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Chapter Five


The next day Giles and Andrew were out early, looking for clues. They first went to the site of Wolfram & Hart’s offices. Three months on from its spectacular collapse and the area was partially cleared, but the scene still brought them to a standstill.

Both men were thinking the same thing - no way could anyone caught up in that have survived. They decided to split up. Giles was going to meet the Orolon demon, whom Lorne had recommended, and Andrew, who still couldn’t help staring at demons when he met them, was to check out the lists of unclaimed/unidentified bodies. This would enable Giles to talk to the demon without worrying it would eat Andrew for being so rude.

Giles met the Orolon demon in a sewer four blocks from the former offices of Wolfram & Hart. The sewer was essential, not because the demon couldn’t tolerate sunlight, but more because having four legs and three arms usually drew unwanted attention for these shy creatures. Shy, that is, until someone would comment on their strange appearance and then before you could say ‘God, look at the size of its mouth,’ the demon would have eaten your head!

Fortunately its large mouth was also capable of speaking English.

“Good morning,” said Giles in his most polite voice, desperately trying to ignore the fact that in addition to its multiple limbs it was the most nauseating shade of yellow he’d ever seen.

“Good morning. What can I do for you?” replied the demon.

“Well, I’m looking for some friends. They’ve been missing since the night Wolfram & Hart fell. I wondered if you’d heard of anyone needing help? A vampire called Angel, another called Spike, two humans - Charles Gunn and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, and an ancient god, Illyria”

“The general consensus in LA is that they all perished,” said the Orolon.

Giles had to fight the urge not to stand with his mouth open at hearing such dulcet tones come from such a beastly mouth. This guy would make a killing doing voice overs, he thought. Thank God Andrew isn’t here. He’d have been eaten for sure.

“How do you know? Is there any proof?” he asked.

“A few Wolfram & Hart workers managed to get out but not before they’d seen a whole army of beasts from all manner of dimensions surging towards the alley where Angel, Spike, Gunn and Illyria were waiting. Wyndham-Price died at the hands of an old warlock just before the battle.”

Poor Wesley, thought Giles. Although they hadn’t often seen eye to eye, he had respect for the work Wesley had done.

“A fire raged at the building for two days,” continued the demon, “No bodies were found. They’d have been reduced to ash whether a vampire or not. Local seers and healers tried to seek out any possible survivors but all came back with negative results. No vampires in need of help. The others were confirmed dead. Angel was well respected here and we’re all sad to know he died whilst doing such good.”

Giles winced at the last sentence. Proof, if he’d needed it, that he’d been utterly wrong to doubt Angel.

“Spike?” he queried.

“Nothing came back but again with all the magics they used to locate the two vampires, there is no possibility he survived.”

“Thank you,” said Giles, his heart heavy.

The Orolon nodded and retreated further into the sewer.

“Well, I came for proof but proof of life was what I was hoping for,” he thought as he headed back to the hotel.

oooooooo

Andrew was already waiting for him in the lobby of the hotel. One look at Giles’ face told him all he needed to know. His face crumpled as tears began to pour down his cheeks.

Giles walked swiftly over to the younger man and gave him a brief hug.

“I’ll tell you all I know,” he said “but I bloody well need a drink and not here. There’s a bar across the street. Come on Andrew, do try to pull yourself together, it’s not like it was unexpected.

Andrew nodded, sniffed a few times and wiped his face with his hands.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, his voice sounding anything but okay.

They walked down the street to the bar. As it was early it was mostly empty, so they had no trouble finding a seat in a booth near the bar. Once the waitress had brought their drinks, Giles asked Andrew what he’d found out.

“I learned that Wesley had died in an old house about a mile away from Wolfram and Hart, a massive stab wound the cause of death. He was buried in an unnamed grave as no I.D.. was found. But they’d taken a photo and I identified him from that. I’ve ordered a headstone for his grave. I put it on the Council’s expenses - I thought they owed him that much.”

“Well done, Andrew. That must have been hard for you,” soothed Giles, knowing that Andrew was still haunted by the fact that the First had convinced him to kill his best friend Jonathan by stabbing him.

Andrew took a gulp of his whiskey and pulled a face as it seared his throat. Giles told him all he’d learned from the Orolon.

“So we’ve got our answers. Mission accomplished, I suppose,” said Giles.

Both men stared down at their drinks, lost in their own thoughts. They didn’t notice the two nurses Nick and Adam walk in. They went to the bar and perched on a couple of stools, nibbling at the snacks and talking about the day at work.

Their words drifted over to Giles and Andrew as they sat quietly nearby.

“God, I think he’s getting worse by the hour, not the day,” said Nick, “even on half his meds he’s still totally out of it.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Adam shifted in his seat to reach his drink. “Still, one thing that not changed is the freak still avoids the sun like it’s gonna hurt him.”

Andrew looked up at these words not sure he’d heard right.

“Least he’s quieter these days,” replied Nick, “all that talk about being a bad man and not wanting to die again used to give me the creeps.”

Andrew stood up suddenly, knocking the table and spilling his drink.

“Andrew! What are you doing?” exclaimed Giles, frantically trying to mop up the spilled liquid.

“It’s Spike!” he said, “I know it’s Spike, it has to be!”

Now it was the nurses’ turn to look astonished.

“What did you say?” asked Nick, having noticed Giles’ English accent.

“Sorry, nothing at all,” apologised Giles, embarrassed by Andrew’s behaviour.

“Not you. Him,” said Nick, pointing at Andrew. “Did you just say Spike?”

Andrew nodded.

“Say,” said Adam, just realising what Nick was getting at, “You’re not looking for someone are you? English like you?” he added, looking at Giles.

“Well, as a matter of fact we are. He’s ….erm…..he’s ….my son,” said Giles, realising that the only way to get answers from a hospital was to be a relation.

“He’s my brother!” shouted Andrew, his American accent not lost on the two men.

“Andrew, settle down,” ordered Giles “He lives over here with his mother. Spike’s well …he’s from my first marriage.” Giles stopped abruptly realising he was explaining too much. “Please, what do you know of Spike? Is he alright? Where is he?”

Adam and Nick looked at each other, neither wanting to tell them the state Spike was in. Was he even the person they were looking for? But then again, how many Englishmen called Spike do you come across?

“I think we’d better take you over to the hospital,” said Nick, getting off his bar stool. “I’d appreciate it if you told them you asked us about a patient rather than that you overheard us talking,” he said, mindful of the trouble they might get into.

“Yes, of course, no problem. Now if you could please show us the way,” said Giles, his mind racing. A vampire in a hospital? How could that be? The lack of a heart beat might be a bit of a giveaway. Surely it can’t be Spike.

He looked across at Andrew whose face had lit up at the thought he might get to see Spike again. Andrew had been the only one of the gang that had seen Spike since the Hellmouth closed, and he sort of hero-worshipped the guy. Giles was concerned for his young friend should it not be Spike





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