboard.

"Okay, William," he started, "anybody I can phone for you? Any friends or family?"

"Phone?" William asked.

"Yeah, man, phone, email, fax," Leroy said.

"I don’t know what these words mean," William said, getting agitated.

Leroy looked down at the notes from the paramedics again. "Uh, oh," he thought.

"William, what year is it?" he asked.

"Eighteen Eighty, why does everyone keep asking me that, don’t you know yourselves?"

The man looked at William and shook his head, "Dude," he said sadly.

"Dude? What’s dude? Why do you look at me like that? What’s wrong with me?"

Leroy leaned in close to the man, "William, listen to me, if you don’t want to have a nice long vacation at the funny farm, you’d better stop saying that."

William looked at Leroy’s dark brown eyes and saw that he was being serious.

"What? Say what?" he asked frightened.

"That it’s eighteen eighty, man!" Leroy said.

"Why? Why shouldn’t I say it? It’s the truth," he said, looking at Leroy’s face, "isn’t it?" he asked, all of a sudden afraid.

Leroy shook his head, "Naw, man, you got to be kidding. I know you got to know, somewhere deep down inside you," he said, "you got to know that it’s 2008!"

William looked at Leroy as if he had just grown three heads. His own head swam with terror and pain, as he once more, welcomed the blackness of unconsciousness.

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