~**~
-7-
~**~
"Anything new about Dawn yet?"
Joyce looked up, surprised at hearing the entire question in
Buffy's own voice. Gazing at the group, her eyebrow lifted, the only indication
of her further amazement at the arrangements.
Giles now had hold of Willow's hand, and Xander was being
supported by Buffy. The young man looked worn, his shirtfront torn and tucked
haphazardly into his pants and his eyes a bit glazed. Anya and Tara were
orbiting like satellites, flitting around the edges but never really connecting
with the group.
Giles answered the only question he read in Joyce's expression. "Xander
tried to break the bond prematurely, so we're all disconnecting a bit sooner
than we expected." Buffy eased the tall figure onto the seat beside her mother,
and tucked herself under his arm again.
"Xander hurt himself trying to do too much too soon," she
explained to her mom from a cozy-looking position, her head resting in the
hollow of his chest.
"Trying to break the bond before it happens naturally is like
ripping an arm or a leg off of yourself," Willow elaborated. "It causes
physical pain. Then, with Xander being the Heart, and more susceptible to
emotional turmoil, he did the emotional equivalent of pouring salt in the wound
by having a…" The witch paused, sensing Xander's unwillingness to cast Anya in
a bad light in front of Joyce and Tara, especially.
"We broke up," Anya announced without emotion. "He needed them
more." She looked Tara straight in the eye, and the blonde witch got the
message. But she'd deal with it later.
"Yeah," Willow mumbled, not missing the silent exchange. "Anyway,
we need to stay connected with him so he can recover." She pulled Giles gently
to the row of seats, and took the one on the other side of Xander, pushing up
against him and taking his free hand. The Watcher draped his arm over the back
of Willow's chair, casually resting his fingers on the other man's neck.
Like a battery recharging, Xander visibly perked up. His eyes
cleared and his posture straightened. The arm around Buffy was now more holding
than draped. It was gradual, but it was clear that there really was something
to all the physical contact, and that it could help heal an injured Part of the
Unity. "Doctor," the young man said, suddenly.
"But you seem so much better," Joyce said with surprise. She'd
been watching the process, fascinated.
"No." Xander shook his head and pointed. "Dawn's doctor."
The whole group turned and pinned their eyes on the man in the
green scrubs heading towards them.
~**~
Quentin Travers managed to wait until seven a.m. before calling
the emergency meeting of the Watcher's Council. Whistler had gone wherever it
was Whistler went, and the older man was just as happy to be rid of him. He was
having enough trouble dealing with the idea of a dark Unity, and dealing with
the annoying little demon on top of that was beyond the limits of his patience.
The war council was in full swing before he reappeared.
"…have to send someone back to America to monitor the situation,"
one of the older Watchers was saying when Whistler arrived.
"And whatcha gonna have 'em do if she goes atomic on ya?" Whistler
asked, seeming to materialize out of thin air. "Send a telegram? Throw a
committee at her? 'Cos I've seen all the tact and charm youse guys have with
yer Slayers, and I'm guessin' that if ya use that style with this girlie if she
freaks, yer gonna haveta be scrapin' bits of yer 'monitor' off the sidewalk."
"And what do you suggest?" Travers asked icily. "Pretend it's not
a problem? You wouldn't have come to me if you thought as much."
"Ya keep this stuff up, I'm gonna regret talkin' to ya more'n I
already do. Look, as much as I really do want the good guys to ride off into
the sunset on this one, I still work for Balance. I let youse know 'cos I'm
s'posed ta. Not 'cos I think there's anything youse guys could do ta control
her. She's already stronger than yer best Slayer, since she's the basic model
here, and Unity's the upgrade. She's smarter than all of ya put together,
although I don't think that'd take much, myself. But she also feels way more
than most folks, and her feelin's could send her over the edge." He stared down
every Watcher at the conference table, one at a time, as he continued. "I think
ya oughtta leave her be. They're all basically good people, at heart. The
Slayer does her job 'cos she has ta, but the other two kids are just along 'cos
they *care.* Ole' Rupert stayed in the game even when youse people gave him the
shaft, 'cos he cares, too. I'm sayin' she might get angry, and she might go
wacko for a while, but she's on the good side, in the end. And if youse guys
are even thinkin' about killin' her if she goes bad, think again. She's too
much for ya. Let it go."
None of the Council members would meet his eyes. They hung their
heads, and if Whistler didn't know the group better, he'd think they were
ashamed. He knew them well, however, and looked around at them in disgust.
"Sometimes I really hate this damned job," he muttered, and stormed out.
Uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the room for several long
minutes. Finally the older Watcher who'd spoken before cleared his throat. "So,
whom should we send to the States?" he asked, as if the interruption hadn't
occurred. "Quentin, you're the most familiar…"
~**~
Buffy jumped up swiftly from her cocoon in Xander's grasp, while
Joyce rose slowly beside her. The three remaining members of Unity formed in a
semi-circle behind, giving the personification of their Body both physical and
emotional support. Anya and Tara moved in as well.
"Mrs. Summers?" the middle-aged man asked, looking at Joyce. With
her nod, he proceeded. "You daughter had some pretty bad injuries. There was
head trauma. Her larynx will be several weeks in healing, and she'll be unable
to talk during that time. She had a couple of broken ribs, and we had to remove
her spleen. I've never seen such widespread damage done by an attacker before –
if I didn't know it was improbable, I'd say whoever did this to her did just
what they had to do to cause the maximum suffering without killing her. There
was neither rhyme nor reason to the injuries, no pattern like we normally see
in an attack. There were internal injuries where the skin covering them wasn't
even bruised. We see some strange things in this hospital, but I think your
child now tops my list."
"But she'll live, right?" Joyce asked, her voice shaky. He nodded,
and she looked around at the people who cared for Dawn who surrounded her. "Can
we see her?"
"She's still out right now, but you can go in a couple at a time.
Once she wakes up, she'll be groggy for quite a while, since the only way we
can guarantee she won't try to talk is to keep her sedated. Still, she'll know
you, and once we decrease the dose, she'll be able to write notes."
Joyce looked over at the quartet who had rescued her child. "Can
five of us go in at once?" she asked. "We won't be boisterous or anything, but
I think it's important." She saw him eyeing the group curiously. "They're
family," she explained.
He shrugged. "Just be quiet. Rest is the healer she needs most
right now."
~**~
Quentin Travers sat uncomfortably on the wide-bodied jet with
Andrea at his side. He'd never told the Council how much he feared flying –
admitting his own weaknesses would have left him vulnerable, and in his
position of authority, he couldn't afford that. Andrea knew, though.
She'd been chosen for this trip because she had medical training,
and the Council decided that Unity needed to be examined, both together and
separately, to see if there were weaknesses they could exploit if need be. Of
course, the story would be of a far more innocuous purpose for the checkup. But
Andrea would do as she was ordered, just as they all always did. The only thing
she'd ever done to subvert the Council had been aiding Quentin with his fear of
flying without letting the others know his secret.
She helped him because they'd been close – very close – once. She
was considerably younger than he, and when she first joined the Council, she'd
looked up to him – after all, he was the Rising Young Chieftain, the Golden
Boy. He was being groomed by those in charge to be one of them. Little did she
– or he, for that matter – know that the job he so coveted consisted mostly of
making difficult decisions and taking unwanted assignments like this one. And
often, covering the Council's collective butt. All they both saw at the time
was the potential for glory and power.
So she had been blinded by the stars in her eyes, and he had seen
her willingness to do whatever he wanted as another path to power. No one was
more surprised than young Travers when, after a few months of the relationship,
it was Andrea, and not he, who held the reins. He had begun to care about her,
far more than was safe.
They slept together, but were never truly lovers. He managed to
pull away from the relationship before allowing himself to fall that way. For
his was a world where love was a greater weakness than airsickness. It could
get him killed, or worse, her.
And the most amazing thing was that she understood. By this time,
she'd spent enough time with the Council to understand the dynamic, the danger
of any weakness. She let him go, willingly, although not very happily. Still,
they remained close, although even the honorific "friend" was a dangerous label
to carry in their line of work.
Sometimes he envied the simple Watchers. Those who merely reported
to the Council, and were trained by them, but who never dealt with the actual
body in more than a formal way. They had lives – they didn't fear that all
their enemies were sitting beside them every day, seeking ways to move their
own agenda forward, caring not who was in charge as long as they really wielded
the power. They had their Slayers, or Slayers in Training. Some even had wives
or husbands, and managed to produce new generations of Watchers. Some, like
Rupert Giles, even developed backbones and stood up to the Council, finding a
better way to exist. The American ones had always been the toughest to keep up
with.
The warm drowsiness he associated with the pills Andrea had given
him started to wash over his mind. They'd go to America – again. They'd find a
way to take down Unity, if indeed she lost control. It was all about the end –
the means were immaterial. He spent a lot of years selling himself on the idea
that to save mankind, some human decency had to be sacrificed. Sometimes, even
humans themselves had to be sacrificed. It was the price that must be paid. He
was now thoroughly convinced. He yawned, and turned towards the woman beside
him, taking her hand before he drifted off to sleep. He didn't see the shock,
and then the warm smile, that graced her face.
~**~
The group of five that stood by the teenager's bedside was solemn,
but hopeful. The respirator hissed and the monitors hummed and chirped, an
almost musical accompaniment to the silent thoughts of the onlookers. Bandages
were wrapped around Dawn's head, and above the top of the hospital gown they
could see the beginning of the ugly red incision that almost certainly trailed
the rest of the way down her torso.
*We'll never have to doubt her humanity again,* Unity thought
sadly. *So easily broken.*
The quartet stood clumped together, and they were thinking as one,
which hadn't happened before when they were divided. It seemed that only the
bond could handle the pain, the guilt they all felt. It was too strong for any
one person to manage alone. Joyce sniffled softly, and they all looked up at
once.
"Dawn, honey," she said, bending down to the comatose girl. "We're
all here. Me, and Buffy and Xander and Giles and Willow. We all want you to get
better, real soon. We'll get you ice cream, and Xander said he'd play Monopoly
with you as long as you wanted. Buffy's already said you could have that blue
sweater of hers you like, and Willow wants to watch "She's All That" with you
again. And Mr. Giles promised he wouldn't roll his eyes the next time you want
to talk about boys. But only once." She hiccupped a little laugh, looked up and
smiled tearfully, and the four smiled back at her. "But first you've gotta get
well. We'll be here as much as we can. You won't be able to talk at first, but
we'll talk to you, okay? Whatever you need, we'll take care of it. But you have
to get well." She was beginning to break down again, and finally Buffy pulled
away from the others and tugged her mother back to her feet. Joyce tugged loose
from her grasp, bending back over and kissing Dawn gently on the cheek. "We
love you, baby," she whispered, and then her older daughter escorted her out of
the room.
As they left, the machinery sang its never ending rhythmic but
emotionless song.
~**~
"I convinced her to go home," Buffy sighed, joining the rest of
the Unity in the room Xander and Willow had occupied earlier. The other three
were sitting pressed together on the couch, as had become usual. "The doctor
gave her a prescription to help her sleep, and I thought I'd get one of you to
come along while I went to the pharmacy to get it filled." Willow nodded and
got up from her place between the two men, taking the Slayer's hand when she
reached her side. "Thanks," Buffy sighed in relief. "This has been kinda
stressful." She looked over at the men, trying to casually touch without losing
their macho veneer, and couldn't help a small grin. "Anyway, Anya and Tara
offered to take the first shift, and once mom knew someone would be here with
her and that Dawn probably wouldn't wake up until at least tomorrow, she agreed
to leave and go get some rest. We'll be back as soon as we get her going." The
girls left, hand in hand, and Xander and Giles sat in silence for a few moments
staring at the walls.
Then Giles shifted, laying his hand over Xander's openly, to
secure the lines of communication. *She knows, you know.* The younger man
didn't answer, but raised a questioning eyebrow. *About you, and how you feel
about her. She knows. Has for quite a while, I believe.*
*It's not like I've made it the world's best-kept secret. If she
finally does know, she's like the last person alive who managed to figure it
out. Willow's been riding me about it for ages. Hell, even Angel knew. I bet
Amy knows, and she's only been out of the Habitrail for a couple of weeks.* The
young man sighed, and for a moment seemed about to pull his hand away. Instead,
he relaxed in resignation. *She doesn't care.* He stared at the wall again. *I
lost Anya because of the Unity, but I'da lost her soon enough, anyway. Just
like with Cordelia, eventually my feelings for Buffy would have driven her
away, too.*
*Cordelia left you because you were exchanging saliva with
Willow,* Giles reminded him wryly.
*Just a symptom of the deeper disease,* Xander answered in a
similar tone. *I loved Willow, too, and I had to see if I loved her more than
Buffy. I didn't, but I still loved her. I still do.*
*She is an amazing young woman, isn't she?* Giles said, and Xander
gave him a probing look, hearing the tone in the other man's mental voice. The Watcher
colored and looked away. *Anyway,* Giles changed the subject back again, *I
don't believe Buffy finds you personally repugnant in any way. Actually, I
believe just the opposite is true. She finds you attractive, but her
experiences with men she's been attracted to have been less than stellar, so
she ignores or submerges those feelings. Living in close proximity as we do
now, I can't help but believe she'll have to deal with the subject sooner or
later.*
*Like you will, with Willow?* Xander asked seriously.
A few moments of awkward silence passed. *So,* Giles redirected
heartily, *where should we all stay tonight?*
*Coward,* Xander shot back. The two men grinned crookedly at each
other, and fell silent again.
~**~
Joyce was gone, Amy set up to meet her at the house and stay there
in case she needed anything else during the night. Buffy's constant apologies
for not being able to stay at home finally earned her a loving "shut up" from
her mother. Joyce assured her daughter that she understood that the Unity
needed to be together, and there just wasn't room enough at the Summers' house.
The Parts of Unity were bone tired as they traipsed wearily into
the hotel nearest the hospital, coincidentally the same one they'd stayed at
when the Watcher's Council had been paying. It was well after midnight, and
they had reached their limit. Giles stepped up to the desk and asked the price
of a suite. When he was told, his eyes flew wide. "Bloody hell! I'm not paying
that. How about one room, two big beds?" The deskman's expression was
unreadable, but apparently the question amused the older gentleman. Shown the
price, the Watcher muttered, "That's better," and pulled out his credit card.
As the quartet boarded the elevator, the deskman, who had been on
duty their last visit, noticed they once again were without luggage. His
knowing grin broadened. "What are you smirking at?" the bellboy asked, coming
out from the back.
"Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice just checked in again," the older
man chortled. "I'd love to be a fly on their wall tonight."
The bellboy, all of eighteen, missed the cultural reference. After
all, his parents probably were children in 1969 when the Elliot Gould picture
about wife swapping had first come out. "Friends of yours?"
The deskman snorted. "Forget it, Mr. Wet-behind-the-ears." Then he
imagined once more what must go on in that room, and his wicked grin was with
him until his shift ended that night.
~**~
Once in the room, the four prepared for sleep. Modesty had sort of
gotten lost in the shuffle. Due to their connection, and the fact that not
everyone remembered to shower with their eyes closed or not look at themselves
in the mirror when naked, they'd all pretty much seen everybody else's
everything. Not that they ran around au natural together, but they had to get
over the whole embarrassment thing, or they'd have died from it. Xander and
Giles stripped down to their boxers, while Willow pulled off her long skirt,
wearing just the oversized sweater she had on to bed. Buffy grabbed Giles'
shirt (after all, Xander's wouldn't button anymore) and went into the bathroom
to change, since her own skimpy tank wasn't going to be comfortable enough for
sleeping. Giles had on an undershirt; Xander didn't.
By the time Buffy emerged from the bathroom, the guys were already
settled in on one bed, while Willow had claimed her side of the other.
"Goodnights" were mumbled all around, and in the course of no more than five
minutes, two people were snoring, and the other two weren't awake to complain
about them.
The deskman would have been sorely disappointed had he actually
achieved fly-dom.
~**~
"Why does Buffy always get to pick where we have breakfast?"
Xander was complaining as they entered the Magic Box. They'd called the
hospital to check on Dawn, gone to eat, then to their separate residences to
shower and dress. They met up outside the store without planning, but probably
due to their shared rhythms.
"Because she eats even more than you do," Willow explained, "So
it's easier to go with her choices, so she won't complain." Before the Slayer
could defend herself, Amy interrupted.
"Uhm, guys? You have visitors." Looking up together, they saw
Quentin Travers and Andrea waiting.
"Geez, I'm glad I didn't pencil a good day into my daytimer yet,"
Xander growled. "I hate erasures."
"Travers," Giles said in a similar tone of voice. "I'd like to say
I'm happy to see you, but even you aren't stupid enough to believe me. What are
you doing here?"
"There are some medical tests the council would like to have done
on you four, as well as on Unity. Dr. Fairhope here has been authorized to run
them. We'll try to be out of your way as quickly as possible."
"Now would be quick enough," Buffy said brightly. Looking around
at her companions and then frowning at the visitors, she asked, "Suppose we
don't want to do your little poke and prod game?"
"We already have someone on staff at the hospital here, with
medical access to your sister. I don't think you'll turn down our request."
Horror at the very idea ran through each member of the Unity. Defeated by the
threat, they turned together and went towards the back room, led by Andrea
Fairhope. Before he followed, Xander turned and stared with hatred into the
older Watcher's eyes.
"I just want you to know how deeply and sincerely you people
*suck,*" he spat, before following the rest.
~**~