A/N: I would like to take a moment and clarify the fact that I have absolutely no medical knowledge whatsoever. What follows is what I wanted to happen for the sake of the story (mainly because I didn't feel like doing a lot of research and looking it up). You can call it artistic license if you want (or pure laziness, whatever floats your boat).
A/N 2: Hey, shameless plug here (setting aside the fact that I have no idea where that idiom came from…and it really bothers me), if you're interested in crossover fics, I have a Buffy centric HP crossover that I update at the same time as this one. Feel free to check it out and tell me what you think.
A/N 3: My reviewers! Ah ya'll are so wonderful. Chocolate to all! It looks like I have a well rounded B/A group here eagerly awaiting the reunion. I'm happy to feed your addiction. Feel free to come back for more. Thanks so much to: ka-mia2286, S.., Nina, paige, Spygrrl, Kal's Gal, onlimain (I'm glad you found this one too, I always enjoy hearing from you), Emy, screaminheathen69 (wow, thanks. I'm blushing), godessa39 (maybe it's just me, but I get the impression that you're a little miffed at me...am I or am I not delivering B/A...ok maybe not right now, but just you wait. I'm glad you found this fic too), MysticWolf1 (glad you're enjoying it), and axlgroupie91.
A/N 4: About next week's update...two words for you (and all it implies):
1) Finals.
2) Week.
Chapter 8
Wesley's hands shook as he stared at the small cell phone in his hands. How do you call someone and tell them that their best friend is in the hospital, that they might not make it, and it's all your fault. He quelled the rising panic and dialed the number to Willow's dorm.
"Hello," the voice was unfamiliar, and for a moment he thought he had dialed the wrong number.
"Y-yes, is Willow available?" he managed to get out.
"Sure she's right here, just a moment." He panicked when he heard a small click, thinking that they had hung up, but then he realized that it was the sound of the phone being set down. There was silence until he heard the bubbly redhead's voice come over the receiver.
"Hello, this is Willow."
"Willow, it's Wesley."
"Wesley," she exclaimed. "I wondered who it was. Tara said it was some British sounding guy, and well we don't know many of those, other than the watchers council, and since they were here I thought maybe, and she would have known if it was Giles, cuz we're over there all the time, so I was wondering who it was. How have you been?"
He was slightly taken back by her cheerful demeanor and rambling. The atmosphere in the hospital was tense and morose. It was odd thinking that there were other people out there who were not worried about Buffy. Hearing her happiness, and he hated the thought that he would be the one to sadden her. "It's about Buffy," he started. "I'm afraid there has been an accident."
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, "W-what kind of accident?" she asked hesitantly.
"Did you know where Buffy was?" he asked, avoiding the real issue.
"Yeah, Giles told us she was in LA, helping a friend. Is she alright?"
"No, I'm afraid not. She got in the crossfire of a police shooting," he stopped, catching his breath. "She did it to save me."
"Is she alive?" Willow questioned, tears evident in her voice.
"Yes," she gave a sigh of relief, "but she is still in critical condition, the doctors don't know if she is going to make it."
"Thank the Goddess." Her voice grew in strength, "Have you called anyone else? Her mom and Dawn are in LA at her dad's place."
He shook his head, "I don't- I didn't even think…I only called you because she asked me to. Do you know the number to her father's house?"
"Don't worry about it Wes. I'll call and let everyone know."
"Are you sure," he asked, relief at having the burden lifted flooded him.
"I got it covered. What hospital are you at? I need to come and see her."
"We're at St. John's, still in the waiting room of the ER."
"Wes, she'll be fine. She's the Slayer. You can't keep her down for long."
"Thank you Willow."
"I'll see you soon."
xoxox
"How's she doin'?" Anne asked worriedly when she spotted the others in the waiting room of the ER.
Gunn had his head in his hands and was staring blankly at the floor. Cordelia, sitting next to him, was slowly rubbing small circles on his back. Wesley was standing in a corner, speaking quietly on the phone. It was Cordelia who answered, "They're not telling us anything."
She moved to a seat across from them, "How long have they been in surgery?"
Cordelia turned and glanced at the clock behind her, "Almost four hours."
"Four hours? Is that- is that normal?" Anne questioned. "Do we even know her chances?"
"She'll survive," Gunn spoke up without moving. "She doesn't know how not to."
The room fell silent once again and Wesley finished his phone call. He walked over and sat next to Anne. Minutes dragged by, each of them acutely aware of the passing time, and each trying unsuccessfully not to worry.
"How are things at the shelter?" Wesley's voice broke the silence, making Anne jump.
"We lost Danny. He was the one that the cops-" she broke off to take a deep breath and Wesley rubbed the back of her tightly clasped hands in sympathy. "Other than that, everyone's fine. There were no serious injuries. I just told them to leave the mess and get some sleep."
"It was an exhausting night," Wesley sympathized.
"Yeah, it was."
They were prevented from making any more small talk by the arrival of the doctor. Cordelia nudged Gunn who looked up, startled. They all stood as he made his way over. Gunn moved to the front of the group, not yet letting himself feel hope. "What's the word Doc? She alright?"
He smiled and nodded reassuringly, "It took some time, but we were able to remove all the pieces of the bullet and stop the eternal bleeding.
Grins broke out on all their faces and Gunn let out a whoop.
"Wait," the doctor halted them in their jubilation. "She's not out of the woods yet. She suffered major blood loss and her recovery will be slow. She is still very unstable at this point. It will take time and careful handling to get her back to full health. There is also a high chance of her slipping into a coma, and if that happens, the chances of her ever waking up are almost nonexistent."
"Alright," Gunn started, "is there anything we can do. Can we see her?"
The doctor shook his head sadly, "Not at the moment. It would be better if she were given more time to recover from the surgery. She is too fragile. She's heavily sedated. She won't wake up for some time." He looked at their disappointed faces. "Don't worry. I suggest you go home and get some rest. There is nothing you can do here." He gave them all what was supposed to be a reassuring smile and left.
They all exchanged glances and moved to sit down. "Hey guys," Gunn spoke up, "it's pointless for us all to be waiting here. Why don't you all go and get some sleep. I'll wait here. You can come back in the morning."
Cordelia couldn't help the yawn that escaped her mouth at the thought of a fresh bed. "I wouldn't say no to that," she said as she stood to leave.
Wesley looked Gunn over, "I can't let you stay here alone."
"I'll stay," Anne piped up. "It's not like I'm going to be getting any sleep anyways. I'll stay."
Wesley nodded as he rose, "You'll inform us if there are any changes?"
Anne nodded and Cordelia and Wesley left. As they moved away Anne moved to sit in the abandoned seat nest to Gunn. The silence was deafening. It was unbearable. Both were lost in their own thoughts about the small blond fighting for her life in the next room.
Anne thought about how knowing Buffy forced her to grow a backbone. She knew that without the younger girl's influence she would still be living day to day on the streets. She would have been dead several times over if it wasn't for the Slayer, but she had become so much more than just the slayer. She had become a friend. And by forcing her to learn to protect herself instead of having others protect her, Buffy had given her a shot at a real life. Asking to share her name was the only thing she could to show how much it had meant to her.
And now she was dying, and it was her fault.
Gunn's thoughts were darker. He remembered the friendship she shared with Allana. He had been sure that she wouldn't last a day in his neighborhood, but she had proved him wrong in one of the hardest and most bloody battles he had ever fought. He still had the scars. Without her, his entire crew would have died. He would always remember that hopeless feeling he got that night she stormed into their lives. A cadre of vamps were decimating his crew, and nothing they were doing was helping. He had just seen is closest friend get his neck snapped while another had used their finders to gouge through the skin of his stomach. He had been laughing.
Till she showed up.
They owed her everything.
"I feel like this is my fault," Anne whispered.
His head jerked up at her whispered confession, "It's not your fault Anne."
"But it is," she said, tears in her eyes, her voice rising in panic, "If I hadn't called none of this would have happened. She never would have come here and gotten shot. This is all because of me. Me and my selfishness."
"Hey," Gunn said, placing a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "None of this is your fault. You know she never would have come if she didn't want to be here. And, as much as I hate to say it, she has the best chance of surviving."
"But-"
"No," he interrupted. "Don't beat yourself up about this alright. She's not going to blame you when she wakes up. Everything will be fine."
She looked up at him, "Promise?"
He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him, "Promise."
xoxox
Willow truly hated some of the parts that were involved in the "best-friend" job description. Most of it was okay. It came with support, unwavering friendship, someone to talk to anytime you needed it, a wonderful confidant.
And in return there were little things you could do to make your friend's life easier. Like the little cover-ups that involved the opposite sex, lying to the Watcher/father figure about your friend's whereabouts. Little things that were usually no problem to take care of. Little things that you wanted to take care of because she's your best friend.
But there were other things involved. Parts that all best friends hoped and prayed that they never had to do. Like the part that said you were the one responsible for telling your best friend's mom that your best friend was in the hospital with a gunshot wound.
It was all in the fine print.
What made it even worse was the fact that it was Buffy. The Slayer. Vamp wounds were expected. But gunshot wounds? How is that involved in fighting the forces of darkness? And how the heck was she supposed to tell Buffy's mom and little Dawnie what happened?
And even worse than that was the fact that she knew for a fact that this was something that Buffy's mom worried about. Not the gun shot wounds part, but the dying young part. Willow knew that it was always in the back her mind, the worry. The scoobies had always managed to brush aside the fear, or at least hide it. But Buffy's mom? She didn't have that luxury. She was forced to put on a brave face and just hope that her daughter came home every night.
So here she was, about to tell Mrs. Summers that her fears might come true soon. She stared at the door, willing it to open with the women on the other side magically knowing that something was wrong with their family member.
She waited.
No such luck.
It was still closed…mocking her. Stupid door.
She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves, whishing she didn't have to do this, and knocked.
It was Dawn that opened to door, practically bouncing with that insane energy that she always seemed to have. They would make a fortune if they ever discovered how to bottle and sell it. It would change the world.
Alright Rosenberg, you have a job to do. No more rambling thoughts. Focus.
"Willow!" she squealed, "What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here, it's pretty boring by myself. Oops," she sheepishly glanced behind her searching for something before turning back and lowering her voice, "Mom's asleep," she whispered. "The drive wore her out."
She moved outside to stand next to Willow and closed the door behind her, "So what are doing here," she asked. "Hey, do you want to go somewhere? We could go to the mall, or…"
She slowly stopped her questions when she saw the look on Willow's face. "Wh- what's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. "Why are you here?"
"Dawnie," she blinked back tears, "I need to talk to your mom."
xoxox
Angel made his way out of the police department quickly, not wanting to waste any more time there than he needed to. The zombies had been taken care of so he was free to go back to the hotel and rest and forget about everything that was connected to her. When his thoughts turned to a small blonde he told himself that it was Darla he was thinking of. He told himself that he needed to make sure that she and Drucilla were not coming back.
He made his way thorough the silent dark hotel without turning any of the lights on. When he reached the top of the stairs he stopped. There was a twinge of guilt when he thought about what he had said to her, but he pushed it down and kept going to his room. He had done everything he could to help her.
Now it was time to forget.
After restless pacing for several moments, he gave up and sat down in his chair. He was too wired to get any rest for the rest of the night. His eyes scanned the room. He needed something to beat up. He needed to vent his anger. He needed-
Everything stopped when his eyes fell on the object sitting on the mantel. It felt like time stopped. He didn't move. His body was still in the way that only the most deadly predators could be. It was absolute.
In one graceful movement he was at the mantel, picking up the object that had caught his eye. He turned it over in his hands, remembering. Cordelia had always wondered why he had it in his room. When she asked him why, he had just said, "Because time stopped too late," and walked out of the room. No one had seen him for the rest of the week.
He kept turning the broken clock in his hands, thinking back to that day, wondering why she was taken from him every time they achieved perfect happiness. The contradictions in their lives were too much. Opposites were intertwined. Joy and pain. Light and dark. Slayer and vampire. They had been told that together they were strong, alone they were dead. And yet, they were never able to be together.
He was gently placing the clock back on the mantel, where it would undoubtedly sit for years to come, when he was struck with a thought. He was dead. His body held life, but it was dead. It was only when he saw her that he truly came alive. She was the thing that kept him sane.
Her love and compassion.
She had loved him more completely than anyone he had ever known. She was the one who kept him grounded. If she had been here, he never would have reached the point he was at now because she would have known something was wrong and would have done everything in her power to keep him in the light.
Like she had that Christmas.
He needed her like humans need air, like vampires need blood. She was his life. Without her, he was dead.
He ran out the door.
He needed to see her.
Tbc…