Chapter 8: Fears and Explanations

Buffy sat in the dank, shabby hospital lobby, decorated only by pink vinyl chairs with coral seashell upholstery and cheap framed prints with the same oceanic motif. A few random magazines, ranging in subject from Fishing Today to Celebrity Haircuts scattered the side tables littered with Styrofoam cups of cold coffee. Hospital coffee was invariably cold, it seemed. Buffy stared down in her untouched cup and felt the same tepid coldness as she watched her reflection move and shudder with the motion of the dark brown liquid in the cup, moving in time with her shaking hands. Numb, that's what she felt.

Hospitals always tended to make her feel this way, ever since she was little and it was feeling she never enjoyed. She remembered the visits she made to her sick cousin Celia in the hospital when she was younger. The worst part was waiting in the crowded little room, swinging her legs nervously from a hard hospital chair, feeling an uncomfortable numbness fill her veins. It probably came from the feeling of apathy that always filled Buffy with deep shame whenever she made these visits. Like she was expected to worry about Celia, in solemn reflection over her cousin's unfortunate condition, but instead she fidgeted on her vinyl chair, desperate to be anywhere else, playing with the stuffed animals and dolls she loved and took comfort in. A similar feeling swept over her now, and as a mature girl, she knew the difference acutely enough to feel guilty.

She had purposely avoided waiting with Spike and the rest in his small hospital room. She figured that besides Angel, she was the last person Spike would want to see. But underneath that apparent concern was a deeper feeling of dread at the prospect of facing Spike. To see him in his bruised and battered condition would only remind her of the perpetrator of Spike's injuries.

Angel. She tried desperately to think of anyone else, but history was reliving itself and again she felt the Celia Complex. As bad as she felt for Spike or Celia, she secretly felt the impulse to run to the things that she loved, belonged to her, made her feel safe from the ugly numbing feeling of the hospital corridors. But Angel was the reason Spike was in the hospital in the first place, she reminded herself. And why his mother was dead.

"Buffy?" A soft hand nudged her shoulder and jolted her out of forbidden thoughts of Angel. She reacted by quaking a little, shocked momentarily, but relieved to see it was only Willow, worried and concerned. "Are you okay?"

She sighed tiredly. "I'm not the one you should be asking. How's Spike?"

Willow eased into a chair next to her. "He'll live. He busted his jaw some and needed a couple stitches and he'll need a cast for his arm. But he seems okay. Obviously his mouth is in working order. He already hit on one of the nurses and insulted another."

Buffy smiled faintly but it couldn't disguise the sheer fatigue and emotion she felt based on the night's events. Willow frowned as she noted a shade of sadness in her best friend's eyes. "You sure you're okay? You seemed pretty freaked out back at the Bronze."

Buffy blinked back tears as her lips stretched thinly over her mouth. "Would you believe me if I said I was fine?"

Willow gave a sympathetic smile before grasping her best friend's hand. "Not really. Doesn't really sound like you're singing the song of fine-ness to me."

Buffy sighed deeply, emitting all pretense of indifference over the current situation. "Will, I don't know what to do," she said, voice quaking as she buried her head into her hands.

"Buffy, what are you talking about, this isn't you're fault."

"I know that, I know it." Buffy lifted her head and as she faced a worried Willow. "But I can't help feeling like I'm supposed to do something."

"And I'd understand why you could feel like you'd have to take some Slayer-like initiative, but this is really something that's between Giles, Spike and Angel."

"But it's not." Her voice was firm. "Spike's mother is dead. And he's stuck in a hospital. And it's all because of a vampire, the kind of the slaying variety, who happens to be my boyfriend."

"Oh Buffy---"

"And that's not the worst part." Tears began to re-glisten in her eyes. "The worst part of all of this mess is . . . he did it with a soul. A soul, Willow."

"Buffy! Angel didn't mean any of this! This all happened nearly eight years ago!"

"That doesn't matter. Spike was right. A soul doesn't change who---what Angel is."

"Buffy, you may think you're the only one to know the distress of loving a male part-man, part beast, but I've been in similar situations with Oz and I know enough not to put the weight of the world on my shoulders." Willow looked Buffy deep in the eyes as she firmly tried to reassure her.

"It's not the same, Willow. When Oz turns, he's no longer a creature with a soul. He's only a feral animal, driven by the urge to kill, and only for those three days out of the month. Angel . . ." She paused and shook her head vacuously. "I've tried so hard to separate the monster from the man, Willow. I've tried so hard to just deal with this weirdness I call a relationship. I always deluded myself into thinking he wasn't a vampire, that he had no demon left in him, even when all the signs were telling me that it wasn't true. But now I can't. The lines are too blurred. He'll always have the monster in him."

"You're wrong. Buffy, Angel killed---" Even Willow had to concede to a grimace while saying it. "—Did this years before he even met you. He's changed now, and Darla is long gone."

"But don't you see Willow? It doesn't matter. It wasn't a changed man who beat Spike into oblivion tonight. It was a vampire with a soul. A soul that didn't stop him from feeding off Spike's mother."

"But Buffy---"

"And Spike was right. Why would he leave Spike alone and take his time feeding on his mother? He had at least some comprehension of what he was doing, even if he was drugged. But he did it anyway. And I know he didn't mean to, and I know that he feels guilt, but the another part of me is saying that it makes sense for him to do what he did . . . because of what he is, because it's part of his nature and he can't change that. And I don't know what to do about it." Buffy's voice broke and upon hearing it, Willow reached over and grasped her into a firm hug.

"Girls?"

Willow and Buffy turned to face a weary Giles whose face seemed gray with worry. Both jumped into his arms as he tiredly dispensed hug. "I came as soon as I heard. How are you girls? Not hurt are you?" he anxiously asked after they surfaced from the embrace.

"We're not hurt," said Willow with struggled brightness, but her alacrity faded. "Not us at least."

Giles nodded knowingly and collapsed into a chair. "I knew this would happen, I just knew it."

Buffy and Willow exchanged surprise looks. "Knew what, Giles?"

"That William would somehow insinuate himself into some kind of recklessness before the week was over." He looked over to the girls with firmness. "Now I want you to tell my honestly and truthfully." Again, the girls exchanged looks, this time nervous and apprehensive. "Was it a bar brawl? A run-in with bookies, no doubt?" Giles' face now shone with extreme worry. "God lord, does he owe money to some hoodlum gangster? Does he owe them my money??"

"Umm, not exactly. Giles it---"

"Or did he fall into the company of some unsavory miscreants perhaps? Now I don't want you girls to worry, I know you both had nothing to do with what happened tonight so don't feel at all uneasy to tell me. You would not be 'snitching' on William to inform me of his misconduct."

Oh boy. Buffy straightened in her seat as she gathered the strength to face Giles. "Well . . . Giles, it's a long story actually . . ."

Some shaky descriptions and uncomfortable twenty minutes later, Giles sat hunched over in his waiting room chair, his brows furrowed menacingly over his gleaming glasses. Hardly moving, he held his hands tightly together under his chin and seemed to be taking painfully slow breaths. "Now tell me again," he was saying in pronounced and strained slow tones, a hint of anger lurking beneath. "You had knowledge of this situation for awhile now and did not come to me at once with this information?"

"Well Spike didn't want you to know and we only found out about the Angel thing tonight," Willow protested.

"Well you bloody well shouldn't have taken the advice of a reckless young teenage boy over the concerns of his father!!" Giles exploded, whipping off his glasses as he sprang from his chair.

"Spike thought it was for the best, and besides, we didn't think it was our place. And you were the one who hasn't even told him that you're a watcher!"

"You thought it not your place?! You knew that he was placing himself into fatal danger every night and you felt it not your place?! I disclosed my identity as a watcher with the intent to tell him when ready. He, on the other hand was hiding this from me in hopes of getting away with near-suicide missions. Now he's stuck in a hospital because you felt not inclined to tell me of my own son's activities!!"

Buffy winced at the sound of Giles' castigation. She had never seen him so angry before and silently wished she was anywhere but here. "Giles, we didn't know how to tell you, we didn't think that this would happen---"

Giles' eyes flashed fire as he stared at Buffy and it was the same look of extreme anger and disbelief she had seen in Spike's disgusted eyes earlier that night. "The very fact that you did not come to me with this sooner only severely saddens and disappoints me. I'm your watcher Buffy, there can be no disclosure between us, especially when it deals with my son, my life. Now he's suffered from a situation that could have been prevented if only you had come to me." With that he abruptly and angrily exited the room as he left in search of Spike's room, leaving a shaken Buffy and worried Willow.

"Wow, I've never seen him so angry," Willow whispered.

"He's right, this is all my fault, I should have told him, I should have," Buffy was saying, shaking her head to and fro. Willow sighed in frustration.

"Buffy, come off it! This isn't your fault. We had no idea something like this would happen, who could have guessed it? This situation does smack of the Shakespearean-like proportions, and no guilt on anyone's part can make up for that." Willow spoke with uncharacteristic assertiveness, and urged Buffy up from her seat. "Giles isn't really mad at you, he's just got a severe case of the grumpies. Having a son land himself in the hospital can really do that y'know." She struggled an impish grin. "Now I want you to go home, get some rest, I'll deal with curmudgeonly Giles and the rest. Just go home and try to ease the Joan-of-Arc complex down. Might I suggest a pint of ice cream and some old Johnny Depp movies to aid the process?"

Buffy gave her best friend a small smile. "Okay. I'm going." She suddenly looked wistfully down the hall. "Just---will you tell him I'm sorry?"

Willow cocked her head quizzically. "Which one? Spike or Giles?"

Buffy's eyes began to water once more. "Both."