A/N: I've been told that sometimes when I post, the chapters show up as not existing. If that happens, just drop me and email and I'll send the chappie to you, all close and personal like. *Snickers* Yeah, like that. J
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Chapter 30: Empty Inside
A dark clothed figure paced in the shadows of the hospital. When he heard about the explosion, he ran directly to the hospital. Stupid pricks, he thought. They almost killed her. Almost killed my goddess, my angel, my savior. Anger began to seep though his pores. His vision burned red. With a great amount of concentration, he battled the anger down. It wouldn't do any good to get mad now. Not when his angel needed him to be strong. He lost time when he got angry.
The periods of blackness were coming more frequently now. It scared him and thrilled him at the same time. He thrilled at the power that his rage gave him. Blinding power, power more than anyone mortal possessed. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his tortured mind, something broke. He suddenly felt the power surge through him. He knew, just knew, that he was destined for great things. With her, his goddess, by his side. Great things would happen for them. All he had to do was show her. Prove himself to her and make her see that she was his.
Only his.
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"Good morning, Miss Summers," a perky young nurse said as she entered Buffy's room.
"Go 'way," Buffy said crankily. She tried to slip back into the recesses of sleep, but the nurse wasn't having any of that.
"How are we feeling this morning?" the ever chipper nurse asked.
"Like crap. Leave me 'lone," Buffy snapped.
"You sound rather like your young man. He was in about as good mood as you this morning," the nurse observed. She competently took Buffy's temperature, blood pressure and pulse rate. "If you're nice, I'll take you to see him."
Buffy contemplated her offer. "If you let me stay with him, I'll make him be nice too."
The nurse rolled her eyes and smiled. "You know, he said basically the same thing to me. I'll tell you what, as long as you don't rat me out, I'll let you two stay together. If you tell, then I tell."
Buffy stuck out her hand. "Deal," she said. They shook.
"Hop in," the nurse said, pulling up a wheelchair.
Buffy looked at it in distaste. "Do I have to?" she pouted.
The nurse nodded. "Yes, you have too. Get in or don't go anywhere."
Buffy reluctantly got in the wheelchair. "You know, if you pushed me really fast, this could be a lot of fun."
Another head shake from the young nurse. "Sorry, last time I did that, I got in trouble."
"Stupid no fun hospital," Buffy grumbled under her breath.
Her frown instantly turned into a smile when she was pushed into Spike's room. "Morning, Spike," she called out.
"I told you to leave me…" Spike cut himself off when he opened his eyes and saw Buffy's smiling face. "Well, this is a good morning indeed."
Buffy smiled. She crawled out of the wheelchair and into bed beside him. Their lips met in an intense kiss and the nurse couldn't help but sigh. They did make such an adorable couple. Wishing to find such a love in her own life, the nurse left to complete her rounds.
Spike pulled away from Buffy. He smiled and ran his hands up and down her body, subtly checking for injuries.
Buffy laughed. "Spike, stop it! I'm fine."
Spike let out a long-suffering sigh. "Can't blame a bloke. Gotta make sure that my girl's okay."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Your girl is just fine. The real question is how is my man?"
Spike mimicked Buffy's eye roll. "Your man is fine as well. Have you seen anybody yet?"
Buffy shook her head. "Just my mom. You?"
"Xander was in here this morning. He feels guilty as all hell for leaving yesterday."
Buffy sighed and snuggled down into Spike's embrace. Spike automatically tightened his arms around her.
"Did you tell him there was nothing he could have done?" Buffy asked.
"Of course I did. What do you take me for, woman?" Spike replied indignantly.
Buffy giggled at him. She immediately sobered as another thought occurred to her. "Spike, did you tell him? I mean, about your father?"
Spike felt his heart tighten at the mention of his father. "I did."
Buffy waited, but Spike didn't say anything more. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.
Spike waited a beat while he contemplated his answer. "I keep waiting, you know, to feel something. Anything. Right now, I'm just so closed off. Is that a bad thing? I don't even care that my own father died."
He sounded so lost, so brokenhearted. "Hey," Buffy said softly. "Spike, there's nothing wrong with you. Your father didn't really endear himself to you, ever. I don't think there's anything that says you must be sobbing your guts out right now. You're a good man, Spike. I love you. I love you so much."
That got a reaction out of him. Where the thought of his father's death only made Spike feel a passing sorrow, Buffy's heartfelt declaration of love made his chest tighten and tears spring to his eyes. He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, Buffy."
It was a rare thing for Spike to use her name, so it made his words that more precious. Buffy stretched up and kissed him. His response was earth-shattering.
Spike poured every emotion in his body into the kiss. Using lips and tongue, Spike proclaimed his love for Buffy. His fear at almost losing her and the joy he felt when she said she loved him. Never in her life had Buffy been kissed so deeply or so passionately. It took her breath away, literally and figuratively.
The door to Spike's room flew open and their friends bounded in. Willow launched herself at the bed and landed on the entwined lovers. "I am so glad you two are doing better!" she exclaimed.
Spike grunted under Willow's added weight. "Be doing a whole lot better if you'd remove your elbow from my spleen, Red," Spike ground out.
"Oops, sorry 'bout that," Willow said and rolled off of them. Spike let of a sigh of relief and Buffy laughed.
"So, how're you two feeling?" Anya asked.
Spike shrugged. "'M doing okay. Bleedin' head keeps pounding something fierce."
Anya nodded in sympathy. "Sometimes, when I have too many orgasms, my head hurt too."
Willow laughed at her outrageous comment, and Xander appeared to be stuck somewhere between pride and embarrassment. "Anya, what did we talk about before we left this morning?"
Anya scrunched her face up, thinking deeply. Then her face cleared. "Oh! I promised not to talk about orgasms and you promised to wear-"
Xander slapped a hand over her mouth and cut her off. "Well, that's enough about that. So, Buffy, how're you feeling?"
Buffy snickered at Xander's red face. "I'm fine. A little worried, kinda scared. You guys heard about Edward, right?"
They all nodded. The light atmosphere in the room dissipated. Spike pensively thought about his father. Something was tickling at the back of his mind. Pieces of the conversation that he and Buffy had floated around his head and swooped into his mind. Something about his mother, and his father too. What was it? Dammit, Spike cursed as the thoughts slipped away.
He turned his attention back to the room. Willow and Buffy were chatting about school, or something, and Xander and Anya were talking quietly in the corner. "Where's Oz?"
Willow looked at him. "He left two minutes ago for practice. Remember? You said bye and everything."
Spike looked at Willow incredulously. "Really? Wow, my mind must be off in the clouds."
Willow laughed and Buffy reached up to rub his cheek. "It's understandable. What were you thinking about?"
Spike shrugged a shoulder. "Just trying to remember what happened."
Buffy's eyes softened. "Can you remember anything?"
Spike shook his head. "Not a lot. What about you?"
Buffy shook her head too. "Just some fuzzy pictures here and there. Nothing definite."
"Yeah,'s about the same for me," Spike said.
Buffy turned her attention to the rest of the room. Willow had quietly snuck out the door, leaving Xander and Anya in the corner, still talking quietly. Xander noticed that Buffy was drifting off. He quietly motioned for Anya and they left the couple dreaming in the hospital bed.
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Jake whistled as he polished the brass bar rail. Things were looking up for him, no doubt about that. He'd owned the First Amendment Gentleman's Lounge for over a year now, and it was paying off nicely. He was sick with worry when Willow had been shot, but she was fine, and now business was booming.
Yes siree, things were looking up. When Buffy had quit, Jake was sure he'd never find another dancer to replace her, Willow either, actually. Maureen was the one who saved his ass there. She had a couple of friends who needed work and voila! Now he had a full roster of girls and a clientele that kept him flush with success.
It was a damn shame about Willow though. But, one man's loss is another's gain. And Jake fully intended to gain from Willow's mishap. Jake had seen the shooter just seconds after it had happened. He didn't even know it until afterward, when he had a few moments to think back. Now, a little note here, a word or two there, and the money was rolling in. And it would continue to do so, lest Jake take his information to the police. Jake smiled as his reflection in the brass. Things are definitely going good.
It was the smell that hit him first. The acrid smell of smoke filtered from the dressing room out into the club.
"What the hell?" Jake said to himself and jogged over to the front door.
It was locked.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. He didn't remember locking the door.
Jake turned from the front door and strode to the side door. It too was locked.
Fingers of dread began to creep though Jake's stomach. He fled to the dressing room, but the thick smoke and shooting flames kept him from the back door.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Jake screamed and bounded back into the main room.
The smoke was getting thicker and thicker. Jake coughed and stumbled to the window. The smoke began to burn his eyes and tears poured down his face as a result. Jake swiped at his face and blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision. His hand closed over the window latch and he tried to pry it open. He pulled and pulled but it wouldn't budge, even when he used all his strength.
Jake coughed and wiped his eyes again. He pressed his face against the window and saw why. The window was nailed down from the outside.
"No!" Jake screamed.
The smoke began to darken as it sucked the oxygen from the room. It rolled up and over itself, flashing over and creating the perfect conditions for backdraft. Jake tried to get to the bar, but his body began to give out. The smoke choked his lungs, and his eyes and nose ran. He coughed and coughed, but to no avail. Flailing his arms out, Jake fell to the ground whimpering.
The tinkle of glass breaking was the last thing Jake heard before the backdraft of the fire exploded around him.
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A/N: Until next time, my pretties. Special thanks to Falco Conlon, Little Strange, Mimi, Spuffy, Passionfish, Britchick, Tobert, Clara, Rose and everyone else who reviews my story. I love them and thank you for telling me what you think. J
