CHAPTER 26 - CHICAGO BOUND

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

"Help me," Spike said.

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

Just then the phone rang.

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

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

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

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

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

"Buffy? Are you there?"

"Uh-huh," she whispered.

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

"Chicago?"

"Yes, most definitely, yes!"

"Willow," Buffy said.

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

"I'm scared."

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

"What do you think he’ll be like?"

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

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

"I know. You will!" Willow said.

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

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

After about 20 rings, he picked up.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

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

"He is? He's alive?"

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

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

"Start now!" Buffy said.

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

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

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

"I'm going to Chicago!"

END CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27 - ARRANGEMENTS

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

She then called Dawn.

"Hello?" Dawn said.

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

"Oh my God!" Dawn said.

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

"You know where he is?" Dawn asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Buffy called Dawn back in a few minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

"You'd better!" Dawn said.

"I will," Buffy promised.

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Spike,

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

And yet here I am coming to you with my heart in my hands.

You're alive! You're alive! You're alive!

And you're human!

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

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

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

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

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

Love Always,

Buffy

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

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

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

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

END CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28 -THE WINDY CITY

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

"Where is he?" the ambulance crew asked.

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

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

"Looks like shit," said the second.

The heavyset, detective was interviewing the guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well search it!" the detective ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your name?" he asked.

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

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

How strange these people talked!

"William Worthington," he said again.

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

"Three," the man said quietly.

"And what year is it?"

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

Ed said to Roger, "He say eighty?"

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

"Still say he said eighty," Ed grumbled.

The man woke up again.

"Know who the president is?" Ed asked.

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

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

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

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

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

The paramedics nodded to each other.

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

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

"Where do you live?" they asked him.

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

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

"London," he answered.

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

"The Daleys!" Ed chimed in, laughing.

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

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

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

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

END CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29 - CITY OF BIG SHOULDERS

June 5, 2008

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

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

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

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

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

"You did? How?"

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

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

"Consider yourself reminded!" Dawn replied.

"Rent or cab?"

"Cab!" they both said together.

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

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

"Got money?"

Buffy just looked at her.

"Credit card?" Buffy asked sheepishly.

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

Buffy looked at her questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

Buffy went over to her luggage and opened it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We’ll be right down," Buffy said.

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

"Okay," Buffy said, hanging up.

"Let’s go," she said to Dawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Five years," Buffy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Buffy and Dawn both said.

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

"Damn!" Buffy said.

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

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

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

"Oh," Buffy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buffy paged Bernie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where do we look?" Dawn asked.

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

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

Buffy nodded.

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

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

"Did you tell her the guard shot him?"

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

END CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30 - WELCOMING THE BLACKNESS OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS

May 20, 2008 - 4:00am

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

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

"Ready?" asked Ed.

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

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

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

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

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

The man briefly opened his eyes at hearing his name.

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"NO!"

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

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

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

"Where?"

"The Field Museum, where they found you."

"I don’t know," he answered.

Field Museum?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

"What about your brother?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Phone?" William asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? Say what?" he asked frightened.

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

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

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

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

END CHAPTER 30

CONT. CH. 31 - 35

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