The elevator closed smoothly behind them as Buffy stabbed the topmost button.

"Here Wills, put this on. You need a jacket."

"Thanks. Guess that demon really did a number on me, huh?"

Buffy looked down ruefully. "Pretty much. When I got back and you'd gone - I was so worried, Wills. Turns out some guy from the Bronze had called an ambulance though."

Willow grinned. "There now, isn't that reassuring? There are some good, upstanding citizens in Sunnydale after all!"

Xander rolled his eyes as he put his arm around the girl's shoulders."Will, only you could be this upbeat ten minutes out of a coma."

"I feel bad for that doctor though. It's a shame that, you know. Medical procedures."

"Yeah, that is a tragedy. When does this thing stop?"

"We're going to the roof," announced Buffy. "Darker, fire escape, hopefully dodge the non-grainy CCTV and any pesky nurses."

Xander grinned impishly as the doors slid back open. "I wouldn't be against say, one or two pesky nurses, if you know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I think we do, what with it having all the subtlety of a lead pipe to the skull," snapped Giles peevishly. "Let's get out of here before we get any visitors."

"Definitely a good call," muttered Buffy.

Damn. How long 'til someone came to check down here? Early morning, even later? The hard plastic bit into his wrists when he struggled. His thigh was throbbing for the Vicodin that he could feel in his damn pocket. Who was going to find him here, like this? Something inside him shrivelled as he imagined Cameron walking in on him and untying him and staring at him pityingly with her saucer eyes. Let it not be Cameron. Christ, not Chase or Foreman either, if it should take that long. He suddenly wished they'd just hit him on the head and had done with it. He felt exhausted. His back ached from where the boy - surprisingly muscular, as it turned out - had ploughed into him and his arms felt tight. He tried not to think about his leg. He couldn't just sit here and not struggle, but moving simply added to his misery. Only the hope of not being discovered like this kept him tugging away. Active over passive; much better to go and tell than to sit like some kid and be found. How the hell did that girl manage to twist plastic so goddamn tight?!

How were they even planning on getting out of the hospital? He wasn't sure if he wanted them to be stopped, wanted someone to be sent down here to investigate. Being shot had more glamour, he thought ruefully. Apart from the catheter, obviously. I was pretty much out for that part though. He didn't know how much later it was when he heard the lift chime go off. His stomach bubbled nervously. "Hello?"

Doors opened at the other end of the corridor and he heard a voice, dulled to a mutter by the distance. He wiggled his fingers in an effort to restore some circulation. "Hey!"

"House?" House froze for a second. The tension drained from his body and suddenly this was all just ridiculous and infuriating rather than the anxious weight it had been in his gut a few seconds earlier.

"House? You still here?"

"Wilson?! Get the hell in here!"

As four figures crept silently through the shadowy outskirts of the hospital, another couple was heading through the damp car park, drifting like ghosts over the taxi ramps and parking bays. Their path was almost crossed by an ageing woman, arm in a sling, walking tiredly towards the bus stop. The shorter of the two men paused and cast his eyes hungrily at her retreating back.

"How 'bout we grab a bite?"

The taller man turned and looked thoughtfully at her faltering exit. He sucked his teeth thoughtfully.

"Nah."

In the pale moonlight, his face was lit with an eerie, almost angelic glow. It grinned evilly.

"Let's save ourselves for the good stuff."

House felt the strangest mixture of reluctance and delight when the door opened and Wilson peeked in curiously. Now he was here, now House was safe and back in the normal world without crazed Britons and alien serums, he could feel the sting of his imprisonment more vividly - it became translated into something real. He suddenly felt twice as pissed off. As Wilson stepped fully into the room, mouth agape, reluctance was replaced with irritation even as the song of relief reached a crescendo in his head.

"Get over here."

"House, what - " Wilson walked forward and stared in disbelief at the plastic tubing before meeting his eyes. "Is this - a joke?"

"No, it's how I like to unwind," he snapped. "Get a knife or something while I still have some blood-flow."

Wilson walked dazedly towards a draw and pulled out a blade. "What - what the hell happened?" He knelt down in front of the chair and saw a darkening bruise on House's temple, a souvenir from his collision with the floor. The situation hit him. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." He didn't meet his eyes. Wilson started sawing through the tubing around his shoulders, his own pulse suddenly jumping to life in his ears.

"You were attacked?"

"Only briefly. They played nice. Relatively speaking."

He twisted to the side, baring his wrists as best he could as Wilson shifted position to reach them. Wilson jolted suddenly - "Ow!!", - realising;

"Where's the patient?!"

House waited until his wrists were free and teased his arms forward, unable to suppress a groan. "She's gone."

Wilson dropped the blade to the floor and sank back on his haunches. "They kidnapped a comatose girl?!"

House didn't think he'd ever seen him look so horrified. He flexed his fingers painfully and reached for his Vicodin. "You lacerated me!"

"House!"

"She left with her three buddies after they woke her up." Wilson stared at him blankly. "Yeah I know, it didn't make much sense to me either. She seemed fairly happy to scamper off though so I'm not sure it was worth my trying to stop them." His hands were numb. Wilson automatically reached for the bottle and popped the cap for him, moving round to sit on the edge of the bed.

"That's - not possible."

Twenty minutes 'til they kick in. House shifted his leg cautiously. "I know. These - this man, and these two teenagers came in and I heard them and they were going to inject her with this stuff, god knows what, and I ended up getting tackled. When she woke up, I got left here to facilitate their speedy exit." He shut his eyes as a wave of pain throbbed through his thigh. "Remind me again why you encourage me to give a rat's ass about the patient?"

Wilson stood up and shook his head a few times, as if expecting House and the room to evaporate around him and let him to wake up at his desk upstairs. "Can you stand up? We have to go - report this. This is crazy."

"Give me a minute." Wilson wordlessly passed him the cane and House leaned his forehead on the familiar ridge of wood. This simple action seemed to cool his thoughts and lend them order.

"I have no idea what they gave her - they didn't seem to know either. I can't figure it out. Or why they needed to get out of here so fast. Pass me her chart."

Wilson paced in front of him, distinctly uninterested in the puzzle and agitated by the disappearance of the girl. "I can't believe they - It was . . . her own free will?"

"Hey, you wake up from a coma, you wanna go home with your buddies. She was happy as Larry. Happy as Laura. You know."

"Stand up, I want to check you out."

"I always talk like this. It's not proof of concussion."

"I know that."

"I'm fine."

"That's what I want to check. You look pretty scuffed up."

"'Scuffed up'?"

"You know what I mean." Wilson batted away House's hand and leaned over the bruise to his temple. "They hit you?"

"There was general scuffing."

"Yeah, I've seen you when Cuddy tries to push an alternate treatment. No way you let this go easily." House pushed himself tentatively from the seat, again saying a silent thank you to no-one in particular that it was Wilson who had stumbled upon him.

"I threatened to beat them to death with my cane. It didn't go down well."

Wilson smiled slightly and put a balancing arm on his friend's shoulder. "Odd. It normally works like a charm. Who were they?"

There was a sudden movement behind them. "And more importantly", drawled a voice, "where the hell have they gone?"

They had cleared the fire-escape, crossed the rain-slicked car park and were well on the way to the van when Willow froze suddenly in her tracks. "Uh . . . Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"We're hurrying because we think Spike is up to something, right?"

"You - don't like that plan?" asked Buffy inquiringly.

"No, it's a great plan except - you knew I was here from the guy at the Bronze, right? The place where pretty much all the vamps hang out? Spike can check the records to see what room I was in, public building and all - "

Xander stared. "But Wills, you're with us now. Not a Scooby snack."

Giles turned pale. "Oh, God."

"Wha - Oh! Oh." Buffy turned and stared at Giles in horror. "God, I was so busy trying to get Will home and venomed up I totally . . ." She went pale. "If they come, we've left him gift-wrapped!"

"Ouch," muttered Xander. "Now I feel even worse." He shifted under their glares. "What? I felt bad before, too."

"Get Willow out of here," Buffy stated, streaking back towards the hospital.

"Buff, you might need help!"

"I'll be fine. I'll just - move him. Untie him. Something. I'm sure he's still vamp-free."