"Crash Into Me"
Author: DH Artemis
Email: dhartemis@hotmail.com
Spoilers: Set during the summer after season four, before Dracula or Dawn.
(Slight mentions of Innocence, Something Blue and The Yoko Factor.)
Notes: This story is somewhat autobiographical -- a much happier, version
of my current predicament. (The car wreck I was in this month would have been
a lot easier to handle with Riley to take care of me, slayer-esque healing,
and someone else to handle the blood-sucking claim adjusters.) I started this
story to distract me from pain and insurance companies, and I kept working
on it because I've been craving some happy, sappy, angst-free fic.
A split second of shock, then the sputtering groans of angry metal. Wasn't she supposed to be farther back on the road? Buffy blinked, waiting for reality to catch up. But still the air bag hovered in front of her, the light refracted erratically through cobweb-shaped cracks in the windshield, and the engine coughed its last. She stumbled from the car, instinctively cradling her right arm, and sat heavily on the nearest curb. Stray knowledge from an old health class clamored for her attention over the surreal scene before her. Probably in shock. Broken glass and metal. Check for cuts, you won't feel them yet. She twisted to look for blood, but found only stiff, angry muscles.
"Are you all right, Miss?"
She looked up at the uniform in front of her, squinting at the sun behind him. "What happened? Did I miss the light?"
The uniform moved beside her and took her pulse. "You tell me," he replied, not unkindly.
"No," she decided distantly, surprised by her watering eyes. "The light was green. I know it was."
"Are you hurt?"
"My arm..." She held the pain close to her, rocking it gently. She realized the stranger's voice was fading, saw her vision blur, and focused on her breathing. Slower. It's just shock. If she had been able to think clearly, Buffy would have been amused. A car accident had her teetering on the edge of hysteria; monsters or surprise attacks barely inspired a rush of adrenaline. She watched with muddled interest as more people gathered around her, prodding her neck and back, talking on radios, looking overly official. She answered questions woodenly, stared at the demolished vehicle, and watched the stretcher roll out of the ambulance. Rather than make a scene, she leaned gingerly on the offered support and let them take her away.
"I'm looking for Buffy Summers." A hurried man approached the nurses' station, calling out before he reached the desk.
"Riley, over here."
Riley turned at the sound of Buffy's voice, but the receptionist continued typing slowly, consulting the screen before she addressed him. "She's in the urgent care waiting room across the hall."
"Thanks," he muttered, glancing upwards -- as if the ceiling could share his annoyance. "I never would have found her." In an instant he reached the nook where she sat, disheveled and glassy-eyed from pain and boredom. "Buffy," he sighed with relief, kneeling in front of her chair. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could, ignoring the armrest digging into his side.
Her cheek rested against his shoulder, but she hissed in pain when she tried to hug him back. She pushed him away gently with her left arm. "Sorry, nothing personal," she joked weakly. He held on to her hand and moved to her side.
"Where are you hurt? What happened? How long have you been here? And why are you still in the waiting room?"
She smiled wearily. "Slow down, I've had a rough day." After a few failed attempts to find a comfortable position in which she could lean on his shoulder, she grunted in frustration and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arm around her waist and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She sighed softly in appreciation, then gazed up at his face. "Okay. According to the paramedics, my arm is impressively bruised, probably broken. My shoulder hurts, my ... actually, I think the entire right side of my body went through a meat grinder. But I'm sure it's nothing serious. I was just too dazed to take off before the ambulance showed up. I hate hospitals," she shuddered.
Riley pursed his lips as he studied her, taking in the bruises, torn shirt, cradled arm, and uncomfortable posture. "You definitely need to see a doctor."
"You're no help," Buffy sighed. "This is my escape plan. You're the getaway car."
"Not a chance."
"Should've called Xander," she muttered. "Even if my arm WAS broken, it's halfway healed by now. You better get me out of here or you'll blow my cover."
Riley smiled, letting the comment slide. "So you were right the first time. Cars and Buffy, unmixy things. I owe Willow twenty bucks."
She elbowed him in the ribs. "You made a bet? This was so NOT my fault! The other guy admitted he ran a red light!"
"Hey," he tried to soothe her. "I believe you, I promise." It took a moment for logic to catch up to his 'pacify wounded girlfriend' reflex. "Wait, why am I in trouble? I was on your side! Willow's the one who should be getting dirty looks."
"She will," Buffy replied darkly. "So much for Dad's lame attempt to make up for two years of total absence. 'Here, Buffy, I'm moving to Spain. Take my car as a very late graduation present,'" she mocked. "I don't even need a car. I'm going to use the insurance money to buy all new clothes. And weapons."
"Are you sure its totaled?"
"Judging by all the pieces of it on the road, I'm going to say yes." They sat quietly for a few minutes, until Riley noticed several shopping bags next to their seats.
"What's in there?"
"Clothes and weapons." She ignored his chuckling. "The paramedics got them out of the car for me. I told you I was going shopping today."
He laughed again, then looked at his watch. "How long have you been waiting? Car accidents should be higher priority than this."
"Hey, I'm not the only one. I've been making friends." Buffy pointed to each in turn. "That's dislocated shoulder boy, cut eye girl, cut eye's boyfriend, and cut arm/car wreck."
"Nice to meet you, Broken Arm's Boyfriend," interjected the girl holding an ice pack to her face.
Riley smiled. "Is it that hard to introduce yourself?" he asked Buffy.
"No names. It's more fun this way."
"Whatever works for you. Who's been here the longest?"
"I've been here for over two hours," she said glumly. "No one's been called from this room since right after I got here. If this is the urgent waiting room, the 'imminent death' room must be packed."
Riley stood. "We'll see about that."
"Tell the nurse I want Noah Wile to be my doctor," Buffy called after him.
Despite Riley's attempts to expedite the process, it took six x-rays and almost three more hours of boredom, waiting, and pain before they left the hospital. To add insult to injury, when they finally arrived at Buffy's house Riley discovered the front door was locked.
"Do you have your keys?" He started searching through her bags.
Buffy glanced around her, eyes glazed. "No. I think they're in my car. May it rest in peace."
"I've got mine here somewhere. Hold on." Riley dropped three bags on the Summers' front porch and started searching through his pockets. "You're lucky nothing is broken," he commented as he struggled with the door and shopping bags.
"I know, I'm usually so fragile," she replied with good-natured sarcasm. She grinned unexpectedly. "Did I mention how much I'm enjoying the painkillers? This is far better than cursed beer. I resign from accelerated healing, modern medicine is the way to go."
"Good idea! You can be the first slayer who takes a leave of absence to attend rehab."
Buffy tried to concentrate, but decided it took much less work to get distracted. "Hey, speaking of slayers -- we do lots of fighting. I think Watchers should act less like librarians and more like pharmacists. Besides, I've been stuck at a hospital all day -- I DESERVE legal narcotics. And the sling-" she gestured, "-might be good for sympathy, and by sympathy I mean chocolate."
Her rambling was interrupted when Riley finally found his keys. "Aha! After you, m'lady." He held the door for her in grand style.
"Bring the bags, Geeves," she answered airily in kind.
"By the way, I finally got in touch with your mom when you were signing out. I told her what happened, and she's on her way home."
"Is she freaked?"
"Actually, she just seemed relieved no demons were involved. And she said she'd stop at the pharmacy and get your drugs."
"Fabulous." Buffy collapsed on the couch in the living room, but sat up with a grimace. "Nothing like a back injury to improve your posture. But-" she added hastily before Riley could interrupt, "I should be back on patrol by tomorrow."
"Not a chance," Riley informed her. "In fact, you're going straight to bed. You need rest."
"At ten p.m.? You're joking."
He smiled, joining her on the couch. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to do something else." Brushing her hair away from her face, he leaned in to kiss her. As she relaxed into his arms, he shifted, slid one arm under her knees, and stood, lifting her easily. "Wow, you look tired. I'll carry you upstairs."
"You tricked me!"
"I feel terrible," he replied easily.
"Liar. Watch out for the railing." Riley turned, but succeeded only in bumping her against the opposite wall. "Ow! Watch the shoulder!" Buffy glared at her boyfriend, who seemed to be completely ignoring her outrage. "You know, I've maimed a lot of things that caused me less pain."
"I know," he replied, not at all impressed. "And if I hadn't been there, the x-ray tech might have been included." He proceeded calmly up the stairs.
"Lucky him, the sadistic little toad." Her voice dropped in pitch. "'Wow, that looks painful! Now twist your arm around in funny positions and hold still!' I could have twisted HIS arms around in all sorts of interesting ways." Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. "Put me down, or you risk the same fate."
"Nope." Riley paused halfway to the top and took a moment to readjust his hold. "Sorry, I promised the ER doc you would rest for at least 24 hours, boy scout's honor."
"I am NOT that hurt. Besides, you can't fool me with that 'boy scout' routine. The innocent shtick will only work on those who haven't been involved in some of your more creative sex ... um, EX-cuses for turning in late video rentals."
Riley's face scrunched in confusion. "What?" He turned around to share Buffy's vantage point. "Oh. Hi, Mrs. Summers." He made a concerted effort not to blush; though he probably would have been much more successful if a fiendish Buffy hadn't been blowing softly in his ear, hidden from her mother's view. "Buffy objected to getting some rest, so I'm-"
"Carrying her upstairs," she finished. "I gathered that. I just came in to grab my purse - that is, if you still want me to pick up that prescription. Will you be okay until I get back from the pharmacy, sweetheart?"
Buffy peered over Riley's shoulder and nodded. "Not to worry. I'm fine! You go get drugs, I'll stay here and look helpless." She waited until her mother was safely out the door, and then collapsed giggling against his shoulder.
Riley tried to glare. "I should drop you right here."
"What can I say? I just suck at under cover."
He grinned, moving sideways through the doorway. "I beg to differ. Or, I will when you are no longer doped up on painkillers and covered in bruises."
"How many times to I have to say it? I'm FINE." Riley said nothing, but ran his hand down her right arm as he placed her on the bed. "Ouch! Cut that out!"
"Why? You're fine." He pulled off her shoes, propped two pillows behind her, and then sprawled across the end of the bed.
"If you're trapping me in here at ten o'clock, you're going to have to entertain me. I haven't gone to bed this early since I was nine."
"Okay. Tell me your other driving horror stories. I'm curious."
"Hmm, maybe I wasn't clear. YOU are amusing ME. I know -- tell me why you still look guilty when my mom's around."
"I do not."
"Five minutes ago you were blushing like a teenager."
He grimaced at the phrase. "Maybe I feel guilty because you ARE a teenager."
"No dice, Mr. Robinson. For crying out loud, you sleep here all the time, and Mom has never offered you the guest room. I come home from your apartment late in the morning. She's done the math. Hell, I told her about the math."
"I know, I know," he acquiesced. "But this isn't exactly a typical arrangement. At least not where I come from."
"It is not to worry. Mom adored you from the first time you walked into the house during the day. Believe me, you'll never have to climb the tree to see me." Buffy pursed her lips briefly, somewhat aware she was talking more than usual and saying a little too much. "Anyway, no worries. You could tell her you're joining the circus and she'll sew you a clown costume."
"How did you find out?" Riley's smile was interrupted by a sudden thought. "Wait, you TOLD her...? Told her what?"
"Nothing too detailed, if that's what you're thinking," she reassured. "I've just learned the more secrets I have from her, the bigger the inevitable crisis will be. Believe me, it's better she hear it from me than from--" she stopped suddenly, looking surprised at her own words but slow to regroup. "Hey, look at these cool bruises!"
Riley chuckled, his eyebrows raised. "Subtle distraction tactic. Really."
"You have an unfair advantage. I'm drugged -- hence missing key inhibitions."
"That's a good point," he said compassionately. "I'm very sorry. So, tell me more." He couldn't hold back an impish grin.
"Nope. No story here. Secrets in my life just turn out badly. Like when Angel-sans-soul got a kick out of informing Mom about our previous, uh, rendezvous. Due to slayer secrecy, I didn't even get to defend myself until a year later, yadda yadda yadda, secrets bad. Wait a second, I wasn't going to tell you that."
"What was in that shot?" Riley asked mildly. "Are you sure it wasn't sodium pentathol?"
"Huh?"
"Truth serum, supposedly. And Buffy, if you're okay with telling me, I do want to know this stuff. Everyone has ex.'s and relationship issues and horror stories. Your horror stories are just more literal than most." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, then cautiously curled up next to her without bumping her arm.
Buffy took his hand hesitantly, reaching awkwardly across the blue, hospital-issue sling. "Thank you for saying that. But it's not a fair comparison. I really doubt I'll ever be in an armed standoff with one of your old girlfriends."
"They probably won't beat you up, either," he pointed out helpfully.
She winced. "Probably not. I'm sor--"
He reached out, laid one finger softly across her lips. "Shhh. Don't," he whispered. "I love you. That's all I need."
'For how long?' she wanted to ask, but managed to quell the feeling of foreboding. She kissed him, smiled. "I don't deserve you."
He grinned. "You'll just have to make it up to me sometime."
"Hmm, I wonder how I could do that." Before she could continue, a noise from downstairs distracted her. "Mom's home with the next dose!"
"Not for two hours. You'll just have to think of some other form of entertainment."
"Fine," she capitulated. "I guess that means its time to start talking about YOUR sordid past."
It was almost noon the next day when Joyce opened the curtains and gently shook her daughter. "Buffy, wake up sweetheart. Riley's here. Should I send him up?"
She blinked, groggy. "Huh? When did he leave?"
"After you fell asleep, around midnight. Do you want me to tell him you're still asleep?"
"No," she yawned. "That's okay." As she sat up, a soft knock sounded from the hall. "Come in," she called.
"Hey," he greeted. "How's my girl?"
"Fantastic," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Let's go jogging."
"Sure. Then I guess I get to keep this." He held up a white cardboard box.
"What is it?"
"Sympathy."
"You brought me breakfast!" He tossed her the box, and she opened it greedily. "Nothing says 'get well soon' like chocolate covered caramels."
He sat next to her, stealing a piece. "So how are you really feeling?"
"Okay. A little sore, but no more than I would be after a really busy patrol night. And mom said she'd take care of all the insurance stuff, since the car is in her name, too. Life will be completely normal by tomorrow."
"You won't miss the car at all?"
"Not really. I think I'm going to get a new crossbow. Maybe a sword."
"But what if the next apocalypse is thirty miles away?"
Buffy shrugged innocently. "That's why I have you."
The End