Chapter 6.16
Spike cradled Buffy in his lap as they both waited
anxiously by her sister's bedside. The slayer stroked her sibling's
hand as if hoping the contact might help pull the teenager back
from her delusion. Spike, in turn, stroked Buffy's back and twined
the fingers of her other hand with his own.
"She should be coming out of it by now. It's
not working. She should be better."
"Shhh... love. It's only been half an hour. Plenty
time yet." Spike's words were partially belied by his own anxiety
that Buffy could feel through the bond. "And if the first dose
doesn't bring her round we've got plenty more. And to be quite
honest I wouldn't be too upset if it took all three bottles to
put the Bit to rights." An element of self-satisfaction made itself
known.
"Spike, what aren't you telling me?"
"Hell!" said the vampire with a disingenuous
smile. "Did I forget to mention that I'm expecting your ex to
turn up looking for the leftovers? ...Once he puts two and two together
and works out what's wrong with his missus, that is."
"Spi-ike." Buffy sounded surprised and impressed.
She pressed her lips to Spike's forehead.
"You're not ticked?" the vampire asked.
"It seems to smack of justice to me, in an eye
for an eye sort of way. I guess it's sort of petty, but after
what she did... and I guess there's no permanent damage."
"Hey, I don't claim to be a champion. You want
petty and vindictive? That, I can do."
"So? You have all the antidote?"
"All that they had on the train. I guess
if Huck Finn doesn't come looking for it then we know they've
got the base back up and running again."
"Where do you reckon Brandon and his dad fit
into all this?" Buffy asked.
"I'm not rightly sure. It's a bit strange that
he knew about the whole Hostile 17 thing, but when he said he
didn't set the kids up, I believed him. And I know at that age
everybody thinks they're immortal, but you don't get in the way
of a bullet for someone you're setting up."
"So, you think Brandon's okay?"
Spike shrugged. "As much as I'm going to think
any kid who comes after my Niblet is okay."
"That's enough of a recommendation for me... And
dad?"
"I guess we'll hear him out."
At this point a nurse bustled into the cubicle.
She passed a medium sized bag she was carrying to Buffy before
she began going through the motions of taking Dawn's temperature
and pulse.
"The gentleman who came in with you earlier dropped
those off for you," she told the couple. Then, she continued almost
as if she were talking to herself. "Hmm, temperature's dropping.
Pulse is still the low side of normal..."
"So, she's improving? Right?" Buffy asked.
"Yes, it seems so but we won't know for sure
until she comes round and stays round."
Spike's attention seemed to be caught by some
noise from outside the cubicle. "What is it?" Buffy asked, as
the receptionist's protests became more voluble and the nurse
moved out into the corridor to see what was causing the disturbance.
Spike's reply came slowly, and by the time he
finished he was almost being drowned out by the woman's protests
and by the sound of curtains being pulled aside. "Unless I'm very
much mistaken, pet, I think it's Brandon." As he said the teenager's
name, the curtain around their cubicle was pulled aside to reveal
the youth, still in a hospital gown, one hand clasping the stand
to which the bag for his saline drip was attached. His father
hovered closely behind him.
"Well, I guess the Summers women go for the stubborn
types..." Buffy did her best to make light of the situation.
The older Michaels shrugged. "As soon as he woke
up he was asking for her. When I said she'd been brought in, there
was no way to keep him in that bed."
"How is she?" the teenager asked, looking as
if it had taken all his reserves of strength to make his way down
there. Spike slipped out from under Buffy and moved round to the
opposite side of the bed to pull aside the curtain between Dawn's
cubicle and the next, revealing an empty bed.
"The fever's dropping. As to the rest, it's a
waiting game. Why don't you pull up a pew?" Spike took the seat
next to Buffy's leaving the chair between the two beds for Brandon's
father after they helped the teenager onto the empty bed.
"Really!" the nurse protested. "You can't just
commandeer a bed anywhere you feel like it. These beds may be
needed at any time for emergency cases."
"Well, in that case, maybe you should consider
transferring Dawn up to the same room as her young man, because
I have a funny feeling he's not going to be leaving," the vampire
suggested. "It's past due for her to be moved to somewhere with
actual walls, anyway. I mean, anyone could just come barging in
here whenever they want," he added dryly.
The nurse scowled at the group and stalked off.
Brandon's father looked over at the vampire.
"You seem to have a gift for ruffling people's feathers."
"Well, it's not like the boy's doin' any harm
where he is, and it is past time they moved her out of here."
"I think they're still supposed to be assessing
her, so they can know which ward to put her in," Buffy offered.
"It's not like I'm in a hurry for them to stick her in the psychiatric
ward."
"Shhh, pet." Spike's arm wrapped around Buffy's
shoulders and she found herself pulled back onto his lap once
more. "Not gonna happen. Not when they know it's a result of the
poison. Not unless she was dangerous, which she isn't, though
I don't think I'd want to be in your shoes, kid, when she does
come out of it.
Anyway, what'd the watcher send you?"
Buffy pulled open the bag and flipped through
its contents. "Some clothes for Dawn, a couple of thermos flasks,
your car and bike keys and a note." She pulled the envelope from
the bag. Spike looked over her shoulder as she read it.
"Dear All,
Willow is fine. Riley dropped her off about
an hour ago. She has a migraine-type headache, but other than
that she seems okay in herself, though she is anxious to know
what transpired whilst she was unconscious. She assures us all
that a bit of willow bark will put her right. You may want to
stock up on aspirin before you get home.
The car is outside, ready and waiting for
when you need it and the bike's back at Spike's flat. Tara picked
out some clothes for Dawn to wear coming home, whenever that is,
and she also thought you might both need a pick me up, though
Spike may have to be careful where and when he drinks his.
I hope this finds you all in the best of health.
Wesley."
"You know I sometimes wonder what we did before
that guy started hanging round," Spike said.
"We relied on Xander and gave him very specific
instructions," Buffy told him.
"I don't suppose here would be the ideal place
to discuss what happened tonight?" Brandon's father asked.
"No, not unless we just move back up to your
room anyway," Buffy answered. "Though I agree we need to talk."
"I had a feeling you might think you were due
some sort of explanation."
"You feel right." This was from the vampire.
"But, as you said, here isn't the place. So, how about we call
a truce for now."
The minutes ticked by as slowly as the first
thaw of spring. After another half-hour Spike fetched the doctor
from his Buffy-imposed exile in the waiting room and handed over
a second bottle of the antivenin to inject her again. All the
time they waited Buffy fretted and Spike did his best to reassure
her, despite his own worries. Then, about twenty minutes after
the second injection, Dawn's hand shifted slightly under Buffy's.
"Dawn? Dawnie? Are you okay?" Buffy whispered.
Dawn's free hand reached to remove the tape that
once again held her eyelids closed. "Jeez, I wish you guys would
quit with this stuff. I'm going to have no eyelashes left," she
teased her sister as she pulled the tape from her eyes.
"How're you feelin', Bitlet?" Spike asked softly,
his gaze fixed upon his pseudo-daughter's face.
"Kinda hung over... not of course that I would
know hung over," she hastily covered. "Just that I feel like Xander
looked when him and Anya broke up."
"Nice try." Her sister was too pleased to see
her back to herself to make the strict voice stick. "We'll discuss
your impending alcoholism when you get home. For now, I think,
maybe the guy in the next bed wants a few words."
Dawn swivelled her head in the opposite direction
and then winced as the movement sent a spearhead of pain to her
temples.
"Would there be any chance that you all might
leave us alone for five minutes?" Brandon looked hopefully at
the adults in the two cubicles.
"Reckon we should go find a doctor. Let him know
she's back in the land of the living. Maybe see if there's anywhere
we can get a decent cup of coffee round here, but talk quick 'cause
we kinda want some time with her ourselves." Buffy rose to her
feet and stretched a hand to her fiancé as he made to follow
his own suggestion.
As the adults cleared the room Dawn looked Brandon
up and down. "You don't look too bad for a guy who was shot last
night."
"I don't feel too bad either."
"Okay... What is it with you? I'm a bit confused
here, and what with that and the humongous headache, I'm kinda
cranky. Now, I guess I owe you an apology for thinking that you
put that stuff in my drink, and I'm sorry for what I said, but
if you've just been going out with me as some junior spy mission
for daddy, then you better tell me now."
* * * * *
Spike turned to Brandon's father as they left
the ER treatment area having informed the doctor that she'd come
round, but insisting he await her sister's return before examining
the patient. "I guess now might be a good time for that talk.
What say we use Brandon's room, since he doesn't seem to have
a use for it."
It actually took the three about a quarter of
an hour to sort through the situation to their satisfaction, but
Buffy just wanted to make sure she had everything straight.
"So your old army buddy asked you to take the
job so that you could keep an eye open for anything unusual that
the army might be up to in these parts, because he thought there
was something fishy going on? And all you get in return is a glowing
recommendation for department head when Sunnydale High re-opens
next year?"
"Pretty much. But Jim's a friend. I did it because
he asked."
"And you only knew about us because you reviewed
the files on what happened two years ago."
"Files, video footage, whatever Jim could lay
his hands on."
"So, you don't know anything about any surveillance?"
"Just what it said in the minutes of the meeting
when The Initiative was supposedly being wound up, that it was
thought they should keep tabs on you to ensure you wouldn't go
public. I would have assumed that it would have lapsed long ago
once it became apparent you had no such plans."
"We don't think so."
"I can see if there's anything Jim can do about
that. Once they track down the people this Sam Finn was working
with."
"Just one more thing. You say you had access
to the files. Does that include the files on the prisoners? And
what sort of video footage are we talking about?"
"The files are a bit hit and miss. A lot of the
records were destroyed. There were quite a few fires that last
day, but there were some inmate files." He gave a nod toward
Spike. "Yours was an especially thick one. As far as video
goes, it's just really surveillance camera footage of that last
day. The video storage room was a write off. All the tapes of
the day to day stuff were destroyed."
"We're going to need to see whatever you've got?"
Buffy watched the former soldier carefully for any sign he would
refuse her request, even if she had framed it as a statement.
"I'd have thought you would already know most
of this. You were for a time part of the operation, and you were
both there on the final day."
Spike knew why Buffy was asking and chose this
moment to speak up. "Mr Michaels, some friends of ours lost a
family member in that place. A little girl is growing up with
no father. I don't think it's too much to expect for us to find
out what we can about what actually happened to him."
"No, you're right. It isn't. You can have a look
through anything I have, though I'm afraid I can't let you take
copies and I'll have to be there."
"That's fair, I suppose," Buffy admitted. "And
your guy's going to track down whoever authorised the train and
whoever else was helping her and see to it that this demon hunting
squad gets disbanded and the base is closed down again? Properly,
this time?"
"I don't think you're going to need to worry
about them resurfacing any time in the near future," the man confirmed.
"Alright, then. I don't doubt that we're going
to have more to discuss, but for now, I think we both want to
get back to Dawn."
* * * * *
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow up a bit. Up until this
morning, I didn't know that there was any connection between your
lot and dad coming here. I knew that Uncle Jim had asked him to
take the job as a favour to him, but I had no idea why.
I asked you out... okay, this is going to sound
so hokey that you're probably going to dump me. The first time
I saw you, just for a couple of seconds, it was like you glowed.
Like you were this beautiful angel walking among us and I just
knew..."
"So, is there a history of mental illness in
your family?" Dawn countered but not in the caustic tone that
he expected.
"Look, I know how it sounds... This isn't
some line that I'm feeding you to worm my way out of things, and
normally, it would take ritual torture to get me to admit something
like that-."
"I believe you. Just answer the question."
"Okay, no, to the best of my knowledge there
is no family history of mental illness."
"What about second sight?"
"What? Why?"
"Just. Answer. The. Question."
"Well, yeah, actually. My grandfather, on ma's
side's supposed to have a touch of the sight. But I don't see
what that..."
"You will... soon, assuming you still want to keep
seeing me, that is?"
"You think I'd let some other guy take you to
that formal in that killer dress that you won't let me see?"
"I don't know. Getting shot at would put most
guys off, never mind getting shot."
"Well, like your sister said, the Summers girls
seem to go for the stubborn type."
The End