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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm totally for the Spuffy - but there will be, or at least hints, of Buffy/Other and Spike/Other.
Also... All characters from the show belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox Studios. But all original characters, such as Kara belongs to me.
Epilogue: Who Am I?

It hit his skin like tiny shards of glass. Thousands and thousands of needles sticking at his exposed flesh.

Cold. I feel so cold...

It was a strange feeling and the man couldn’t quite remember if he’d ever felt anything like it before.

But that must be impossible - right?

I will always be cold...

Bowing his aching head he let the cold water pore down his shivering body.

He felt so dirty and he couldn’t remember why.

I can't remember anything real...

The water, although colder than he would like it to be, helped a little to ease his pain.

Why does it hurt so much?

A trembling hand reached up to the man’s face and felt features that was, somehow, unknown to him.

I don't know my own face. I don't know anything...

How was it that he couldn’t remember how his face looked like?

Gotta remember how I look like... Right?

On trembling legs the man walked over to the mirror, curious to see a face he couldn't quite remember.

Who will I find looking back?"

The reflection in the steamy mirror looked back at the man, revealing a young face of a man in his mid twenties(?), with noticeable cheekbones, a light tan and piercing blue eyes. His hair was brown with sun bleached ends and slightly curly.

Is that me?

Hands moved over a lean and muscular body, skin without any flaws.

I don't recognize this body... Is it really me? Is it melooking back?

How come he didn’t have any scars?

Everyone had scars - right? From their childhood games and possible from the life as a grownup.

It was a harsh world after all. But he didn’t have any scars. Nor birthmarks or any other displeasing features.

I can't remember how I feel like. There's a hole somewhere and I can't fill it.

It was almost as if he was clean plate; molded just recently and never been used before this moment.

The man bows his head and closes his eyes.

Who am I?




Part One: Who I Am.

Dirty. It feels so dirty. I’m dirty.

A monster.

Scratching to reach the surface. Screaming, bleeding and crying.

Oh God. Oh God. What's happening...?

All darkness.

It aches. O God, it aches so much.

I belong here...

Panting and struggling.

Dirt everywhere. On me. Under me. Inside of me. I’m dirty.

I'm a bad, bad man.

Fingers bleeding. Nails cracks. Soft soil finding its way everywhere. In my nose, in my ears and in my moth.

Can't breath!!

So cold. So dark. So completely dirty.

Something indefinablethat squeaks when knuckles rips through and reaches the surface.

Help!!

The air is so cold.

Trying to focus on something. Anything...

What’s that? A headstone? A inscription? What does it say?

Here lies William Raven. 1981-2004. A beloved son and brother. A devoted friend. He will always be in our hearts.

Who is William Raven?


He wakes up screaming, literally bathing in sweat and panting as if he’d been running for miles and miles.

A dream. Just a dream...

That dream… he had it so often now that he almost forgot how real it felt.

Who was William Raven?

He looks down at the soaked sheets and saw the initals in the corner; W.R

Oh… That’s right…

He was supposed to be William Raven.

Hold on.

If he was William... who’s grave had he been dreaming about?

And was it just a dream?

It felt so real, so vivid to him that he was sure that he had actually dug himself his way up of that dark tomb.

But that had to be impossible. He wasn’t dead. He was in fact very much alive.

Right?

A trembling hand placed itself over his heart just to be sure.

Yes, there it was - a steady and regular heartbeat. Nothing wrong there.

The man, William, rose from the bed and walked naked over the floor to the window to look out over the city down below.

L.A at night was quite magnificent to watch.

Even tough the latest earthquake had taken its toll on it.

Funny, but he didn’t remember an earthquake.

Maybe it had occurred during the time that he’d somehow lost track off?

Silently cursing the lack of some parts of his memory, William returned to the bed to get dressed.

Fully clothed he went over to stand in front of the full figured mirror, a place where he strangely seemed to spend a lot of time, and looked at the man before him.

See; there you are. Nothing wrong with you today either.

Just ordinary William.

William Raven - that’s you. And you can’t be wigging out just because you have spaces in your memory that’s blank.

They are not important. Remembering who you are is important.

So let’s go over it again, shall we? Just to be sure?

You’re William Raven. You’re 26 years old and live in L.A.

You work as an undercover reporter at a large magazine and you have a cat named Whiskers.

Your parents’ names are Roger and Mary Raven and your sister’s name is Penny.

That’s it. You’re William Raven.

William tore his eyes away from his reflection, walked over to the nightstand and casually picked up his keys before heading for the door.

He left his apartment on the top floor and took the elevator down to the garage.

His newly purchased BMW looked mighty sharp in the dim lights and a quick smile crossed over his lips before he settled down in its seat and turned the ignition on.

With a impressive roar the car left the lot and made its way out on the busy lane.


Tbc...





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