DT-8
Drunken Tears 8?
Author: Willowschild, aka Arisluv
Summary: Some questions get answered, kinda.
Suddenly, the whole gang surrounded Xander. His eyes flitted around searching their worried faces. Buffy appeared irate, almost seething, while Dawn and Willow struggled to maintain their composure through the tears they held back. There stood Angel, Giles and, of course, his constant throughout all this - Spike.
Then, the constant weight was gone from his side as Spike was ripped away and tossed aside like a heap of garbage. Fear filled Xander as the only real thing he knew was taken in an instant. Panicked, Xander came to understand what was going on. His breathing became labored and his pulse pounded hard and fast. The beeps and gooshes were erratic and desperate, setting off alarms. Running in, the nurse began to usher them away. His panic increased and Xander began to frantically and emphatically shake his head.
"Come on dearie, you need rest now." The nurse continued to encourage him to relent but Xander held fast. "Alright. One can stay."
Xander motioned for a pad before anyone could make his decision for him. Giles, ever prepared, produced both paper and pen. Xander's hand was weak as he gripped the pen with his fist, not two fingers, the whole hand wrapped as firmly as he could around the ball point instrument. Trembling, Xander's hand shook over the pad only briefly before etching out the letters he was screaming in his mind. S. P.I. K.E.
"Ok sweetie. Everyone out except this Spike fellow. His request not mine, so no objections boys and girls." The nurse began to push the more reluctant ones out the door leaving Spike and Xander alone. Spike sat on the floor where he'd been so unceremoniously dumped moments before in an astonished heap. He heard the others complaints but could not have cared less about them as his name was heard being breathed from the sweet woman's lips.
As the others left, Xander immediately began to calm. His eyes met Spike's. So much was said without the utterance of words. Apologies were made on both ends; questions asked.
"Why pet?" A shrug was his only answer. The nurse returned and there was silence once more.
"Help me out here, Spike, was it? We're gonna take these tubes out of your friend's mouth so he can talk to you." Such a sweet woman, Spike thought. Spike pushed himself off the floor and stumbled to the edge of the sterile bed, that while whiter than the blinding snow was still stained with dead men's tears.
"Hold his hand while I pull these out. Xander, honey, I need you're help too. You have to breathe out as hard as you can when I say go. Ok?"
Blinks and nods A hand clutched his and Xander's eyes smiled. Pressure on the tubes brought Xander's attention back to the nurse. Her eyes were so old, aged by years of service on the Hellmouth. She smiled even now, after seeing more death than Xander ever had. Something in her still thrived and that earned her respect from both men. She gave him another smile and with a nod let Xander know it was time. One hard exhale expunged the tubes from nostrils and throat. He burned from the inside out with tissue ripping pain but he could breathe again unassisted. Xander squeezed tightly to Spike's hand as the pain caused more tears to fall.
"There now. I'll just leave you two alone. Just make sure he drinks some water." The nurse left again without them ever knowing her name. No one else saw her either. She became a soft shimmer in the hallway, a brief gift from the Powers that Be to answer the prayers of a man thought damned.
Xander couldn't speak, not yet. So Spike spoke once more. Spike spoke and a weak but captive Xander listened.