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.