Chapter Twenty-Five
The sounds of the bayou were silent around the small stilted house - animals and insects knowing in that instinctual way that something big and pissed-off was nearby and that they wanted no part of it. It was far from the ideal safe-house, but it was close and the guy that owned it owed Eric, so he'd keep his mouth shut about the tense, blood stained vampire showing up at his door in the middle of the night and telling to leave - he'd done so without hesitation or questions.
Eric sat on the edge of a bed in nothing but a towel, staring down at the worn wooden floor of the one room that made up almost the entire house. The smell of the swamp and cheap bourbon had soaked into every surface, but the only smell that he noticed was that off Buffy's blood. It hung in the air, refusing to leave despite the fact that he'd thrown the odd bloodstained clothes he'd been wearing out into the water, watching as they sunk beneath the surface, then promptly showered.
It set him on edge, that sweet coppery smell. It made him want to break something, or someone. And he was hungry. Not a good combination. That reason, along with the complications that would arise because of his presence, were what prompted him to leave Buffy at a hospital in the city then retreat to this place. But even though he knew it was the right decision, the logical choice, he still felt restless and irritable. Like an invisible chain linked them together and the further away he got the more choked and uneasy he felt. Where this feeling had come from was just one of many, many questions he currently had.
Why was he in New Orleans? And in a cemetery? What had happened to Buffy? Why had she been blue? Why couldn't he remember? And just what the hell had happened when he'd tried to give her his blood?
His jaw tightened and he abruptly stood from his seated position, taking instead to pacing the length of the room. His long strides ate up the ground, only letting him get five steps in before he had to turn. But he hoped the movement would help the flow of his mind, which with its gaps and confusion seemed slow and dim witted - something he wasn't at all used to and absolutely hated.
The last thing he remembered was being in his office. Then, suddenly, he was in a graveyard with Buffy bleeding all over him. It hadn't taken him long to realize the situation was serious - her gasping breaths and the slowing of her heartbeat made that very clear. But he hadn't been overly concerned, a bit of his blood would fix her right up. So, fighting off the hunger that got stronger with each second her blood poured out onto him, he bit into his wrist and put it too her mouth.
It only took three seconds for things to go horribly wrong.
A sudden spike in power had made the very air around them shudder, then she'd jerked upright into a crouched position, whirling on him so fast that even he'd had trouble following her movements. She'd stared at him for a loaded split second - the expression on her face morphing from confusion to predatory in a single sluggish beat of her heart. Usually soft green eyes had been flecked with yellow, wide pupils eating up the iris. Then she'd grinned. In that moment, Eric felt something he hadn't experienced in a long, long time.
Fear.
She'd launched herself at him with incredible speed, hitting him with all the force of a freight train. Small hands had turned into claws of iron as she tore at him in animalistic fury. She'd almost ripped his damn arm off and was going for his throat before he'd managed to even fight back at all. Not that he'd been able to do much. Not with his arm dangling by gristle and cracked bone and her speed and strength increased by such a staggering amount. Just when the thought occurred to him that she might actually kill him, she'd gone rigid, thrown up blood all over him and then went into convulsions, setting off a new kind of fear in him.
After that things just kind of blurred together, a dreamlike, shuttering line of events loosely connected. The majority of his focus had been on not draining her dry as he'd flown with her in his one good arm, head leaning limply against his chest and limbs dangling. The sound of her stuttering heartbeat still echoed in his ears. Somehow, his control won out and he'd managed to get to a hospital. Even more miraculous was that he had the presence of mind to take her cell phone from her pocket before he'd left her in the ambulance bay, leaving no witnesses to identify him except an intern on a smoke break. He'd heard the mans yell for help from inside as he ran off into the night, ensuring him that she was getting care.
His realization that he was in New Orleans had come almost immediately, even with the smell of Buffy's blood burrowing its way into his sanity. He knew he needed to get the hell out of sight, it was a fact that superseded his confusion. Sophie-Anne wasn't something he was ready to deal with right then and the longer he was visible, the better the chances were that he'd run across one of her employees. If he was dragged in to face her, with no answers no less, then he'd never find out about what had happened or if Buffy was alright.
He'd used Buffy's phone to call Fangtasia from the outskirts of the city, taking a minute to stare at the date in confusion. Somehow, three days had passed without his knowledge. Pam had sounded relieved to hear from him, but hadn't given him much information - just asked where Buffy was, cursing about witches when she heard she was in the hospital, then said she'd meet him at the safe-house before hanging up. Furious at the outstanding lack of information he'd just gotten, he'd redialed the bar, getting Gerald for some reason instead of Pam, and being informed that she'd already left in the few seconds that it took him to call back. Snarling, he'd asked for Chow, determined to get some answers. But apparently Chow was dead…
After hearing that, he'd decided to just wait on Pam.
His steps continued to carry him back and forth across the worn, pitted floor silently as he spent the time waiting for his second to arrive uselessly trying to put together a puzzle where he was missing the majority of the pieces. The frustration at not knowing what had happened combined with the ever increasing rasp on his nerves caused by Buffy's absence, condition and the lingering scent of her blood clawed at him more and more as time ticked by.
He was so worked up by the time Pam got there that he rounded on her like a striking snake, slamming her against the door she'd just come in and snarling in her face, "What the hell is going on?"
The case of True Blood she carried with her rattled slightly with the assault, but she just stared back at him, impassively.
"Glad to see your back to yourself, Sherriff," she deadpanned. Then her eyes zeroed in on his arm, which was still sluggishly healing due to his lack of feeding. "What happened?
"Later. Tell me what's going on. Why can't I remember the last three days?"
Wasting no time, she dove right in.
"You were cursed by the witch that was demanding part of Fantasia's profits. Do you remember the meeting?" She asked, for all the world looking like dangling a foot off the ground by the front of her sweater was an everyday occurrence.
"Yes, I remember the messenger coming to the club," he said, then thought harder, lowering her to the ground and stalking away as he pulled forth the events. "Their leader wanted me to bed her. I refused."
Pam snorted. "Yes. You 'refused', quiet vehemently. And were promptly cursed. Then Chow, in a fit of anger, attacked the messenger which caused you to disappear."
He watched her straighten her sweater then carry the blood to the small counter that served as a kitchen. "No microwave…"
Eric followed her and grabbed a bottle of the blood, shaking it and popping the top before downing it. Synthetic blood wasn't great warm, but it was absolutely vile room temperature. Still, he drank it all down and opened another.
"Disappeared?" He asked, taking another long pull on the bottle.
"Yes, one moment you were there. The next gone. We were in the process of organizing a search when Buffy called saying she'd come across you in an altercation with a squad of vampire police here in New Orleans," she paused while he processed this and then went on. "She called me after she got you away. I told her to keep you for the time being since the witches here would still be looking for you. "
"To keep me?" He snorted slightly, though he was less than amused. "Then what?"
"The witches scoured the areas around Shreveport for you, even going as far as to offer a fifty-thousand dollar reward for information on your whereabouts. While they did that, I gathered the area vampires and spoke with Colonel Flood."
"You teamed with the local Weres?" He asked, surprised.
"It turned out the witches were also Weres. Weres that were drinking vampire blood…"
Eric let out an ancient curse. "I take it that since you're using the past tense that they've been handled?"
Pam bared her teeth in a feral grin. "Oh, yes. Our people and Flood's dogs fought a gloriously bloody battle against them. Chow died," she said with a twist of her lips and a shrug. "But we were able to capture Hallow. I had quite an enjoyable time forcing her to remove the spell she'd placed on you."
Eric nodded and grabbed a third bottle, feeling more together now that he was getting filled with both blood and missing information.
"And what about here in New Orleans? What did you hear from Buffy in that time?"
"Nothing," she shrugged. "I told her to watch out for witches and not to let Sophie-Anne know you were in the city, that was the last I heard until your call."
He fell silent, hoping that the new information Pam had provided would trigger something, some memory would show itself and allow the others to fall in place. But nothing came. The time between his meeting in Fangtasia and waking up a few hours ago continued to a yawning black hole.
"I woke up in a cemetery with Buffy's bleeding body on top of me a few hours ago," he said, pausing to finish the blood and then standing to get another bottle. "But how I got there or what happened before then, I have no memory of."
"And you said Buffy was injured?"
"Yes, it appeared as though she'd been beaten and stabbed," he said. The bottle in his hand suddenly shattered, glass and synthetic blood bursting through his fingers. He ignored it and went on. "I took her to a hospital then called you."
"Why didn't you just give her your blood?"
His face remained impassive, but the image of her, clawing and snarling at him, completely oblivious that she was injuring herself further, flashed across his mind as he watched the blood drip off his hand onto the floor.
"I did. She… had a bad reaction to it."
Pam eyed him critically, obviously knowing there was more to it than that, but didn't question him on it.
"Well, she was supposed to be protecting you. I'd imagine you either came in contact with the police or witches looking for you, forcing a confrontation," she pointed out bluntly.
Eric got up and headed for the counter under the pretense of getting more blood, not wanting Pam's sharp eyes to see his face twist with the thought that she was hurt because she was trying to protect him.
"No one else was there. Why would- Wait… there was the scent of magic in the air," he said slowly as he turned back to her, just now remembering that detail.
Pam nodded. "It was probably witches trying to collect on your bounty. They might have been able to sense that the spell on you was lifting and left, knowing that meant Hallow was likely dead and they wouldn't be paid."
Eric turned around again, sitting the bottle of blood on the counter a little harder than necessary. Buffy's phone caught his eye and he tossed it over his shoulder to Pam without turning around.
"She's at the Tulane Medical Center," he said quietly. "Check on her status."
Pam nodded and went outside with the phone, knowing he needed a moment to regain his fluctuating control. He didn't need Pam to tell him she was still alive, he could feel her. The blood of his that made it inside her had linked them and that feeling of muted pain signaling she was out there and alive was the only thing that had kept him from returning to the hospital despite the risks.
He turned, leaning back against the counter as he stared at the puddle of blood mingled with broken glass on the floor, body still and thoughts slowing and calming. He had his answers (or at least some of them), Buffy was seriously injured, but alive, and now that he'd eaten and had Pam with him, he could focus on finding the answers he was still missing. Most notably who had attacked them and almost killed Buffy. Closely followed by getting answers from her about what had happened during his stretch of amnesia and why she'd reacted in such a way to his blood.
Feeling calmer and cooler now, he started to plan out how exactly he was going to get away with moving around the city without Sophie-Anne's attention being grabbed - and if it was, what excuse he could give her. He was drawn out of his musing by the sudden sound of laughter though.
Raising an eyebrow, he watched as Pam came back in, red tears coursing down her cheeks as she continued to howl in mirth.
"I know how funny you usually find mortal wounds, but is this really necessary?" He asked dryly.
Instead of answering, she just turned the phone toward him, showing picture of none other than himself in those ridiculous clothes he'd been wearing earlier, sans blood. His mouth dropped open as he took in his own countenance, the features familiar but the expression was one he'd never seen on his face before. Wide-eyed confusion painted his features with an odd innocence, his head tilted slightly to the side as he stared back at the lens.
"That's- I can't even," Pam gasped between more laughter, before finally getting out. "I already owed her for taking care of you, but this… I don't think I can ever repay her for taking this picture."
"If you're finished," he said with a scowl while he deleted the picture, knowing full well that Pam would've already sent it to three e-mail accounts to safe-guard its existence. "Care to tell me what you found out?"
"Oh, she's fine," she said with a wave, then wiping away her bloody tears. "Been transferred to a private room. I guess Sophie-Anne must have been informed because she has a private medical staff and all her information has been locked down."
"The Queen might think this was a move against her…" Eric said thoughtfully, then a particularly unpleasant thought occurred to him. "But at least this offers her some protection. Do you think there's any chance of the witches going after Buffy again?"
"Not to worry. The guard, Rasul, is with her. I'm sure he's keeping a very close eye on her."
Eric's newly restored control slipped away and the remaining bottles of blood crashed against the wall.
The slow beeping was getting on her damn nerves. It ricocheted around in her head , unending… again, and again, and again. Couldn't whoever was doing that see that she was trying to sleep?
Buffy's hand twitched as the sound went on and on, chiseling away at her patience as she tried to slip back into unconsciousness.
That's it, she thought, prying open eyes that seemed entirely too heavy. I'm getting up and shoving that beeping thing up whoever's ass-
Oh…
She blinked rapidly at the bright room, eyes tearing up at the sudden assault of florescent lighting on her retinas. As soon as she saw the sterile whiteness of everything, she noticed the smell of antiseptic and sickness. Dammit, she was in a hospital…
Rolling her head heavily to the right, she saw that the beeping was the sound of her heart monitor. Good thing she hadn't gotten her wish about the sound going away…
Looking to the left she saw Rasul, staring at her unblinkingly from a chair next to her bed. His serious face only about a foot from her own.
"Rasul," she croaked. "'s creepy…"
He cracked a smile that didn't reach his dark eyes and poured her a glass of water, holding the straw while she sipped at it. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. Never before had she realized how glorious it was. All wet… and cold… and wet…
Wait, something was wrong here…
"'m I drunk?" She slurred, letting the straw pop out of her mouth.
"No, you're just on some very good drugs."
"Drugs 'r bad…"
"Not when you have a hole all the way through you. Then they're very good."
"Wait… I've gotta what now?" She said, shaking her head and making an attempt to clear the fog from her brain.
"Someone left you at the emergency room entrance. You were stabbed all the way through and bleeding to death," he said flatly.
"Jeez, your bedside manner sucks," she said slowly, trying to avoid any more drunk-speech. "Aren't you supposed to break stuff like that to me gently?"
"You'll be fine," he said with a slight eye roll. "You're healing ability is pretty amazing actually. That wound would've killed anyone else, the doctors were about to pounce on you for studies and medical journal articles before the Queen sent in a private team for you."
"How'd she hear about it?"
"The Queen has eyes everywhere. A girl fitting your description with your healing ablitlies was something she had checked out immediately," he answered, shrugging. Then his gaze turned serious once again. "What do you remember?"
Buffy reached up to rub a temple, feeling the tug of an IV as she did so. What did she remember? Hell A… Angel and Spike… Wolfram and Hart… Oh, that was why she had an extra hole in her! Hart was feeling all stabby. After that, things got a little patchy. She must've opened the portal… Oh yeah, to send Eric back!
Shit! Eric! She tried to fight away the burst of sudden panic, but the heart monitor tattled on her, spiking loudly.
"Buffy?" Rasul was on his feet in a second.
"Sorry, it's- I'm fine," she said, swallowing and thinking fast. "I don't really remember much, but I suddenly remembered there was a sword…"
She put her hand over the bulk of bandages on her stomach for effect.
She looked up at him from under her lashes, gauging his reaction. She wasn't sure what he knew, so she didn't want to tell any blatant lies she could get caught in. How had she gotten to the hospital? Where was Eric? Did the Queen have him now? Wait…
"You said someone left me in the emergency bay?"
"Yes, a blond man. I viewed the surveillance video, but the quality was very poor and the area he left you in not very well lit, so I couldn't tell much more than that. There was only one witness and he said the man was covered in blood, presumably yours, fairly tall, and wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt. Any of that sound familiar?"
She watched Rasul closely, but he didn't seem to be fishing for her to incriminate herself. Still, she'd better step very carefully…
"Umm… I think there were two… no, maybe three men," she said, looking away and feigning concentration. "They were strong… Really strong. But I don't think any of them were blond…"
It was all true, so she couldn't be called a liar if the truth came out. She'd just left some stuff out…
"So all you remember from the last three days was that you were attacked by three men and stabbed with a sword?"
"Three days?"
Her mouth fell open, no need to fake shock this time...
Apparently that show of genuine surprise was enough to convince Rasul, because he went on a little softer.
"Yes, Buffy. You left the apartment on New Years Eve and haven't been seen since. It's the morning of the fourth now."
Well, time in Hell did move differently. And with all the fighting there and the constant red sky, she couldn't be sure how long they were there either. But three days?
"Could it have been Madden?
The question surprised her out of her thoughts and her gaze whipped around to Rasul. His eyes were glowing slightly and she could see the tension in his body.
Victor Madden… the name sent a hot wave of fury through her, causing the heart monitor to spike again. Oh, how she'd like to blame this on him… But she wasn't sure exactly what that would mean in the vampire political scene. She was a (not so well kept) secret employee. Could, or would, Sophie-Anne make a move against a vamp in another territory because he'd attacked her?
As nice as the thought of Sophie-Anne's forces going in to Arizona and tearing apart Madden was, Buffy didn't want a war started because her. Let alone the fact that it would be a lie.
Plus, when the opportunity came, no one was killing Victor but her. She owed it to Dennis.
"I doubt it," she said grudgingly. "Victor wouldn't take me out with a sword to the gut. He'd want to keep me around for a while as entertainment. It would probably end up a lot messier than a single stab wound..."
A growl burst out of Rasul before he choked it back. Then he stood abruptly.
"I have to go now. The sun will be up soon," he said with a glance at the window. "But someone will be here to-"
"Take me with you," Buffy interrupted, panicking at the thought of being stuck in this room all day. She needed to find out what happened to Eric and that wouldn't be easy if Sophie-Anne had people creeping around the hospital.
"You were just skewered, Buffy. You were bleeding internally and had to have surgery. You can't just leave a few hours after something like that."
"Surgery smurgery," she said with a wobbly hand wave. "You already said the doctors were talking about how fast I was healing. That's not going to change because I go somewhere else."
"You need to be monitored and medicated."
"No, I don't," she said seriously, looking him right in the eye. "And I hate hospitals, Rasul. Hate them. My apartment is way more comfortable, I'll feel better there, so I'll heal faster. The medication isn't going to change how quickly I heal, it'll just make me feel loopy. And if you're worried about me being alone, I'll call a friend and have her come hang out with me until you get up. She owes me anyway…"
Buffy scowled at the thought of her ruined jacket.
"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"Don't act surprised. You already knew that," she said, giving him a sunny smile.
He shook his head, but grinned. "Fine, I'll be back in a minute and we'll go."
As soon as the door clicked shut, the smile fell from her face. She tried to keep from freaking, not wanting the heart monitor to go nuts again, but it was hard. Where the hell was Eric? Not that she wasn't grateful that he wasn't there - Sophie-Anne getting her hands on him would just top off her getting stabbed perfectly.
A minute later a nurse came in, bustling around her, pulling out lines and poking and prodding while asking questions and giving home care advice. Buffy tried to answer as best she could, but her mind was occupied with more important things than how to properly change a bandage. As if that wasn't a skill she excelled at. If there was a bandage-changing Olympic category, she'd be getting the gold.
As the nurse went on and on with her little spiel, Buffy resumed her thoughts on Eric. She had to assume that the 'tall blond man' that had dropped her off at the hospital had been him (really the tie-dyed shirt was a dead giveaway), but why would he leave? He couldn't know that staying would be a bad idea… Well, she supposed he could've put that together from what he'd heard of her and Pam's phone conversation, but she doubted it. Plus, he'd been a little… clingy without his memory. So why would he leave her side?
Unless he got his memory back?
She had to pause in her thoughts again while the nurse went over her prescriptions, she tuned in for about six seconds, nodded politely, then went back to ignoring her for her musing. The nurse gave a tutting sound as she left, either because she'd noticed Buffy's inattention or didn't agree with her going home already, but Buffy's mind was already back to thinking about Eric by the time the door closed behind her.
Was that it? Rasul said she'd been missing for three days, had Pam managed to get the curse lifted while they were away?
"Buffy? Why are you bleeding on me? And what am I wearing?"
Her eyes widened as she abruptly remembered his voice, far away but with the unmistakable dry cadence of Eric's normal speech pre-amnesia. Did that mean that he remembered who he was… but didn't remember what had happened in L.A.? Was she really that lucky?
You just got beaten up and stabbed by the heads of an interdimensional evil law firm after ending up in L.A. while it was being sucked into hell, all while trying to protect a giant amnesiac vampire. No, luck is not something you have, she told herself wryly.
Still, she couldn't help but to smile. If that really was what happened, it was perfect. She wouldn't have to worry about him being lost and looking for a place to hide from the sun, and she didn't have to worry about all the explaining that would go along with Eric remembering the portal trip to L.A. and the meeting with her exes. She was still smiling when Rasul came back.
"What are you so happy about?" He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"I'm getting out of here. Do I need any other reason?"
Then she spotted what he was pushing, which immediately erased her happy vibe.
"I'm not riding in that," she said, eying the wheelchair as if it had personally insulted her with its very presence.
"I was hoping you'd say that. Then I get carry you out," Rasul said, picking up the smile she'd dropped.
Carried out like a child? Or wheeled out like a weakling?
"Neither. I'm walking out," Buffy said as she sat up with a wince. Damn, laying still on the bed she felt fine, moving around was another thing…
"No," Rasul said, never losing his smile but his eyes going hard. "You're not. So what's it going to be? Arms or chair?"
Buffy huffed, wondering if she was feeling up to kicking Rasul's ass, but in the end decided no, she wasn't.
"Will you use your super vampire speed?"
"Yes, I'll use my 'super vampire speed'," he answered in an indulgent tone. "But only if I carry you. I trust my reflexes, but I don't trust this thing to keep up."
Buffy eyed the wheelchair and had to admit she agreed. One of the handles looked suspiciously taped on and a wheel was sporting more rust than actual metal.
"Okay then," she said, sliding her feet down to the ground gingerly.
But just as she started to reach for him, she felt a strong draft on her backside.
"Wait!" She gasped, swinging a hand back to pull the two sides of the gown together. "I need clothes!"
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that," Rasul said with a wicked smirk, dodging the pillow Buffy threw at him. Laughing, he tossed her a two clear plastic bags with dark green scrubs in them and walked out.
Changing was more of an ordeal than she thought it would be. Her muscles ached and she could feel the stitches pulling with every movement. But given that she'd only had her ass handed to her and gotten shish-kabobed about six hours ago, she supposed she couldn't really complain.
She sat on the bed for a second, catching her breath before Rasul came back in. It was silly really, he could probably hear the pounding of her heart out in the hall, but she'd still rather not look like she was about to keel over any second when he came back.
Straightening slowly, she kept a protective hand on her stomach and one on the bed. When she was sure she wasn't going to fall over, she folded her arms and called Rasul back in.
"Ready!"
The door opened a second later and Rasul walked back in, eyeing her critically, but keeping his mouth shut. Smart vampire. He bent, letting her get her arms around his neck, before scooping her up in one smooth motion. She was impressed with his quick but careful movements, she barely felt a thing. The stitches in her back were pulling a little more because of her slightly hunched up position, but he seemed to realize that within seconds and had her comfortably settled in his arms as if she weighed nothing and was made from glass.
The hall outside blurred by much to her enjoyment, and soon they were flying down flight after flight of steps. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, the fast paced circling making her a little nauseous. He was wearing a soft black t-shirt with his standard black cargo pants, and the material was soft beneath her cheek. The lack of breath and a beating heart was actually nice - a relief after the annoying beeping of the monitor in her room. She noticed vaguely that he smelled nice. Spicy, almost.
"That was way better than getting wheeled out," she said sleepily as the cool night air hit her, thinking that they'd just now be getting in the elevator if she'd taken option B.
"Yes," he answered softly, his words stirring her hair slightly. "Much better."
It wasn't until they were almost to the car that Buffy remembered that he might have more-than-a-friend-type feelings for her and that maybe being this close to him wasn't such a good idea. But it was just a whisper of a thought and it was gone as quickly as it came. Sleep grasped at her with greedy hands and as she gave in to it, she was almost sure she felt a pair of cool lips brush her forehead.