Author's Note: So I took a really long break with this. Sorry. I had pretty much everyone around me, save for a few, abandon me or betray me. But I'm in a better place now. So when I got a review asking me to keep going, I decided I would.
I really don't know why, but I noticed as I was re-reading this I said "always putting yourself above others" multiple times in this story. That's wrong; total opposite of what I meant. It's supposed to be "always sacrificing yourself for others" or "always putting others before yourself." Really sorry guys. Not to mention all the other typos and errors I've seen upon re-read…

Chapter 30: Concussed

"Davy!" Peter yelled. He watched in what seemed like slow motion as Davy reached for a glass of water and somehow fell over, slamming his head into the edge of the counter. Piper reached out to keep him from falling, but she was just a bit too slow. She caught him only as his head hit the counter. She carefully lowered him to the floor as Peter and Willow both rushed over to them. Davy wasn't moving anymore and his eyes were closed.

"Oh God," Willow said.

"He's not moving," Peter panicked. Piper placed her hand on the back of Davy's head. When she pulled away slightly, blood covered her hand. "Why isn't he moving?"

"Peter, go get my medical bag now," Piper said. Peter nodded and dashed off to the bedroom to grab her medical bag. As he left he heard her tell Willow to call Daryl at the morgue. He couldn't remember where she put her bag for a second, but then he remembered it was in the top dresser drawer. He opened the drawer and grabbed the bag quickly before darting back to Davy. When he got back into the kitchen, Piper was on the phone with Daryl.

"I got it," Peter announced staring at Davy lying still on the floor. He looked very pale now. Fear gripped Peter and he barely heard anything else.

"Daryl, I understand that you work in a morgue," Piper was saying, though her voice sounded distant. "But we need you to come home with those meds and an IV. Now. I don't care how."

"What can I do?" Willow asked when Piper hung up. She sounded just as worried as Peter felt.

"Go get a razor and some scissors," Piper said.

"A razor?" Peter asked suddenly confused.

"Peter, I need you to help me carry him into the other room," Piper said ignoring him. Peter nodded, but couldn't really move. He knew he needed to, but he was terrified for his friend. "Peter, honey, this is what I've been teaching you. I need you to put those skills into action now. You're gonna need to focus and remain calm. Just as if we were to rescue Micky and have to do this for him, ok?"

"Right," Peter said. She'd spent the last two months teaching him how to handle emergency first aid in the field. He hadn't had a chance to really put any of it to use, but now he could practice. And he could save his friend's life. Peter took a deep breath and then sprang into action. He lifted Davy up and carried him into the other room, setting him gently on the bed.

"Ok, wash out and disinfect the wound," Piper instructed. Peter nodded and pulled a bottle of hydrogen peroxide out of her medical bag and a cloth. He poured a little hydrogen peroxide out over the wound and held the cloth under his head. The wound fizzed and bubbled a little but not much. Peter was a little relieved at this; he knew that meant the wound was relatively clean and the chance of infection was low. When the wound stopped fizzing, Peter dried the area so that Piper could treat it. Some part of him knew what the razor was for. When he looked up, his suspicions were confirmed. He was so focused on cleaning the wound, he hadn't noticed Piper disinfecting a needle and razor Willow had brought in. Piper moved Davy's hair out of the way and shaved a small part of his head around the wound. Peter's stomach flipped. Davy loved his hair and would no doubt be pissed they had to shave it. Hair grows back, Peter told himself. He'll be ok if he remembers that hair grows back. Just so long as he stayed alive. The wound itself wasn't very long, maybe only about an inch or so long, but it was deep. The edges of the wound were clean, not jagged, so it would heal better.

"Hold his head really still," Piper said. "He may wake up a little and if he does, he's gonna freak out and jerk. If he jerks, it'll make things that much worse. Hold tight. Willow, you get his legs." Peter and Willow nodded and held on tight. It took Piper some time to stitch the wound closed on Davy's head; the blood was still flowing and she had to stop periodically because she couldn't see. Peter took the cloth and dabbed the wound clean again whenever this happened. Peter cringed whenever she pushed the needle into Davy's skin. With each pass, she tied the thread in a knot and pulled. When she finally tied the last knot, she told Peter to cut the thread. Peter grabbed the scissors and cut close to the injury as she'd taught him a month ago. Peter reached into the medical bag and grabbed a bandage and tape. He carefully covered the wound with the bandage as Piper cleaned up the thread and cloths.

"Is he gonna be ok now?" Willow asked her.

"We need to get fluids in him and medication," Piper answered.

"What happened to him?" Willow asked.

"He's severely dehydrated," Piper answered.

"I made sure he drank plenty of water," Willow said.

"You probably did, but his body is not used to this kind of strenuous activity," Piper said sternly. "You trained him all day. You and I are used to that, but he's not. He's never done anything close to this before. His body couldn't take it and his body overheated. Mix with that the fact that he hit his head a few times, he had a concussion. That's what the slurred speech was and eventually disorientation that caused him to fall and hit his head."

"I told him-" Willow started, but Piper cut her off.

"You should have made him stop, Willow," Piper said. "You could have killed him. You're lucky he didn't have a stroke. That was the first thing I tested for. This is partially on him for not stopping, but you should have known better. You're grieving the loss of your father, I get it, I really do, but this isn't going to bring him back. No matter how much you push Davy, he's not gonna be as good as your father. He's never going to be as good as your father. He'll never replace your father."

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Peter asked.

"The world is a harsh place," Piper said before leaving the room.

"I'm sorry," Peter said to Willow. "Davy's stubborn. He should have stopped sooner."

"No, she's right," Willow said. "I should have known Davy couldn't handle that much physical stress. I saw it in his face and I ignored it just as much as he did."

"Doesn't mean we should blame either of you," Peter said. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't mean I couldn't have prevented this," Willow said. Peter didn't know what else to say. He didn't like the blame game that was being played, but he knew that if it were him that had been in that basement all day with Davy, he'd blame himself just as much as Willow was. Peter decided to follow Piper and talk to her. He knew Piper wasn't really mad at Willow, but he wanted to make sure. Piper had gone back into the kitchen to clean up. Peter had just rounded the corner when he saw Daryl and Piper standing in the kitchen. It was clear that Daryl had just walked in. He was setting a bag down on the counter.

"You ok?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Piper said. Peter could tell she was shaking a little. He knew he was standing in the shadows and that he was eavesdropping, but at this point he didn't care. Something was clearly wrong with Piper and he knew Piper wouldn't readily tell him, but he figured she'd tell Daryl. "He's in the other room."

"Piper, what's wrong?" Daryl asked.

"He could have died," Piper said. Even her voice was shaking. "I blew up at Willow. She trained him way too hard and now he's extremely dehydrated with head trauma. I shouldn't have blown up at her like that, but he could have died."

"But he didn't," Daryl said. "You were here to save him."

"Had I been even two minutes later…" Piper said. "If I wasn't here when he fell and ripped his head open…"

"Don't think about the what if's," Daryl said.

"We have to," Piper said. "We don't learn otherwise. This isn't fair. Three months ago, he'd never even heard of Templars and Assassins. Three months ago he was normal, happy, and carefree. We've dragged him into this and now we're going to get them both killed!"

"Them both?" Daryl asked. "You mean Peter."

"Peter's too shy," Piper sighed sitting down in a chair. "Davy's at least trying to learn how to fight, but Peter can't. It's not in him. Don't get me wrong, I don't want him to pick up a sword or gun and start using it, but damn it, how are we supposed to protect them AND save my cousins?"

"You need to calm down," Daryl said. "You need to remember that you aren't mad at Willow; you aren't mad at Davy; you aren't even mad at yourself. You're mad at Robert and the situation we're all in."

"I know," Piper said. "I feel useless wandering around asking questions."

"There's not much else we can do," Daryl said. "We need to find out as much as we can before we find your friends."

"We'd normally have the whole force of Assassins out there looking for them," Piper said crying a little. "But that son of a bitch made them distrust our whole family."

"We'll fix it," Daryl said moving to embrace her. "We'll get him and we'll get your family back." Peter couldn't help but feel a little jealous with how close the two of them seemed. They shared a lot more than Peter could ever hope to share with Piper. Daryl and Piper had a past and a special connection. The way he was holding her, embracing her to take the pain away, it was clear there was a special connection between the pair. Peter went back into the room with Davy and Willow. Daryl and Piper followed in without saying much of anything and started an IV in Davy's arm. Daryl put something else into the IV bag.

"What's that?" Peter asked.

"Medication to help reduce pain and swelling inside his head," Daryl answered.

"He's gonna be ok, though, right?" Peter asked. "With that medicine?"

"Not really sure, to be honest," Daryl said. "Without getting an image of his brain, there's no way to tell what kind of trauma was done. Piper, did you test neurological health?"

"I only got as far as testing for stroke symptoms," Piper said. "He had equal strength on both sides of his brain. His speech was slurred. His vision wasn't very impaired. I doubt there's much swelling, but we need to keep a really close eye on him."


Micky carefully opened his eyes several hours later. Visions of his nightmares floated through his head. To try and shake them, he focused on Ginny. Her hand lay softly against his chest and he could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. It was a steady breath, not labored or pained. In his nightmares, her breathing was ragged and pained. He looked down at her to try and erase the images from his heads. All he'd seen when he closed his eyes was his own father pinning her to the ground and hurting her. Now he saw her pale face and beautiful red hair framing it. While he knew his father might hurt her again, right now she was safe. He focused on this moment, trying desperately to make the other images disappear.

"Micky," Mike said softly from the next bed. "You ok?"

"Yes," Micky answered softly, even though he wasn't sure he was. He could still feel pain in his legs and chest, but not what it was. He figured Mike had given him another dose of morphine that Meg had brought but he wasn't sure how long it would last. Rose was asleep against Mike as well, but Mike looked like he hadn't slept at all. His eyes looked almost sunken in.

"You were groaning a bit in your sleep," Mike said, again speaking softly so he wouldn't wake either of the girls.

"Sorry, did that keep you up?" Micky answered just as carefully.

"In a way. I'm worried about you."

"It was just nightmares."

"I'm sure. Your dad put some pretty bad thoughts in your head."

"Can we please stop calling him that?" Micky grew agitated at the words. From learning about the true nature of the man, he'd hated him and it bothered him to refer to him as his father, but now it seemed even worse. Each time someone said it, it felt like his inside were being put through a blender. Saying it now somehow made his father's words more real: that Micky and he were alike.

"Sorry, Micky."

"I'm not like him."

"Of course you're not. No one here thinks you are. He was trying to get under your skin. Nothing he said was true."

"I don't think that's exactly true." Micky sighed looking back down at Ginny. The words Robert had whispered in his ear reverberated in his head again.

"Of course it is," Mike said a little angrily and forgetting to keep his voice low. Ginny and Rose both stirred as he spoke. "You are nothing like him. Everyone has anger in them, but that doesn't mean you are like him. You had nothing to do with what he did to Ginny or Rose and you had absolutely no way to know it was even happening. And if you did, you would have done whatever it took to stop it, even if that meant dying."

"That's not what I mean," Micky said.

"What's going on?" Rose asked sitting up.

"Sorry we woke you," Mike answered as Ginny sat up, too. "Micky has this stupid notion that Robert was telling him the truth before."

"I don't mean that," Micky sighed when Ginny and Rose fixed him with a concerned look. "Of course I know all that stuff is rubbish, but what you didn't hear…I think that was true."

"You mean what he whispered in your ear?" Ginny asked. "What did he say?"

"I really would rather forget he even said it at all," Micky answered.

"Apparently you can't," Rose said getting up and walking over to sit on the end of the bed Micky was on. "Look, we're all in a bad place and dealing with loads of shit here, but we need to talk about what bothers us or it's gonna eat us up. It's gonna drive you crazy not knowing whether or not he was telling you the truth."

"Micky, whatever he said, you are nothing like him," Mike reiterated. "I promise you."

"It wasn't anything to do with that, but what he did to you both," Micky answered heavily looking at Rose and Ginny in turn.

"He wanted your head to be filled with thoughts of what he did to us when you went into your hallucinations," Ginny said. "That way you'd hallucinate him hurting us and maybe attack one of us."

"It worked," Micky said remembering how he choked Mike thinking him Robert.

"Micky," Rose pushed him. "You'll only know if he was telling the truth if you talk to us about it."

"He said that he wasn't the only one to hurt you," Micky said looking at Ginny and finally relented. He couldn't get the exact words out and what he did manage to say was broken. He turned to Rose and felt a tear slide down his face. "And that you didn't fight him; that you let him do it. If he told you to get on your knees, you would. He tried saying that meant you…you liked it, but I know that's bullshit."

"It is," Rose said half in anger, half in grief. "No, I didn't always fight him because he said he'd hurt you and mom. And I was scared. But in no way does it mean I liked it. I can't believe he would even try to pull that."

"He probably doesn't believe it himself," Ginny said. "He just wants to mess with Micky."

"What makes him think Micky would believe that load of shit?" Mike asked angrily.

"By mixing actual truths," Ginny said staring at her hands. "The other stuff he said was true. He wasn't the only one to hurt me. He let others hurt me, too. Including Darla. He got off on that the most, I think."

"Ginny, I'm so sorry," Micky said.

"It's not your fault," Ginny said looking at him again. "You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault or anyone else's but his. He did this to us. There's nothing we could have done that would have made anything better. Sure if we go back knowing what we know now, maybe, but that's simply not possible so we can't even entertain those thoughts. We need to focus on what's happening now and what we can do now."

"That's the problem, though, isn't it?" Rose said. "There's nothing we can do now. We can't escape and we can't fight back."

"We fight back by not giving into him," Mike said. "We don't open that box."

"And we don't believe the crap he's trying to feed us about being anything like him," Ginny said putting a hand on Micky's leg. The movement sent a sharp pain through his leg and he wince in pain and jerked away reflexively before blacking out again.