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Disclaimer: I don not own any of the BtVS characters, etc. They are rightful ownership of Joss, WB, etc.
Buffy slammed into the hard stone wall of the mausoleum with a force so great she felt her breath leave her lungs with a whoosh. Pain erupted between her shoulder blades as red splotches blossomed before her eyes. She gritted her teeth and turned her head to discover she had missed the sharp edge by a mere two inches. She wanted to take the opportunity to thank what ever god that was in charge of those two inches. She never got the chance how ever; her praise was interrupted by a vampire advancing on her left side.
Parker grinned at her from his position on a gravestone ten yards in front of Buffy. His smile, though, held no mirth. Shivers raced down her spine like cold fingers at the look in his eyes. Parker, without taking his hypnotic green eyes off hers, he held up a hand to the vampire signaling him to pull back from his attack.
Seizing the opportunity, Buffy scrambled to her feet ignoring her protesting muscles. Her quick blue eyes darted between her two opponents, assessing the situation. To her diagonal left stood a vampire flunkey looking hungrily at her throat. His hunger was already making his actions slow. He would not be a problem.
Her other opponent, on the other hand, was Parker Anderson. The Parker Anderson. The same assassin that was responsible for the slayer previous to herself. Damn, she'd hoped not to have any run-ins with this guy. However she was anxious to avenge her predecessor's death.
Her lungs began to burn and she realized she still wasn't breathing. Focusing all her energy, like Willow had taught her, she brought power to her lungs. Gently forcing them to work. Her first breath was like a cool summer breeze. Pushing aside the ache in her lungs she coughed up the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Why?"
He laughed. A silvery light laugh, like water running over rock. "Because the money is good." At Buffy's scornful glare he stopped laughing but his eyes still shone in amusement. "Come on slayer, what do you want me to say? That I kill because it is necessary to my survival? I guess you could say that's true. But for the most part it's not." He shifted the rifle's weight that rested in his lap. "I kill for the fun of it. For the pure joy of taking a life."
Buffy would have like to say she saw remorse in his eyes, even a faint glimmer of guilt hiding beneath his pine colored eyes. But whatever it was she saw it was gone before she could define it. Hidden behind a mask. She sneered at him. He was evil, pure and simple. But the worst part was, he was a human. Same as her. And anything she had in common with creatures such as the one before her she would love to be with out.
"Well as much as I like this quaint chit chat with you slayer, it's time for you to die." His evil grinned returned as he raised the rifle off his lap. "Now, now there's no use trying to argue your way out of it." He held up his hand and bent his head as if trying to keep her from dissuading him. "Besides a second notch of a slayer would look good on my belt."
Buffy felt the anger rise in her from the pit of her stomach and flow to her hear and into her veins, finally flooding into her brain. She felt hot, burning up in fact. She could even feel a trickle of sweat roll between her shoulders.
Parker raised the gun to his eye and cocked the barrel. Buffy looked around, she saw little to none chances of escape. To her right the vampire blocked the more heavily guarded area of the cemetery, and to her left was all low stones, left her too open for any hopes to get away.
Quickly, so not to be noticed by Parker she glanced up. A solid looking branch stretched out above her just within her reach if she jumped high enough. Carefully she watched the assassin take aim and pull back the hammer.
She slightly bent her knees. When she saw his trigger finger jerk she jumped.
She missed the branch. In fact she was blown back away from it. She laid on her back a few yards away from where she had stood. Her arm felt as if it had been ripped to shreds.
Whimpering she turned her head to look at it. Blood poured from the wound. She reached with her good hand and wiped away a pool of blood. A gaping, ragged hole had been torn into her upper right arm.
A leaf crackled near her ear, she twisted her head back and saw Parker. Damn, he must have seen her about to jump and switched the aim of the gun. He grinned down at her now. "Well, well now. Such a predicament you've gotten yourself into." He shook his head at her almost in a chiding manner. He slung the rifle into a pack he had on his back and reached into his jacket and pulled out a blob of shiny silver.
It took a moment for Buffy's eyes to focus on it. The pain was causing her to lose consciousness, she fought against it. It was a brand new colt 45.
"Sorry baby. But it ends here." Parker pointed the gun straight for Buffy's forehead. She closed her eyes and gulped. Fear closed around her heart like a tight iron band. She heard the click of the hammer being pulled back and bit back the tears that threatened. She always knew that her slaying would someday get her killed. She had just hoped it wouldn't have been this soon.
She heard a whisper of cloth and knew he was shifting his arm to aim. She knew she had no hope, no chance left for life, but she wished, oh how she wished to make things between her and her life right. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut she waited for the flash of pain and then the immense nothingness that would come after.
It was by pure accident Angel had met Xander and Willow in the graveyard while looking for Buffy. I had been to their agreement, though grudgingly by both Xander and Angel, that they should stick together till they found her. Willow had nearly jumped into Angel's arms when the rifle had gone off. When the roar had faded she found herself gripping tightly on his upper arm with Xander looking on, disapproval and jealousy plain in his eyes.
She grinned, embarrassed, before reason took over and she ran toward the source of the gunshot. She stopped a few yards before the clearing when she saw Buffy lying on the grass, blood staining the green blades around her. Willow covered her mouth to keep the "Oh God" from emerging from her lips. Ducking her head, she hid her eyes from the sight.
By that time Angel and Xander had caught up to her. In turn they saw the gruesome sight that lay before them. Buffy on the ground her arm twisted into an impossible angle and covered in blood. Standing over her was a dark haired man with a pistol aimed straight for Buffy's head.
Angel didn't even have time to think, or to even notice the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. He bolted out of the protection of the trees and rammed into Parker.
Parker-jerked when he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of the eye. At the moment of impact Parker's trigger finger pulled releasing the bullet that waited in the chamber.
Willow screamed at the sound of gunshot. Xander jumped out from behind the bushes and ran for the vampire that stood at the other end of the clearing. He lunged and caught the vampire across the middle; they both fell to the ground.
The moment Parker had recovered from the fall he scrambled from under Angel and ran for the woods, his friend on his heels.
Willow sobbed, she had rushed over to Buffy and was kneeling by her friend's prone body. Angel and Xander ran over to stand above them.
"She's..." Willows voice broke.
"No she can't be..." Xander fell to his knees beside her. His mind not believing his eyes.
A grim faced Angel leaned down and gently picked Buffy up, mindful of her serious wounds. "We have to take her to the hospital, now." They agreed and walked quickly but carefully to Sunny Medical Center.
"Yeah she's fine, Giles. No, I haven't called her mom yet. I'll do that next. I just thought--" Xander leaned heavily against the wall next to the reception desk, grateful for the support. "Yeah take your time, though. She should be in there for a while. All right. Sure. Bye."
He placed the receiver into the cradle and walked back over to where Willow and Angel sat in chairs. Their faces ashen and tearstained. He collapsed into the empty chair besides Willow. "Has the doctor said anything else?" he whispered.
The waiting room was small in comparison to the hospital reception area. Meant to be cozy it held a few limp couches and a wooden rocking chair in the corner. The lights had been dimmed to promote privacy. Shadows from the small lamps loomed on the pink wallpapered walls. An old black and white TV sat on the otherwise empty entertainment center; the volume turned all the way down. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation Xander thought he might watch something on the television.
"Nothing we don't already know. She's in surgery right now, she'll probably be in a coma afterwards." Willow stared straightforward; her eyes were red with dark smudges underneath. "Oh and they wanted to talk to her mother."
"Oh Jeez, I forgot to call her." He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, knowing. "I…I don't think I can do it."
Willow patted his knee, as if he were a child that needed pacifying. "It's okay Xander. I'll do it." She walked away leaving Xander alone with his thoughts...and Angel.
"You know, you could find a way that this is my fault." Angel didn't look at him. He spoke facing forward, staring at the floor.
Xander felt grief tugging at him. "I know. I could spend hours and hours explaining in minute detail just how everything wrong in my life is you fault." He paused, seemingly fascinated with the pattern of the ceiling. "But I won't." Angel looked up in surprise. "It would be a waste of precious time that we both could spend on worrying about Buffy.
Willow returned at that moment bearing two cokes in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She glanced helplessly at Angel; "I wasn't sure what you wanted."
"This is fine." He murmured his thanks and accepted the cup. Xander took his coke and Willow sat down in her chair. The three lapsed into silence, staring at items in the waiting room with disinterest. None of them made any move to drink their beverages.
A sorry picture they must have made, eyes bloodshot and tired hunched over in the stiff hospital chairs. One could tell just by looking at them that their thoughts rested on their friend and their friend alone. Buffy smiling. Buffy excited. Buffy scowling. Buffy confused. Buffy slaying her first vampire of the night. Buffy's big blue eyes filling with tears.
They knew death on the job was possible. Inevitable even for the best slayer. But she didn't deserve it. For all the good she's done for this world, she didn't deserve it.
"Why did it have to happen to her?!" Angel had been steadily loosing his grip on control; he bolted up from his chair and his coffee slammed against the far wall. Brown liquid cascaded down the dingy pink wallpaper in rivulets.
Automatically Willow reached for the tissues that sat on a edge table. Kneeling she began to wipe up the mess. "Leave it!!" Angel stood in the center of the room, the last of his energy leaving him. He fell to his knees on the floor.
Without hesitation Willow left the mess and was at Angel's side. He covered his face with his not caring that he looked like a cowered. He felt an arm encircle his shoulders and a head rest lightly on his biceps. God, a hand even briefly squeezed his shoulder. Xander. He was being comforted from all sides. He hadn't realized he had friends as good as these.
He could feel Willows own control began to break. Her tiny body broke into sobs, ragged sobs that shook her whole frame. Without disturbing the closeness he was feeling Angel slipped his arm around her, comforting her. Slowly her crying softened, then stopped altogether. It was her that broke the contact between the three of them. She stood wiping deftly at her cheeks, grinning, embarrassed with her display.
They all slowly began to straighten themselves. Willow had gone back to cleaning up the coffee mess when Giles rushed in.
"Giles!" Willow jumped up, her task yet again forgotten. She rushed over and wrapped her arms around him. Grateful for the warmth of a father figure.
"How is she? Is she....?" He could bring himself to finish the sentence. It was at that moment that the doctor came into the room.
The four of them rushed at the doctor all asking questions. The doctor, Willow glanced at the nametag, Jenkins, held up his hands in mock retreat. "Please, if you'd all be calm and sit down we can discuss Buffy Summers." His voice was gentle, but firm, and comforting. With little resistance the group sat down.
Doctor Jenkins was a late middle aged man, slightly ring of weight around his waist, probably from sitting behind a desk for several years. His hair was as white as snow and had receded from his forehead. He appeared old in body but not in spirit. Though he was slightly hunched over and had hands that seemed to be suffering from arthritis, he looked gentle but happy with life in general. He had kind eyes, and a lively nature that brought the phrase "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." to Willows' mind.
"Now," he began, looking over his chart, seeming very doctorly, stethoscope and all, "is Mr. or Mrs. Summers present?"
"She's on her way." Willow spoke up.
Doctor Jenkins glanced at Giles. "Aren't you the father?" Giles shook his head, his eyes, almost sad. "I'm just a friend of the family."
"Well, then, that does create a problem." The doctor took off his bifocals and let their weight rest on the chain around his neck. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Suddenly appearing very tired. He realized he was still with his patient's friends he quickly replaced his glasses. "I'm sorry, but without the mothers consent I can only give you vague descriptions. He held up his hands in a helpless gesture. "I'm sorry."
"No!" The outburst came from an unexpected quarter, Giles. Must be all the tension from the Watchers Council, some part of Willow noted with odd calmness. Even as she thought it she was moving. She rose slowly and went to comfort the watcher who stood seething at the doctor. Willow could hear him muttering to himself under his breath. "Bloody imbeciles. Bloody American, pathetic imbeciles!"
The doctor did not seem threatened. He simply shook his head lightly, as if he expected this sort of thing to happen. He, to, rose to his feet. "When Mrs. Summers arrives I can give more detail. But all I can say is she's out of surgery but still in ICU. She's been labeled 'critical'." The doctor shrugged, his kind eyes apologetic. "Hospital policy. There's nothing I can do."
Just then, wild eyed and frightened out of her wits, Ms. Summers rushed through the waiting room door. She saw the gang and almost collapsed against the frame of the door in relief. It took her a moment to realize the doctor was in the room as well. "Buffy." She gasped between breaths, "Where is she?" The group looked between the doctor and Joyce with hope in their eyes.
"Ah, you are Mrs. Summers, I presume." Joyce nodded shakily. "May I speak with you out in the hall?" Doctor Jenkins gently cupped her elbow in efforts to guide her out of the room.
Joyce would not have this. She shook her head and planted her feet, determined to stay in the room. "No, tell me here."
Defeated the doctor sighed but released his grip and raised his clipboard. "Mrs. Summers, your daughter suffered from two gunshot wounds. The first, to her upper right arm, was the least serious. We managed to extract the bullet and stop the bleeding." He paused." As for the second wound... You may wish to sit down, Mrs. Summers."
"It's uh Ms. Summers and I'll continue standing, thank you." She was anxious to hear the worst of the doctors news and get it over with. She was unaware of Xander, Angel, Giles and Willow listening to the doctors report.
"I thought as much. As I was saying, the second bullet is far more serious. It entered her right lung causing it to collapse. We spent several hours in reconstructive surgery but we were unable to completely stabilize her breathing. She's been placed on artificial respiration and a heart monitor. On top of all this, Buffy has lapsed into a coma. I'm afraid she won't last till morning. I'm sorry."
The doctor had not even finished his umpteenth apology when pandemonium broke out. Even though her tears Willow saw and noted everyone's reaction with efficiency that would have startled her, should she have been paying attention to it.
Joyce's legs had failed on her, Giles caught her and half-carried, half-dragged her to one of the couches. There they sat sobbing in each others arms.
Xander had fallen back into his chair, his head cradled in his palms, sobs racking through his body. Willow ached to comfort him but something else had caught her attention.
Angel still stood exactly where he had been when Joyce entered the room. His facial expression was still the same as well. If Willow could have looked at him from a different perspective she would have laughed. He still wore the same hopeful expression that seemed to make him look incredible boyish and vulnerable. Instead Willow raised a hand to place it on his arm. Human touch seemed to break if from his reverie. He jerked away from her touch sharply, staring at her as if she were a stranger.
Without speaking he gave her a long look, and then glanced about the room before turning on his heel and walked out of the waiting room. Leaving Willow alone in this sea of grief without a life preserver to hang on to.
Willow clutched the stake close to her heart as she walked through the graveyard. She knew better than to walk in the cemetery without the protection of a slayer or several big burly football players, but she as in a hurry and through the graveyard was the quickest route to Angels mansion.
She didn't want to think about how many different things could get her here. Instead she concentrated on finding Angel and getting him back to the hospital. She wanted him to be there when Buffy, she gulped, woke up.
A twig snapped behind her and leaves rustled in the cool night breeze. Her heart jumped into her throat before plunging into the pit of her stomach. She whirled towards the sound, stake raised, heart pounding, eyes wide with fear.
Two small eyes reflected the light from a nearby lamppost. A faint rumbling sound reached her ears. Oh my god, some vampire's stomach is growling for my blood. She almost laughed at herself. She realized how silly that sounded and crept closer to the bushes. A shadow detached itself from the shade of the bushes and mewed softly. Relief flooded her trembling body.
Pain throbbed in her palm and Willow glanced down. She had been gripping the stake so hard the wood was biting into her skin. She relaxed her grip and kneeled in the soft grass cooing softly to the cat. "Pretty kitty." Reluctantly the cat stepped towards her. After a tentative sniff at her fingertips he rubbed his hand affectionately into her palm, purring loudly. "Oh aren't you a sweet thing?" He purred louder.
"Careful, pet. Even the tamest animals tend to bite." Willow stilled her hand frozen on the cat's back, her spine stiffening. She knew that haughty British accent anywhere. Slowly she straightened. The cat rubbed against her leg, upset that it was being ignored.
Very carefully she turned. He stood maybe ten feet in front of her. He had snuck up on her well. Or maybe he had just appeared out of thin air, it wouldn't have surprised her. Light spilled on to one side of his face while the other hid in the shadows. He stood smirking before her in his usual attire: black jeans that hugged his lean hips, a red satin shirt that looked so soft Willow's fingers ached to touch it, his duster jacket hung straight down to his knees. His white blonde hair shone in the light while it glowed in the shadows. His eyes, much like the cats, reflected the light, making him appear even more mysterious and otherworldly. Willow wondered how his eyes would look with the fire of passion in their depths.
Willow! Cheeks burning, she shook herself mentally. She could not say where that thought had some from but it held an unmistakable ring of truth that made her blush harder. Vaguely she heard a hissing sound at her legs; the cat had noticed Spike. The fur on its back stood on end and it was hissing wildly at the blond vampire. Willow reached down to comfort it, her fingers had barely brushed the tip of his fur when he jumped back and began to hiss at her as well. I know what you were thinking, his actions said.
Willow snatched her hand back, as if burned. The cat gave her one last contemptuous glare before bolting for the safety of the bushes. She watched it go, feeling even more alone and scared. Spikes next comment did little to calm her fears. "See?"
"Go to hell." she spat. Remembering her protection she raised her stake to shoulder level. "And stay there, if it isn't too much of a hassle."
He didn't even blink at the stake, instead his grin widened. He was amused; she saw it in his eyes. "Come on now, love. There's no need to be nasty," he said, lightly chiding.
Willow refused to back down, even when he took his first step towards her. Fear tightened her muscles. Her breath quickened, coming in fast loud gasps. "Stay away from me, Spike." She raised the stake and inch or so higher, a threat of sorts. "I mean it."
But he continued his slow advance; soon Willow could smell his cologne. Strong, heady it made her dizzy and disoriented. Vampires wore cologne?
He took another step forward, she was sure she could reach our and touch his leather jacket without stretching too far. It was all she could do to keep from whimpering.
Unhurriedly, he lifted his hand and she forced herself not to wince. But he didn't touch her; he simply snatched the stake out of her hand and in the same fluid motion he tossed it into the bushes, not taking his gaze away from her. She heard the stake whistle through the air, rustle the leaves of some bushes before landing on the ground with a dull thud. Like a death toll, she thought.
He inched closer. Unwillingly she bent her head, exposing her neck. Bile rose to her mouth but she swallowed it down. Gently he placed both hands on her shoulders, soft pressure that was ever so light. Within seconds she felt a cool breeze dance across the skin on her neck. Vampires didn't need to breathe but it must be a reflex. She shivered.
Closer...closer... She waited until he was a hair away from her. When she felt the time was right she swiftly brought up her left knee and connected with his groin. He released her and doubled over in pain, cursing loudly.
She wasted no time. Free from his grasp and from the mental hold he had over her she ran. Her breath burned in her lungs and a stitch in her side slowed her some. A hundred yards or so into her flight she risked a glance back, nothing behind her. She turned her attention back to the front. She saw him too late. She slammed into his hard chest sending them both flying to the ground.
Somehow he managed to control the fall and flipped them around, thrusting her body below his. She landed on the ground and he landed atop her. Eye to eye, nose to nose, and everything else in similar position, they stared at each other, neither moving. She was lost in his dark eyes. And though her back was pressed firmly against the ground she had a sensation of falling, falling into those bottomless pools.
It took her a moment to realize he wasn't staring back into her eyes, but rather at her lips. The moment she figured this her lips trembled slightly in response. She saw his eyes widen, then narrow, he glanced into her eyes. They smoldered with something Willow couldn't identify. It was both thrilling and scary.
She studied his face and for a heart-stopping moment she thought it was closer. Anxiety pooled in her stomach when she realized it wasn't her imagination that he was getting closer.
Without her command her eyes drifted slowly closed. She even lifted her head off the ground to greet him. I must be going crazy. It was her last thought before she was thrown away.
Neither were quite sure who first kissed who, but they found themselves clinging to each other for dear life. A million and one thoughts ran through Spikes mind, more than once the thought that this was wrong drove it's way into his brain. But what he couldn't figure was how something so wrong could feel so right. With that Spike lost himself in the kiss.
There, out in the middle of the graveyard, in the middle of the night, a white blonde vampire and a scared redhead made out. Willow felt as if she were on fire. Her fingertips to her toes flamed with a desire she never felt before. Oddly, she was peaceful at the same time. She felt a contentment that she had never experienced before. It was nice.
That peacefulness that flowed through Willow and into Spike collapsed and fell as realization took over and shock settled in. With something of a mix between a growl and a groan Spike's lips left hers and he thrust himself away. He scrambled to stand up. His eyes blazed furiously. Only his kiss-bruised lips betrayed what had occurred. "Witch!" he shouted. He took a step backward, and another, and another. "Stay away from me." he whispered fiercely. With that he spun a round and all but ran from her. She watched him till he melted into the shadows and her eyes strained to find him when he wasn't there.
Numb, she slowly stood up. Wrapping her arms around her, suddenly cold, she looked around at her surroundings as if she'd never seen them before. She stepped forward, suddenly remembering why she had come to the graveyard in the first place. Buffy... Cursing herself and her gullibility she hurriedly walked out of the area, anxious to put it and the memories behind her.
An hour later neither Willow or Angel had reappeared. Xander began to worry, biting his nails to keep himself from screaming. Both Giles and Joyce had calmed down a bit and were out visiting the cafeteria. No one was really hungry but he figured it was for lack of anything to do besides cry and it gave them something to do.
His soft rubber soles made no sound on the tile floor of the waiting room as he paced back and forth. On several occasions Xander had made up his mind to go find his best friend. He was torn. Between finding Willow and staying with Buffy. Giving up on the pacing he sank into one of the lumpy non-descriptive couches. Sighing he buried his face in his hands, as tears threatened Xander prayed to God that this would all be over soon.
Deep in her slumber, beyond all the tubes and mechanical blips and lights, underneath the bandages and the hospital gown, far into her unconscious Buffy dreamt. Horrible evil nightmares clouded her mind. The face of every thing she had ever killed haunted before her dream-eyes. It seems as if they all wanted to take their revenge. One vampire stood above the rest and approached her. It was the Master. She stood motionlessly; fear had gripped her in a vise. She watched helplessly as his pale laughing face came closer. His clawed hands grasped her shoulders and his nails dragged into her skin. When he leaned forward and his long canine-like teeth touched her neck Buffy screamed.
She fell into a tiny ball, shivering, crying and screaming all at the same
time. She knew nothing could save her from this hell. Sobbing she knew she
wouldn't make out of here alive.