The Ultimate
Betrayal
by jamies_lady
Summary:
After the Battle in LA Riley brings news to Buffy which will change
things for ever.
Goes VERY off canon after the Battle of Sunnydale
Chapter 18
Martin was pacing up and down, waiting. He was used to
battlefield wounds, he’d gone through medical school and five years of
practise for this, and had set up for everything he could think of. Two
beds had been pre-prepared for Anya and Spike. It seemed strange,
knowing what injuries his patients would – correction, knowing exactly
what injuries - and what treatment his patients would need.
One bed was set up with twenty units of blood above it on the drip
stands. The giving sets were set without needles and hung in such a way
that they would drip fresh human blood straight into the vampire’s
mouth. Riley had given him the exact mixes of pain relief that worked
on a vampire: something good had come from the Initiative’s immoral
experiments after all. And that stood ready preloaded in massive doses,
in syringes on the table. It seemed really strange setting up care for
a HST, but those were the orders, and anyway Dawn seemed very keen on
him caring for Spike as well and Martin was beginning to want to do
anything to put a smile on her face. He was easily getting distracted
by the light in her eyes, and when she’d heard they were getting Spike
back, he actually felt a little jealous.
Martin thought back to the way Dawn had ‘eewed’ and ‘ughed’ him at even
the thought of Spike in that way. ‘He’s like my big very protective
brother,’ she’d explained, then sat down with him and talked about
‘that summer’, 147 days of hell until her sister had been raised from
the dead. The way Spike had cared for her, made her do her homework…
‘…and when a 150 year old Master Vampire asks if your homework is
finished the only safe answer is yes!’ she laughed, ‘but he tutored me
as well. History was, is, so much easier when your tutor has lived
through it; he spoke French, Italian, Greek, Latin as well as some
demon languages.
He fed me, cooked for me, took me out and bought me stuff, made sure I
was safe and knew I was loved. When I cried he just held me, or told me
stories, he slept night after night on my bedroom floor so I wouldn’t
feel alone. He did everything he could to make me feel safe and loved,
and I miss him so much; so does Buffy. He is the other half of Buffy’s
soul. I wish you’d known her before he died. She laughed and had a
light about her that made her glow.’
Martin thought how nice it would be if he could allow Dawn to feel the
same thing, safe and loved and alive, and he was clever enough to know
that if he judged Spike as a vampire first it would do him no favours
with Dawn.
He was as ready as he could be. Martin sat quietly waiting, drinking
his coffee. In fact, he thought Dawn’s talk had made him rethink some
of his ideas on HST’s. Maybe they weren’t all bad: Clem wasn’t and the
little baby was cute, not that Baya would let him or anyone else too
close. He could understand that. He sipped at his coffee again. Part of
him was actually looking forward to meeting William the Bloody.
He could hear shouts from the main Foyer: he put down his coffee on his
desk and stood waiting for his patients. First through the doors was a
gurney carrying a woman with a horrendous wound to her stomach. She
didn’t appear to be breathing, but he’d been warned about that. Morgana
had said they would put a spell on her, literally holding her in
suspension until he could fix the wounds.
Before he could even look at Anya the other gurney came in carrying the
still smoking body of William the Bloody. Dawn was running in front
clearing the way and Buffy was trying to get close, grabbing for Spike,
getting into everyone’s way. Faith had followed them and simply lifted
Buffy up and moved her. Martin didn’t think that Buffy had even
noticed, she was so desperate to get close to Spike.
‘Let the man do his job, B,’ Faith said as she held onto her sister
slayer. Buffy took a swing for Faith, hitting her trying to make her
let go, but the tears in her eyes blurred Buffy’s vision.
‘You still hit like a girl - and calm down.’ Faith’s eyes showed
compassion for the older slayer. She knew how much Buffy had missed
Spike; damn, they all missed the bleached menace.
They watched as Martin and Johnson carefully lifted Spike onto the
prepared bed, while the others lifted Anya onto her bed. Faith kept her
arms around Buffy, half to prevent her from interfering and half to
support her; Faith could feel Buffy’s legs giving way.
‘He’s not dust, he’s not dead, B,’ she whispered in Buffy’s ear.
Martin lined up the tube from the blood bag so it dripped straight into
Spike’s mouth. He then cut off the black jeans. Faith felt sick when
she saw the burns: the skin was blackened, almost charcoal; it was
lucky they had pain killers. Martin covered the poor man’s burned legs
with a sheet, but when he went to cut off the leather jacket he felt
his arm being crushed in the strong grip of a slayer. He looked up,
expecting to see Buffy or even Faith, but it was Rona who had him in
the death grip.
‘The coat stays in one piece: we’ll get it off. Buffy: give me a hand.’
she said as she turned to the distraught slayer, trying to give her
something to do.
Rona, Buffy and Faith carefully rolled Spike over, making sure that
they didn’t dislodge the tube in his mouth. Buffy’s eyes filled up at
the horrific injuries on Spike’s body: the legs weren’t the worst. He
had deep burns through his chest, his arms were red and black.
Appropriate, seeing as they were his favourite colours. Buffy’s hands
were shaking so much she couldn’t hold him.
‘It’s OK B, we’ll do it.’ Faith held Spike in one hand and slipped the
coat over his shoulder and off down his arms; then they rolled him the
other way and took it off completely, leaving Martin to cut off the
black Tee. Spike looked dead laying on the bed with the sheet drawn up
to his chest. The chest not rising or falling with breath. He lay as
still as a corpse.
‘He’s not dust, he’s not dust, he’s not dust,’ Buffy kept repeating and
repeating.
Buffy was in tears, little noticing who was holding her up. Spike had
felt so cold and was covered in awful, awful burns. The Gem of Amara,
still safe around his neck, kept him undead. Buffy started crying, the
tears falling onto her cheeks without her even noticing.
Martin and Dawn carefully realigned the dripping blood straight into
Spike’s mouth and altered the flow to ensure he wouldn't choke.
Riley took the distraught slayer from Faith and helped her from the
room. He had to swing her up into his arms: she could hardly walk. She
felt light, unhealthily light. He looked at her face: she was still
crying. He followed Sam, carrying Buffy upstairs and putting her to
bed. Morgana followed quietly and once Buffy was settled in her room
whispered, 'sleep.'
Riley and Sam left her alone with the witch, they were needed
downstairs.
Buffy had been living on her nerves for years and the sight of Spike
had sent her soul into meltdown. Cordy watched from the doorway.
Morgana turned to the glowing figure.
‘Will you watch over her please? I'm going to be needed downstairs.’
Cordy nodded, it was the least she could do at the moment. The
pain that Buffy had felt at Spike's absence had been felt in heaven
itself. Cordy looked at Buffy, still crying in her sleep; she looked so
pale and vulnerable, and a lot younger than her 25 years. Cordy brushed
her hair from her face. The great warrior would soon have all her
rewards. Cordy sat quietly by the side of her bed, waiting for Buffy to
recover from the shock of seeing Spike again.
It was a hugely different scene in the medical room. There were people
everywhere, each undertaking their own individual tasks. Anya was being
readied for surgery. She had been prepared, her wound cleaned and
shrouded from sight.
Dawn had remembered poor Xander and had fetched him from his room:
he had been roused from his place in the bathroom by Dawn hammering on
the door; then she had just barged in without waiting for him to say it
was OK. He was embarrassed: he could have been doing anything in there.
Xander grabbed for the copies of Penthouse and hid them under the rug
before Dawn could notice them.
‘What is it Dawnie, can’t you let me die in peace?’
‘Well I could,’ she sounded like her 16 year old self again, ‘but I
thought you might like to know that Anya’s downstairs in medical.’
Xander looked at her as though she were stupid.
‘What did you say? That’s not a funny joke, Dawn.’ He was getting angry
with the girl.
‘Anya is downstairs; well, so is Spike. Faith went and fetched them
from Sunnydale,’ she explained.
Xander took off through the door as quickly as he could. His beloved
Anya was in the same world as him again.
Xander stood watching as Anya was lifted onto the operating table that
had been set up in the centre of the room. Instruments seemed to be
everywhere. The wound was deep and would need careful repair, but
Willow and Morgana would be assisting. Anything beyond Martin's ability
would be done by magic.
The other soldiers were attending to what the slayers considered minor
scrapes and bumps; there were cuts and bumps and bruises, but nothing
that wouldn't heal. They were laughing and joking with one another.
Their mission had been a success.
Sam had organised food for everyone, with Baya and Clem's help. They
had contacts in the demon world that Giles just couldn't trace and
neither could Wolf Ram and Hart. Chinese, Mexican, and Italian meals
had come in via the cellars, with Dawn opening the gate for the couple
of seconds needed. Baya had set out a buffet in the kitchen where they
could all help themselves.
Anya had been on the table for three hours before Martin stood up
straight and started breathing more easily. Morgana and Willow had
sealed the bowel where it had been sliced, repaired the liver and the
spleen, and had used very pure magic to seal all the leaking arteries
and veins. All Anya would need now were fluids, blood, and care.
Xander hadn't realised that his breathing had also been staggered until
Martin stood up.
'It’s all done,' Martin said with relief and Xander felt the tears on
his cheek.
Faith helped move Anya into the bed they had prepared for her and set a
chair by the side. She knew exactly where her friend would be sitting
until Anya awoke.
Martin went to check on Spike before he rested himself. The vampire had
already received ten units of blood.
‘No change yet,’ whispered Dawn from her place at Spike's side. ‘He
hasn't moved at all, he's not even gone into game face, and he does
that to help with pain.'
‘Slayer blood would help.’ Viv had come over. She'd eaten, thanks to
the catering crew, and had rested, and came to help in the infirmary.
‘Slayer blood?’
‘Yep, it’s like fully leaded for vamps, always heals ‘em quicker.’
‘We could all donate half a pint or so, that should be enough to get
things started with the healing.’
‘Thank you,’ mouthed Dawn.
‘Hey, he's my friend as well.’ Viv replied.