John made a feeble attempt at pacing the tiny office floor. His agitation was so great that if he didn’t keep moving, he knew he’d end up smashing things.

“So we’re blood relatives?” he said, finally looking at Angel, who nodded, but would not elaborate, just like the last two times he’d brought the family thing up. “And, we worked together to keep the city of Los Angeles safe for a year before the riots?”

Another infuriating nod from Angel.

“We did a bang up job of that, didn’t we?” John said humorlessly. “Whole sodding city went to hell. Two years have passed and people are just starting to move back in.”

“You did all that you could, Spike.” Angel frowned, rubbing his eyes.

John whipped his head about to glare at Angel. “Spike? It’s just so strange. I can’t remember…” He looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a couple of flashbacks. They last a few seconds and then they’re gone. But in one, you had long hair and you were wearing this…costume. A white poufy shirt.”

Angel suddenly got to his feet. “Um, see there’s more to your story—”

“The other flashback…” John said, running a hand through his hair. “No wonder the girl was babbling on about vampires. I must have told Buffy’s sister a lot of tall tales when she was young. I must have been a damn good liar.”

Angel let out a small laugh and John glared at him. “What?”

“It’s just that of all the things you ever were, a good liar wasn’t one of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John ground out.

“See, the thing is, Dawn was telling you the truth.” John just stared at him blankly, so Angel plowed ahead. “You were a vampire.”

“Bollocks! What kind of racket are you trying to pull, messing with an amnesiac’s head like that?”

They both faced the office door when they heard noise in the lobby. John got to the door first, but Angel wasn’t far behind. Dawn was in the lobby laughing with two other girls. One a skinny redhead with a bob cut, the other a dark skinned girl with long tight braids.

Dawn’s eyes lit up, but before she could speak, the redhead jumped and squeaked. “Spike! It is you.” The lobby went silent as the girl timidly came forward with a hand out. “I want to shake your hand.”

Confused and wary, he obliged her and looked down in awe at the strength the tiny hand possessed. “I’m so glad to know you made it. Thank you for saving the world. You were the first vampire I ever met and the best damn one I’ve ever known.”

“Vampire?” he said when he found his voice.

Angel stepped in. “He doesn’t know. He has amnesia.”

“What the hell?” Dawn said. She got right in front of him, looking him over. “Amnesia? A vampire with amnesia?”

“He’s human now,” Angel said.

John turned to him, incredulous. “Now? You people are insane. There is no such thing as vampires! What the hell do you take me—”

Fed up, Angel morphed into his demon and bared his fangs. John stumbled back, tripping on the lobby couch and landing hard on the floor. Dawn reached for him, but he smacked her hand away.

Dawn was staring at Angel in shock. “The Shanshu?”

With face still contorted and eyes still yellow, Angel said, “Yes. The prophecy was fulfilled.”

---

John woke up to a room filled with the sun’s rays. He sat up and brushed out his wrinkled clothes. The longest night in his life. The craziest.

Once everyone had calmed down, Angel had invited them all up to his room. Sharelle, John later found out, he’d never met before. But she stayed in the room all night, listening to a vampire’s tale with the same rapt attention as John. He glanced over at his laptop case resting on the dresser, relieved to see it still there. He’d gotten it out of his car when they’d first begun and he’d used his notes tape recorder to record their memories. Memories of him that he didn’t know if he’d ever get back.

This was the stuff of books and movies. The kind of stuff he couldn’t have made up if he’d tried. He’d been a vampire, turned in the 1800s. No wonder Angel hadn’t wanted to elaborate on their family tie. The man was sort of like a grandfather, though Angel’s jaw had clenched when John had said as much.

Spike had been evil. William the Bloody. The twisted, convoluted tale that turned him into a white hat was still not lined up in his mind and he had a strong feeling that some things had been left out of the telling.

And Buffy.

John leaned back, resting his head on the pillow again. He’d wanted to kill her? Had killed many people before her and two just like her. Slayers. Like Vi and Sharelle. But he’d ended up in love with Buffy. Dawn insisted it was love; Angel argued that it was just a criminal obsession.

He could only guess that it had been love. He loved her now, even though she’d lied to him.

Quickly sitting up and then standing, he busied himself, slipping his shoes on and gathering his keys and laptop bag. He couldn’t think about her. Not now. Not when she had known, had the pieces to his puzzle and could have put them all in order, but she had refused to do so. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he couldn’t stay in the hotel any longer. If he was going to clear his head and let this all sink in, he needed to be alone. He did one more check of the room and went into the hall.

“There you are,” Dawn said, cheerfully. “I still can’t get over the new look.”

Last night, Dawn had told him how at fifteen, she’d developed a big crush on what she described as a bad-ass vampire with platinum blond hair and leather. It was a little weird to know this woman had once had a crush on him, or that he’d had such a different style back then.

“This is my business meeting outfit. I’m usually in shorts and a t-shirt.”

Dawn still stared at him curiously. “And the tan. It looks really good on you.”

“Er, thanks…I guess.”

“Where are the glasses?” She smiled and waved at her own face.

“Don’t wear them all the time.”

“Does Buffy like them?”

Perhaps Dawn thought she was being clever and not obvious, but he wasn’t ready to talk to or about Buffy.

“Don’t know, really. She’s never said either way.”

He headed for the stairs to the lobby and Dawn walked with him.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell you about your past. I mean, I get that she might have wanted you to have a normal life, but why try to meet you if that was the case?” Dawn stopped him before he could go down the stairs. “I haven’t talked to Buffy yet, but sometimes she does things that she thinks are right, because she talks herself into thinking that what’s best for her is right. It’s a flaw, but Buffy is a good person.”

Deciphering Dawn’s hot and cold thoughts on her big sister was too much of a brain stretch after staying up all night and then not having any coffee in his system. He just nodded and stepped around her. She offered to make him breakfast, but he politely declined and only breathed a sigh of relief when he was in his car with the engine running.

Making his way out of the run-down city, he went through a drive thru to get breakfast and pulled into a parking space. While he drank his coffee, he turned on his phone, his heart pounding, knowing that Buffy would have tried to call. After the sixth voicemail from Dirk, John couldn’t help but smile. The smile quickly faded when he heard Buffy’s concerned voice.

“John? I’m worried about you. Please call me when you get this message, so I know that you’re okay. Not knowing is the worst.”

He pushed the number seven on the phone keypad to delete the message. Not knowing. Exactly. She’d known a lot of things, but she’d kept him in the dark. He’d loved her once and according to Dawn, he’d hopelessly chased after her. He’d fallen in love with her again, and while he knew that what he felt was real and that she was feeling it too, he couldn’t get past the lies.

Another voice came through for another recorded message.

“Hey, John. Yes, I have dollar signs in my eyes, but don’t judge me for it. Your success is my success and you’re riding quite a wave right now. When I told my wife that she could get the Mercedes, she was so happy she wanted me to invite you for dinner. Call me so we can set up a day.”

Here was someone he could count on. Gage never pretended to be anything but interested in his talent. They’d become friends in a professional sort of way, and sometimes, having someone tell him what to do next was the safest thing in the world. He hit speed dial two and waited for Gage to pick up.

The conversation was over quickly. Gage’s answer to hearing that John was having a hard time had been ‘say no more’. John’s heart still pounded in his chest as he took the elevator to his apartment. Would Buffy be camped out there? Would Dirk have let her in to wait on the couch? But he was worried for nothing. Dirk’s bedroom door was closed, which meant he was taking his normal daytime nap before he got ready for work.

John was quiet as he slipped into his own room and piled things haphazardly into his battered suitcase. On a whim, he grabbed the black leather coat that hung there in the garment bag, pushed by other clothes against the wall of the closet. There was no reason to worry Dirk, so he stopped in the kitchen and wrote his friend a quick note.

Dirk,

Sorry I was so crazed yesterday. I’m going on a little vacation. Will be back soon. Taking my board and not much else. Try to keep the place clean. Please. I’ll call you.

John

---

Apocalypses, big bads out to kill her, they had nothing on a boyfriend who just disappeared without warning. The scenarios for why he may have done it seemed to float around in her mind. None of them good. And suddenly, Buffy’s little vacation was no longer so pleasant. She was in love, and like every time she’d fallen in love, the rug had been pulled out from under her.

Where the hell is he?

She’d done something. What? She had no idea. John could have gotten his memories back. She stood up and paced her living room. If that had happened, would he hate her for not telling him who he was? She couldn’t imagine that. Spike had loved her unconditionally. John, without any memory of being Spike, had fallen in love with her.

She was going to go stir-crazy sitting around her apartment, but what if he called when she was out? What else did she have to do?

The phone rang and she jumped to answer it. Breathlessly, she said, “Hello? John?”

“Sorry, but no. It’s Dirk. I woke up and found a note on the table. John was here, but he’s gone again.”

“Oh, God. What did the note say?” Dread seeped into her bones. He’d been and gone and he didn’t try to call her or come by the apartment.

“Not much. Says he’s going on vacation but will be back soon. He took his board and some clothes. Says he’ll call me soon.” Dirk paused and then asked, “I guess he didn’t come to see you?”

“No.”

“It’s a little funny that he goes missing and Misty breaks it off with me. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I don’t either, but if he calls you will you tell him that I’m desperate to hear from him?” Buffy tried to keep her voice even. Whatever was going on between Misty and Dirk, she knew that John had not run off with the redhead. “Let him know that I love him.”

“Sure. Will do. I’ve got to be at Stranded in ten minutes, so I gotta let you go.”

Buffy hung up, feeling as if she’d been hit by a truck. Before she could sit down the phone rang again.

“John?”

“I can’t believe you lied to him.”

“Dawn?”

After speaking with Dawn, Buffy didn’t know if she should crawl into bed and stay there for weeks or go rushing off to find John. He knew. He’d been to see Angel and between the two of them, Dawn and Angel had filled him in on who he had been. Dawn thought he was fairly calm about it, but the fact that he left and hadn’t tried to get her side of the story spoke volumes.

He hated her.

Buffy mourned the loss of John’s innocence. The knowledge of another world existing had been the end of her oblivious life many years ago and so many times she’d longed to be a pre-teen again with only clothes and boys to worry about. She wanted to be angry at Dawn for taking that away from him, but she knew that it wasn’t her fault.

There was nothing she could do right then. As she prepared for bed, she wondered where John was. Was he thinking about her? By the time her head hit the pillow, Buffy was determined to take action the next day. She’d stood by and watched Angel walk out of her life, she hadn’t really cared enough to try to keep Riley in town, and worst of all, she’d stood by while the one who loved her more than anyone ever had burned up saving the world.

These last few weeks, she’d had a taste of what a second chance was like and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him slip away from her again. John—Spike--he was worth fighting for. Buffy allowed herself the liberty of smiling grimly as she turned the light off. Fighting was one thing she was good at.