Chapter 8
“No! No, no!” he roared as he ran. Moving with a preternatural speed beyond that which even a master vampire of his age would normally be capable of; he covered the space separating them in less than a heartbeat. But it was not enough. He caught her to him and watched in horror as the crimson stain spread, her white cotton blouse rapidly darkening as her lifeblood poured out of her.
His mind struggled to make sense of what had just occurred.
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For the last few weeks he had met up with the slayer on a regular basis. They patrolled together at night, took in the sights together on the days she was free from her responsibilities to the New Watcher’s Council; and once a week, he took her out for lunch and assured himself that she ate at least one decent meal a week. Their friendship had bloomed rapidly, not only reaching its previous level, but far surpassing it. With none of the strains that their previous life had placed on their relationship, they were able to relax and enjoy each others company in a way they had never been able to before.
He found himself looking forward to their time together. He enjoyed showing her the remnants of London past, the London he had known as a boy, and then later as a young man. They explored London present together, discovering its secrets and its wonders. They would laugh together, spontaneous and trouble free. There was no doubt they had come a long way from their Sunnyhell days.
This day, they had packed a picnic lunch and headed for Regents Park. Once there, they had taken a walk along the canal in the bright sunshine, taking advantage of the beautiful late-summers' day. They had stopped at the Camden Locks and watched the narrow boats. Buffy had been fascinated by them and when she found out that you could ride on them, she vowed to bring Dawn so they could have a trip on one of the exquisitely beautiful boats. Spike had watched her face light up with joy, her hands clapping together with youthful excitement. He didn’t think he had ever seen her more relaxed or more beautiful.
After a simple picnic in the shade overlooking the canal so that Buffy could watch the boats make their tranquil, unhurried journey along the waterway, they had headed through the park towards their destination- the London Zoo.
That is where things had gotten a little fuzzy in his mind. He recalled hearing a child scream, had seen the men in their balaclava’s pointing guns at the uniformed security guards as they exited their security van near the automatic teller. He had heard Buffy’s sharp intake of breath as one of the armed men swung around in the direction of the terrified child and his mother. From that point on, all he can remember is Buffy leaving his side, the sound of guns firing, a child’s terrified sobbing and the mother's screams. He remembered the scent of blood- Buffy’s blood... Then he was running, catching her up in his arms as he listened to her laboured breathing, her heart struggling in her chest as her life pumped rapidly from her body.
He was vaguely aware of the shouted orders of the security guards telling the armed men to put their hands on their heads, of the sobbing mother and child clinging to each other in terror and relief. He heard-but did not register- the murmurs of onlookers, a whistle blowing and horns honking. He felt water on his face and somewhere in the recesses of his brain. he wondered if it had started to rain.
The shrill scream of the ambulance sirens broke through the veil of confusion and disbelief, bringing his mind plummeting back to the woman in his arms; her blood covering his arms and chest as he rocked her gently while mumbling soft words of encouragement.
The ambulance officers gently removed her from his protective embrace where they went to work on saving her life. EKG leads were attached, pressure dressings applied, multiple IV's started to replace precious fluids, an oxygen mask was settled over her mouth and nose; all these things done in rapid succession and with grim determination. Time was of the essence here, and the ambulance crew were seasoned professionals.
She was breathing, that much he could hear. But what concerned him was the increasing shallowness of each passing breath. Her heart was struggling to keep up with demands the blood loss was putting on her body, and he felt such overwhelming helplessness, it threatened to crush him.
With a coordinated effort, Buffy was efficiently strapped to a backboard and lifted to a waiting gurney, then loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance.
“Are you hurt?” A lengthy pause. “Sir?”
He looked around to see the medic looking at him expectantly.
Spike looked blankly at the young man. “Pardon?’ he mumbled.
“I asked you if you are hurt, Sir? We need to get going, have to get the young lady to hospital. Are you injured in any way?”
“No, no I’m not…s’all her blood. Some bastard shot her..” He watched as doors to the back of the ambulance were slammed shut. “Hang on a bloody minute, I’m coming with you. I’m not leavin’ her, understand?”
Spike was directed to the jump seat at the head of the gurney as the ambulance roared out onto the busy street; sirens blaring and lights flashing. He watched as the younger officer checked Buffy over once more, then began cutting the clothes away that surrounded the wound. In the process, her cell phone was found and quickly turned off.
“Oi, what yer doin’ mate? I coulda used that to phone her sis an’ her friends. Now I’m gonna have to try an find the numbers!” Spike snapped at the man and snatched the phone out of his hands.
“Sorry, the signal interferes with our equipment." He pointed at the ECG machine that was keeping careful record of the heartbeat that Spike could hear with his own ears.
"Would you happen to know if she is allergic to any medication? Or if she is taking any medication?"
The trip to the hospital was spent with the young officer working on Buffy, keeping careful eye on her heart rhythm and giving his radio report to the receiving nurse in a calm, efficient manner.
Upon their arrival in the emergency bay, Buffy was whisked inside and Spike was left to fend for himself. Making his way to the nurses station, he was told to wait and he would be contacted as soon as there was any progress to report. Distractedly, he asked for a directory and took the offered book from the registration clerk. He soon realized he had no idea where to start.
Informing the nurse on duty that he would be just outside the doors, he took Buffy’s phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He turned it on. Yep, just as he had suspected- it wanted a password. Bugger! Ok think….Buffy’s birthday ... He tried that, punching it in forwards and backwards. No good. Dawn’s birthday ... He had success when he punched it in backwards.
Searching through the programmed numbers, Spike found their home number and Dawn’s cell phone. He would only call that as a last resort…didn’t want to tell The Bit over the phone that her sis was in hospital. Continuing on, he found Giles’ number. He phoned and left a stunned Head of the new Watchers Council in the wake of his call. He simply did not have time to be explaining how he was there or why he was with Buffy... or anything right now. His first priority was to get back inside to his slayer.
Yes, HIS slayer. From the moment he had seen the blood stain spreading rapidly across her crisp white blouse he had known he could not lose her—not again. Every feeling he had ever had for her came rushing back to hit him full force. He loved her, and he knew without a doubt that he always had. Buffy had been right. The bloody Powers that Be had done something to him. Something to make his feelings for her not only go—but altered—so initially all he had felt for her was contempt and hatred. Even when he had overcome that, his true feelings for her had still been masked. Why? To what end? What the bleedin’ hell did they hope to gain from it?
Now however, for whatever reason, the wall that had been built that had kept his love for the slayer locked away had come crumbling down and his love poured out; filling his heart and his soul. He could not...no, would not lose her again. Heading back inside, he checked once more at the nurses station only to be told to sit and wait. Waiting was something he was not good at; so by the time the watcher arrived with Dawn in tow, Spike was frantic with worry. What the was taking so bloody long?
Dawn stopped dead in her tracks as she stared at the vampire in disbelief. Although Giles had told her that Spike had phoned to tell him Buffy was in the hospital, it had not registered. Nothing beyond 'Buffy' and 'hospital' had registered.
Spike got to his feet and went to move towards her, hesitating as he recognised the glare on the teenager’s face. He watched as a myriad of emotions played across her face, settling finally on wonder. He opened his arms and took a step in her direction. Before he could take another, his arms were suddenly filled with a quietly sobbing, shaking teenager.
“Hush Nibblet," he soothed, stroking her long auburn hair gently as he murmured soft words. “She’ll be ok luv, she’ll be ok.”
“What happened Spike?” she hiccupped, trying to dry the tears that continued to fall in great fat drops, despite her best efforts to contain them.
“Big sis was being a hero, luv. Savin a little boy from a nutter with a gun. Not really sure what happened after that pet, just…somehow, she was shot. Was all so bleedin’ quick. Not a thing I could do about it, not a damned thing.” These last words was muttered softly, his voice thick with self-recrimination.
The big double door swung open. “Mr Prescott?” a voice called out.
Spike practically jumped out of Dawn’s arms as he swung around. “Right here mate! You got some news for us, or what? How is she? She gonna be ok?” The words poured out in a rush, desperate for the answers he has been anticipating for hours.
“Yes I do. Can we take a seat?" the doctor asked quietly.
“NO I don’t want to take a bloody seat! That’s all I’ve been doing for hours. I want to know how Buffy is. Now!” he practically growled. Dawn was surprised not to see gold flecking his angry blue eyes.
Unfazed by the hostile response, the doctor began his report. “Miss Summers is out of surgery and is in recovery. The operation was long and difficult; there was a lot of internal damage which had to be repaired. We managed to save her spleen, but we are not sure as of yet how much function it will retain. She is currently stable, but she has not yet regained consciousness and the next twenty four hours are critical. As I said, there was a lot of damage and a lot of blood loss. It is amazing that she survived at all.”
“Can we see her?” Dawn asked, her voice small and frightened. She felt the vampire wrap his arms around her again in silent support.
“Yes, you may. A nurse will be along shortly to show you to intensive care and will make arrangements for you to visit with her.
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Giles had taken Dawn home to get some sleep, assuring Spike they would be back the next morning. They had been sitting with Buffy for hours, taking turn holding her hand and talking to her. Willing her to open her eyes, to come back to them. Exhaustion had begun to take its toll on the teenager however, and both Giles and Spike had agreed that it would be better to take the girl home so that she could get some sleep in her own bed before returning in the morning. She had clung fast to Spike before leaving. “You’ll take care of her, right?” Her eyes brimmed with emotion as she turned their wide, trusting appeal on him.
“Course I will pet! I’d protect her with my life, luv. You know that.” He took her face gently in his hand. “Go on luv, get some sleep. Big sis will be alright. She just needs her rest, let that marvellous slayer healing do its work. You go on with the watcher, Bit. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The two Englishmen had shared a look over the teenager’s head. Spike nodded in agreement to the unspoken request; he would phone the watcher the moment there was any change in Buffy’s circumstances.
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He sat by her bedside, her small hand held gently in his. His thumb softly caressed the back of her hand as he spoke to her.
“Right pet, you got my attention now, so enough of this, yeah? ‘S’time to wake up now, luv. Buffy, please, come back to me pet. I love you, baby. I can’t lose you again, luv. I just can’t. Damn it all, Buffy, you are stronger than this. You can’t let a little thing like this beat you, not something like this, pet!” He rested his head on the covers next to her, his eyes fluttering closed against his will. Hours had passed with no sign of improvement from the wounded girl. The doctors were non-committal regarding her chances, but Spike could read in their eyes that they had written her off-deeming the damage far too extensive for the patient to recover from.
He had never felt so helpless. Well, not since the day he had watched as her body plummeted to the ground, ripped at by the mystical portal that had torn her life from her.
“Anything,” he spoke aloud, “I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes, just don’t let her die!” He cried his passionate plea to the silent ether.
As his eyes drifted closed once more, he felt his world shift. He no longer sat at his love’s bedside. No longer held her motionless hand in his. He opened his eyes to the blinding white brilliance of the strange endless room.
“Right. I’m back here, am I? What do you want? What will it take to save her?” His voice roared in the stillness and silence of the seemingly empty room.
There is nothing we require of you. The slayer lives or dies by her own choosing .
“Why the hell am I here then?” he demanded. He did not have time for this, he needed to get back to Buffy. She needed him.
You have been rewarded with a gift beyond anything a creature of your kind has ever known. It was our desire that you receive this reward. Others however questioned the wisdom of such a prize. It was believed that your affection for the slayer alone guided your actions, and that-with the inevitable loss of this mortal being-you would in fact revert to the mayhem and carnage in which you delighted for more than a century. Our belief was otherwise.
In order to assure those to whom we ourselves answer that your loyalties had indeed shifted towards the side of good, a test was required. You must know the complete loss of this love, in fact it was imperative that you believe the feelings you had harboured had been false from the outset. Only in this way could you actions be truly tested. You have proven to both ourselves and those to whom we bow that your intent is sincere. You are indeed a true warrior of the light.
Your thoughts , your feelings…once again are your own. No further restrictions or covenants shall be placed upon you. Go forth from here, your life is yours to live as so you choose. It is our hope and belief that you will continue your struggle against all that which seeks to devastate and destroy.
Go now child. Live your life,
“Wait a bloody minute! You mean you did all this as a test? A soddin' test? Couldn’t you have just bloody asked me?” He was fuming. What they had done to him... to Buffy... For a test?
A ripple of laughter floated through the air before the blinding light was replaced with softer filtered light in Buffy’s room. His head was still resting on the covers close to her pillow. He closed his eyes once more, the words he had heard echoing in his mind. He was pulled from his reverie by a tentative touch. Buffy’s hand rested delicately on his head, her fingers gently stroking and teasing the errant curls which had broken free of their chemical restraint.
“Buffy, love.” His joy evident in his face, in his eyes and the wonder in his voice.
She smiled gently at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of his beloved; alive, awake, and smiling with love, love that was for him alone!
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