THE POWER OF LOVE - CHAPTER 2
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon (who ought to treat them nicer), MutantEnemy, etc.
SUMMARY: Buffy's in a coma. Who will bring her out?
A/N 2: I re-posted this chapter because I made a mistake in my timeline the first time. This story is set during the events of Season 4 of Buffy and Season 1 of Angel. .
A/N: In case you haven't noticed, I have only the average layperson's knowledge of medical matters. My apologies to those are more knowledgeable for what I'm sure are numerous errors.
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Sunday Afternoon
About to enter Buffy's room, Dr. Martinez found himself waylaid just outside the door.
"What's going on?" Joyce confronted him. "Why hasn't Buffy woken up?"
The doctor shook his head. "I don't know, Mrs. Summers; I wish I did. Her vital signs continue to be good. The X-ray we took yesterday showed that the fracture is healing at an amazing rate of speed, and there doesn't appear to be any physical trauma to the brain."
"But she's still unconscious," Anya declared. "That's not a good sign." Xander glared at her, but the ex-demon continued, "It's obvious that we need to talk to her. At least, I don't but all of you do. You're her friends. She loves you and you love her, though I don't understand why since all she's ever done is put you all in danger and then save you from it."
"Anya." Willow's eyes indicated the doctor, standing next to her, listening with a puzzled expression.
"Oh. Sorry." The former vengeance demon actually looked somewhat abashed at her slip of the tongue.
"Danger?" Dr. Martinez looked at her quizzically.
Anya rallied quickly. "Oh, not real danger. Only pretend danger. I mean, you know, it's not like she held a gun to anyone's head and forced them to go on that stupid roller coaster last month. I just don't like heights." She gave him a weak smile.
"Oh." Dr. Martinez blinked dazedly, a not uncommon reaction to Anya's off-the-wall remarks. "Uh . . . well, anyway, you were right about what you said."
Anya looked pleased.
"Studies have proven that often someone who seems to be unconscious is able to hear what is being said around them. So I would recommend that you take turns staying with her, and just talk to her."
"Talk? What about?" Xander asked blankly.
"Anything. Everything." The doctor's glasses glinted as he turned to the young man. "Remind her about past times - the good times, that is."
"Good times. Oh, yeah, like staking vampires and fighting Frankenstein monsters and averting Apocalypses," Xander murmured sotto voce to Willow. She elbowed him sharply. "Ow!"
"Talk about your friendship," continued the doctor. "Things you've done together, any future plans you might have made with her - you know, like going on vacation together or something."
"I can do that," Riley said with determination. "No problem." His boyish face showed the strain of the past few days.
"Me too," Willow piped up. "We were planning to go to see a play in L.A. this summer."
Dr. Martinez nodded. "That's exactly the kind of thing I mean. We need to give her a reason to wake up."
"Dr. Martinez," Joyce said slowly. ""Are you saying that you think Buffy doesn't want to wake up?"
The doctor hesitated. "Mrs. Summers, maybe I'm wrong but I get the distinct impression that your daughter's been under a lot of stress lately. She's seriously underweight, for one thing, but I somehow don't think she has an eating disorder."
"Not an intentional one, anyway," Joyce agreed. "But you're right, Buffy hasn't been eating well lately, and she has had a lot of stress this past year."
She paused, considering. "Actually, make that the last couple of years."
"I believe we can stretch that to the three year mark," Giles put in quietly.
"Yeah, " Xander muttered, his expression grim. "Thanks to Soul Boy's antics."
"That was four years ago and he wasn't Soul Boy then," Willow reminded him. "Which was the whole problem, but anyway it wasn't his fault. He didn't know about the loophole; nobody knew about it. Well, except the Kalderash gypsies."
Listening, Dr. Martinez experienced a sensation he'd had all too frequently of late - ever since Buffy Summers had been wheeled into the ER, in fact.
Not only was she herself a puzzle, with her fracture that was healing at a phenomenal rate he would have sworn was impossible, but never had he encountered such a strange and baffling group of people, not even during his internship in New York City or his years of practicing medicine in San Francisco, both of which cities prided themselves on the eccentricity of their inhabitants.
Giles interrupted the squabbling pair. "Never mind that now." He looked at Dr. Martinez. "So you think that Buffy has, er, escaped into herself, so to speak . . . that, in essence, she's had a sort of nervous breakdown."
"Well . . ." Dr. Martinez hesitated. "Well, yes, I guess you could put it like that. There certainly is no physical reason that we can detect for her continuing to be unconscious. And believe me, we've run every test there is."
"Wait," Riley suddenly recalled. "When Buffy was first admitted, I thought you said it could sometimes take days or even weeks for someone to regain consciousness."
"Yes," Dr. Martinez allowed. "That's true - but not with a fracture as minor as this one. So since there is no apparent physiological cause for her condition, I have to wonder if it isn't a psychological one."
"I'm willing to give it a try," Riley declared. He glanced a little awkwardly at Joyce. "Do you mind if I go in to her now?"
Joyce smiled. "Go ahead, Riley. I'll relieve you in an hour."
Riley smiled back in thanks. Pushing the door open enough to admit him, he swung it almost closed behind him and went over to Buffy. He pulled the chair over next to the bed and sat down. Buffy's arms rested across the coverlet, and he reached over and picked up one hand, chafing it with his thumb. The almost skeletal thinness of it caught at his heart. He looked at her face, seeing how sunken her features had become.
"I remember the first time I saw you," he murmured. "It was the first or second day of school, in the university library; do you remember? You knocked those books off the shelf onto my head, and you were so embarrassed and flustered. Did I ever tell you how cute you are when you're flustered?"
He gave a faint chuckle. "Probably not; 'cute' and 'slayer' don't really go together, do they? Then, later on, I saw you in the cafeteria. You broke the handle on the ice cream machine, and I remember thinking, 'What a klutz.' Boy, was I wrong." He smiled a little.
"I'm not sure when I started really noticing you as a person instead of just someone who was always dropping things and stammering out inane remarks. One day I looked at you in class and suddenly realized how beautiful you are. And your class papers that I graded showed that you were really smart too. Then all of a sudden it seemed as if our paths were always crossing. Every place I went, there you were too. And I couldn't get you out of my mind, Buffy, especially after we started dating. I've never fallen for anyone this hard and fast before. There's a phrase I remember hearing my father use: blonde bombshell. That's how I felt, like I'd been hit by a blonde bombshell named Buffy Summers."
Riley smiled again. "Or maybe Hurricane Buffy is more like it. An unstoppable force of nature that gathers up everything in its path and sweeps them along with it."
Then he shook his head. "No. That's not it. Hurricanes leave only devastation behind, and that's not true of you. You battle the forces of destruction, you don't cause it.
"When everything happened with the Initiative . . . when Maggie tried to have you killed and then when they captured Oz and tortured him . . . when I finally realized that they weren't the guys in white hats I'd believed in, it was like my world shattered. I didn't know who to trust, except you. I didn't even know who I was anymore. So much of my identity was bound up with the Initiative . . . I was lost and scared, but at least I wasn't alone. You were there for me, just like I'm here for you now."
He pressed her hand to his lips. "I love you, Buffy, and I'm going to bring you back to me - to us. I'd hoped you could take a little vacation with me this summer back to Iowa to meet my folks. I hadn't asked you yet because . . . well, the time just never seemed right, what with Adam and the Initiative, but I was going to, soon.
"You'll like my folks, I think, and I know they'll love you. How could anyone not love you? And you should see the farm in the summer; it's so beautiful."
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Buffy opened her eyes. The leaves of the huge oak she lay beneath filtered the sun's rays and dappled her face with shadows. She stretched lazily and blinked up at the sky where high white clouds scudded across the dazzling blue.
God, it felt good to be able to take a nap whenever she wanted! She felt as if she hadn't slept in years. Well, she hadn't, not really. What with patrolling and school and homework, not to mention her tumultuous love life, she'd been short on sleep pretty much ever since she was Called as the Slayer, five years ago.
How long had she been here, she wondered vaguely as she had numerous times before, upon awakening. And for that matter, where exactly was "here"? The last thing she remembered was . . . fighting vamps. Of course; what else would she be doing? And Riley was there with her . . . wherever "there" was.
As usual the elusive memory slipped away before she could grasp it. She yawned. Oh well, it would come to her sooner or later. A soft breeze swept over the countryside, stirring the foliage overhead. Mingled with the rustling of the leaves came a faint murmurous sound, almost like voices. Buffy smiled drowsily, picturing tiny mouths on each green leaf, and slipped back into slumber.
("You were there for me, just like I'm here for you now. I love you, Buffy, and I'm going to bring you back to me. To us.")
END OF PART TWO