Part 4
Xander nearly ran Angel over as he rushed down the halls of Sunnydale Hospital. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he'd been to this damn place more times than he'd prefer, but it was only a passing thought. His main concern at the moment was Buffy.
"Angel!" he shouted louder than he should have, grabbing his friend's arm. "What's going on? I heard the call on the radio for an ambulance so I came here instead."
Angel stared blankly at Xander, the words penetrating his brain in a slow trickle. It wasn't until Xander shook him that he responded. "Buffy...she...she tore up the house. S-she was on the floor, unconscious...and there...there was blood."
"Did she...," Xander trailed off, unable to voice the mere thought that Buffy may have harmed herself.
"I don't know," Angel mumbled. And he didn't know. The moment he'd seen the blood and her unmoving body, he'd called for an ambulance. Though he had wanted to, he hadn't touched her while he waited for help, too afraid of causing more harm to her.
"Damnit!" Xander cursed, his fist slamming into the nearest wall. He grimaced, shaking his hand as pain lanced up his arm. "I knew I should have stayed with her!"
"She shouldn't have been alone," echoed Angel, though his own thoughts were on his own carelessness. Every day since Oz's death he had wanted to go see her, talk to her, but he had stayed away. He had let their tumultuous past get in the way of being there for her, and now she was worse. If he had gone to her, Angel knew he could have stopped this from happening.
"Have you heard anything yet?" Xander asked, peering down the hall in hopes of seeing a doctor coming toward them.
"No." Angel shook his head. "Giles is with her. They've only been back there about fifteen minutes.
A nurse came over and told them they would be more comfortable in the waiting room, but both declined the offer. Neither wanted to be too far away, feeling as if they'd already let Buffy down enough by not being there for her. So instead, they stood stoically in the hallway, waiting impatiently for news.
The image of Buffy lying unconscious on the living room floor would not leave Angel's mind. It was etched there like a permanent stain. He wanted to deny that Buffy could have done something to hurt herself, but he knew it was a real possibility. Grief made people do things they normally wouldn't, and Buffy had had plenty of grief in her short life. And some of it was caused by him. For an instant, Angel wondered if things would have been different if the relationship between him and Buffy were better. She would have been able to cry on his shoulder, and turn to him for comfort, then, instead of retreating into herself. Unfortunately, he couldn't change the past, or change what he did. Though it didn't stop him wishing.
Xander glanced at Angel out of the corner of his eye. He could tell that the other man was deep in thought. About what, he could only guess. If he had to put money on it, he'd wager that Angel was beating himself up over things he couldn't change. He had a tendency to do things like that. Not that Xander could blame him. It was hard not to second guess your actions when one of your friends was lying in a hospital bed.
Before either man could mire themselves down more with recriminations, Giles wearily walked down the hallway toward them. The older doctor wiped at the sweat beaded on his forehead, forcing himself to hold back a yawn. He was utterly exhausted. His shift had ended nearly two hours earlier, but first he'd been held up by a problem with a patient, and then, just as he was about to head home to his wife Jenny, Buffy had been rushed through the doors of the emergency room. There was no way he would leave her care to anybody else.
"Angel, Xander," he said, coming to halt in front of his nephew Angel.
"How is she?" Angel asked hurriedly.
"She's going to be fine, physically speaking," Giles answered, a small smile on his face. "Emotionally, though, she has a lot to work through."
Angel sighed in relief, slouching back against the wall. He knew Giles was right, that there was still a lot of recovery ahead for Buffy, but he was just glad that she would be all right. "Did she...what happened?" he hesitantly questioned.
"She didn't harm herself on purpose, if that's what you're asking," Giles replied, his own relief at the knowledge hidden behind a mask of professionalism.
"But, the blood?" Angel pointed out, confused.
"Mostly surface wounds," clarified Giles. "She didn't cut her wrists; at least it doesn't appear that way. Angel? You said the house seems to have been ransacked?" At Angel's nod, Giles sighed. "I believe, then, that the injuries were caused from that. Most of the cuts were on her knuckles, and a few others down her arms. None of them were serious."
"I don't understand," Xander cut in. "Why was she unconscious then?"
"Buffy, in a manner of speaking, has had a complete breakdown. I still have some tests to run, but I don't think she has been eating or sleeping lately, and add to that the stress of Oz's death and it was too much for her body and mind to handle," he explained, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.
As much as he'd like to deny it, Giles was not surprised at the night's turn of events. He had been afraid something like this would happen. The mind and body were only able to handle so much, and Buffy's apparently had been overburdened. When he had seen her come into the emergency room, he had already known what he was facing. Unfortunately, he didn't think anything could have been done to prevent it.
"So what now?" Angel asked, torn between relief and his continuing worry.
"Well, first off, I have some tests to finish conducting, then, once she is awake and alert, perhaps sometime tomorrow, I will have her see one of the staff psychiatrists," Giles relayed, already going through in his mind who would be best served to help Buffy. "She will have to be here at least a few days while we rehydrate her and get some nourishment into her body. Once the psychiatrist evaluates her we will have a better idea of what comes next, though I assume he will suggest she stay here longer for treatment."
"Okay," Angel agreed sadly. He hated the idea of Buffy being stuck in the hospital, and he knew how much she hated them, but he also knew that it was probably the best place for her. If she was released too soon she would likely only be back again.
"She's sedated at the moment," Giles went on. "It should help her get some rest, but she should be awake in the morning. You can both come back then."
"No," both Angel and Xander said at once.
Giles shook his head, having expected the denial. "Very well, but there really is nothing more you can do tonight."
"We're staying," Angel stated firmly. "At least I am."
"Me too," announced Xander.
"Can I see her?" Angel asked, taking a step in the direction Giles had previously come from.
"She's sleeping now," Giles reiterated sternly.
"I promise I won't disturb her," assured Angel. "I just need to see her."
"Fine," Giles relented. "She's been moved up to room 405. I'll allow you to see her as long as you do not disrupt her rest."
A short few minutes later, Angel was perched at Buffy's bedside, lightly holding her chilled right hand in his. His eyes traced over her body, searching for any sign that Giles' diagnosis was wrong. He found nothing. Other than the bandaged scratches on her arms and knuckles, and the dark circles under her eyes, she appeared to be fine. Carefully, he brushed a few hairs off her face as he remembered the first time he'd met her as a bubbly, blonde-haired teenager.
Angel had first met Oz during the latter's first day of school at Sunnydale High. They were both juniors and shared the same homeroom. They had sat next to each other through the alphabetized seating arrangement. When Oz looked lost as he tried to find his next class, Angel took it upon himself to show him around. They quickly struck up a friendship, finding common ground in their laid back demeanors. Several weeks later, Oz had invited him to his house before they went out one night. That was when he first saw her.
The two had been up in Oz's room, looking through his CD collection when suddenly the door had burst open and a giggling, twelve year old Buffy had come skipping in. The moment she had realized someone else was in the room, she'd smiled shyly before introducing herself. Angel had smiled back at her, shaking the hand she'd held out to him. From then on, he became a regular at the Summers' house, and Buffy became like a little sister to him. It wasn't until a few years later that things began to change.
"Angel, you really should try to get some sleep," Giles' tired voice interrupted.
"I'm fine," he mumbled, eyes still on Buffy.
"If you say so. I am headed home, but I'll be back in the morning," said Giles. When Angel didn't answer, he sighed and walked out the room.
Raising Buffy's arm, Angel gently kissed the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. For everything. I know you might not believe it, but I never meant to hurt you, and if I could, I would bring back your Mom and Oz," he whispered quietly, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks.
From the doorway, Xander silently watched the exchange. He smiled sadly at Angel's words. He knew it was futile, but he hoped that the two of them would be able to work things out. Buffy needed Angel, and Xander knew that Angel was miserable without her.
Sometime around nine the next morning, Xander slowly made his way up the stairs to his apartment building. He was utterly exhausted, having not slept at all the previous night. Sure, there hadn't been much to do at the hospital except watch Buffy sleep and Angel stay glued to her side, but every time Xander closed his eyes, images of the way things used to be came into his mind.
He remembered the last Christmas party before Mrs. Summers had died. Everyone had been there Buffy, Oz, Willow, Angel, himself, and Mrs. Summers. They'd laughed and had fun, exchanging gifts and just enjoying themselves. Oz had surprised Buffy by giving her two tickets to the next ice show in Los Angeles. The smile she'd given him was blinding. It was probably one of the happiest moments he'd ever seen Buffy in. Ever since then, the world seemed to be spiraling out of control as his friends' lives slowly fell to pieces. First Mrs. Summers died, followed by the problems between Buffy and Angel, then Willow and Oz's breakup, and recently Oz's death. Now Buffy was in the hospital after having suffered a complete break down. It just seemed to be a never-ending cycle of pain and heartache.
Shaking his head, Xander realized he'd been standing outside his building for almost fifteen minutes. He needed to go take a quick shower and change clothes so he could get back to the hospital in time to meet with Angel, Giles, and Buffy's psychiatrist. If he had time, he also wanted to stop and pick up some coffee and bagels to take with him. Angel likely wouldn't eat unless someone shoved food under his nose, which Xander supposed was going to be his job.
Busy digging around in his pocket for his keys, Xander almost tripped over Willow, who was sitting to the left of his door. He quickly shuffled his feet, managing to avoid falling flat on his face.
"Jeez, Willow. Warn a guy next time you decide to hide on the floor!" he exclaimed, smiling wryly at her.
"Sorry, I thought you saw me," she apologized as she stood up from the ground.
"That's okay. I'm in kind of a hurry, though. I just stopped by to change before I go back to the hospital," Xander explained, jabbing his key into the uncooperative lock on his door.
"Huh? The hospital?" Willow repeated in confusion.
Xander's hand stilled in mid-turn of the key. He glanced at Willow, sighing tiredly. "Oh, I guess you don't know."
"Know what?"
"Buffy...she's in the hospital. She...she had breakdown of some sort last night," he told her.
Even though Xander was only looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he immediately saw Willow's eyes widen. But then she did the most curious thing. She turned her head away, shielding her face from him. His suspicion rose instantly. He'd known Willow for a long time, and he knew her body language. Releasing the key from his grip, he turned to face Willow completely, arms crossed over his chest.
"Willow?" he spoke evenly.
"What?" she mumbled, refusing to look at him.
Xander shifted to his left until he was staring directly at her. The guilty look on her face told him all he needed to know. "What did you do?"
The redhead cast her eyes down, shoulders slouching. "I...I...we got in a fight."
"A fight?" he repeated, not quite believing her. He just couldn't imagine Buffy quarreling in the state she was in.
"No...well...sorta...I kind of said some things to her," she replied, her voice innocent.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, Xander glared intensely at her. "What did you say?"
"I didn't mean it!" Willow squeaked, her voice defensive.
"What.Did.You.Say?!" he asked again, shaking her slightly.
"I...I told her that...that it was her fault Oz died. I-I said he should have been with me, not here getting into an accident," she finally told him.
"Jesus Christ, Willow!" Xander spat angrily, hastily releasing his grip on her shoulders and stepping away. "How could you say that to your best friend?"
"I was upset. I didn't mean it," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure that will make her feel better. I'll be sure to tell her that when she's no longer sedated and suicidal!" he shouted, staring at his friend in disgust.
"Xander, please-."
"God, I thought I knew you." He shook his head sadly. "But the Willow I knew would have never accused her best friend of causing her brother's death."
Having said that, Xander turned back to his door, opening it with a jerk and then promptly slammed it behind him, leaving a now crying Willow in his wake. He leaned heavily against the now closed door, wondering how the hell things got so screwed up. Angel was going to flip when he found out this latest information, and he would find out. The psychiatrist should probably know what had helped push Buffy over the edge. Xander had no doubt that Willow's words had been the final nail in Buffy's proverbial coffin. She'd already been so unstable. One small push and she fell. He only hoped that, together, they could pull her back.
TBC!!
