Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's notes: some bad language in this. Just a little, fairly mild. If you think it warrants a rating rise, please let me know.
Death Awaits: chapter 12 - After Effects
Sunnydale hospital is much like any hospital anywhere in the world - bland white walls, doctors and nurses rushed off their feet, that smell of disinfectant. Except that I have never met such bland indifference to what caused my injuries anywhere else. We agreed to tell them it was a car accident, if they asked - that would at least explain my broken shoulder, my broken arm - but they did not ask. They let Giles accompany me through the examination, and he watched as they cleaned and stitched and put my arms in slings and told me I'd have to have them plastered, and they'd be back shortly. Then, they left us alone. I put my head back against the blessedly soft pillow and closed my eyes.
"Are you okay?" Giles asks, concern in his voice.
"I'll live. I think."
"You should ask them for sleeping pills, when you're discharged," he continues, and I open my eyes and meet his behind the glasses. He half- smiles at me. "I th - believe you may need them."
"I've never really had a problem with dreams," I say, grasping what he's trying to say, and he shrugs.
"Neither did I."
I know we are both thinking of the nightmare that woke him only a few nights ago, and I shiver involuntarily. Giles reaches out, hesitantly, and pats my hand.
"Thank you for coming," I say. "Until . until Willow and Tara got through to me, I was about ready to give up."
"There comes a point where giving up seems all you can do," he agrees. "When you wonder just what else he can do."
"He never slipped," I say. Neither of us need to pronounce the name. "Not once. I never saw his vampire face."
Giles takes off his glasses and wipes them on a handkerchief, frowning down at the lenses. "I wish we'd killed him."
"I wish we'd killed them all," I return, and we lapse into silence. It is comforting to be with Giles, quiet and wise and caring, and I see why Buffy has come to depend on her Watcher, and why he has stayed with her through so many trials. He is a good man.
The door opens, and the others crowd into my little room. Riley is with them, a bandage on his head but otherwise looking all right.
"We brought doughnuts," Willow announces, and passes one to Giles. "Jelly."
"Thank you." Giles takes the pastry, wrapped in a napkin, and bites into it. Willow looks at me with a frown creasing her forehead.
"Mike?"
"I'm not hungry, actually," I say. "They've dosed me up with painkillers."
"Poor you," Tara murmurs, and I do my best to smile at her - though I dread to think what the effect must be like.
Buffy sits down on the chair next to my bed, and I glance at her. She seems downcast, and there are tear streaks on her face which she has not wiped off. "I'm sorry it turned out like this," I say to her, softly, whilst the others are busy sharing out doughnuts.
"Yeah." She hugs her knees. "Me too." She watches Riley fight amicably over the last doughnut with Xander. "I was all ready for it, you know? And then - zip, clang, the Slayer nearly dies, again, and is saved by her friends, again."
"He had the advantages in that fight," I point out, feeling desperately sorry for her. "He's stronger, and taller, and I bet he was using a sword from a really young age. He knew what he was doing." I pause. "And he didn't care. You do. That matters, Buffy. You care about things."
She shrugs. "I guess."
I open my mouth to add something, and there is a buzzing noise. The telephone bymy bed is ringing. Giles looks at me, and then picks it up.
"Hello?" He listens to the voice on the other end. "Quentin, it's Rupert Giles."
My heart drops. Could the night get any worse?
"Yes, he's here. No, he can't talk. Well, I could hold the phone to his ear for him - no, he can't." Giles frowns. "He had both his arms broken, Quentin. Both of them. For you and your wretched kamikaze missions. All right." He holds the receiver away from his ear, and says, "Travers. Wanting to speak."
"If I have to," I say, and Giles pulls his chair closer to me so he can hold the receiver to my ear.
"You disobeyed orders!" Quentin Travers says, almost shouting.
"Yes, sir, I did."
"I called your mobile to see how you were doing. Care to guess who picked it up?" I think I have a good idea, but the name sticks in my throat, and I wait. Travers answers for me. "Angelus! Angelus - do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I'm not dead, and the Slayer isn't dead, sir," I reply.
"Neither are the vampires I sent you to kill!" Travers shouts.
"Five vampires against one man," I point out, trying desperately to stay calm. "Going to Miss Summers was my only choice, sir. I apologise for disobeying you, but I thought we had a better chance of succeeding. He - he came for her, not me."
"So how did your phone end up with him?" Travers demands.
"I was caught," I admit. "Last night. At least - was it last night?" I ask Giles, and he nods. "Knocked out, sir."
"And you let them get into your phone? How could you?"
I close my eyes, remembering the crack as my bones were broken. "When someone is . is enjoying torturing you, sir, you . you'll say anything to stop it. Goodbye."
Giles takes the phone back. "Satisfied, Quentin? Of course we'll bloody well try and kill him. All of us would be very happy to see the bastard dust. Oh, you remember that, do you? Good. Keep on remembering it. Goodbye, Quentin."
He slams the phone down and sits, pale for a moment. Xander says, "Wow."
My fingers and my arm and my face are throbbing again, the effect of the painkillers gone, and I manage to catch Giles's eye. "I think I need a doctor," I manage, and black out.
Author's notes: some bad language in this. Just a little, fairly mild. If you think it warrants a rating rise, please let me know.
Death Awaits: chapter 12 - After Effects
Sunnydale hospital is much like any hospital anywhere in the world - bland white walls, doctors and nurses rushed off their feet, that smell of disinfectant. Except that I have never met such bland indifference to what caused my injuries anywhere else. We agreed to tell them it was a car accident, if they asked - that would at least explain my broken shoulder, my broken arm - but they did not ask. They let Giles accompany me through the examination, and he watched as they cleaned and stitched and put my arms in slings and told me I'd have to have them plastered, and they'd be back shortly. Then, they left us alone. I put my head back against the blessedly soft pillow and closed my eyes.
"Are you okay?" Giles asks, concern in his voice.
"I'll live. I think."
"You should ask them for sleeping pills, when you're discharged," he continues, and I open my eyes and meet his behind the glasses. He half- smiles at me. "I th - believe you may need them."
"I've never really had a problem with dreams," I say, grasping what he's trying to say, and he shrugs.
"Neither did I."
I know we are both thinking of the nightmare that woke him only a few nights ago, and I shiver involuntarily. Giles reaches out, hesitantly, and pats my hand.
"Thank you for coming," I say. "Until . until Willow and Tara got through to me, I was about ready to give up."
"There comes a point where giving up seems all you can do," he agrees. "When you wonder just what else he can do."
"He never slipped," I say. Neither of us need to pronounce the name. "Not once. I never saw his vampire face."
Giles takes off his glasses and wipes them on a handkerchief, frowning down at the lenses. "I wish we'd killed him."
"I wish we'd killed them all," I return, and we lapse into silence. It is comforting to be with Giles, quiet and wise and caring, and I see why Buffy has come to depend on her Watcher, and why he has stayed with her through so many trials. He is a good man.
The door opens, and the others crowd into my little room. Riley is with them, a bandage on his head but otherwise looking all right.
"We brought doughnuts," Willow announces, and passes one to Giles. "Jelly."
"Thank you." Giles takes the pastry, wrapped in a napkin, and bites into it. Willow looks at me with a frown creasing her forehead.
"Mike?"
"I'm not hungry, actually," I say. "They've dosed me up with painkillers."
"Poor you," Tara murmurs, and I do my best to smile at her - though I dread to think what the effect must be like.
Buffy sits down on the chair next to my bed, and I glance at her. She seems downcast, and there are tear streaks on her face which she has not wiped off. "I'm sorry it turned out like this," I say to her, softly, whilst the others are busy sharing out doughnuts.
"Yeah." She hugs her knees. "Me too." She watches Riley fight amicably over the last doughnut with Xander. "I was all ready for it, you know? And then - zip, clang, the Slayer nearly dies, again, and is saved by her friends, again."
"He had the advantages in that fight," I point out, feeling desperately sorry for her. "He's stronger, and taller, and I bet he was using a sword from a really young age. He knew what he was doing." I pause. "And he didn't care. You do. That matters, Buffy. You care about things."
She shrugs. "I guess."
I open my mouth to add something, and there is a buzzing noise. The telephone bymy bed is ringing. Giles looks at me, and then picks it up.
"Hello?" He listens to the voice on the other end. "Quentin, it's Rupert Giles."
My heart drops. Could the night get any worse?
"Yes, he's here. No, he can't talk. Well, I could hold the phone to his ear for him - no, he can't." Giles frowns. "He had both his arms broken, Quentin. Both of them. For you and your wretched kamikaze missions. All right." He holds the receiver away from his ear, and says, "Travers. Wanting to speak."
"If I have to," I say, and Giles pulls his chair closer to me so he can hold the receiver to my ear.
"You disobeyed orders!" Quentin Travers says, almost shouting.
"Yes, sir, I did."
"I called your mobile to see how you were doing. Care to guess who picked it up?" I think I have a good idea, but the name sticks in my throat, and I wait. Travers answers for me. "Angelus! Angelus - do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I'm not dead, and the Slayer isn't dead, sir," I reply.
"Neither are the vampires I sent you to kill!" Travers shouts.
"Five vampires against one man," I point out, trying desperately to stay calm. "Going to Miss Summers was my only choice, sir. I apologise for disobeying you, but I thought we had a better chance of succeeding. He - he came for her, not me."
"So how did your phone end up with him?" Travers demands.
"I was caught," I admit. "Last night. At least - was it last night?" I ask Giles, and he nods. "Knocked out, sir."
"And you let them get into your phone? How could you?"
I close my eyes, remembering the crack as my bones were broken. "When someone is . is enjoying torturing you, sir, you . you'll say anything to stop it. Goodbye."
Giles takes the phone back. "Satisfied, Quentin? Of course we'll bloody well try and kill him. All of us would be very happy to see the bastard dust. Oh, you remember that, do you? Good. Keep on remembering it. Goodbye, Quentin."
He slams the phone down and sits, pale for a moment. Xander says, "Wow."
My fingers and my arm and my face are throbbing again, the effect of the painkillers gone, and I manage to catch Giles's eye. "I think I need a doctor," I manage, and black out.