TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn
# 45 Fallout
AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART: 45/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing
and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd
share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Anybody, just
credit me and let me know where it's
going.
Feedback: Please.
Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world
would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
Willow's eyes were wide, taking in two carats of
marquis cut solitaire glinting on her friend's hand.
"It's gorgeous," she breathed.
Buffy grinned.
"Ya think so? I dunno. I mean, it's definitely better
than the last one."
Willow confused expression slowly turned to
understanding, and she blushed.
"I'm really sorry about that"-
But Buffy intercepted her, laying a gentle hand on her
arm.
"Teasing, Wil. I'm just teasing you!"
A small frown creased her brow, and she grew serious.
" You know, though- If you hadn't done that spell, maybe
things wouldn't be this way now. I mean, maybe that whole thing let us think
about each other in a different way. So in a way, we really ought to thank
you."
Taking in the dark cast of Willow's eyes, Buffy's rushed
to lighten the mood.
"Hey, maybe you're so powerful with the witch-foo, maybe
we're still spelled. D'ya think?" She
beamed.
Willow's eyes searched Buffy's for reassurance.
"Are you happy, Buffy? Really happy? I mean- Does Spike
make you happy?"
Buffy smiled softly, her face suffused in warm pinkness.
"Yeah, Willow. I think maybe he does."
"Help me get him out of these clothes."
Angel was frantic, pulling at the policemen's uniform
with both hands, in the back of the van, as they sped down the street.
Lindsay pulled at the sleeve, sliding it off of the
broken body. Up over a badly mangled arm, down a limp and misshapen wrist, he
tugged. Below him Angel settled for cutting the trousers off legs too badly
mangled to bend properly.
"What are you doing?" asked Cordelia indignantly.
"He can't go to the hospital dressed like this, it will
raise too many questions," came Lindsay's irritated answer.
"Oh, and I suppose hauling him Buck-Naked into emergency
is a better option?"
Together the vampires answered her.
"Yes."
She gave up and took the clothes as they were offered to
her, rolling them into a ball and stuffing them in between a pair of seats.
"I don't think we should have moved him," she added.
Angel's voice was terse.
"We couldn't exactly hang around waiting for an
ambulance, could we? Any minute, those guards would have followed him out onto
the street. Did you find anything in his clothes?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing. Whatever it is, he didn't bring a copy out with
him, and Gunn didn't trace any uploads. I- I don't think he got it, Angel."
His groan wounded her. He was disappointed, but it was
more than that. They had wasted this opportunity. Spike was hurt badly, maybe
dying, and the mission had failed. They would not get another opportunity to
locate the prophecy.
Angel was berating himself silently for having taken such
a chance. He was used to thinking of Spike as unconquerable, undefeatable. But
mortals have their limits. Somehow he'd convinced himself Spike would come out
of this whole thing all right.
Tracing his hand over the bruised flesh of Spike's face,
Angel remembered. And if the memories stung his eyes, they also served to balm
his heart.
His boy was a firebrand. Surely a little thing like
falling out of a three -story building wouldn't keep him down long.
Up front, Gunn rotated the steering wheel sharply as he
cut into and out of the downtown traffic, headed for University Hospital.
Beside him, Wesley argued into the phone.
"Look, you silly little- I don't care what he did to you.
You get those papers and you get over to university hospital….PUT A HAT ON OR
SOMETHING. For God's sake, woman- If Angel can go about in the daylight, there
is no earthly reason why you can't... Call a taxi, then!…Listen, there's a
motor garage adjacent to the hospital. You need never even SEE the sun…Harmony,
Stop your whining. If you want to be taken seriously as a member of this team,
then you'll have to pull your own weight. That means putting aside your
personal differences and working with the group. Get his papers and get over
here NOW."
He hung up on Harmony with a slow hiss of exasperation.
"She not coming?" asked Gunn.
Wes looked over at him.
"She's coming. I just wonder how much it's going to cost
us. The last time I asked Harmony for a favor she maxed out my credit card."
"It's very pretty, Buffy," said Tara quietly.
They were gathered around in the Bridal Salon, watching
Buffy try on discount dresses. The current choice was a frilly white concoction
with too much lace and too little neckline.
"I don't know. I think it's too froofy. What about you,
Willow?"
Willow made a face.
"You look more like the cake than the bride."
Buffy sighed, and stepped down off of the riser in front
of the mirrors.
"Maybe I'm not white wedding material."
Anya jumped in, from the rack she was thumbing.
"I like this one. Why does it have to be white, anyway? I
mean, you're not exactly a-"
Willow cut her off.
"Anya- No ragging on the bride, okay? This is a happy
day. When you get married, you can have a white dress too, if you want."
Anya shook her head.
"But I like the pink one better."
She held up a monstrous prom dress with an enormous butt
bow.
Buffy shook her head, smiling.
"Nah, definitely nothing with a butt-bow. Here, somebody
get me out of this thing."
They waited in the corridor for word, watching time tick
past on the wall clock.
"Why are hospitals always done in green?" asked Cordy, as
she flipped through a Mademoiselle magazine.
"Green is supposed to be soothing," Angel commented
absently. Beside him, Lilah dozed, her head against Lindsay, sitting to her
other side.
Harmony ran up to them, huffing and puffing with lost breath
she didn't need. She wore a large black hat, with a veil, black gloves, a wool
cape, and dark clothes.
"He's not dead yet, Harm," shot Cordy acidly.
She rolled her eyes at them under the veil, then realized
they couldn't see it. So she pulled the veil back and glared hard at the other
girl.
" I'm just trying to keep out of the sun, okay?"
She scowled.
"It's just not natural, this whole 'keeping human hours'
thing. It's gross. I haven't had enough sleep. You don't even want to know how
long it took me to do my makeup -"
"Harmony, where are the papers?"
Angel's question was direct. Harmony groaned painfully
and shoved the parcel into his hands.
"Here. Take your stupid papers. I don't know why he needs
them anyway. A driver's license, his wallet, green card…"
Gunn jumped in, leafing through dollar bills on his money
clip. He gave her a dazzling smile well-suited to melt knees.
"Harmony. Here, go get us a couple sodas, sweetie,
please?"
She took the money and smirked.
"See? Some people know how to ASK for a lady's help."
She waltzed off, towards the coke machines. Behind her
Wesley gave a low moan of exasperation.
"You didn't really want a coke, did you?."
His friend chuckled, shaking his head.
"Nah man. I just like to watch her walking away. It's
always a better view."
Angel was leafing through the folder, pulling out
information. It was all there. The phony id's, the phony green cards…All the
necessary information for Spike's mortal paper trail. If he lived through this,
his real records would begin here, in this hospital. Where they were already
astonished at his resistance to injury. After all, people falling out of third
story windows usually exemplify more of the splat factor.
He was too nervous by half; the waiting was intense.
Hurriedly Angel pushed the papers at Cordelia.
"Here. Hang onto these, put them in your purse. They'll
need them later for the paperwork."
She nodded, and Angel turned to his childer, stretched on
the couch.
Lilah sat snugly against the curve of Lindsay's side, one
leg curled up beneath her. Her dark locks fell over Lindsay's arm, pillowing
her head. Lindsay stroked it occasionally, as if for comfort, as he waited with
his maker.
Angel placed a hand on his shoulder, tenderly.
"Lindsay, you don't have to stay here like this. You can
go ahead and take her home if you want to."
He stroked a fallen lock back into place behind her ear,
his eyes meeting Lindsay's above Lilah's head.
"I know you're both exhausted."
Lindsay looked down at his sleeping companion. God, but
she looked innocent in her sleep. All softly pretty.
How deceptive looks could be.
He raised his head back to Angel, and shook it.
"No. You stay, we stay."
Hard resolve in his voice, he added,
"We're family."
Behind them, Cordelia interrupted.
"Um? What is this?"
She had Spike's wallet, open now in her left hand. With
her right she held a small slip of paper, roughly 3X4 in diameter.
She studied it carefully.
"Is this what I think it is?"
Gunn snatched it from her hand easily, and brought it
close enough to view.
"Hey, I think this is one of them baby pictures.
Ultrasound."
He turned it slightly.
"Is that supposed t' be the head?" '
He flipped it.
"Or is that?"
Angel walked over and put his hand out. Gunn handed him
the picture, and Angel raised it to his face.
It was definitely an ultrasound picture, the black
background interrupted by a triangular patch of grey, with a very small dark
something in the center.
The name in the upper left corner was quite clear, even
at this small size and with such low resolution.
'Summers, Buffy. 00010209.'
It
was dated two weeks ago.
He studied it carefully, but couldn't make much of it.
Two small blobs, one perhaps a head, one maybe a torso.
"or else its Siamese twins," he mused.
"What?" exclaimed Cordelia.
He looked back over at her.
"Nothing. Never mind. Did you get this out of his
wallet?"
She nodded.
"I was looking for his insurance card."
He handed the ultrasound picture to her.
"Put it back where it was."
"What is it that you want me to say, Buffy?"
Giles was obviously angry, but Buffy pressed on. She had
to convince him, had to help him see her side of things.
"I was sort of hoping you'd just be happy for me. You
know, the whole 'congratulations' thing."
He sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he
looked at her.
"I can't say that, Buffy. I wish you well, but I cannot
say that I think this is the right decision, for either you, or your…"
"Baby. You can say it, Giles. 'Baby'. It's okay."
He shook his head at her.
"Are you even certain of that, Buffy?"
Her confusion was evident. He tried to explain himself.
"I realize that Spike is mortal- er, Human, now. But
surely there is the possibility for… difficulties. Buffy, his body was 'dead'
for well over a hundred years. You must have considered the possibility of
chromosomal defect, of tissue damage-"
She cut him off.
"No. I do NOT consider those things. We've had an
ultrasound; the baby is fine. I'm fine."
She perked up, shoulders lifting.
"My doctor is even pleased with the weight I'm gaining.
I've packed on one and a half pounds
between my last visits."
She said this last as if it were a colossal achievement.
Given her waning appetite, she rather felt like it was.
He sat back against the sofa, his hands shaking. Buffy
reached to still one in a gentle grip.
"Giles, He loves me, we're getting married, and we're
having a baby."
He squeezed her hand back, and her confidence grew. She
resumed the speech she'd practiced on her way over here.
"You're more than just my watcher, Giles. You're my
friend, probably my best friend. You've been a father to me, you've held my
hand and helped me grow- You've made me a better person. I understand how you
feel about Spike; I get that. But I want you to realize how much it would mean
to me, if you would give me away at the wedding. Not for Spike; for Buffy.
Because it won't be right, it won't be as special if you aren't there beside
me."
She watched him struggle to put his words together, and
his thoughts were so clear they seemed etched in ink on his forehead. He didn't
WANT to give her away, and certainly not to the likes of Spike the Ex-vampire,
William the bloody awful Bum who drank too much and had held his job for less
than a month.
"Buffy, I appreciate the honor of your request. It's
touching that you feel that way about me, that-"
"I LOVE you, Giles. Don't mince words. I love you, and I
want you to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day."
He turned to her, in earnest seriousness.
"Buffy, how can you forget what all he has done? How can
you, of all people, pledge your heart and soul to a soulless demon? Make no
mistake, Buffy. He's mortal now, but the demon is still there. He doesn't deny
it. If there's a soul in that godforsaken body it's a demonic one. How can you
forget that? How can you forgive it?"
Buffy watched his face closely, as his differing emotions
flitted across it. She had to help him get through this. Things could not go on
as they were.
"Giles, you told me once that people are not forgiven
because they deserve it, but because they need it. Well, Spike needs it. No, he
doesn't deserve it- but he needs it. We need it."
She hesitated a moment before continuing.
"And you need it too. The way you feel about him is no
good, for anybody. You hurt yourself, with all this anger you have for him."
She lowered her eyes.
"And you hurt me, too."
He raised her chin with his index finger, looking into
her eyes. His own were full of pity and sadness, but he nodded.
"I can try, Buffy. For you, I will try."
Angel watched the monitors. Blip. Blip. Blip.
That human heart was still demonically fierce; it thudded
onward in spite of everything. The doctors were amazed. Mr. Walthrop had
sustained "massive trauma and extreme blood loss." There was a vamp bite that
had nearly severed his jugular in his neck, and his legs were fractured in
sixteen places. He had major head trauma.
They were quite surprised he'd even made it to the
hospital alive.
Suddenly Angel felt a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up, into the warm eyes of Wesley.
"Here. I've brought you something to eat."
He held out a thermos of the hot, lifesustaining fluid,
and Angel accepted it gratefully. He'd not fed since yesterday evening. Nor had
he yet slept. Everyone else had gone home when they'd gotten Spike into a room
and out of surgery, but not he. No, Angel identified himself as family. He'd
signed all the paperwork, he'd given a statement to the police that was
elaborate fiction. And now he kept vigil at the bedside, watching; waiting.
The chair squeaked across the floor tiles as Wesley
dragged it over beside him, and sat down.
"Any change?" he enquired gently.
Angel shook his head.
"No. Nothing yet. They tell me there is sufficient brain
activity, and that he can probably hear us."
He gave a wry smile and spoke up in his most commanding,
'Sire' voice.
"William. Wake up, Now. Stop laying there like a corpse;
you haven't been one in quite awhile. You've got work to do, boy. Get your ass
out of that bed."
But Spike slumbered on, and Angel lowered his head into
his hands.
Wesley wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders as
Angel's sobs wracked his body.
"It's my fault, Wes. I should never have sent him in
there. I knew it was dangerous; I knew this could happen. But somehow I didn't
think that it would. My pride, always my massive pride and ego. He's my boy, my
blood runs in his veins. He's as much my son as if I'd born him- I thought that
meant he was invincible. I mean, he always has been. No matter what I did to
him, no matter how I wounded him, he always overcame, usually with a few
cutting comments and some snide words."
He sniffled.
"God what I wouldn't give to hear him cut me down right
now. Make fun of my hair, my taste in women, my clothes, my angst. I'd love to
see him get out of that bed and pound the living Shit out of me."
He looked over at Wes, amusement glimmering in his damp
eyes.
"He's the only child I ever raised who could do that,
consistently. Win against me, that is. We've always been pretty evenly matched
that way. I remember some fights that lasted for hours; we'd tear the house up
and each other to ribbons, while the women watched and waited for us to get
over it. A lot of the time, by the time it was all over neither one of us would
remember what we were fighting about; and we'd just sit there laughing
together, amid the broken furniture."
Wes tried to be comforting; he hugged his mentor and
murmured soothing words.
Finally Angel pulled away, as an idea hit him.
"Has anyone tried to call Sunnydale yet?"
Wesley shook his head.
"No, Angel. We thought- We thought it best if you did
that."
His voice lowered, and he added.
"I really think the news should come from you."
Angel sighed, and sat up straighter.
"Will you sit with him while I go call? I can't use a
cellphone in here, it will mess with the equipment."
Buffy rolled over and smacked her hand at the receiver,
feeling around in the darkness until her hand found purchase, and lifted it to
her ear.
"Hello?" she muttered.
"Buffy? Hi. It's Angel."
Her senses sharpened, and she sat up in the bed.
"Angel? Hi…What's wrong?"
His disconsolate silence unnerved her. Finally he took a
deep breath, and began.
"Buffy, Spike's here in the hospital. It's- It's bad."