Chapter 36- Healing Wounds
-Angel-
It takes Gunn, Wes and Giles to keep me from going to her when she limps out of the warehouse. Truthfully they aren't so much what stops me as the sight of the polgara demon walking out behind her. An appearance now could get her killed and she doesn't look like she's in any shape to defend herself. She limps past our hiding spot, not wanting to reveal it to anyone. She doubles back somewhere. I feel her long before she actually walks inside our hiding spot. She feels hurt. Buffy's pain has always been my pain, even the physical pain. It's even truer now that we're connected by blood. When I find out who did this, I will kill them.
I can hear Willow doing her concealment spell even as I'm running to Buffy. I catch her in my arms as she drags herself through the door. She collapses as soon as she feels my arms around her, trusting me, knowing I'll catch her, I'll always catch her. She smiles weakly at me.
"Hello Commander Buffy." Her voice is weak.
"You did great, Baby." My voice comes out cracked.
"Careful, big piece of metal." She whispers before passing out, her head lolling against my shoulder.
Gunn drives while I sit in the back with Buffy. They must have found out she was the slayer and beat her. The rebar impaling her is obviously the worst wound, but it is far from the only wound. Her face is bruised and cut. Her nose is broken. There are claw marks on her back. There's one long cut on her fore arm that looks like she received it blocking a slash from a sword or a talon. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead; the only part of her that doesn't look like it's been bruised, cut or beaten. She's still unconscious and that worries me somewhat. However, anything not a vampire in her condition would be dead, so I supposed I should be thankful for that.
Gunn doesn't have to be told to drive fast. I know I'm radiating worry. I can't help it. This is Buffy. I know she won't die from the piece of rebar she's impaled upon. But she's hurt and that's enough to necessitate worry. Gunn pulls the car into the alley behind the hotel. I move Buffy from the back seat with infinite care, refusing to allow anyone else to touch her. Fred, the only one who stayed behind, pales when I walk in with Buffy in my arms.
"Oh my gosh, is she-"Fred asks, stopping just before she actually asks her question.
I set Buffy down on the couch. "No, get the first aid kit and I'm going to need some help. Someone's going to have to hold her down." My eyes land on Gunn. He's the strongest physically of the group but I don't know that he can do it.
"Hold her down?" Xander asks.
I look up at Xander. "I need someone to hold her while I pull the rebar out. It's going to hurt and it will probably wake her up. She may come up fighting. She's going to bleed, a lot."
"What do I need to do?" Xander asks.
He sits on the couch, holding Buffy as close to his chest as he can with the rebar sticking out the way it is. Gunn stands at the end of the couch and holds her ankles. I grab hold of the end of the rebar sticking out of Buffy's chest. The skin has already started to close around the piece of metal. It's going to hurt pulling it out and it's going to bleed. There's no way around it. I pull on three; the metal comes loose with a wet ripping sound. Buffy screams into consciousness, her vamp face automatically showing in response to the pain. She leaps to her feet snarling and growling, pain clouding her vision. I wrap my arms around her, not caring that she is bleeding all over my leather coat, my shirt and the lobby floor.
"Its okay, Buffy. I've got you. It's okay." I murmur to her. The shock of the pain leaves and she slumps against me. Fred is there with towels to stop the bleeding. I hand one to Xander who presses it against her back. I hold a towel over her shoulder and apply pressure. She doesn't need to lose any more blood then she already has. We lower her to the couch again.
"My nose is broken." She says.
"I know, Baby its okay. It's already starting to heal." I tell her.
"You called me Baby." Buffy says. She sounds half drugged with pain.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm just worried." I grab a new towel and toss the old, sodden one to the floor. A fresh blot of crimson stains the white towel.
"No, like, just not used to." She says, her eyes half closing.
"Buffy, baby, can you stay awake for me?" I move the hair back from her face, careful not to touch any of the bruised or scraped places.
"So tired, sleep now, talk later." She whispers before passing out again.
"Wes, I need you to find me a source of human blood and have it delivered now. Pig's blood isn't going to do the trick this time and we can't afford to have her out of commission for weeks. I need to get this shirt off her and get her bandaged. Willow, come with me." I pick Buffy up and carry her upstairs. She's hurt but I still don't relish the idea of anyone but me seeing her half naked. I lay her on our bed and rip the shirt off her body. The shoulder wound is still leaking a lot of blood. Willow whispers the words to a spell I recognize as healing one. It seems to help a little. The blood flow slows dramatically.
"I need a bowl of warm water and some washcloths. Once I get her cleaned up I can bandage her." I keep my mind on the task at hand. It keeps me from panicking because the blood all over me is Buffy's blood.
Willow brings me the warm water, cloths and first aid kit. She sets them on the floor next to the bed and quietly leaves the room. She seems to sense I need to be alone with her.
I dip a clean white cloth into water already red with Buffy's blood and tears gather in my eyes. It's entirely too easy for my mind to play tricks on me. It's okay that she's not breathing, that she's cold to the touch. It's okay that she's lost enough blood to kill a human. She's not dead, at least not anymore then she's supposed to be. In my mind Buffy is always my warm, human-fragile, sunshine girl.
I carefully smooth the last bandage on her forearm and slip one of my sweaters over her head. I ease the black leather pants off her legs and throw them down the chute to toss in the incinerator. There's blood in her golden hair but that can be washed out later.
Giles knocks carefully on the door before opening it. I nod at him, giving permission to come in. He's carrying a fair sized container of blood. I can smell that it's human. "We've got more coming." He says, handing the container to me. I notice a white bandage on his wrist. I look pointedly at it and then at him. He shrugs.
"They can't deliver anything for a couple of hours. We're taking up a collection for her." He says.
"You were the first?" I ask.
He shrugs again. "It was my idea. I decided it might be best if I went first."
"Thank you." I do not know why I am surprised. He has given everything else for Buffy; blood is a small price to pay for your children.
Giles nods. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll bring up more when we have it gathered."
I sit down on the bed and prop Buffy up against me. I wave the glass of blood under her nose. The demon in her comes screaming to the surface, as I had hoped it would. She wakes up and snatches the container from me, guzzling it down. "Easy, Buffy. There's more coming." I promise. I hate seeing such intense hunger in her. I know from experience that kind of hunger hurts.
"More," She looks up at me with her golden eyes gleaming as she licks the last of the blood from the container.
"It's on its way." I promise. "How do you feel?"
"Hurt. Need more blood, hurts less." She turns to me and sinks her fangs into my neck. Buffy's demon is driven entirely by need and want.
When Giles comes back with another container full of blood, Buffy has finished feeding from me. She's curled up against me mewling against the pain and hunger.
"Are you quite alright? You look rather pale, more so then usual." Giles comments.
I nod. "Could you, would you mind bringing me a glass of pig's blood?" I ask. He nods and disappears again.
After three containers of blood, and everyone in the lobby bleeding for her, Buffy finally sleeps peacefully. I lay in bed with her in my arms, breathing in the scent of her. It's the same scent she has always had, vanilla and sunshine. She's going to wake up with questions, hard questions and I'm not going to be able to put off answering them anymore. She deserves to know. That doesn't mean I'm looking forward to telling her about the day I gave up being human, the perfect, beautiful day I took away from her.
-Angel-
It takes Gunn, Wes and Giles to keep me from going to her when she limps out of the warehouse. Truthfully they aren't so much what stops me as the sight of the polgara demon walking out behind her. An appearance now could get her killed and she doesn't look like she's in any shape to defend herself. She limps past our hiding spot, not wanting to reveal it to anyone. She doubles back somewhere. I feel her long before she actually walks inside our hiding spot. She feels hurt. Buffy's pain has always been my pain, even the physical pain. It's even truer now that we're connected by blood. When I find out who did this, I will kill them.
I can hear Willow doing her concealment spell even as I'm running to Buffy. I catch her in my arms as she drags herself through the door. She collapses as soon as she feels my arms around her, trusting me, knowing I'll catch her, I'll always catch her. She smiles weakly at me.
"Hello Commander Buffy." Her voice is weak.
"You did great, Baby." My voice comes out cracked.
"Careful, big piece of metal." She whispers before passing out, her head lolling against my shoulder.
Gunn drives while I sit in the back with Buffy. They must have found out she was the slayer and beat her. The rebar impaling her is obviously the worst wound, but it is far from the only wound. Her face is bruised and cut. Her nose is broken. There are claw marks on her back. There's one long cut on her fore arm that looks like she received it blocking a slash from a sword or a talon. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead; the only part of her that doesn't look like it's been bruised, cut or beaten. She's still unconscious and that worries me somewhat. However, anything not a vampire in her condition would be dead, so I supposed I should be thankful for that.
Gunn doesn't have to be told to drive fast. I know I'm radiating worry. I can't help it. This is Buffy. I know she won't die from the piece of rebar she's impaled upon. But she's hurt and that's enough to necessitate worry. Gunn pulls the car into the alley behind the hotel. I move Buffy from the back seat with infinite care, refusing to allow anyone else to touch her. Fred, the only one who stayed behind, pales when I walk in with Buffy in my arms.
"Oh my gosh, is she-"Fred asks, stopping just before she actually asks her question.
I set Buffy down on the couch. "No, get the first aid kit and I'm going to need some help. Someone's going to have to hold her down." My eyes land on Gunn. He's the strongest physically of the group but I don't know that he can do it.
"Hold her down?" Xander asks.
I look up at Xander. "I need someone to hold her while I pull the rebar out. It's going to hurt and it will probably wake her up. She may come up fighting. She's going to bleed, a lot."
"What do I need to do?" Xander asks.
He sits on the couch, holding Buffy as close to his chest as he can with the rebar sticking out the way it is. Gunn stands at the end of the couch and holds her ankles. I grab hold of the end of the rebar sticking out of Buffy's chest. The skin has already started to close around the piece of metal. It's going to hurt pulling it out and it's going to bleed. There's no way around it. I pull on three; the metal comes loose with a wet ripping sound. Buffy screams into consciousness, her vamp face automatically showing in response to the pain. She leaps to her feet snarling and growling, pain clouding her vision. I wrap my arms around her, not caring that she is bleeding all over my leather coat, my shirt and the lobby floor.
"Its okay, Buffy. I've got you. It's okay." I murmur to her. The shock of the pain leaves and she slumps against me. Fred is there with towels to stop the bleeding. I hand one to Xander who presses it against her back. I hold a towel over her shoulder and apply pressure. She doesn't need to lose any more blood then she already has. We lower her to the couch again.
"My nose is broken." She says.
"I know, Baby its okay. It's already starting to heal." I tell her.
"You called me Baby." Buffy says. She sounds half drugged with pain.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm just worried." I grab a new towel and toss the old, sodden one to the floor. A fresh blot of crimson stains the white towel.
"No, like, just not used to." She says, her eyes half closing.
"Buffy, baby, can you stay awake for me?" I move the hair back from her face, careful not to touch any of the bruised or scraped places.
"So tired, sleep now, talk later." She whispers before passing out again.
"Wes, I need you to find me a source of human blood and have it delivered now. Pig's blood isn't going to do the trick this time and we can't afford to have her out of commission for weeks. I need to get this shirt off her and get her bandaged. Willow, come with me." I pick Buffy up and carry her upstairs. She's hurt but I still don't relish the idea of anyone but me seeing her half naked. I lay her on our bed and rip the shirt off her body. The shoulder wound is still leaking a lot of blood. Willow whispers the words to a spell I recognize as healing one. It seems to help a little. The blood flow slows dramatically.
"I need a bowl of warm water and some washcloths. Once I get her cleaned up I can bandage her." I keep my mind on the task at hand. It keeps me from panicking because the blood all over me is Buffy's blood.
Willow brings me the warm water, cloths and first aid kit. She sets them on the floor next to the bed and quietly leaves the room. She seems to sense I need to be alone with her.
I dip a clean white cloth into water already red with Buffy's blood and tears gather in my eyes. It's entirely too easy for my mind to play tricks on me. It's okay that she's not breathing, that she's cold to the touch. It's okay that she's lost enough blood to kill a human. She's not dead, at least not anymore then she's supposed to be. In my mind Buffy is always my warm, human-fragile, sunshine girl.
I carefully smooth the last bandage on her forearm and slip one of my sweaters over her head. I ease the black leather pants off her legs and throw them down the chute to toss in the incinerator. There's blood in her golden hair but that can be washed out later.
Giles knocks carefully on the door before opening it. I nod at him, giving permission to come in. He's carrying a fair sized container of blood. I can smell that it's human. "We've got more coming." He says, handing the container to me. I notice a white bandage on his wrist. I look pointedly at it and then at him. He shrugs.
"They can't deliver anything for a couple of hours. We're taking up a collection for her." He says.
"You were the first?" I ask.
He shrugs again. "It was my idea. I decided it might be best if I went first."
"Thank you." I do not know why I am surprised. He has given everything else for Buffy; blood is a small price to pay for your children.
Giles nods. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll bring up more when we have it gathered."
I sit down on the bed and prop Buffy up against me. I wave the glass of blood under her nose. The demon in her comes screaming to the surface, as I had hoped it would. She wakes up and snatches the container from me, guzzling it down. "Easy, Buffy. There's more coming." I promise. I hate seeing such intense hunger in her. I know from experience that kind of hunger hurts.
"More," She looks up at me with her golden eyes gleaming as she licks the last of the blood from the container.
"It's on its way." I promise. "How do you feel?"
"Hurt. Need more blood, hurts less." She turns to me and sinks her fangs into my neck. Buffy's demon is driven entirely by need and want.
When Giles comes back with another container full of blood, Buffy has finished feeding from me. She's curled up against me mewling against the pain and hunger.
"Are you quite alright? You look rather pale, more so then usual." Giles comments.
I nod. "Could you, would you mind bringing me a glass of pig's blood?" I ask. He nods and disappears again.
After three containers of blood, and everyone in the lobby bleeding for her, Buffy finally sleeps peacefully. I lay in bed with her in my arms, breathing in the scent of her. It's the same scent she has always had, vanilla and sunshine. She's going to wake up with questions, hard questions and I'm not going to be able to put off answering them anymore. She deserves to know. That doesn't mean I'm looking forward to telling her about the day I gave up being human, the perfect, beautiful day I took away from her.
