The world looked fuzzy and unfocused when Willow's eyes finally opened. Sprawled on her back -- toppled halfway into the sand which covered the park, and halfway on the grass beyond it's immediate boundaries -- she stared up into the night sky with watering eyes. The stars seemed to be flickering in and out of existence before her, and Willow moaned, fighting back her nausea. Her head was pounding, every breath she took sending new sparks of agony bursting to life behind her eyes and shivering throughout the rest of her aching body.
"Spike?" Willow croaked. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. "_Spike_?!" she tried again, her voice distressingly weak. She forced herself into a sitting position, whimpering at the angry protest of her muscles at the slow movement. From there, she shifted to her hands and knees -- an equally slow, painful process.
She stared down at the ground, her breath coming in short gasps. Little black spots danced behind her eyes, and Willow's trembling body swayed. Staying upright had never been such a difficult process. 'Move!' her mind thundered, and Willow obediently moved one shaking hand forward. Her knee followed suite, slow and clumsy.
Her hands sank into the sand, nearly sending her collapsing onto her face when it shifted beneath her. "Spike? Please be here..." Willow whispered. She couldn't move anymore -- her swimming eyes, pounding head, and aching muscles conspiring to keep her motionless.
Green eyes rose from the sand, and swung outwards, shifting towards the spot where Spike had stood. Joy filled her when she saw the familiar blond head. 'Maybe I'm delirious... Imagining things.' Willow's happiness wavered.
So close... almost there, and then she'd see. Touch him, hold him, know that he was there, with her. She fought through the pain, pushing her body forward. Time seemed to stretch out, an eternity, as she wearily approached him on hands and knees.
She crumpled next to him, a pale hand shifting across the sand to caress his face. His skin was smooth and cool to her touch, and he was _there_. Real. 'Mine.' Content in the knowledge that he was with her, Willow's eyes drifted shut and she sank into darkness so deep that the pain could not follow.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" the frantic plea woke Spike like a vial of holy water to the face. He snarled, weakly, and the lack of strength behind the sound sent anger boiling within him. His eyes peeled open, the world jumping wildly around him before settling back into place.
"Xander! Wake up, get up! Listen to me!"
Spike winced, the sound of the sobbed order grating on his nerves. His head twisted slightly, and he saw Willow slumped beside him, her fingers twitching near his face, burrowing into the sand. Her face was pale and drawn, and her body shook slightly.
"Help me! Please, help!" Cordelia wailed.
He stumbled to his feet, ignoring the embarrassing urge to sink back to the ground and lay there until his head stopped aching. He stumbled forward, nearly reeling beneath the feel of the magic, fear and desperation that hung in the air. Sharp blue eyes warily scanned his surroundings, picking out the stirring forms of the others.
Cordelia still looked wobbly. Her face was streaked with tears, and a steady trickle of blood dripped from her nose. Her trembling hands fluttered over Xander's still body, and her eyes were wide and unbelieving.
Spike settled down next to them, noting the almost non-existent sound of the boy's sluggish heartbeat. "He's still alive, pet," Spike stated.
"Well do something to keep him that way!" Cordelia nearly shrieked, her eyes rolling wildly. "Don't you dare die on me, Xander!"
"I'm not a bloody doctor! I've never had much interest in the keeping them alive end of things," Spike muttered. He felt concerned for the boy, and was thrown by the unexpected emotion.
"Well start!" Cordelia growled. "You owe us! You _owe_ us!" Her eyes flickered over Spike's shoulder to find Angel limping towards them. "Do something. Make _him_ do something! Somebody!" she commanded.
Angel looked at the disheveled brunette blankly. "Something? Buffy..."
"Do I look like I give a damn about _Buffy_?!" Cordelia shrilled, her hand patting at Xander's clammy face.
"Buffy went to call for help... The lights, people must have seen them. They'll be coming." His eyes shifted away from the small cluster of people surrounding Xander's body, searching out Drusilla. She was still and unmoving. "They'll be police, too. Can't let them see her, they'll want to examine her..."
The image of Drusilla, swinging a stake towards him with a vicious grin flashed through Spike's foggy mind. He growled low in his throat but nodded. "Take her to the library, the Watcher will figure out... whatever happened here."
Angel slid his jacket off his hunched shoulders, tossing it at Spike. "And put some clothes on."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Giles let the phone drop back into it's cradle and sighed, wearily rubbing at his burning eyes. He'd been intercepted by Angel as he stepped out of the front doors of the school, the vampire dragging him back towards the library -- quick, choppy explanations trailing behind them.
He turned around slowly, carefully avoiding looking in Drusilla's direction. She was slumped in a chair, her head hanging limply, still unconscious. The mere sight of her was still enough to make Giles stomach clench with nerves, and it was all that he could do not to order that Angel take her out of his library.
Being alone in the library with the two vampires was brining back distinctly unpleasant memories, and Giles longed for a glass of something, _anything_ alcoholic to blunt the sharp emotions prodding at him.
His eyes focused on Angel, little less reassuring a sight than the vampiress. "It was Spike," he stated. "Xander... is quite bad, although they do believe that he will survive. They say that if he makes it through the night, his chances are good. Willow, too, is still unconscious. Her condition is only slightly less dire than Xander's. They sedated Cordelia... it appears that she was rather hysterical," Giles said, his voice carefully devoid of expression.
"There's nothing that we can do for them," he ended uselessly. Giles paused a long moment before lifting his discarded glasses from the check-out-counter and slipping them back onto his face. "It appears that it will only be the two of us tonight."
Angel nodded and silently slipped into the stacks.
Hesitating at the doorway to his office, Giles cast a quick glance in Drusilla's direction. A shudder tore through his body, and he quickly looked away.
'Good God, what have we gotten ourselves into this time?'
~End~