Perils

…

Open the sky, take me in

I face desolation again no

Sift through remains of decay

Corrosion, the strength drips away no

…

(Lyrics to Song: Desolation. Artist: Tremonti)

"Hanz, Naekia," Carlisle's voice preceded his presence as he entered the upstairs portion of the house from the basement medical center. "It has been a long time." He moved to shake his old friend's hand. The reunion had not come under the best circumstances as the situation had required he leave them to their own devices and in the care of Esme and the others while he worked to stabilize the newest patient. That process had taken twelve hours from the time that they had arrived at his home.

"Is he going to make it?" Hanz returned the greeting and his concern bled through in the tone of his voice. "Not sure what actually happened but that sort of torture is rather unnecessary. I certainly wouldn't wish it on anyone—well not on most anyway."

Naekia snickered softly at the insinuation. The emotion in her eyes gave away what she was really feeling. "Hanz baby, we should offer to help them find out who is responsible. I mean, if they can do it to one like him, who's to say-."

Hanz put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He gave a distracted nod of agreement but kept his attention focused to Carlisle. Even the entrance of the other members of the Cullen family didn't seem to faze him as he waited for an update.

"As of this point his condition is dire. It has been a long time since I've treated one that has been in contact with that particular toxin. It will be touch and go for several days at least. I can't say for certain that he will survive but he will get every opportunity to do so. Full recovery will be a long road. There will likely be residual long term side-effects from the toxin but as to the extent, I cannot say for certain until his condition has markedly improved. He has suffered significant trauma. There is no guarantee that the multiple rounds of antidote in conjunction with the current aggressive treatment will be enough. You know that I am not one who gives up easily in any case."

"I know. You never sugar coat the facts either and I respect that." Hanz' expression turned somber but hopeful. "I was afraid that the snake oil would terminate him but I figured it was a risk worth taking. He was going to lose his existence quicker without it."

"In this case the application of a high dose of snake oil helped to stall the progression of the toxin enough to allow you to get him to me. Without it, his condition would have been beyond the point that even aggressive treatment could have given any sort of hope."

"I always keep a vial of snake oil within reach at all times." Naekia touched the dark glass vial at the end of a long copper chain at her neck. "It's an invaluable resource but not many know how to use it properly." She reached over and gave her mate a pat on the back.

"And then there are those that choose to use it with less than saintly intentions," Edward paused briefly, "Like the Volturi who use it to subdue captives when they choose to take them." He helped Esme to supply the guests with refreshments. "Snake Oil is a potent combination that can be toxic in its own right if used improperly." His gaze lifted then to Carlisle.

"It has plenty of varied uses but always with risk." Carlisle smiled. "It is good that you both are versed in the proper way to use it. Its use in this case may very well be what saves existence."

"How did you figure out where to find him in the first place?"

"A reliable rumor," Hanz shook his head. "Just so happens I have a trusted contact at one of the nightclubs we frequent." He took a long swig of his drink. "Luck and experience did the rest."

"Contacts are always a good thing, especially the reliable ones." Japer sat down at the table. "If there's nothing pressing that would force you to return tonight, you are more than welcome to rest another night or two here before you return." He somehow knew that the offer would garner no protest from Carlisle or the others.

"Our presence here isn't going to cause you and yours trouble? We wouldn't want that." Hanz took another long draw from his glass. He reached over and gave his mate's hand a pat as she gave a quick glance down at her time piece. His gaze lifted to meet hers' briefly. He could see that she was hoping they would wait to make the return trip. The entire situation had left her uneasy even if she was doing a valiant job at hiding it.

"Not any trouble that we can't handle." Edward's attention shifted at the sound of the medical alarm. The buzzing from the pager signaled that there was a patient in need of attention in medical. 'I can see to things here. The new patient is the current priority, along with the others that are currently guests of medical.' He gave a nod of understanding. Without spoken word, he knew that Carlisle had heard his comment even if, in most cases Carlisle chose to remain void that particular gift.

"Hanz, if you and Naekia will excuse me. There is a matter downstairs that I need to see to." Carlisle acknowledged the alarm. "Edward, see that they have proper quarters since it appears that they will be our guests at least for another night or two. I will return as soon as I can."

…

(Basement Medical Center

Cullens Home)

Carlisle reset the pager, clearing the alarm and checking the basic status of the three patients that currently inhabited the medical center. As he made rounds, in his mind he worked on continuing treatment plans for all three. Quietly, he checked in on Buffy. Her vital signs were greatly improved and her oxygen saturation was normal. Gently, so as not to wake her, he checked the equipment and adjusted the flow of oxygen slightly before turning off the light above her bed and exiting.

Moving on, he entered the next occupied room.

Angel, too was resting, at least until, the sound of a presence in the room, garnered attention. His eyes sagged open and his gaze moved to focus wearily upon the source of the noise. His condition had improved. He was now far more alert and aware than he had been previously. The medication used to keep him sedated was still gradually working out of his system. He blinked dazedly and tried, in vain, to verbally engage.

Carlisle shook his head, "Easy just rest. It's going to take a few days for your voice to return. The inflammation from the suction in your throat and the tubing still in your neck will need to dissipate. Don't try to talk." He adjusted Angel's position slightly to afford him a bit more comfort then checked the state of the active feeding. Fresh bags were added to the stream and the systems reset. "Buffy is resting and doing well. Are you in pain?" He loosened the restraints at Angel's wrists, leaving the cuffs in place, so that he could move his arms. Enough tension remained to prevent him from injuring himself or dislodging the tubing in his neck until the lingering sedation fully wore off.

'No, just tired and weak.' The answer came with no sound. His expression turned confused as his mind tried to make sense of the current situation and his inability to remember what had happened in the hours before. He grimaced in discomfort as the wounds in his abdomen were cleaned and covered with fresh dressings. The flushing of the drains in the closed punctures stung and sent transitory waves of burning pain across his stomach.

"You've been in a state of deep pseudo-sleep so that treatment could be performed to clear a nasty infection that had spread into your blood. Rest so that the residual sedating medication can work out of your system. You will likely have some missing time. It's normal and not anything to be concerned with. Nothing of importance have you missed during treatment. You're fine." He adjusted the level of the bed so that Angel was no longer at a full horizontal. "I'll see you again at morning rounds." He watched as the need to rest overwhelmed Angel and he drifted back into comfortable pseudo-slumber. A quick check of the equipment and an update of the chart ensued before he dimmed the lights and exited the room to continue his round.

…And I lay my body down, oh

Could be what's lost is never found, oh no

Could be I've squandered my last chance

To start again

To start again…

(Lyrics to Song: Desolation. Artist: Tremonti)

(Isolation/Critical Care)

The properties of snake oil had dissipated from the tainted system of one who had been through extreme trauma and was still in a dire condition. Poisoned with a toxin that, once it had reached third stage, was often existence ending, the symptoms ravaged the body in relentless cycles. The resulting toxicity and systemic shock should have been enough to extinguish existence but by some miracle he was still alive.

For a vampire, life was simply a tenuous balance between living and dead. For this one, life, at this stage was a moment by moment miracle. A dance where continued existence rested upon medical equipment and the knowledge of an accomplished physician who also just happened to be a vampire himself. The road was fraught with complications and setbacks. Recovery would be long and painful but in that dark tunnel there had been given the faintest glimmer of hope.

The least amount of pressure against his flesh set his nervous system on fire. Ataxic spasms rolled over his frame. The continuous ticking of his muscles only exacerbated the excruciating agony as the poison slowly destroyed tissue and interfered with proper bodily functions.

He shivered as the drains in his horribly blistered and swollen mouth and face were flushed with a solution of cold saline and antiseptic. Surgical incisions had been made in his lips and also along the inside of his cheeks to allow the blistered tissues to drain and swell without constriction that might cause more extensive damage or infection.

Tubes exited his oral cavity, throat and nose, all of which were connected either to active suction or actively flushing the areas to keep them moist, bacteria free and help to control the severe inflammation. An intramuscular IV had been inserted in the roof of his mouth. Its machinery delivered a continuous drip of strong local anesthetic along with other antibiotic medications that not only kept his oral cavity numb but also temporarily paralyzed his throat and tongue so that the compromised tissues weren't injured further. A special oral tray fitted around the morass of tubes held his swollen and battered tongue positioned so it was forward and away from the back of his throat. Specialized rubber spacers placed in his mouth over his lower bite line kept it agape so that the tubing wasn't inadvertently pinched or dislodged. Rubber caps had been placed over his fangs to protect them and also his physicians from accidental injury.

Carlisle carefully removed the bandages that covered his eyes. Angry blistering over and around their lids left them swollen closed. The damage from the toxin would likely heal but there would be permanent scarring. With gloved fingers, he gently lifted the lids and dropped liquid medication into each eye. Thick salve was then applied over the lids and around them. Clean gauze was used to cover his eyes and the bandages put back into place. It would be several days, maybe weeks before the damage to his vision could be fully assessed. Currently, he was totally blind and the possibility existed that it would be permanent rather than temporary.

His body quivered in reflexive reaction to the intense discomfort. A raspy hiss escaped from his chest, the sound strained and disjointed. His muscles contracted as a wave of seizures swept over his frame.

"Easy," Carlisle adjusted the settings on the active medicated feeding provided via a feeding tube surgically placed directly into his stomach. Fresh bags were added to the stream and the system reset. He then checked the progression of the other treatments: first the machinery that controlled the dialysis of tainted blood from the body via arterial lines placed in the arms and then the flow of antidote solution being provided via arterial lines placed in the ankles. His limbs were immobilized and restrained, even though upon examination he had no reflex or response in them, to prevent any inadvertent injury while the tubing was in place.

The other system that pumped vital fluids and a cocktail of other various medications into the body via tubes placed into the arteries in the neck was then adjusted and fresh bags added to the stream. It was a complex morass of tubing and systems that had to be working in exact sync at all times.

The wave of seizures intensified and then gradually subsided into uncontrolled shivering. His color paled as his body temperature fluctuated: spiking and falling in a cycle that left his skin constantly clammy. Another strangled hissing of air escaped his chest and drool dampened his chin. Fiery knives pierced his spine as the soiled dressings that covered the blistering rash across his torso were removed and the areas cleaned and redressed.

Carlisle adjusted the flow of medication through the tubes in his neck. He added another smaller set of bags to the stream and adjusted the settings. The addition would allow a timed flow of strong sedating medications to be pumped into the body. The medically induced coma-like pseudo sleep would relieve the distress brought about by pain. He would remain in this state until his condition fully stabilized and the toxicity had been neutralized. It would let his system rest, reduce the systemic shock and allow the antidote and other medications to work more efficiently.

He was too weak to fight it. His muscles relaxed. The uncontrolled shivering gradually subsided with the swift transition into the deep sleep state. The medically induced coma relieved the pain and slowed cognitive function to the point that he was unresponsive to stimuli.

Carlisle checked the restraints to be sure they weren't too tight. He adjusted the pillows beneath his immobilized arms before dimming the lights above the bed. "Rest." He gave a cursory sweep of the equipment before exiting the room. This was the beginning of many long days and nights spent caring for one whose very existence was, right now, hanging in the balance.