Authors Notes: Okay, hang on, we're getting to the Spuffiness ( Song and
lyrics by Aqua, which even I admit is a weird album for a metal-head like
me to own. Anyone living in L.A., bear with me, as I've never been inside
UCLA Medical, and have no idea how the inside layout is.
...
Buffy sat in the limo that Lorne had provided them with, her head leaning against the coolness of the window, trying not to listen to the strained silence of the two people who shared the car with her.
Dawn sat tensely across from her sister, torn between an excited bouncing up and down in the limo's seat, and huddling worriedly about Spike. Well, Spike and Buffy, both. Giles sat next to Dawn, still concerned for his surrogate daughter, worried about what her state would be if this ended unhappily. Just the thought of his slayer being in tears over a, well, a vampire. . .again, made him want to chuck it al, slide back into the familiar guise of Ripper, and HIT something, until it bled.
"If only I could turn back time, If only I had said what I still hide. If only I could turn back time, I would stay for the night..." The Slayer quietly sang, so quietly, even she was barely able to hear it.
"If only I had saved what I still had, Buff" Dawn corrected.
"HUH?"
"I looked the lyrics up for Music Appreciation, last semester. It's 'If only I had saved what I still had', not 'If only I had said what I still hide'. Common mistake, with her accent , and all. Either that, or it was one heck of a Freudian slip, eh?" Dawn looked embarrassed at catching Buffy at an awkward, private moment, and shrugged. "Sorry."
"No. Freudian slip was right. It wasn't until I thought it was the end, that I could tell him. Figures, I denied it so long, he didn't believe me when I finally said it out loud." Buffy peered at Dawn. "When did you get so smart, brat? You been reading my old college Psyche 101 textbooks again?"
"Someone had to. After all, I had to try and make SOME sense of why you kept fighting the way you felt about Spike for SO long, until even Anya could see it. Mom knew years ago." Dawn ignored the odd look that Giles suddenly directed at her. "She used to sneak him into the house when you were out patrolling, and we'd sit in the kitchen and drink hot chocolate, or eat up the leftover lasagna, or something, and talk. They'd talk about that weird soap-opera they liked so much, until I'd get bored and go somewhere else in the house, and then they'd talk about stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Yeah, like he'd ask about the gallery, or she'd ask about how the crypt was doing, y'know, if it was too drafty or something, and did he need that old comforter she had in the closet, or stuff. And he'd talk about you, describe to mom what it was like to watch you fight, y'know, the slaying and stuff. 'Poetry in motion,' he said once, 'like watching a torrential river, sweepin away all the rubbish, just flowin past the swords and claws and fangs, and ripping the baddies away from harmin the folks Buffy cares about'."
"He, he said that?"
"Yeah, then he got all embarrassed, and said something about earning his original nickname by being a 'bloody awful poet'. Then him and mom both gave me hell over eavesdropping, because he could smell the chocolate-chip cookies I'd grabbed before I left the kitchen." Buffy wondered how hearing something like that could make her fell both warm and fuzzy inside, and yet make her feel worse, because she was too blind to open her eyes and see him, back then.
_*_*_*_*_*
After the limo had pulled out, they entered the lobby and went straight to the elevators. Coming out on the Trauma Unit Ward floor, they went to the nurses station, double-checking on which room was that of 'Randy Giles'. Informed that only family members would be allowed in to see him, they fell back into the story that they'd decided upon, based off of their experience with Willows ill-conceived 'Tabula Rasa' spell. He introduced himself as Rupert Giles, Randy's father, and Buffy claimed that she was his fiancée, which was true, once upon a time.
'Randy's doctor introduced himself in turn, and assured them that the younger 'Giles' was recovering far better than expected, in fact , he was healing at an almost miraculous rate.
Buffy approached the bed with a sense of trepidation. There, on stark white sheets, lay Spike, I.V. and other tubes running into his arms and other places, gauze bandages covering his left cheek, one leg, portions of both arms, and she watched one nurse change the dressing on his chest, where a horrific burn spread in a starburst pattern from where the amulet must have been, across his right pectoral muscle. But despite all that, two things stood out the most.
It was Spike. Seemingly alive, or at least not a pile of ashes.
And he was laying quite peacefully in a beam of sunlight from the un-shaded window.
Buffy sat in the limo that Lorne had provided them with, her head leaning against the coolness of the window, trying not to listen to the strained silence of the two people who shared the car with her.
Dawn sat tensely across from her sister, torn between an excited bouncing up and down in the limo's seat, and huddling worriedly about Spike. Well, Spike and Buffy, both. Giles sat next to Dawn, still concerned for his surrogate daughter, worried about what her state would be if this ended unhappily. Just the thought of his slayer being in tears over a, well, a vampire. . .again, made him want to chuck it al, slide back into the familiar guise of Ripper, and HIT something, until it bled.
"If only I could turn back time, If only I had said what I still hide. If only I could turn back time, I would stay for the night..." The Slayer quietly sang, so quietly, even she was barely able to hear it.
"If only I had saved what I still had, Buff" Dawn corrected.
"HUH?"
"I looked the lyrics up for Music Appreciation, last semester. It's 'If only I had saved what I still had', not 'If only I had said what I still hide'. Common mistake, with her accent , and all. Either that, or it was one heck of a Freudian slip, eh?" Dawn looked embarrassed at catching Buffy at an awkward, private moment, and shrugged. "Sorry."
"No. Freudian slip was right. It wasn't until I thought it was the end, that I could tell him. Figures, I denied it so long, he didn't believe me when I finally said it out loud." Buffy peered at Dawn. "When did you get so smart, brat? You been reading my old college Psyche 101 textbooks again?"
"Someone had to. After all, I had to try and make SOME sense of why you kept fighting the way you felt about Spike for SO long, until even Anya could see it. Mom knew years ago." Dawn ignored the odd look that Giles suddenly directed at her. "She used to sneak him into the house when you were out patrolling, and we'd sit in the kitchen and drink hot chocolate, or eat up the leftover lasagna, or something, and talk. They'd talk about that weird soap-opera they liked so much, until I'd get bored and go somewhere else in the house, and then they'd talk about stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Yeah, like he'd ask about the gallery, or she'd ask about how the crypt was doing, y'know, if it was too drafty or something, and did he need that old comforter she had in the closet, or stuff. And he'd talk about you, describe to mom what it was like to watch you fight, y'know, the slaying and stuff. 'Poetry in motion,' he said once, 'like watching a torrential river, sweepin away all the rubbish, just flowin past the swords and claws and fangs, and ripping the baddies away from harmin the folks Buffy cares about'."
"He, he said that?"
"Yeah, then he got all embarrassed, and said something about earning his original nickname by being a 'bloody awful poet'. Then him and mom both gave me hell over eavesdropping, because he could smell the chocolate-chip cookies I'd grabbed before I left the kitchen." Buffy wondered how hearing something like that could make her fell both warm and fuzzy inside, and yet make her feel worse, because she was too blind to open her eyes and see him, back then.
_*_*_*_*_*
After the limo had pulled out, they entered the lobby and went straight to the elevators. Coming out on the Trauma Unit Ward floor, they went to the nurses station, double-checking on which room was that of 'Randy Giles'. Informed that only family members would be allowed in to see him, they fell back into the story that they'd decided upon, based off of their experience with Willows ill-conceived 'Tabula Rasa' spell. He introduced himself as Rupert Giles, Randy's father, and Buffy claimed that she was his fiancée, which was true, once upon a time.
'Randy's doctor introduced himself in turn, and assured them that the younger 'Giles' was recovering far better than expected, in fact , he was healing at an almost miraculous rate.
Buffy approached the bed with a sense of trepidation. There, on stark white sheets, lay Spike, I.V. and other tubes running into his arms and other places, gauze bandages covering his left cheek, one leg, portions of both arms, and she watched one nurse change the dressing on his chest, where a horrific burn spread in a starburst pattern from where the amulet must have been, across his right pectoral muscle. But despite all that, two things stood out the most.
It was Spike. Seemingly alive, or at least not a pile of ashes.
And he was laying quite peacefully in a beam of sunlight from the un-shaded window.