I am writing this for eurydice72 William ficathon. I figured I should start posting this, since the due date is in a few weeks. Feel free to comment. Be honest, but gentle.

The assignment was William, post-Not Fade Away. No Drusilla. Bring Wes in somehow, and Spuffy or none at all.

This will end up Spuffy, but I figured since it is a William ficathon, I'd focus on him first.


Here is the prologue and chapter 1.



Prologue


Spike sat in front of his apartment smoking a cigarette, while he watched people get ready to go inside for the night. There were a few kids out playing basketball in the parking lot of the complex. An old woman sweeping the dirt from the sidewalk in front of her door. Two men whispering conspiratorially near the back of one of the buildings. He should be out spending his last free night getting plastered, but he was feeling oddly contemplative. His mind was running through all the events of the last year. Everything that had happened seemed so surreal. Being a ghost, the fight with Angel at the opera house, Doyle or Lindsey, whatever his name was, the psycho slayer, Illyria, Italy, Harmony. He shuddered at that last thought. Bloody hell, he still couldn’t understand what was going on in his brain over that one. He knew that he wasn’t going to escape this next battle. Angel was pretty sure that they were all going to die, and for once he agreed with the poof. The only regret he had was how things with Buffy ended. The sentimental fool in him still wished he could have seen her one last time, but it was probably a good thing that he hadn’t. Those type of things never turn out how you picture them. Songs, slow-motion running, snogging like mad, yep, it would never have happened like that. He was interrupted from his thoughts by Wesley, sitting down next to him.


"May I have a moment of your time?"


Spike turned to face him and gave him a grateful look "sure, I’m actually glad you came. My thoughts had turned to things I’d rather not think of."


“Well I’ll get on with it, I’m in a hurry, but I wanted to see you before we all met up back inside.” Wesley took a breath, “You know that Angel is right. About this fight. We're most likely going to all die."


"I was there too Percy, I heard the great and rousing speech."


Rolling his eyes, Wes continued "Have you given any thought to the Shanshu prophecy?"


Spike shrugged and took a drag off the cigarette, "Sorry, Watcher-boy. As much as I’d like to think that there is some big old destiny waiting for me, there isn’t. That's Angel's gig. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. I'm just the grunt work. Just point me towards some demons who need killing."


"We don’t know that the prophecy isn’t about you. It doesn’t mention either you or Angel by name. For all we know, it could be you.”


“Ya, well, maybe it is. I really don’t give a piss about it right now. I have a job to do and I’m probably going to be dust by the end of it. I don’t have time for talk about this Shanshu thing.”


"I understand your reservations, Spike, but I’ve thought a bit about it and what it means for both you and Angel. I have taken the liberty to create some personal documents for you. A passport, visa, the works. Should something happen to me or Angel, you might need them.”


“Um, I’m a vampire or did you forget that?”


With a small laugh, Wesley finished by adding, “If you somehow are the one spoken of in the Shanshu prophecy, you’ll need these to start over.” He then handed over the packet of papers.


Spike took them and opened them up. He pulled out the passport and started thumbing through it. He opened up his mouth to protest, but Wesley beat him to it.


“Before you start to argue, I created a similar set for Angel. I’m just covering my bases.”


Looking a bit sheepish, Spike looked up at Wes and smiled.


“Thanks Wes, I appreciate it.”


“It was my pleasure.”


Before Wesley could get up and walk back inside, Spike grabbed his shoulder.


“I know I should have said something, but at the time it just didn’t seem appropriate. I’m sorry about Fred. I loved the bird, we all did. But I know how painful it was for you, especially. I’ve been there, with Buf..I mean in the same sort of situation. I just wanted you to know that before we went off.”


Wes stared at the ground for a few minutes while he tried to gain control of his emotions, then finally looked up with a strained smile, “Thank you, Spike.” He then stood up and went back inside.


Spike looked down at the passport in his hand and tucked it into the inside pocket of his duster. He would deal with the other documents later. He had a poetry reading to get to.



Chapter 1



One year later.....

William came awake with a gasp and a jerk. It was the same dream. Every night, the same dream. An alley, rain, blood, sadness and despair. He always awoke with a sense of loss and the feeling you get when you forget something, but can't quite remember what it was. Though, that must be normal when you don't remember who you are. William groaned and reached over and switched the alarm off. He didn't even know why he set it. It's not like he'd ever used it to wake up. Sleep was as elusive for him as his memories were. Every morning when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. This probably wasn't the best attitude to have, but he couldn't help it. It had been almost a year since he woke up in that alley, and it had only gotten worse. He still couldn't remember anything prior to that moment, nothing at all. He wasn't even sure if William was his real name. It was a depressing way to live. He had nothing to tie him to this world, and it was starting to take its toll. He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. It was always the hardest first thing in the morning. It felt like the whole world was pressing down on him. A single tear slipped down his cheek. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he wiped it away and mumbled, "Wanker."


It would have been better if he had friends and maybe a girlfriend, but it was too hard to open himself up to people when he didn't even know who he was. It’s not like he never had the opportunity to make friends. William had received advances from women, and his co-workers had tried to befriend him on more than one occasion, but he just couldn't do it. He tried, but it was like something was holding him back. It could have been a subconscious effort on his part trying to protect himself, or it could just be that he was bleeding wanker. He didn't know. Once a few months back he put in a conscious effort into making friends with a few of the guys from the site. He went to a bar with them and even ordered a drink. But as he sat there watching people laugh, connect, and just enjoying themselves he felt isolated and alone. The feeling freaked him out so much he almost had a panic attack. He had made a quick, rather unbelievable excuse, and literally ran out of the place. His co-workers had basically avoided him ever since. It could also be the fact that he looked like utter crap. He didn't really sleep, and had to force himself to eat just so he wouldn't collapse on the job. It was a downward spiral that was coming ever closer to the hard cement at the end.


William sat in bed contemplating the farce that was his life. He knew that he should focus on the happier things, but it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, while you were being buried by falling debris.


Bored by the ceiling, William rolled to his side and stared at the table next to his bed. Sitting on that table was the passport. One British passport, and that was all that proved his existence in the world. No friends or family, just a passport....and a black leather duster. But who knows what that was all about. That brought up as many questions as the bleached hair.


His mind started running again. Okay, I know two things. I'm British, and was obviously a punk rocker. Wow, that was a long list. I'm so deep. Bloody Hell.


Maybe he needed a change. Maybe he should ask his boss at the construction site if he knew of any jobs somewhere else. Los Angeles was getting old. He looked at the clock again. 4:10. Joy. Three more hours till it was time to punch the time clock.


William laid in bed for a few more hours, before he got up to get ready for work. As he got ready to take a shower, he looked down at his body. It never ceased to amaze him the amount of scars he had. There was one on his left side that looked like someone had stabbed him with a large knife, and there were others that just made it look like he had led a rather violent life. And the fact that he woke up in an alley covered in blood just cemented that idea. With a sigh, he stepped into the shower to get ready for another day.


After forcing himself to eat a banana and finishing the rest of his morning routine, he left for work. Once he hit the sidewalk, he paused like he did every morning. He couldn't get enough of the early morning sunshine. He didn't know why, but it made him feel so alive. William smiled, some things about this life weren't so bad after all. While he was standing there enjoying the sun, he flashed back to the idea he had earlier that morning. It’s what he needed to do. William decided right then that he was leaving LA. He needed a fresh start. Someplace where he hadn't been. Someplace where he could start his life over. The hell with knowing about his past, he just needed a future.

 

Chapter 2


William reached the construction site in record time. He couldn't remember the last time he had been in such a good mood. It felt slightly weird and completely foreign. Being able to finally make an important decision about his life was doing wonders for his psyche. He really should have done it earlier. Walking up to the office was a little nerve-wracking. He got along with his boss just fine so there shouldn’t be a problem, but Bob wasn't exactly the sort of person to go out of his way to help someone. William was a good worker and was always on time. Yeah, he was a little sluggish some days, but lack of sleep does that to a person. He stood in front of the door trying to gather enough courage and strength of mind to talk to Bob. Lately he had been feeling skittish, almost like he was holding something back. He couldn't really place the feeling, but what else was new.

"Are you coming in or what?" Bob yelled from inside the trailer

Startled, William quickly opened the door and walked to the back cubicle where Bob's desk was located.

"Um...Bob? Can I ask you something?"

"That's why you’re here isn't it?"

William suddenly felt the need to get extremely snarky. He always felt that way around Bob, but he pushed the feeling down and instead concentrated on playing peon.

"I was wondering if you have any connections outside of Los Angeles. I need to get out of here, but I'll need a job wherever I end up. Could you help me with that?"

"Why? You on the run from the law or something?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, William shook his head and explained the situation to him.

"No, I just don't want to live here anymore. I feel stifled and need something new."

Bob gave him a probing look, "This is about that amnesia stuff, huh?"

"Sort of"

"Well, I do have one idea."

"Really? What is it?"

"I know this guy who has set up his own business in Las Vegas. He used to work for me in Sunnydale. He’s doing pretty well. Lately, there has been a huge housing boom in Vegas, so he's always hiring new guys. I'll give him a call and tell him you’re on your way."

William resisted the urge to dance around, "That's brilliant! I don't think I can thank you enough!"

"No problem, Shaw. You've been a good worker, so I'll hate to lose you, but I understand. Now get out and start working. I'll be out later today to give you his contact information."

Giving Bob a huge smile, William quickly turned around and walked out the door. Bob better not change his mind, because this was exactly what he needed. He would go to Las Vegas and start fresh. He could make friends, get an apartment, save some money, and maybe even get a girlfriend. Things were starting to look up; maybe life wasn't so bad after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

William tried his hardest to hold on to that euphoric feeling, but it wore off about an hour later. Throughout the day while he was sheet-rocking the interior rooms of the building, William continued to remind himself about where he was going and what he would be doing. Despite his natural inclination to brood and frown, he found himself smiling throughout the day. It was a nice feeling. His co-workers noticed William's change of mood as well. They kept staring at him and talking to themselves. It was as weird for them as it was for William.

William was feeling so good, that at lunch he even joined the group he had been working with at the picnic table.

"Hiya mates, mind if I join you?"

They all turned and stared at him, not quite sure what to say to the reclusive man they had worked with for the past year. Realizing how rare it was for William to be friendly and approachable, one of the men quickly spoke up, "Sure, Will! Scoot over, Jose and make some room."

William thanked them and sat down next to Jose. "I appreciate it."

They all turned back to the conversations they had been having, a few of them inviting William to join in. He politely listened in, not really commenting. He found himself extremely hungry, for once, and was glad that he had brought something for lunch. After he inhaled his peanut butter sandwich, he sat there listening to the conversation and wishing he had brought some chips or something. It felt good to be around people. For once he didn't feel stifled or nervous; surprisingly, he was almost disappointed when the lunch hour was over.

While he was getting ready to leave for the day, Bob walked up to him and held out a piece of paper. William quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and took it.

"Here's the name of the guy, and the address of his site. He'll be expecting you in a few days. I figured you'd be ready to leave, so I waived the whole two-weeks notice thing."

"Thanks, Bob. This is just perfect. I can't remember the last time someone was this nice to me."

"Probably last year when I gave you a job."

William chuckled, "Yeah, still surprised you did that, when all I had was a passport."

"What can I say, I'm a softie. You tell anyone, I’ll hunt you down."

"Your secret's safe with me."

Bob slapped him on the back, "You’re a good kid, Shaw. Don't worry so much, it'll all come together for you."

William watched as he turned around and walked back to the trailer. As annoying as his boss could be, he’d really lucked out when he’d met Bob. It had made this last year a little more bearable. He looked down at the paper, and it suddenly hit him. The huge step that he was taking. Grinning, he tucked the address into his front pocket and finished putting his tools away. He waved goodbye to a few of the guys that were still there and walked back to his apartment.

William reached his apartment in record time and flew up the stairs. He didn't have much in the way of material possessions: Just some clothes, that leather duster, a TV, and some second-hand furniture. He knew that he was making a rash decision, but he didn't care. William quickly wrote a note for the landlord that explained the situation, and telling him that he could keep the deposit. He felt a little bad for breaking the lease and leaving the furniture, but he didn't have time to get rid of it and honestly, he didn’t really care.

He threw his clothes, a few books, and the duster into an old duffle bag. After zipping it up and slipping on a sweatshirt, he dropped his keys and the note in an envelope and headed out the door. William put the envelope in the rent drop-box and started walking towards the bus depot. He felt like he was heading toward something big and important. It sounded melodramatic, even to his own mind, but the idea to get out of LA had saved him and given him a sort of direction and purpose to his life. It was bloody brilliant.
 

Chapter 3



After buying his bus ticket, he still had about $160 in his pocket, just enough to afford the essentials once he arrived in Las Vegas. As he sat in the terminal waiting to board his bus, his mind drifted to the events of the past year.


He woke up in an alley covered in blood and laying in a puddle of dirty rainwater. The smell of garbage and the sounds of the rats in the dumpster next to him were overwhelming. Every sense seemed to be magnified. His breath was heavy in his chest, the sun too bright in his eyes. The world itself seemed to be in slow motion. He looked up toward the sky where the sun was happily shining directly overhead. He squinted and turned his head toward the street. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. People were out walking to their various appointments or lunch dates. It looked like a normal day in the city.


He sat up quickly, and then wished he hadn't. It felt as if his brain was spinning around
in his skull. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. He promptly turned to the side and threw up.


Another pleasant smell added to the plethora of odors assailing his nose. He bent over and held his head, trying to get his head to stop spinning while at the same time trying to get his bearings. When he felt that he could finally stand up without immediately falling over again, he grabbed the side of the dumpster and hauled himself up. As he familiarized himself with the vertical world again, he began to pay more attention to his surroundings. There appeared to be scorch marks on the wall, making it look like someone went to town with a flamethrower. How would he know what that was? He shook his head . . .which was a bad move, a very bad move. He grabbed onto the edge of the dumpster, clutching it so hard his knuckles turned bone white. He took a deep breath and started moving towards the entrance of the alley. As he reached the opening, he saw what looked like a hand underneath a pile of crumpled cardboard. He didn't dare investigate further.


He started to move on but stopped. What if it was someone he knew? As he was contemplating the right course of action, something twisted in his stomach. Wait. Something wasn't right. Where am I? Who am I? He started to hyperventilate. He couldn't remember who he was. What the hell was going on? He was wet, dirty, and didn't know who he was. He didn't know who he was. He didn’t know who he was. This same sentence kept repeating over and over in his head. Choose another mantra, buddy. Before this revelation could overwhelm him, he shut it away. Plenty of time to act like a wanker later. He shoved everything else to the back of his brain, as a sense of self-preservation kicked in. He needed a place to go, he needed food, and he really needed to get cleaned up.


He looked down at the hand again. He really should look. Chances were that he knew him. What are the chances of two people being either unconscious or dead in the same alley? He slowly cleared the rubble away from the body. It was a man. A black man. He reached down and tried for a pulse. The man was dead. As he stared down at the body, he had a fleeting moment of recognition and sadness. He quickly stood up. This was too much. He didn't know what to do. He glanced out into the street, and then back into the dark alley. He needed to leave. He couldn't help this man, since he really didn't know he was. He didn't have the answers to questions that the authorities would have. He gently knelt down next to the
man and cleared the excess debris away from him. He brushed his hand on the dead man's shoulder and suddenly his eyes teared up, and without even realizing what he said, "Sleep well, Charlie boy."
He took one last look and then stood up and hurried out into the light.


"All passengers, Bus 109 from Los Angeles to Las Vegas is now boarding" The man on the intercom calling for the boarding of his bus interrupted his reverie. He smiled. He hadn't been so excited since, well, he really couldn't remember now could he? It had been so long since something had gone right for him. William picked up his bag and walked over to the line by the bus. He stood behind an old Mexican woman
who had knitting needles clutched in her hand.


Before he sat down, he shoved his bag into the luggage racks above his seat. He slid into a window seat and got comfortable. It was going to be a long drive. Fifteen minutes later the bus pulled out of the loading area and onto the freeway.


As he stared out the window his mind returned those first moments a year ago.


After left the alley, he was so confused.. He wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk. People gave him a wide berth and gave him nervous looks. After a few blocks, he started noticing this behavior. He realized that he must look horrible, so he quickly looked for the next building that would have a public bathroom.


The next building turned out to be a Burger King. He quickly slipped in the door and walked down the hall to the bathroom. It was the lunchtime rush so he expected the place to be busy but as he looked around, he found the bathroom completely empty.


He slowly walked over to the sink. He didn't know what he was going to see or what to expect. Hell, he didn't even know what he looked like. It was pathetic, really. He reached the sink and looked up into the mirror.


"Holy Fuck!"


He couldn't help it. He was surprised he didn't get arrested walking down the street. He looked like he belonged in one of those slasher movies, and not as one of the victims. He had bleached hair that was sticking up wildly all over his head. Well, where it wasn't matted from the filth and blood from the alley. His face was covered in the same. He had a large cut underneath his left eye that was crusted with dried blood. He started to inspect the rest of his body, but couldn't help looking up at the mirror every few seconds. His own face was so alien to him. "Blue eyes, I have blue eyes," he mumbled
to himself. He quickly stripped the leather duster off. "I'll investigate you, later," he told it, as he draped it over the neighboring sink. He grabbed a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and turned on the water. When the water turned warm, he started washing his face and hair. Well, as good as one can with hand soap and a sink in a public restroom.


Ten minutes later he was relatively clean and feeling marginally better. At least his hair didn't resemble a creature from a horror movie any longer. He started wiping the blood and water off the sink just as someone walked into the bathroom. Taking that as his cue to leave, he threw the sodden towels away and grabbed the leather coat and walked out of the bathroom and into the dining area and sat down in a booth. He dragged the coat up on the table and started searching the pockets. The first pocket he
searched turned up a half empty pack of cigarettes, a hot pink Bic lighter, and a quarter. The second pocket had a wooden stake. "Well, that was helpful," the man groaned. He stuffed the items back into the pockets and put the jacket back on. As he was putting his left arm in the sleeve he brushed against a small bulge on the inside. Struggling to control his excitement, he tore the jacket off again and rummaged inside the pocket.


"Jackpot!" The woman at the booth near his gave him an annoyed look.


He ignored her and pulled out a handful of items. A passport and a roll of money. When he saw that passport, he almost cried. He looked at it, but was afraid to open it. Like it would suddenly disappear or something. It was a British passport, which made him wonder what the hell he was doing in. . .he quickly reached over and grabbed the newspaper on the next table. ‘The Los Angeles Times’, what the hell was he doing in Los Angeles? Shaking his head he turned his attention back to the passport. He opened it up. William Shaw. It said his birth date was June 11, 1976. He looked at the year on the newspaper. . .2004. So, he was 28. The passport also showed that he was born in London. "Hello," he said to the imaginary person across from him, "My name is William, William Shaw, and I’m from London, England." He gave a short laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. William took a deep breath and let it out. Bloody hell, this whole situation made him sick.


He shook his head and took the wad of money and started counting it out. There was one hundred dollars. That was a huge relief. At least he wasn't going to starve. He gathered it back up and put the money in his pants pocket. At that moment his stomach decided to make itself known. He shoved the passport back into the coat pocket. Then he took the money back out and peeled a few bills from the roll. He stood up, shoved his arms back into the duster and walked up to the counter to order some food.


When he finished eating, William continued to sit in the booth, as he began to realize the tough situation he was in. He only knew his name and birth date, and $100 wasn't enough money to keep him going. All he wanted to do was sit there and feel sorry for himself. He was really quite distressed, but there was this small part of him that was whispering in his ear to get up and move. He needed to find a job. He needed to find somewhere to live. Both seemed to be insurmountable tasks. How would he get a job with just a passport? It wasn't like he was a citizen of the States. This was utter crap. William stared out the window wishing that he could remember who he was. Anything had to be better than this. Unless he some mass murderer or drug addict. Though he didn't feel like he was either of those things, so point for him. But then again, he did wake up in an alley covered in blood and filth, next to a dead body. So point against him. Bugger. He racked his brain trying to figure out where to go. He could always go to a homeless shelter, at least for the night. Maybe they'd have a job posting board. Yes, that’s what he would do. He’d find a shelter and start from there. Now. . . how to find out where a homeless shelter was? William quickly stood up and walked out the door. He remembered seeing a phone booth outside the Burger King.


Once out the door, he walked quickly down the sidewalk the few feet to the phone booth. He picked up the phone book and quickly found a shelter that was just a few blocks down the road. Feeling more than a little guilty, he tore out the page and put it in his pocket. He turned around and looked down the street. He felt so out of control. Like he was spinning around with no way to stop himself. He raked his fingers through his hair. He really needed a shower. First things, first; Find the shelter, then worry about hygiene. He took off down the sidewalk towards his destination.


It took about twenty minutes for him to get there, but while he was walking he realized how hot it was. He was feeling pretty uncomfortable in the huge leather jacket, but he didn't want to take it off because he didn't want to lose it or anything in the pockets. It seemed irrational, but it was all he had. The only things that tied him to the world. The jacket and its contents were the only things that proved he existed. Shaking his head to get rid of the depressing thoughts, he looked back down at the page out of the phone book and checked the address. Just a few buildings away. Once he got there he stopped and stared at the front doors. He couldn't will himself to walk into the building. For some reason, he just couldn't do it. It was like he would be admitting that everything was true. The amnesia, the blood, the alley, everything. It would be true, and he didn't know if he could handle that. Well, there was only one way to find out. He took a step forward and opened the door.


William was jolted from his thoughts as the bus pulled into the terminal in Las Vegas. He had come so far since those first few days. Sometimes it felt like it had been forever, but sometimes it felt like it was just yesterday. He quickly pushed the memories back into the recesses of his mind. There was no need to dwell on the past. It would be a waste of time because he had just arrived at the crossroads of his future.

 

Chapter 4


William slowly stood up. He was stiff and sore. He always tensed up in his sleep. It was like his body and subconscious was constantly preparing him for a fight. He was just naturally defensive, and while sleeping there was no way to make himself relax. William twisted his arms around and stretched out his legs, then walked down the aisle and down the stairs to the outside.


It was hot, windy, and sunburned. You could see the desert on all sides of the terminal. A few hills and freeway were the only things breaking up the monotony of sand and sagebrush, and in the distance he could see the tall buildings of the Strip. It was marvelous. It felt so different and completely new. It was open and desolated, kind of reflecting how he felt. If dirt could be a kindred spirit, then this was definitely it. The majority of the city must be behind the hills. It almost made him regret moving to a city like Las Vegas. Maybe he'd just stay long enough to earn some money and then leave and go somewhere really isolated, like Montana. That sounded nice. He didn't feel much like a people person these days. He should put out an effort to make friends and contacts, but he didn't really care anymore. Hopefully that would change once he started this new job.


He yawned and then proceeded to make his way across the asphalt to the departing city buses. When he got there, he walked immediately up to where the maps were kept, and pulled the slip of paper that Bob had given him out of his pocket to double check the destination.


About a half-hour later, William got off the bus and walked down the street looking for the work site. He
was extremely nervous. He looked across the street and saw a sign that read "Harris Construction".


"Well, there it is."


He took a few deep breaths, but they weren't helping at all. The novelty and excitement of moving to Vegas and getting out of LA were starting to wear off, and the actual seriousness of the situation was starting to make itself known, but William quickly forced himself to swallow the fear and anxiety. He had to make a good impression because he really needed this. There were no other options at this point and without the job, he didn't know what he would do. He gave his head a small shake and clenched his jaw. He could do this; he was strong, he was resilient; but what he actually wanted to do was curl up in a bed, pull a sheet over his head and ignore the world. With that final thought, he stepped off the curb and ran across the street.


When he stepped through the gate, William was immediately engulfed by giant cloud of red dirt. Someone was unloading bags of cement next to the entrance, and they weren't being too careful about it. Brilliant, that was a perfect way to meet a future employer, covered in red dirt. Good thing his hair wasn't bleached anymore, it would have been pink.


William walked through the dust toward the trailer that was directly to his right on the far side of the site. He stopped in front of the stairs and paused for a minute. He really needed to get out of this habit. It was like he had to psych himself up for every little thing he did. William knocked on the flimsy trailer door and waited for a response. He didn't have to wait long.


"Come on in! I'll be with you in a minute."


William walked in and set his bag down on the chair near the door. He was too nervous to walk around and snoop, so he stayed near the door. The same loud voice yelled from the rear of the trailer behind some filing cabinets, "Take a seat in front of the desk, I'll just be a few more minutes."


"Okay, um...thanks!" William answered. He turned to the right and located the desk on the opposite side of the room. There were a few chairs in front, so he went over and sat in the one closest to the wall. As he waited his curiosity got the better of him and he started to look at the pictures on the desk. There were three of them, all just normal sized with nothing too spectacular about them. But something just drew his hand over and he took one. It was a picture of three people. It looked recent, but he didn't know for sure. There were two women and a man. They were all smiling, though it seemed a little forced. The man in the center of the trio was dark haired and goofy-grinned. He also had a patch over his left eye. Hmm. . .accident? William then focused on the woman on the left. She had marvelous red hair and a gorgeous smile. He couldn't help but smile in response to her. He then turned his attention to the last woman. Something tugged at his memory. Something about this slight, blonde woman pulled at him. He brought his hand up and his fingers ghosted over her face.


"So, how can I help you, fine sir?" The man startled William out of thoughts, and he quickly put the picture back. As he brought his hand back towards his body, the man sat down in front of him at the desk. One mystery was solved, this was the man in the picture, and according to the nameplate in front of him, this was Alexander Harris. He looked up into the man’s face, expectant, but that soon changed to anxiety and fear. The man was looking at him like he was a ghost. Like he was his worst nightmare come to life. His face had become very pale and his mouth was gaping open. It looked as if he was trying to say something, but was unable to. Deciding to take the initiative for once, William reached over the desk and offered his hand.


"Hello, I'm William Shaw. Bob, my old supervisor, was supposed to give you a call. He said you could maybe set me up with a job." The man blinked, closed his mouth, and swallowed heavily.


"I'm Xander, but you knew that already didn't you?" He said suspiciously.


"Uh. . . not really. I was coming to meet an Alexander, but I wasn’t sure what you looked like. You are Alexander Harris, arent’ you? William asked, slowly pulling his hand away in confusion.


Xander was speechless. He didn't know how to react, let alone what to say to the man sitting in front of him. He obviously wasn't the First because he’d seen him holding one of the pictures from his desk. But this thing, Spike, or whoever he was, was acting like he didn't know who he was. Well, two could play at that game.


"I'm sorry, I’m being rude. I've had a weird day and my brain has disappeared. Let me introduce myself. I'm Alexander Harris, but most people call me Xander. I'm the head honcho around here. But enough about me, let’s find out more about you."


This Alexander/Xander guy was weird; he was looking at him like he was lying or something. He didn't lie; at least, he didn't think he did. He hated being treated like this. He came to this place expecting a job, and from what Bob said to be treated decently. But he wasn't getting either.


"Listen, mate. I don't know what I did to you, but I'm just here because Bob said you'd help me out. I can see that clearly isn't going to happen, so I'll just take my leave. Sorry to have disturbed you." With that, William quickly stood up and walked to the door. It looked like would be heading to Montana sooner than he’d thought.


Just as he was shouldering his bag, Xander called out to him. "Hey Spike, wait a minute."


William turned around, "What did you call me?"


"Spike. That is your name, isn't it?"


"Well, no. I introduced myself as William, or didn't you notice that?" He was starting to get really irritated with this wanker. It didn't occur to him that this man might possibly have known him before.


But Xander had been distracted by something and wasn’t listening at all. He had finally noticed that William, Spike, or whoever, was standing directly in the patch of sun coming through the window in the trailer door. He looked closer. It was Spike, wasn’t it? Everything about this man standing in front of him screamed Spike. Yeah, he had different hair and there was that whole breathing thing, but the scar was there, not to mention the face and the voice. This was driving him crazy. Spike was dead. Burned up dead. Gone forever out of his life dead. Big pile of dust dead! But this man in front of him was anything but dead. He was a breathing, tanned. . .wait a minute, were those freckles? This was way too confusing for him. He needed to make a decision fast. He could let this man walk out that door, and pretend he never met him, or he could hire him and keep an eye on him until he figured out who he was and what he was doing here. He had finally gotten tired of the super-hero lifestyle, which was why he was in Vegas building houses, and not out protecting the world from the next big evil, but once a Scooby, always a Scooby.


Just as the man was walking out the door he called out, "William, wait! I'm sorry. You just caught me at a really bad time, and I took it out on you."


William turned around and arched an eyebrow. "Ya think?"


Xander walked up to him and held out his hand. "Let’s start over. I'm Xander Harris. Bob called me and let me know that you were coming, and I do happen to have a job for you."


William looked at him, paused, and then warily shook his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Xander. Thanks for giving me a chance and letting me work here"



Xander grinned, thankful that he’d decided to stay. He really needed time to figure out what was going on. He led William back to the chair he had been sitting in and walked back around the desk and sat down. He looked over at William, who was trying unconvincingly to act nonchalant, instead of pissed. He needed to test a theory. No way would Spike be able to look at Buffy and not have even a spark of recognition.


"So William, I noticed you looking at my pictures..."


"Yeah, nice birds you got there."


"That's my best-friends BUFFY and Willow." He hoped that wasn't too obvious. But there wasn’t even the tiniest flicker of recognition at either name.


"Odd names. They hippy types?"


Xander scrambled at what to say. He was totally out of his element. How do you react to a situation like this? So he would rely on the age-old conversation starter.


"So, where you from William?"


"LA?"


"That a question?" Xander was starting to become really intrigued, especially now that William was starting to look like a scared rabbit.


"Did Bob tell you anything about me when you talked?" William asked


"Nope, how about you fill me in?" Not wanting to scare him off, he added, "So that we can get your information, then you can start swinging that hammer."


With a huge sigh, William started in on the tragic story that was his life. "I don't know where I'm from. I assume I'm British, for obvious reasons."


"Care to elaborate?" Xander said


"Woke up in an alley in LA about a year ago. I have amnesia. I don't know who I am; I don't have family, friends, or a visa. All I have is a British passport with a name on it, which I’m assuming is me judging by the picture in it." William paused and gave Xander a confused look, "Bob really didn't tell you any of this?"


"No, not really, but it’s no big deal. Can I see your passport? Just for employment purposes."



"Sure," William reached inside his duffel and pulled out his passport and handed it over to Xander. He stared at the picture on the inside flap. It was Spike, no doubt about it. Bleached hair, pale and pasty skin, nasty smirk. Yup, it was Spike. He glanced up at William. He had an expectant look on his face. He would bolt. If Xander said anything about knowing him, he would be gone. William was scared of knowing who he was. He didn't seem to know why, but you could see it in his eyes. The man was running from something. Himself? The past? He needed to call Giles. He always knew what to do. Or should he call Buffy? He didn't know. Damn Spike, he always threw a wrench into things.


William sat there looking at Xander, waiting for the boot. Silence like this couldn't be a good sign. Just as he was about to ask for his passport back and head out, Xander cleared his throat and started talking.


"Listen William, I'll hire you. I want to help you out. Obviously you’re in need of a job, and you’re lacking in the whole document area. So you need a hook up, since you can't get a real job without papers. All I’ll need is the place your staying at, and I’ll need to make a copy of your passport for documentation. Then I'll get one of the supervisors to take you on a tour of the site, and we'll get you a hard-hat. You can start work tomorrow."


All the doubts that William had had about the job and Vegas disappeared at Xander's words. He was still suspicious about the man, but he needed the job, so he'd ignore the weirdness. Besides he'd been on edge lately, so it was probably just his imagination working overtime.


Xander stood up and handed him his passport and picked up the radio, "Hey, Joe. I have a guy here who needs to be shown around. He's going to start working on the site tomorrow"
The radio spit out an answer that was so garbled, William couldn't hear enough to make out the response. It must have been positive because Xander put it back down and took William by the shoulder and walked him toward the door.


"Feel free to leave your bag here while you get your bearings, I'll get all your information when you get back."


"Thanks Harris, I really appreciate it." Shaking off the weird feeling he got from the guy, William walked out the door to meet Joe.


After William was gone, Xander just stared at the door. It was Spike, it had to be. There was no other explanation. He needed to call Giles. It was either that or he would start tearing his hair out. Man, was his life weird.
 

Chapter 5



Xander stared at the phone in his hand. Giles or Buffy, Buffy or Giles. He couldn't decide. On the one hand, Buffy had obviously grieved for Spike and while he might have hated their relationship, he wasn’t blind. Well, okay, maybe he was partially blind, but that wasn’t the point. Buffy would be so happy to find out that he was alive, not to mention the violent reaction she would have if he and Giles kept this from her. But on the other hand, it was Spike. The vampire who’d hurt Buffy, the vampire that had tried to kill him, the vampire that took advantage of upset women who had been left at the alter. He knew he should be above that, but he was still bitter. Xander closed his eyes and tried to come to terms with his feelings toward the vampire. He tried to think positive thoughts. Spike had saved the world. Spike had averted the apocalypse. Unfortunately, it was always easier to feel the Spike love when said vampire was dead. Now he wasn’t. He groaned. This was a lot easier when Spike was a vampire, and not a vulnerable human-type guy. Making his decision, he picked up the phone and dialed. After several rings, a familiar voice answered.


"Giles...I have some news."


"You do realize you’ve just woken me up from a profoundly good dream."


For once, Xander didn’t take the bait. "Giles, you’re not going to believe this. Are you sitting down? You need to be sitting down. While you’re at it, grab some alcohol or something.”


"Xander, can you please just spit it out already? I want to go back to bed."


"So. . .you remember our friend Captain Peroxide, right? Well, um, he's back."


There was a pregnant pause. "Giles? Did you hear what I said? Spike is back."


Giles cleared his throat. "I know, Xander. He was working with Angel for most of last year, but he died in Los Angeles during the battle with Wolfram and Hart. I don't know how you found out, but please don't tell Buffy. I don’t think she would take it well.”


Xander gripped the phone a little harder. "Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t have time to go over it.”


He could hear Giles’ release of breath over the phone. Before Giles could go on about whatever he was going on about, Xander interrupted.


“Giles, I know you’re all head Watcher guy and all, but really do I need to spell it out? Spike. Is. Back. He just left my office."


"He was there in your office? But how? Why? Isn't it late in the afternoon there?"



Xander could here the bedsprings creek. If he were to guess, Giles had started to pace the floor.


"Xander, are you sure it was him? Are you sure? How do you know?”


Rubbing his hand over his face, Xander continued, “How many people do you know that look like Spike, talk with a British accent, and go by William?”


“Right, right.” Giles groaned, “Good Lord.”


"And, that’s not even the craziest thing! One, his memory is gone. . .he doesn't know who he is, and two, he's human."


Xander heard a thud, followed by a string of British curse words. "Giles! Giles? You still there?"


After what sounded like Giles fumbling with the phone, he came back on. "Its okay, I just dropped my glass of water. I think I might need to switch it for some Scotch, like you suggested. Do you mind repeating the part about Spike being human? Be more specific. How do you know it was him? Could it just be a coincidence?" Giles sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Xander decided to butt in.


"I wouldn't have called if I thought it was just that, Giles. He looks like Spike, talks like Spike, can't remember a thing from before a year ago, which considering what you just told me-would be a pretty big coincidence, wouldn’t you say? Plus, I saw his passport. The picture on it is Spike. Black leather, bleached hair, annoying smirk, and white-hasn’t-seen-the-sun-in-a-few-hundred-years skin. I'm a huge fan of coincidences too, but add those together and you’ll find you come out with one giant, Spike-shaped conclusion.”


While Giles started sputtering over that bit of news, Xander picked up the picture of him with Buffy and Willow. When did they get so old? He sure didn't feel like he was 24, and this thing with Spike? Just one more thing adding to the premature grey hairs on his head.


"Xander? Are you listening to me?" Giles interrupted.


Focusing his attention back on Giles he quickly answered "Um, yeah, I’m listening. What should I do?"


"You need to keep an eye on him. Just watch him, nothing else. Don't tell anyone, especially not Buffy."


"Don't you think we should tell her, though?"


"Yes, but not until we know for sure. I already regret not letting her know that Spike was back the first time, so I don't want to get her hopes up over this news, just to dash them later."


Xander shook his head, "Giles, I need you to come here and help me. If you want to make this decision about leaving Buffy in the dark or not, then you need to be here to decide if it's Spike. It's too important for you not to be here. Besides, I don’t think I can do this myself."


With a sigh, Giles agreed. "You’re right. You will have to wait about a week, though, so that I can get my affairs in order over here. I'll have to delegate some of the more pressing matters to other watchers. But Willow will be here, so everything should be alright."


"So I’ll see you in a week then?"


"Yes" Then with a sigh, Giles added, "Isn’t there anything involving this bloody man that doesn't result in chaos and frustration?"


"I'd have to answer with a giant no for that one. If it wasn't for the fact that this guy doesn't know who he is, I'd be wondering."


With a groan, Giles continued, "Just keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays around. I'll be there in a week."


“Okay, will do, see you then. You still have the keys to the apartment, right?”


“Yes, I do. Goodbye, Xander.”


Xander hung up the phone, and let his head fall onto the desk. Why did these things continue to happen to him? Why couldn’t there be a nice surprise for a change, like a hot super-model turning up on his doorstep instead? Life just wasn’t fair.
 

Chapter 6

William had been on the construction site for about a week and everything seemed to be going well. He had rented a motel room, which had seen better days, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He'd get something better once he’d saved up enough money. But for now it was going to have to do. Besides, who doesn't like orange shag carpeting and a bedspread that looked like a Muppet threw up on it? He was enjoying the job, well as much as anyone could enjoy construction. Las Vegas was a little flashy, not to mention hot and dry, but it seemed okay. Though it had only been a week, he felt like things could only get better. The only thing that was starting to disturb him was the dreams. They had always been there, but the frequency had increased. It had started his first night in Las Vegas, and he couldn’t really remember what they were about when he woke up. Nothing in the dreams was clear. They were full of images, sounds, and smells, but they were all abstract. There wasn’t a specific order to the dreams; they were just random. It frustrated him to no end, so he did what he always did, worked himself to death. Being exhausted helped keep the dreams at bay. Menial labor was extremely good for that. But try as he might, he couldn't help but dwell on the dreams as he went about his job. They distracted him, and distraction leads to 2 x 4's in the head.


With a sigh, he looked at his watch and decided that it was time for a break. He needed to clear his head before he started in on some of the more dangerous work. He walked over to the fence on the edge of the site and sat down next to a pile of bricks. William took off his hardhat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was so tired. He really should get up and go get some water, but he couldn't find the energy. Just as he was closing his eyes, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and Xander was standing there staring at him.


Deciding to pretend like he cared, William looked up at him and asked, "Is there something you need, Xander?"


"No, I just thought you might like some water. That, and I thought I'd come check up on you and see how you were doing."


“I’m fine," William said as he took a drink of water, "Ta mate, that hit the spot"


Xander took a step and sat down next to him, "So where you living? Are you still at that motel?


"Yeah, I gotta wait until I save up a bit more money before I can afford an apartment."


"Cool, just make sure you let me know when you have a more permanent address.”


“Will do, boss.” Spike took another drink of the water and wished that Xander would leave him alone. He hovered like a mother hen. Unfortunately, Xander continued on.


“So, I have a proposition for you, buddy o' mine. It's Friday, so let’s go out and get a beer and celebrate your week long anniversary.”


William shook his head, "I don't think so, Harris. I'm not one for company these days."


"Who cares about company? I'm talking about getting as you British call it, pissed!"


Fighting a smile, William continued making excuses, "No, I can't. Really. I'm not a people person."


Xander continued to ignore his protests and kept on talking.


"After we get off, the two of us are getting a beer and that’s final." Xander stood up and walked back towards the trailer, leaving William baffled and slightly annoyed.


After shutting the door to the trailer, Xander sat down on the chair near the door. He couldn’t believe that he just did that, but he wasn't getting any kind of clues or information about William from just watching him. The guy was a robot. He got to work at seven in the morning and worked like a madman until five. If it wasn't for the fact that William took his designated breaks and lunch he could actually qualify as a machine. Crazy. His few attempts at starting a conversation with William while working was about as successful as talking to a tree, but then the tree would probably be more responsive.


Thank goodness Giles was coming on Sunday. This whole Spike thing was driving him insane. And tonight was going to be hard, since he wasn't the most suave guy around. He didn't want to make William suspicious, so he'd have to settle for the next best thing, getting him drunk. Xander stood up and walked over to his desk. He had a few blue prints to check over. He pulled them out and started to work, but his eyes kept on roaming to the pictures on his desk. . .one in particular. It was a picture of Anya, from before the wedding. He had been goofing off with one of the disposable cameras that they were going to use for the reception. He picked up the photograph, looking at it more closely. He had caught her in a genuine moment of happiness, her face bright with laughter. It was beautiful. He had kept it in his wallet ever since he’d gotten it developed after the wedding that wasn't. It was the only one he had of her. Damn he regretted a lot of things. With a sigh, he put the picture down and returned to work.


After Xander left, William continued to sit by the fence. The last time he tried having a beer with work buddies, it had ended disastrously. He ended up running out of the bar, literally. He leaned his head back against the chain link fence. William knew that it had only been a week since he arrived in Vegas, but he had foolishly thought that everything would become perfect when he started his life here. It had been an idiotic idea, but he had embraced it full force. If it weren’t for the dreams....


Now he was stuck in Vegas with the same kind of job, with the same depressed feelings. The only difference was that his boss was out of his gourd. He took a final swallow of his water, grimacing at the lukewarm mess it had turned in to. He hauled himself up, pulled on the yellow, plastic hat that seemed to define his life and set off to work.


The sun had begun its descent and William was trying to slip out before Xander could find him. He quickly put up his tools and hat, and ran out the front entrance.


"Oh, bloody hell."


Xander was waiting right in front of him parked near the curb. He leaned out the window of his car and yelled, "Caught you! You thought you were going to escape didn't you? Leave it to the Xan-man to thwart the evil blood-suckers plan!"


William rolled his eyes. "Ha bloody ha, and what’s with the evil blood-sucker thing? Were did you come up with that interesting nickname?”


Realizing his slip, Xander hurriedly brushed right past it.. "Um...get in! We're getting smashed tonight!"


William grudgingly opened the door and threw himself into the seat. "You’re bloody annoying, you know that?"


"Not as annoying as I'm going to be...Wait, that was kind of insulting to me. . ."


William started laughing, as Xander started the car and headed towards the bar.


A few hours and many bottles of beer later, the two men were in extremely high spirits. Xander was telling him about a date he had when he first moved to Vegas.


"It was horrible, man. The woman, well, she wasn't a woman. How was I supposed to know she was a man? She looked good to me, and it wasn't like he...she…or whatever was taller than me. I didn't find out until I ran into a friend of mine at the restaurant we were at. He thankfully pointed it out, and then I ran for the hills."


Wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes, William took another drink. "Bloody hell mate, that was some rotten luck."


"Tell me about it, I haven’t had a date since. I've been too chicken. That scared me to death. What if I hadn't run into my friend?" He shivered thinking of his narrow escape.


William burst out laughing again, then immediately sobered up, "Listen, Xander. I just want to thank you for making me come out tonight. You’re an odd sort, but I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard. . .or at all, actually."


Xander slugged him on the shoulder, "No prob, man."


They both looked down and stared into their drinks. The conversation having abruptly switched over to an awkward silence. Xander turned and looked over at him trying to work up enough courage to ask him about losing his memory. He didn’t want to make William uncomfortable or upset. He was actually starting to like the guy.


"William, uh, I’m a tad curious about what happened to you. You mind telling me?"


William turned red and took a pull of his beer. "I don't think so"


"Come on, have you ever really even told anyone about it? It could be good for you. Get it all out.”


"Xander, please don't make me do this. Just leave it alone."


He didn't know what to say, and he didn't want to push to hard and scare him off. He finally just flew with what his gut said and broached the subject once more. "I think you need to come clean, so if you make me pull the employer card I will. Please William, just tell me. I promise, it stays between you and me."


He didn't know if it was the five beers he had drunk, or if it was just because he was so tired of holding it in and feeling alone and isolated, but William finally decided to let it out. "Harris, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I don't know what half of what I'm going to tell you means, so please just hear me out first before jumping to conclusions."


"Okay, no problem. Do you need another drink or anything?"


"No, um. . .I don't know how or where to start."


"Wherever you want to, just let it flow. If it helps, pretend that I'm not even here."


“Okay, well. . .” Taking a deep breath, William readied himself for reliving one of the earliest memories that he had. "The first thing I remember is waking up in an alley in LA. I was covered in blood..."


An hour later and the story was done. The combination of alcohol and memories had nearly brought William to tears. Telling Xander about the past year had brought it all back to the front of his mind. He hadn't realized how far he had pushed the memories of those first few days away, and how raw his emotions still were. Now they were all pushing at him and pulling at him. He felt like he was about to explode in a thousand pieces. He put his head down on the table and tried to choke back the tears.


Xander was in shock. He didn't know what to say. Why did he make Spike open up to him? He couldn't remember, maybe someone could remind him. He felt sympathy for the man sitting in front of him, but was so confused by the situation, he didn't know how to respond. Shaking himself out of his funk, he stood up and walked around the table to William.


"Hey man, let’s get you home."


William let himself be pulled up and then leaned against Xander's shoulder as they walked toward the door. He couldn't seem to stand up straight. Must have been the booze. He knew he'd regret drinking when he woke up in the morning. The hangover was surely going to kill him. All he wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. Maybe the dreams would stay away for once.


"Just get me a cab, please. I'll find my own way home."


"Nope, can't let you go off all by your lonesome. You’re not the big bad Spike anymore."


"What the hell are you talking about, Harris? Who is Spike and why do you keep saying his name?"


"Um, I’m drunk too. . .don't listen to me because I don't even know what I'm talking about."


By the time they reached the car, William was half asleep. The alcohol and emotions had taken their toll. Xander helped him into the passenger seat of the car, and walked around to the driver’s side. He hadn't drunk as much as William had, so he was feeling okay to drive home, but he didn't know if he'd make it to William’s.


"Hey, Will, do you mind sleeping on my couch? It'll probably be safer for the both of us if I don't try to find your motel in my condition."


"Hmph"


"I'll take that as a yes"


With that, Xander shifted the car into gear and headed towards his apartment.
 

Chapter 7


He was awoken by an absurdly bright ray of sunshine shining through a crack in the curtains and right into his eyes. With a groan, he pulled the pillow out from underneath him and put it over his head. That’s it, he was never going on a drinking binge again. He felt like utter crap. Just as he was drifting back to sleep he heard some keys in the lock. He sat up as someone opened the door. Well it definitely wasn't Xander, unless he had decided to dye his hair, wear a suit, and age about thirty years.


He stood up, and then his instincts took over and he promptly sat back down again. William decided to change tactics. He cleared his throat and waited for the stranger to acknowledge him.


"Good Lord, its true!" The stranger stared at him in disbelief.


Okay, certainly not the reaction he was expecting. "Um, what’s true?"


The man set his bags on the floor, and was obviously searching for something to say. "Ah..um..that Xander has a nice apartment. I never thought I'd see the day when Xander actually had things that were adult in nature."


"Uh, okay. And you are?"


"My name is Rupert Giles, and who might you be?"


"William Shaw. I'm a friend of Xanders. We drank a little too much last night, so I crashed here."


"Well, in that case, I'm pleased to meet you"


"Likewise."


The man kept staring at William, which was starting to make him feel extremely uncomfortable. It made him feel like he was being held under a microscope and studied in minute detail. Looking at the clock, he decided to head back to the motel. It was time for lunch, and despite the splitting headache, he was feeling rather hungry. He had a package of Ramen noodles with his name on them.


William hurried and put on his shoes and then made his excuses. "Well, it was great meeting you, but I'm going to head on out. Xander is in the bedroom, I think. Tell him that I’ll see him at work on Monday."


With that, he hurried out the front door. That British guy was seriously creeping him out.


"Xander! Xander! Wake up!"


"Mmph...mom...."


Giles gave a sigh of disgust, bent over and picked up one of Xander's work boots. He contemplated the damage the shoe would cause, grinned and then tossed it at Xander's head. Unfortunately, he missed and it hit him in the chest, but he still got a rather spectacular reaction.


"What the Hell?!?" Xander shot out of bed, scrambling for something. An axe, a sword, anything. . .hell, even a spoon would work. After he’d calmed down and realized that nothing was about to tear his throat out, Xander turned around and noticed Giles standing there trying to hold back his laughter. It wasn’t a very good attempt. Xander gave him a dirty look.


"I thought you weren't getting in until tomorrow."


Taking a deep breath and getting his voice under control, Giles explained. " I caught an earlier flight out, and I must say, that was the hardest I have laughed in a long time."


"I've been hearing that a lot lately." Xander turned around and reached for the glass of water that was on the night stand. Thankfully, he didn't really feel hung over. Suddenly remembering who had crashed on his couch, he reeled around and started toward the living room.


"Spike! . . .I mean William! Did you see him? Is he still out there?"


"No, I'm afraid not. I think I startled him into leaving, though. I don't think he looked too comfortable to begin with. I'm sure waking up in a strange place will do that to you. But he did say that he'd see you at work on Monday."


Looking back at Giles, Xander breathed a sigh of relief. " Good, I was worried for a moment."


"It really is quite remarkable. The resemblance, I mean. It was Spike, yet it wasn’t. I don’t think I made a very good impression. I ended up standing there like a statue. He probably thought I was quite odd."


"It's okay, Giles, you are odd, but if it makes you feel any better, he thinks I’m off my bird, whatever that means."


Giles was impatient. He wanted to know what was going on, and so far all he had found out was that William looked like Spike. He started to question Xander, "Have you learned anything about how he came to be here or, if indeed he is Spike, why he's alive?"


"Hold your horses, G-man. Let me take a shower and wake up a bit, and then I'll give you the low-down on Mr. Mysterious."


"Oh right, sorry about that. I guess I can wait for a few minutes. Go get ready, I assume you have coffee or tea or something?”


Searching for a towel, Xander answered over his shoulder, “Um, yeah, its somewhere in the cupboards, help yourself."


Giles rolled his eyes and started toward the door, "Oh and Xander, can you please act your age and quit using names for me that you created back in Sunnydale."


With his trademark smart-ass grin he turned back and nodded."Whatever you say, G-man."


Giles groaned and closed the door behind him.


About half an hour later, Xander walked out of his room holding a piece of paper. He walked up to Giles and handed it to him. This is "William's" passport. I made a copy of it."


Giles took it and studied it closely. It was definitely Spike. No one could replicate that smirk. He compared the picture and his knowledge of Spike to the mental image of the man he had met briefly that morning. This William seemed so unsure, so cautious. Giles tried to pinpoint the exact feeling he got from the man. William reminded him of certain kids in school when he was a librarian. The type of children that came and chose books about poetry and quantum physics, and reviled any sort of social interaction. The loners. So completely un-Spike like. Even when he had the soul, Spike had always sought out human contact. Giles searched through his memories from that last year in Sunnydale. No, now that he thought about it, he was wrong. During that last year in Sunnydale, when he had been paying the vampire any attention, Spike had been severely withdrawn. The only person Spike had talked to at any length had been Buffy. Oh, he didn’t know what he thought. This was so complicated. Spike was so complicated.


Ever since he had found out what Spike had done down in the Hellmouth, what his part had been, he had regretted many of his opinions and actions concerning Spike. As a result of his refusal to acknowledge Spike’s soul, he lost out on the opportunity to learn and study the vampire. With the time and distance that now separated his sojourn in Sunnydale, he was able to look back on Spike with an objective eye. He should have talked with him and learned from him. Any vampire that would go against his nature and willingly change himself for the better was nothing short of spectacular. . .not to mention unheard of. Why he didn’t see that then, he’d never know. Spike had proven him wrong, and he was sorry that he hadn’t believed Buffy. Well, he now had the opportunity to right the wrongs he had done. He looked back up at Xander, "Tell me everything you know."


"Well, to make a long story short, he woke up in an alley covered in blood. Somehow found a job at a construction job, which was incidently run by my old boss from Sunnydale. After a year he decided he wanted to start over someplace new. His boss called me and I hooked him up. Then I called you. That’s about the extent of it. Oh, and he can't remember a damn thing. Amnesia or something like that."


"And how is he taking it?"


"Pretty bad. Last night, when I finally got him to open up about it, I noticed three things about him. He's scared, confused, and angry. Which is understandable, I'd probably freak too."


"You've talked to him, do you think that he is Spike?"


"That's the weird thing. I don't think he is, but every now and then you might see a flash of something Spike-like."


"If he is Spike, then there is a possibility that he might have reverted to his base personality. Without the experiences of Spike to help form his character..." Giles trailed off. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "This is too confusing, even for me."


"Hear, hear. You don’t have to tell me twice."


"I need to talk to him. Do you think we could go and find him?"


"I don't think so Giles. William opening up to me was a fluke. Well, not so much a fluke as an event preceded by massive consumption of fine hops. So I highly doubt he'll be wanting to spill his guts to you on the spur of the moment."


"That's not what I meant Xander. I just want to talk with him, so that I can get a sense of who or what he is. Not that I don't trust your opinion, I just need to start somewhere."


Xander tried to think of something that they could do without seeming obvious. He already felt like he was starting to push his luck where William was concerned. Maybe they should just fall back on the normal, getting to know you event. Hopefully Giles would agree. "How about we go out to eat Sunday? I'll go over and invite him later tonight."


"That sounds like a good idea. I don’t know how else we’d do it. So it’s certainly better than nothing. Now, do you mind if I borrow your couch? I'm completely knackered."


"Have at it, I have errands to run today anyways. I also have to go see Spike."


Giles sank into the sofa cushions, with a sigh of relief. "Bloody airplanes..."


For the next few minutes Xander puttered around the apartment getting ready, finally sitting down on the chair to tie his shoes. To Giles, it seemed as if he were stalling. Xander wanted to ask him something, but at the rate he was going, Giles would never know what. Sighing, he sat back up and put thoughts of sleep aside.


"Xander, what is it?"


"Um...what do we do about Buffy?"


"What about her?"


"She needs to know. We can't keep this from her, it's too important."


"I'd like to keep this to ourselves, but you’re right. I just don't want to put her in the middle of something like this again. Not until we have something concrete to tell her."


"Giles, she dated the freaking Immortal. No matter what we do she's going to be attracted to the freaks. Besides, you know she loved him."


Giles looked confused, "Who? The Immortal? I surely hope not!"

"You know for someone who is known as the brains of this outfit, you can be remarkably thick sometimes. You know he's my least favorite person. . ., well one of my least favorite people,” he corrected himself, thinking of his other souled vampire buddy, “But she loved Spike. So bottom line, we're calling her after you talk to Spike. She deserves that much."


For a few moments, Giles just sat there looking at his hands. "Every now and then, you manage to surprise me, Xander Harris." He paused and then added, "We'll call Buffy, after I talk with Spike."


Xander smiled and then got up and finished getting ready. Giles sighed and then collapsed back on the couch. Maybe he'd get to finally rest once he died. Maybe, just maybe, peace would be within his grasp then.


The front door slammed with a loud bang as Xander finally went out.


Then again, probably not.
 

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