TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn
#47 "Hospital"
AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART: 47/50
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.
The first thing he was aware of was the unpleasant
olefactory trio of unwashed skin, mothballs, and wet dog. As he blinked his
eyes open, the world came into a shaking focus.
Oddly enough, the world seemed to consist of moving
colored tiles. They shifted before his eyes, moving upward and out of his
vision, always to be replaced by new ones of similar design but with a
different spacial arrangement.
Xander Harris came slowly to his senses over the shoulder
of a small demonic minion. His face was up close and personal with the minion's
rump, and the smell of mothballs seemed to be coming from the minion's robes.
Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed. His head
ached, and from the numbness in his hands he assumed his wrists were tied.
Ooh, yes…Tied wrists. It was all coming back to him, now.
He'd been snuggled into bed after a long, and satisfying,
session with Anya, when their home was violated. He'd heard a noise in the
living room, and, disregarding everything every horror movie he'd ever seen in
his life had told him, Xander carefully picked up a lamp and charged into the
living room, half-naked and half alert.
He never even had a chance. A few whacks up side the head
with his furniture, and he'd gone down for the count. Anya had gotten better
licks in; at least she had broken a vase over one of their heads before they
got a squirming hold of her.
Damn. That vase and the end table still weren't
completely paid for yet.
He could tell they were moving down a long, tiled
corridor. And he knew Anya was still near; her cloying "Chantilly no. 5" hung
in the air like noxious cloud. Between his splitting headache and all the awful
smells, it was a struggle not to throw up where he lay.
He pictured the minion, covered in goo, and thought about
it. Then he realized anyone who smelled this bad probably wouldn't object to
smelling worse, so he scrapped the puking plan and settled for covertness: he'd
continue to play faint, for as long as he could get away with it.
Spike became gradually aware of the pain, mostly in
his chest, but also in his face, and his legs- even in his arms. He sort of
hurt all over in a generalized ache. Groggily, he lifted heavy eyelids and
strained to focus.
She was asleep in the chair next to him, her blonde hair
spilling over his arm, as she slumped forward, resting her head on the bed. He
wished he could touch that gold silk, but there was an iv line taped into that arm
making movement impossible.
"You're awake."
Angel's voice was carefully neutral, but Spike saw the
relief in his eyes, and was a little surprised. For so long, they had been
estranged. He had thought his grandsire had no love left for him, as recently
as last year. Had he been blind to it all this time? Had he let his
insecurities and his anger get in the way? For better or worse, Angel was
blood. Even when he'd hated him, he'd been unable to kill him.
He thought about the whole Amara deal, how he'd hired the
best professional torturer money could buy. If he'd truly hated Angel, he'd
have simply dusted him. Instead he'd hired Marcus. While the ordeal was under
way, he'd studied Angel carefully. At the time, he'd convinced himself it was
all about getting the gem. But it never really was, and he saw that now. It was
about proving himself to Angel;it was about living up to an image his "father"
had set for him.
It was an image that had never been truly real. Oh, make
no mistake. He'd reveled in being the "Big Bad." But it was always a role,
always something apart from what he thought of as himself, the real William,
the real Spike. It was a protective shell for a gentler nature he could rarely
afford to indulge.
Oh, they were quite a pair, the two of them. Maybe they
could get family therapy. Maybe throw in Dru and Darla as well; get a discount
rate. They could cry and argue, and toss the accusations around. In the end
they could eat the therapist.
Well, he couldn't. But he could watch.
'Spike, my good man, what kind of drugs are you on?' he asked himself.
To Angel he lolled a slow grin.
" Eh, mate… Good to see you."
Angel's face relaxed into a broad smile.
"It's good to see you, too. You don't know just how
good."
Willow stumbled along the green hallway, ahead of the red
clad goddess and her minions. Beside her, Anya walked with her head held high
and proud. Willow wished she could do that, but it took all her concentration
to keep her feet moving in the right direction and not stepping on each other.
Armed guards brought up the rear, behind the
minions. They moved in exorably down
the hallway.
Glory held a leash in her hand, and guided the biggest
and ugliest dog Willow had ever seen.
It was longhaired and black, and stood approximately ribcage-high.
"Lovely hellhound, wherever did you get him?" asked Anya
amiably.
Glory smiled, petting the dog affectionately.
"Oh, we summoned Brutus here right after I came back. I
should never have begun with that snake. Reptiles are so- Stupid. But Brutus,"
she scratched the animal behind the ear, and he whined.
"He's a real team player. He's gonna sniff out my key for
me."
"How do you know its even here? Or what it looks like?"
Anya asked.
The goddess looked her over, as if she was deciding whether
or not Anya might be good to eat. Finally she answered.
"I felt it's presence when I came back again."
Her eyes misted, and she a soft smile crossed her face as
her voice lowered, becoming husky.
"It tingled…I knew it had to be close."
Her eyes hardened along with her voice.
"Then I was back in this damn body and I couldn't feel it
any more. But I was in the room near your Slayergirl, and her baby sister. So I
know it's near you guys. And Ben seems to think its in human form. So maybe it
IS one of you guys. And very soon, I'm going to have it back."
Xander listened attentively to everything that was being
said near him. He was putting things together, now. It was a good bet they were
in whatever hospital Buffy had gone to to be with Spike. And any minute now,
that hellhound would get wind of Dawn, and it would all be over.
His mind made up now, he aimed for the police officer
shoes some two feet beyond him, and hurled.
"Where's the nibblet?" Spike asked. The first thought he
had was of Dawn. Even unconscious, his worry about her had gnawed at him. When
he'd gone out that window, he'd wondered who would look after her without him
around.
He loved Buffy, but she could take care of herself. He
was positively terrified for Dawn.
Angel reassured him with a warm laugh.
"She's gone home to Cordy's place for the night. I tried
to get Buffy to go with her, but she refused to leave your side."
"Does Cordelia know about- I mean, is she prepared if"-
He intercepted the questions with a raised hand.
"She's safe there, Spike. I wouldn't have sent her
otherwise."
Slowly Buffy stirred, raising her head. Spike greeted her
with affectionate eyes.
"Hey, cutie."
She smiled at him, and the pure joy in that look made his
heart leap.
"Hey yourself."
Angel spoke up.
"I'm going to go tell the nurses you're awake now. They
wanted to be notified of any changes."
Spike nodded, and as his sire left, he turned back to
Buffy. But she didn't look quite so joyful now.
In fact, if he had to put a name on it, he'd say that
look was "highly ticked." The glare in her gaze was damn close to a glower.
"How do you feel?" she asked coolly.
He considered his choice of smart remarks, and opted
instead to be pitiful. Pitiful might not get him in as much trouble.
"I hurt all over. Can I have some painkillers?"
She ignored him.
"I can't believe you did this. Coming out here without
telling me. Lying to me about what you were doing here."
He tried to explain.
"Baby, I-"
"Don't you, 'Baby' me. You lied to me. You said it was a
buying trip."
"Well, it was. Sort of. I did plan on hitting several
dealers while in town."
She rolled her eyes at him.
He lost it.
"What was I supposed to do, Slayer? Tell you, 'Yeah,
sorry, my Poofy Sire called, 'seems I have to go risk life and limb this
weekend. Call you when I get back.' …I
couldn't tell you that."
She regarded him levelly.
"At least it would have been the truth." She said.
He sighed.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you what was going on."
She raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
He cocked his head to one side.
"And what?"
She tapped her fingertips on the metal bedrail as her
eyes searched the ceiling.
Hmm. She wanted him to say something.
"I love you?" he offered tentatively.
She smiled back at him, warmly now.
"Love you too."
Then she leaned over and kissed him.
A moment later, she pulled back.
"I promise I won't do it again."
He'd promise anything if she'd kiss him again.
She tugged the blankets up over him and smiled
indulgently.
"That's okay. You won't be able to."
He watched her cautiously, and asked,
"Er…Why not?"
Still smiling, she fluffed the pillow under his head.
"Because if Angel ever gets another harebrained idea like
this one, I'm going to stake him."
The guards jumped back, but he managed to hit them
anyway. His head ached horribly, and now his mouth was vile. The world shifted
as his minion turned around to investigate the commotion. He could see the
girls, now, standing ahead of the group. Which had now ceased walking and come
to a complete stop.
The goddess turned around, and he saw her hips and legs.
They were nice legs. He'd never seen them this close before.
"Eeew! Gross."
Something dug painfully into his scalp; he realized it
was her nails. She lifted his head up, and the look on her face was not
pleasant.
"You barfed on my guards, and my minion."
Then to the minion, she added,
"Drop him. He'll have to walk."
Pain in his legs when they hit the floor; his feet were
asleep and tingly. But he got vertical and caught Anya's eye. She looked at him
with concern.
Behind him he heard the angry guards, cursing. His
distraction hadn't lasted long; soon they'd be on the move again.
He tried stumbling, but the gun barrels pointed in his
back kept him going. He had to get away, but a run likely wouldn't work. And
where the hell were all the people? This was a hospital, where were all the
orderlies and nurses, where were the doctors?
He thought about rotting flesh and Anya's cooking, he
thought about three day binges and hangovers from hell. He thought about Buffy
banging exDeadboy, Jr….
He leaned forward and got both of Glory's other minions
in the next wave of nausea. Then he staggered, falling to his knees. The
enormous dog loped over to lick the side of his face.
"I thought I made myself clear. No More Sicking up on the
Minions!"
She slapped his face, and his vision garbled.
"Hey, Stop that! He's sick, you can't treat him that
way!"
Anya struggled, and broke free of her guards, rushing up
to him, shoving the dog out of the way to put her face against his. Her arms
were bound at the back still, so she settled for kissing his cheek.
Xander pressed his lips to her ear.
"Don't let them reach the Dawnster." He breathed.
The irate Goddess wrenched them apart, but Xan saw
understanding in Anya's eyes.
"We've got these two for hostages. Leave that one; I
don't think he means much to the Slayer, anyway."
That bit stung, but his plan was working. He lay sprawled
on the floor, and they stepped over him and continued onward.
Seconds later, he was on his feet, and found out why no
one was stopping them.
In the rooms, patients lay unmolested, but at the nurse's
station he found three corpses, with small holes in their foreheads. They'd been shot where they worked. He
turned away, and nearly stepped on a doctor's prone body, with a single bullet
wound to the chest.
He became grateful for his empty stomach as the dry
heaves began. He took a deep breath, and wished he hadn't as the smell assailed
him. Blood, fresh blood. It was appalling.
He gently moved one of the nurse bodies away from the
computer terminal, and began looking for information.
They had a hellhound. Xander had Microsoft. It was a race
to see who'd get to Dawn first.