The limo pulled up outside the apartment building. William looked around, trying to determine if this was in fact his ride. He was assure that it was when the window rolled down and the head of a young brunette popped out.
"William?"
"Yeah, that's me, I think."
The door opened, and William went in and sat down. He sat next to the brunette, and across from a strangely green man.
"Hi! I'm Fred, over there is Lorne." The brunette introduced herself and the man with the green skin raised a glass with ice in it to aknowledge his name.
"So, I hear you are having some memory problems?" Lorne asked. His voice was jovial, almost musical.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't remember anything past this morning, well with exception to this girl, and I can't get her out of my head. I think I might have even hallucinated her on my way to LA."
"Hmm.. Interesting. Do you sing?"
"What? Do I sing? I don't understand."
"Lorne is sorta psychic, he can read your soul if you sing. Something about people baring their souls when they sing, it helps him see inside of you." Fred explained.
"Uh huh. Well, I'm not sure what I could sing for you or whatever, but if you think it might help I could give it a try." William was uncomfortable. He was sitting in a limo with an adorable brunette and a psychic green man. If they dealt with the green guy, surely his problems would be no trouble.
"It's okay sugar, we have other things we can try first." Lorne winked at him.
***********************************************************************
When they arrived at the Hyperion the lobby was empty. Fred showed William to a room, and told him to sit tight. They would be back in a few hours with some ideas on how to help him. She then went back downstairs.
"Fred, there's a problem with our well cheekboned friend upstairs." Lorne sat on the sofa with her.
"Yeah, he is lost, he need help."
"No. He didn't need to sing for me to see these things in him."
"Things? Like what?"
"Like Angelus, Buffy, mayhem, pain, suffering, love, forgiveness, power, Fred he's an open book, and the story he's tellin' is a bit on the familiar."
"Oh my god. Should we tell Angel?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Angel's sorta in a bad place right now." Faith walked in from the balcony, the faint smell of cigarettes followed her in.
"Faith, I think we might need your help. The guy we picked up, well, we think he might have a history with Angel and Buffy. Could you go up and talk to him, maybe he'll be familiar, or maybe he'll recognize you or something."
"Whoa there, My history with the two of them is shorter than you think. Most of my time with B and Angel was spent in a coma or behind bars. I don't know their history, why don't you have Willow do it?"
"Willow is still pretty drained, she needs to recharge." Fred responded. "Could you just try? We're going to go talk to Wesley and Giles and see what they think, but it would be helpful if someone else could talk to them about him too."
"Yeah fine, whatever. What room is he in?"
"Thanks Faith, you're a peach! He's in room 217." Lorne stood up to embrace Faith.
"Yo man, I don't hug." Faith pushed past him and up the stairs.
"Faith, just one more thing," Lorne stopped her, "be careful, I saw danger and violence in him, it might be from the past, but he could be a bomb just waiting to go off."
"Once, I would like to be sent to talk to someone who isn't dangerous!"
***********************************************************************
Faith knocked on the door 3 times before he responded.
"Who is it?" a small voice asked from inside. Faith thought it sounded familiar.
"Yo, its room service. Lorne and Fred sent me up to talk to you a bit while they work things out. You know keep you company or somethin'." Faith responded.
She heard the door lock snap, and soon afterwards the door opened. She gasped when she saw his face. "Holy Shit." Faith pushed her way into the room, and quickly shut the door.
"Oh fuck, they're gonna freak out. They're gonna totally freak the hell out."
"What? Excuse me, I'm not understanding." William was even more confused than before.
"Yo, Spike, it's cool. Fred and Lorne didn't know who you were. Yeah, the hair's different, and someone seriously helped you commit fashion suicide, but I can tell its you."
William sat on the bed. "Spike? Who's Spike?" The word felt familiar on his tongue as if he had spoken it a thousand times, but still it held no meaning.
"You, you're Spike. You can stop messin' with me, this is Faith you're talking to. You know, 'ride you til you pop like warm champagne,' Faith."
"So I know you? We're like lovers or something?"
"Yeah I know you freak! And although we spent a lot of time around chains in a small dark space, no you were a bit wrapped up in someone else. You don't recognize me?"
"No, not really. I don't remember much. Things seem familiar, but they have no real meaning."
Faith stood up and walked to the window, she opened the curtain and window. She sat on the pane and lit a cigarette. When the sun glinted off of the chrome lighter she realised what she did. She looked over at the bed, to see William sitting in a beam of sunlight.
"Whoa, that's new. You're not all flamey, and I'm not talkin' in a gay way."
"What?"
"I mean, the last time I saw you that beam of light was like a weapon of your personal mass destruction, and now its not." Faith walked over and put her hand to his neck. "Holy shit, you have a pulse."
"Why? Should I not have a pulse? Am I dead?"
"You were, now I'm not sure what you are. I mean you look like Spike, and sound like him but he wasn't like this."
The lighter fell out of Faith's jacket pocket. William bent over to pick it up. When he closed his hand on the lighter a jolt went through him. His hands went to his head as a defense against the agonizing pain. Women in high buttoned collars, horse drawn carriages, smoky jazz clubs, delapidated factories, hippies, punk rock shows, subways and cars. Faces, women, men, terribly disfigured men and women, people with ridges on their foreheads, the girl who had been in the room, a red head, and finally her, the green eyed blonde. As the images passed through him he heard voices, "Miss Edith has been naughty!" "Shut up roller boy." "Our Spikey's killed himself a slayer!" "They'll be no 'having' of any kind with me!" "She really is just kind of fickle." "You think we're dancing?" "William the Bloody with a chip in his head, I kinda love this town." "You're beneath me." "I think I was in heaven." "Spike, I'm only doing this because I'm drunk, and you smell really good." "Spike, I love you." He yelled out "BLOODY HELL!" then everything went black, he passed out.
Faith picked the lighter up off the floor and ran out of the room. She didn't know what had just happened, but she needed to find someone who could sort this out. Something here just wasn't right.
"William?"
"Yeah, that's me, I think."
The door opened, and William went in and sat down. He sat next to the brunette, and across from a strangely green man.
"Hi! I'm Fred, over there is Lorne." The brunette introduced herself and the man with the green skin raised a glass with ice in it to aknowledge his name.
"So, I hear you are having some memory problems?" Lorne asked. His voice was jovial, almost musical.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't remember anything past this morning, well with exception to this girl, and I can't get her out of my head. I think I might have even hallucinated her on my way to LA."
"Hmm.. Interesting. Do you sing?"
"What? Do I sing? I don't understand."
"Lorne is sorta psychic, he can read your soul if you sing. Something about people baring their souls when they sing, it helps him see inside of you." Fred explained.
"Uh huh. Well, I'm not sure what I could sing for you or whatever, but if you think it might help I could give it a try." William was uncomfortable. He was sitting in a limo with an adorable brunette and a psychic green man. If they dealt with the green guy, surely his problems would be no trouble.
"It's okay sugar, we have other things we can try first." Lorne winked at him.
***********************************************************************
When they arrived at the Hyperion the lobby was empty. Fred showed William to a room, and told him to sit tight. They would be back in a few hours with some ideas on how to help him. She then went back downstairs.
"Fred, there's a problem with our well cheekboned friend upstairs." Lorne sat on the sofa with her.
"Yeah, he is lost, he need help."
"No. He didn't need to sing for me to see these things in him."
"Things? Like what?"
"Like Angelus, Buffy, mayhem, pain, suffering, love, forgiveness, power, Fred he's an open book, and the story he's tellin' is a bit on the familiar."
"Oh my god. Should we tell Angel?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Angel's sorta in a bad place right now." Faith walked in from the balcony, the faint smell of cigarettes followed her in.
"Faith, I think we might need your help. The guy we picked up, well, we think he might have a history with Angel and Buffy. Could you go up and talk to him, maybe he'll be familiar, or maybe he'll recognize you or something."
"Whoa there, My history with the two of them is shorter than you think. Most of my time with B and Angel was spent in a coma or behind bars. I don't know their history, why don't you have Willow do it?"
"Willow is still pretty drained, she needs to recharge." Fred responded. "Could you just try? We're going to go talk to Wesley and Giles and see what they think, but it would be helpful if someone else could talk to them about him too."
"Yeah fine, whatever. What room is he in?"
"Thanks Faith, you're a peach! He's in room 217." Lorne stood up to embrace Faith.
"Yo man, I don't hug." Faith pushed past him and up the stairs.
"Faith, just one more thing," Lorne stopped her, "be careful, I saw danger and violence in him, it might be from the past, but he could be a bomb just waiting to go off."
"Once, I would like to be sent to talk to someone who isn't dangerous!"
***********************************************************************
Faith knocked on the door 3 times before he responded.
"Who is it?" a small voice asked from inside. Faith thought it sounded familiar.
"Yo, its room service. Lorne and Fred sent me up to talk to you a bit while they work things out. You know keep you company or somethin'." Faith responded.
She heard the door lock snap, and soon afterwards the door opened. She gasped when she saw his face. "Holy Shit." Faith pushed her way into the room, and quickly shut the door.
"Oh fuck, they're gonna freak out. They're gonna totally freak the hell out."
"What? Excuse me, I'm not understanding." William was even more confused than before.
"Yo, Spike, it's cool. Fred and Lorne didn't know who you were. Yeah, the hair's different, and someone seriously helped you commit fashion suicide, but I can tell its you."
William sat on the bed. "Spike? Who's Spike?" The word felt familiar on his tongue as if he had spoken it a thousand times, but still it held no meaning.
"You, you're Spike. You can stop messin' with me, this is Faith you're talking to. You know, 'ride you til you pop like warm champagne,' Faith."
"So I know you? We're like lovers or something?"
"Yeah I know you freak! And although we spent a lot of time around chains in a small dark space, no you were a bit wrapped up in someone else. You don't recognize me?"
"No, not really. I don't remember much. Things seem familiar, but they have no real meaning."
Faith stood up and walked to the window, she opened the curtain and window. She sat on the pane and lit a cigarette. When the sun glinted off of the chrome lighter she realised what she did. She looked over at the bed, to see William sitting in a beam of sunlight.
"Whoa, that's new. You're not all flamey, and I'm not talkin' in a gay way."
"What?"
"I mean, the last time I saw you that beam of light was like a weapon of your personal mass destruction, and now its not." Faith walked over and put her hand to his neck. "Holy shit, you have a pulse."
"Why? Should I not have a pulse? Am I dead?"
"You were, now I'm not sure what you are. I mean you look like Spike, and sound like him but he wasn't like this."
The lighter fell out of Faith's jacket pocket. William bent over to pick it up. When he closed his hand on the lighter a jolt went through him. His hands went to his head as a defense against the agonizing pain. Women in high buttoned collars, horse drawn carriages, smoky jazz clubs, delapidated factories, hippies, punk rock shows, subways and cars. Faces, women, men, terribly disfigured men and women, people with ridges on their foreheads, the girl who had been in the room, a red head, and finally her, the green eyed blonde. As the images passed through him he heard voices, "Miss Edith has been naughty!" "Shut up roller boy." "Our Spikey's killed himself a slayer!" "They'll be no 'having' of any kind with me!" "She really is just kind of fickle." "You think we're dancing?" "William the Bloody with a chip in his head, I kinda love this town." "You're beneath me." "I think I was in heaven." "Spike, I'm only doing this because I'm drunk, and you smell really good." "Spike, I love you." He yelled out "BLOODY HELL!" then everything went black, he passed out.
Faith picked the lighter up off the floor and ran out of the room. She didn't know what had just happened, but she needed to find someone who could sort this out. Something here just wasn't right.