Flood
by Valyssia
Like Bees Working in a Glass Hive
[reviews]
So I take what is mine and hold what is mine. Suffocate what is mine, and bury what's mine.
I wonder if she's gonna be okay? Xander chanced a sideways glance at his oldest friend and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Still the same. She's had that same sort of dull, lifeless look on her face since the car.
Xander rubbed his eyes and turned his attention to Giles who was speaking with one of the nurses. I suppose there's something sorta wrong with sitting here worrying about Will when Buffy's upstairs in surgery, but—well, it's just that Buffy's the strongest person I know. I have no doubt she'll be okay. Will, on the other hand—Will's not okay. Doesn't matter how many reassuring things I say, fact is: someone she loves nearly died for her tonight.
I'm not sure of the entire 'why'—the whole reason she's acting this way. But it's pretty wig-worthy. She just kinda snapped in the car after Buffy woke up and started trying to pull the arrow out. I'm pretty grateful Will didn't snap before 'cause trying to stop a slayer from doing anything she's set on doing—it's not fun—in a big way not fun. I knew it was bad—the pulling—so I tried to pin her arm. She nearly ripped mine off. Then Will just looked at her and said, 'No,' then took her hand. Their eyes met and Buffy stopped. It was pretty amazing. Maybe there is something there I was missing. Since then, Will's been quiet. Not one word. Not a single tear. It's like something broke. Wish I knew what so I could help put it back.
When the doors slid open, Xander turned to look and Willow averted her eyes to the floor. He watched Mrs. Summers enter the waiting area and walk up to Giles and the nurse. Then he turned his attention to Willow. She seemed to be shrinking. Guilt. He bowed his head too as if effected vicariously by Willow's display and began to study the bland, beige carpet. Maybe I'm selfish. Is it wrong for me to be glad that Buffy did? 'Cause, I mean, if she hadn't, Will would probably be...and—I can't think that.
Buffy will be fine. I know she will.
***********
Giles turned to meet Joyce's worried gaze when she entered the room. Rupert, you need to get a hold of yourself, old man. No good will come of you making a spectacle of yourself. These people require reassurance and reassurance is what they shall have. He took Joyce's hand briefly, offering a heartfelt, "I'm terribly sorry."
Giving him a quick nod in return, Joyce turned her attention to the nurse.
After withdrawing to allow her to privately speak with the hospital staff, he moved over to the others. Seating himself next to Xander, he reflected quietly, "It appears as though she will pull through the surgery," repeating what was already known, but omitting the thing that caused him the greatest concern.
Afraid he might upset Willow more, Xander leaned in and asked nervously, "Do they know anymore about...?" trailing off and leaving the remainder of the question unsaid.
"I'm afraid not, however Joyce may well discover something I was unable to glean," Giles replied honestly. How could you allow yourself to fall into this predicament? I never once questioned the rightness of the organization to which I dedicated my life. We were working for the greater good. That knowledge was absolute. Being subsequently removed from their service was one of the most shocking and painful events I've had to bear. And now I find myself in the very worst of situations. These people have become my friends, my trusted allies, and in a very real way more my family than those to whom I have blood ties. How can I not warn them? How would I even begin to? Would any good come of it if I did?
Joyce walked over, taking a seat next to Willow, and began to speak in a soft, careful voice, "I'm afraid we won't know much until she's awake. The doctors say that, with injuries of this sort, there's a very real chance that —" she sighed despondently "— she'll be left with some permanent nerve damage and maybe some loss of motor control, but they can't speculate the extent."
Giles listened numbly to Joyce as she reiterated, in a trembling voice, the information he had already offered the others. At the point Joyce drew silent, Willow was sobbing into Xander's arms and Giles had turned his attention toward the carpeting under his feet. How does one begin to reveal the truth?
***********
Joyce sat silently staring at her hands. The others had left, first Willow — no doubt to freshen up — and then Giles. She barely noticed their passing. Finding herself alone with Xander, she took the opportunity to attempt to discover more of the truth, beginning to question on a very casual level, "Would you mind telling me what happened tonight, Xander?"
Appearing extremely puzzled, Xander turned toward Buffy's mom and swiftly stammered, "Umm...I thought you—how could you not know? Buffy was shot."
Joyce stood up just enough to rotate toward Xander in her chair and smoothed her skirt underneath her as she settled. Crossing her legs and lacing her fingers in her lap, she prompted, "That's not exactly what I was getting at. What I meant to ask was why it happened."
"Oh," Xander gasped and froze up for just an instant. He suddenly appeared very nervous as he answered, "Well, I guess it happened because the mayor wanted it," casting his gaze at the floor.
The mayor? Joyce forced herself to maintain a neutral expression.
Starting off still quite anxious, Xander's manner eased as he spoke, "Faith's been working for him. She shot Buffy. Not that I saw it, but—well, I saw right after—Buffy, not Faith. She was actually aiming for Willow, but Buffy...." He glanced up to gauge her reaction.
"Ah, I wondered about Willow. I hope she doesn't think I blame her," Joyce remarked casually. Why on earth would the mayor want to harm Willow?
"Blame? No, it's not that simple. It's worse actually. Guilt. No one has to blame, the guilt just sorta happens. I'm just guessing. She's not really been too chatty since— Thing is, there's more than just the guilt. It's really pretty...." Xander realized he was being too honest.
"It's okay, Xander; it's perfectly obvious that both you and Willow care for my daughter." When Joyce looked up, Xander appeared close to tears himself. He cleared his throat to cover and stood. Pardoning himself by nodding, he exited the waiting room, leaving Joyce alone. She tilted her head again to stare at her hands. It's funny that asking questions seems to always leave me with more questions than answers. One of these days I may learn to stop asking.
***********
Willow dully sat in the one place she knew she could be guaranteed some measure of courteous privacy: the ladies' room. The fact that she'd just thrown up and was sitting on the floor bothered her much less than it occurred to her it ought to. Pulling herself to her feet, she flushed the toilet and made her way to the sink to wash up. I really need to get—to fix my head.
She turned on the tap and washed her hands. Once they were clean, she scooped up a handful of water to rinse her mouth. I'm not sure the others get this. 'Kay, well, Giles would. I got it right after I saw. The Council's already pretty much shown that they have about as much regard for Buffy as a Post-It Note. Her birthday proved that. If she's left partially paralyzed...
I'm sorta jumping to conclusions. I should get the facts before I make with the jumping. After splashing her face, Willow dried off and started for the door. I can't hide in here. They'll wonder and worry...and making them worry more is no good, especially Xander. He's already wigged out enough over me. She reached to open the door and familiar voices in the hallway caused her to freeze.
"I'm not certain you appreciate the extent of this, Angel. If Buffy cannot fulfill her role, the Council will seek to replace her."
"By 'replace,' you mean 'kill,' right, Giles?" Angel's bitter voice fell off for a moment and a perceived nod hung in the air. When he continued, he was livid, "I won't let that happen. I'd rather—" cutting short when Giles spoke again.
Willow nearly turned around and ran back to the stall to throw up again. Well, so much for jumping. This would be falling. She fought for control while she listened to them.
"I appreciate your anger, but this is simply not the time to allow our emotions to run rampant. Rational thought is much better served."
"Rational thought? Would it be rational to consider taking her and running?" Angel asked, sounding almost pensive.
After swallowing hard to clear the lump from her throat, Willow opened the door and met the stunned gazes of the two men. "If you do, I'm coming with," she stated in a ragged voice, then stepped out into the hall to join them. "But I'm not so sure we should do much until we know exactly how bad it is. Right now—the travel—it might just make it worse."
Giles nodded and remarked evenly, "Good to see you are somewhat better, Willow. Well stated." Redirecting his attention to the vampire, he confirmed, "Should the need arise, we will graciously accept your offer, Angel. However, until we better know what we are facing, we should play our cards close to our chests."
"Agreed," Angel replied with a nod.
Facing Willow, Giles responded cordially, "Very well then."
Willow peered down the hallway after the vampire, offering politely, "Good to see you, Angel."
Angel looked back just long enough to say, "You too," then limped away, clutching his side.
"Angel does not wish for the others to know he has remained in Sunnydale. Your candor will be appreciated," Giles commented as the vampire took his leave.
"Sure," Willow mumbled as she continued to watch Angel struggle to walk. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Giles returned a kindly smile and replied, "I'm certain he'll be fine by this time tomorrow. Now what is your concern?"
In a hushed voice Willow reflected, "Y'know that conversation we didn't have in the car the other day?" directing her attention to Giles mid-thought. When he nodded his affirmation, she continued anxiously, "I just want you to know, there's no reason to worry. I know you will—worry that is...and well, there's no reason." Dunno why I care about this. Guess it's good if we can stop worrying about something. Not that I was, but Giles might be.
His brow crinkled with uncertainty as Giles queried, "What makes you say that?"
Willow stared at the floor at her feet and stammered hastily, "Well...umm, y'know how I said that there were certain things that had to happen...and umm...the-they didn't?" she sighed "Well, there are other certain things that should happen. And when they do, they make you stop with the worrying...and they did happen, that is...or are happening. So, no more worry." Drawing silent, she glanced up and gave the watcher a small, sheepish grin, feeling suddenly ill again.
Giles puzzled over the code for several moments, appearing lost in thought. Finally, he replied, "Ah, very well then. I shall stop worrying," and smiled reassuringly at Willow.
***********
Joyce glanced through the doorway, meeting Willow's gaze briefly. When the young redhead averted her eyes, Joyce entered the room and took a seat, then began to speak frankly, "Willow, I'm not sure what you think, but I want you to know that I don't hold you responsible for any of this." Her attention moved from her unconscious daughter to Willow's face as she spoke, lingering momentarily on their joined hands.
Nodding and carelessly wiping a tear with her hand, Willow feebly replied, "Thanks, Mrs. Summers."
After searching through her handbag, Joyce produced a packet of Kleenex and passed them to Willow. She vaguely watched while the younger woman struggled to control her emotions as the sheer helplessness of the situation threatened to cave her resolve as well. Centering her attention on her curiosity instead, she asked, "Willow, why would the mayor want to harm you?"
Willow appeared momentarily startled and gasped, "Huh?"
"Xander told me he thought Faith might've been aiming at you," Joyce clarified.
Willow's expression transformed from dull and lifeless to deeply pensive. "You understand what your daughter is and you know that lots of bad things happen here, right?" she stated more than asked. When she received a nod from Buffy's mom, Willow continued, "'Kay, so...why is it so hard for you to grasp that a bad place where bad things happen might be run by a bad man?"
Joyce digested this, unable to see a flaw in the logic, then prompted, "But that still doesn't answer why he would be interested in you."
Willow fixed her attention on the hand she held. "He wasn't—Faith wasn't. See, thing is—the thing you might not get—Buffy—when she's alert and not hurt—she's fast. You probably don't see it 'cause she hides it, but I've seen her catch arrows. It's really, really neat. She can catch or block knives too. Like if you throw them at her," she stammered, then smiled warmly.
Appearing taken aback for a moment, Joyce completed the picture for herself. "So she aimed at you to—"
Willow's face sagged. "Yeah...it was really horrible."
***********
Semi-lucid and woozy, Buffy listened to the voices of her mother and Willow. They sounded like they were in the next room or down the hall, but she couldn't tell.
"I'm sorry, Willow. This must be very hard for you."
"I've had better weeks," Willow said sounding really depressed. "But then, things seem to get really bad this time of year. It's pretty normal for the bad to get really bad."
As Willow spoke, her voice wavered in and out until Buffy understood they were in the same room. Then she was wrapped in a slightly awkward, but extremely gentle hug. She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was Willow. Smell and touch told her all she needed to know. It brought back vivid memories of just a few days prior, but this time she wasn't frightened.
Willow began to whisper as the blonde weakly placed her arm around her, "Remember the blindness, Buffy? This is temporary just like that, 'kay? Don't be afraid."
When Willow's forehead came to rest against hers, Buffy recognized what was wrong: she couldn't feel her right leg. It was like the limb was absent. She started to get frightened, but trust won out when her friend's lips briefly touched hers. Then Willow withdrew and moved away. Buffy opened her eyes and looked over at where they were seated to the right of her bed.
"There's some swelling that's causing the numbness. It'll go down. Then the doctor says—" Willow offered, choking off obviously fighting to contain her emotions.
Buffy met her mother's gaze and turned to Willow who was peering at the floor. "Just say it, Will."
"They're not really sure, Buffy. They couldn't tell us much, but from what I've read if the damage—if it's not so much, then the body can—it can sorta pick other pathways to send the information. Sorta like if a phone switch is busy, it moves to the next one. Not sure that makes sense."
Buffy pleaded, "Bottom-line it for me, Mom, please," staring at the sling her right leg rested in.
Understanding that her daughter didn't like mincing words, Joyce replied plainly, "Well, honey, you may have to relearn to do a few things," she sighed, "You'll have to use a brace at first to walk. But then, you heal quickly, so I'm not certain myself. I think we should wait and see before we react too much."
As Buffy listened to her mother's trembling voice, she felt a lump form in her throat. When the only sounds in the room were coming from the monitors, she swallowed thickly and offered what she knew her friend needed to hear, "Will, not your fault, 'kay?"
Willow nodded feebly without looking up.
After giving her mother a sweet smile, Buffy asked, "Mom, can I get you to do a huge favor for me?"
Joyce cracked quirky half-smile in return and replied, "What do you need?"
"Would you mind taking Will home real quick so she can shower and change?" Buffy picked up the remote and turned on the TV. "I mean, it's not like I mind, but she's starting to get extra Willowy and well—" she turned to wink at her mom "—make sure she eats too. Do that thing you do to me if she gets grumbly."
"I think I can handle that." Joyce rose from her seat and offered a hand. "Come on, Willow. I think she's kicking us out so she can watch 'E! True Hollywood Stories' without us making fun of her."
Buffy rolled her eyes and absently said, "Thanks, Mom," as she stopped from channel surfing briefly to watch them leave. "Hey, Mom, can I have a sec with Will before you—?"
"Sure, I'll be right outside," Joyce said, continuing to the door as she released Willow.
"Would you lower the railing?" Buffy asked. When her friend managed to figure out how to lower the annoying bed rail, Buffy chuckled and hit the remote to raise the bed to a sitting position. "A real one, please," she whispered, holding her arms out.
Willow accepted the embrace gratefully.
"Y'know it'll be okay, right?" Buffy murmured, she felt Willow nod and continued, "Things are a little weird. But when aren't they? Sorta expected when you live in the middle of weird-apalooza." Buffy moved to cup her friend's face in her hands. "Now I want you to believe the first thing you told me. I know you said it to keep me from wigging, but—"
"I'll try," Willow replied, reluctantly pulling away. "I shouldn't keep your mom waiting. I'll come back if you want me to."
"Of course I want you to. Don't be silly. You think I'm gonna eat the world's worst lunch alone?" Buffy chided.
"'Kay." A silly grin played at her features as Willow made her way from the room.
When Buffy was finally alone, she grimaced and lowered the bed, hitting the page button. The truth was that her lower back felt like it was on fire. She went back to flipping channels to take her mind off the pain.
***********
The Mayor glanced up from his desk to see Faith leaning against the doorframe and gave her a stern glare. "Well, don't be bashful. Come on in."
The Mayor's expression told her all Faith needed to know. She reluctantly entered the room and took a seat as he gestured to a chair. "I can explain, sir."
Ignoring the slayer's attempted excuses, the Mayor remarked in a deceptively chipper manner, "Little filly's hardly going to win any races."
Faith broke in, "Got jumped, boss."
The Mayor continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, "So, next time you'll knock 'em dead tiger."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Faith replied honestly.
"Well that's just swell!" the Mayor chimed, smiling when the slayer flinched. After pulling out a packet from his top desk drawer, he said cheerfully, "Well, aren't you just a real go-getter. I think you deserve a reward for your pluckiness," placing the packet on the far edge of his desk.
Faith eyed the package cautiously, finally picking it up. She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Gummi Bears?"
After taking a packet for himself, he ripped it open and pulled out a piece. Turning the candy bear to face him, he remarked, "I just love these little guys. Look at them. Each one a smiling face." He bit the little bear's head off. "Soft, sweet...and just a little bit tangy." Shoving the rest of the candy in his mouth, he chewed enthusiastically. "But you know the best thing about Gummi Bears, Faith?"
"No, sir."
The Mayor smiled warmly before he answered, "When you're finished with one, there's always another to take its place," pulling another bear out as he spoke. Winking, he popped the candy into his mouth and beamed at the slayer.
Faith's gaze traveled between the Mayor and the candy packet in her hand as she firmed up.
"Do we have an understanding, Faith?"
Faith nodded and rose. "Yeah...I gotcha." Her expression turned grim as she made her way to the door.
"Excellent!" the Mayor chortled gleefully. Setting the package on his desk, he reached for a moist towellette to clean his fingers. "Oh and, Faith? Be sure to brush and floss after you eat those."
Faith rolled her eyes as she traveled swiftly down the hall. The candy hit the first trash can she passed. "Gawd, I hate Gummi Bears," she grumbled and swung the door to the lobby open. As she passed through the doorway, a black and white spotted rat bolted by her. "Well, you should fit in real well here," she groused, ignoring the fallen security guard as she moved to the exit.
***********
After picking up the receiver, using his shoulder to press it to his ear, Wesley dialed a long string of numbers from memory. When a crisp, female voice extended a greeting, he said, "Quentin Travers, please. This is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."
Several moments passed before Travers' voice growled back through the receiver, "How may I help you, Wesley."
"A situation has arisen here, sir, which I believe requires your attention."
"Yes."
Wesley took the receiver in his hand and sat down behind Giles' desk. "It concerns the rogue slayer, Faith. She has made an attempt on Miss Summers' life."
"Ah, that is unfortunate," Travers offered. The muffed sound of him clearing his throat sounded over the line. "A team will be dispatched within the hour to apprehend the rogue."
"Very well, thank you, sir."
"Certainly." There was a brief pause, then Travers instructed, "Your further involvement in this matter is unnecessary. You will not mention it to anyone, nor will you take it upon yourself to assist. Do I make myself clear?"
The chair creaked as Wesley leaned back. "Yes, sir."
***********
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Xander grumbled as he strode through the garden of the Crawford St. mansion. After pausing to knock, he swung the door open and ventured inside. What he found searching the mansion surprised him. The entire house stood empty except for a few larger pieces of furniture that were covered with sheets. Satisfied he'd looked in every room, he trotted to the exit. Grumping under his breath, "Well, it seemed like a good idea," he let out an exasperated sigh, "Figures Captain Courageous would bail when we actually need his help."
***********
Reentering Buffy's hospital room with an armload of books, Willow set the stack down and took a seat.
Buffy looked from the pile of musty books to her friend and asked, "Research? I thought we were out of crisis mode what with the —" she gestured to herself "— and the mayor not exactly being effectual guy."
"The —" Willow gestured to her friend "— is part of the research. Besides, the mayor's not exactly ineffectual. He's still pretty much 'wrathy guy.' I figured I'd see what I could find to help. Y'know doing nothing makes me crazy." She clamped the bridge of her nose between to fingers as if fighting a headache, "Actually though, Giles is pretty much working on the helping. I have a side project I wanna look at. If it's okay," then pulled a book from the stack and opened it on her lap.
"What do you mean, 'if it's okay'? I can't exactly tell you what to do, Will."
"Well, yeah...but you can refuse to—this is sorta an 'us' thing—it kinda takes two," Willow offered. Glancing up to see the slayer still keenly observing her, she continued, "Oh, I just thought that 'telepathy' thing was pretty nifty, so I wanted to see if I could—" Blushing, she buried her nose in the book on her lap as she stammered, "I-I mean it'd be really useful on patrol."
Buffy quirked an eyebrow and stifled a giggle. After taking a deep breath, she reflected, "We should talk."
"If that's what you want," Willow mumbled noncommittally. "Talk then."
"Look at me, Will," Buffy prompted. When the redhead sheepishly met her gaze, the slayer commented, "It's a good idea, the 'telepathy' thing, but there's other stuff, pretty complicated stuff and you know it."
Willow nodded and set the book aside.
When her friend didn't say anything, Buffy continued, "Here's what I think: I think we sorta—that things sorta got mixed up—out of order and jumbley. What we should do is: try to put them back in order. Actually work on the 'friends' part and see if it can be more, but slow. Rushing would be a bad. Our friendship's just too important to me not to wanna give it some time."
"I agree," Willow replied in a soft pensive voice. "It was pretty confusing and painful, but then—" she trailed off thoughtfully.
"It was also beautiful?" Buffy filled in.
Nodding her agreement, Willow continued, "It was...and it was so not what I was looking for, or expecting."
Buffy took her turn to simply nod. After several moments of silence, she asked, "How'd you know I was awake?"
Willow looked up from the book that had drawn her interest in the respite. "I dunno. I just sorta felt it. Same as I can tell you want to press that button now, but don't bother." Smiling at the confused expression on the blonde's face, she added, "The nurse will be by in about ten minutes to give you your medication."
"Okay...now you're just getting scary. How do you know that?"
Returning her attention to the book, Willow replied absently, "I read your chart while you were sleeping this morning."
***********
Giles entered the hospital room with a small package under his arm.
Buffy's expression turned mischievous as she chimed in, "Oh, presents for me?"
Giles set the bag down and replied, "Not as such."
Willow curiously looked up from her book. "Find something, Giles?"
"Indeed. It required a rather exhaustive search; however, I did manage to locate something useful. Curious thing about dark magick: the practitioners often don't hold much value for life. You'd be surprised how many of these spells are lethal to either the thing requiring protection—" Giles prattled thoughtfully as he removed a book and two containers of fine powder from the bag.
Buffy's brow crinkled with concern and she cut in, "Whoa...did he just say lethal, Will? 'Cause really not liking that. We're not gonna be—? You did test this, right, Giles?"
Giles signed when the slayer cut him off and began to leaf through the book as he spoke, "If you'll allow me to finish, I did indeed test the results. In fact, I took a page from your book, not to be outdone."
Buffy cocked an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue.
After locating the correct page, Giles poured a small amount of one powder into the palm of his hand. "Oh, it's rather simple really. I acquired a pet. His name is Clifford. I named him after a great uncle who was quite a prankster himself."
"We'll be arriving at a point sometime soon?"
Willow giggled as she stood up to look over Giles' shoulder and read the spell details.
"Yes, yes... Once I located a useful spell I practiced it on Clifford. I then put the little fellow in the pocket of my overcoat and took him to City Hall. I posed as a tourist and whilst the nice receptionist was giving me directions, I slipped Clifford from my pocket. At the time I left, one guard had already succumbed to my prank."
Buffy was still gesturing for more details when Giles sprinkled the powder over her.
"It works under the same principles as static electricity, building a large charge around the object you wish to protect. It may feel peculiar, but it is quite safe," Giles filled in, starting to intone the spell when he finished.
When Giles fell silent, Buffy inquired, "And the guard?" as the air around her started to crackle and buzz.
"Oh, he was flat on his back and very much unconscious when I left. It packs quite a wallop but, if one is smart, there are ways around it: gloves, for instance. That's how I handled Clifford."
Willow slid off her shoe and placed her foot against the metal bed frame.
Buffy tried to flinch away, looking amused as Willow caught her hand. There was a slight pop on contact.
Willow raised an eyebrow as she explained, "I grounded myself, Buffy."
***********
Faith slipped into the dimly lit hospital room, shutting the door in her wake. After pulling a knife, she stalked silently up to Buffy's bedside. Her gaze fixed for a moment on her intended victim. It's over, blondie. End of the ride. Wish I could say 'it's been a blast,' but I won't lie to ya. We both know the truth.
I didn't wanna play it this way, but the boss—well, the bastard scares me. Read the subtext and gettin' the feeling the crazy BAMF would hunt me like Kakistos. When I break, I need it to be clean, so...
Besides at this point, think I might be doin' you a favor with the big finish.
Faith deliberately moved the knife to the blonde's throat as she pressed her other hand in the middle of her victim's chest. The instant her hand made contact, Faith was thrown against the wall. Fuck!
Swiftly reclaiming her knife and shaking off the daze, she ran across the room to where Willow was seated. "Remove it, Red" — she held the knife to the redhead's neck — "or I remove your head." Faith drew the blade across Willow's throat, leaving a fine red line.
All the redhead said was one word, "Thicken," and it pissed Faith completely off. "What the hell do you mean, 'thicken'? I said remove the—" Trying to move, she spat, "What the hell?" as a hand coiled in her hair. She was frozen in place. Then the little redheaded bitch asked, "Ready?" and her head snapped violently back. Aware for only an instant she was flying through the air again, Faith blacked out.
When Faith came to, she was handcuffed in the back of a squad car. "Shit."
***********
Willow opened the blinds to let the dwindling daylight in. "Well, that was fun."
"Cool is what it was, Will," Buffy responded enthusiastically. "Well, the mojo was cool. The cops pretty much sucked."
Flopping back into her chair, Willow blushed furiously and stared at the floor. "Y'think so? I mean, it was no big."
"I know so," Buffy assured, then snickered softly at her friend's modestly. "Did you see the look on her face when she crashed through the door?"
Willow glanced up. "That wasn't a look, Buffy; it was the effects of catatonia." Her tone turned guilty when she added, "I just feel sorry for the poor lab tech."
"Yeah...having your rounds interrupted by 'the Amazing Faith's Death-Defying Flying Act' has to suck." Unable to resist the urge, Buffy chuckled. "Bet they'll be happy when we're gone."
Willow curled sleepily back up in her chair, replying dully, "Probably," as she draped a blanket over her.
"I'm sorry you got hurt. I didn't mean—"
Absently rubbing the bandage on her throat, Willow murmured, "It's only a scratch."
Buffy pressed the button to flatten her bed and mumbled, "I'm still sorry."
Willow opened her eyes and met her friend's gaze. "No need. I'm here by choice."
A sentimental smile warmed Buffy's features as she studied the redhead. She lay silent for several minutes just watching. When she finally spoke it was simply to reaffirm, "I love you too, Will."
"And I love you. But do you really think—?" Willow reflected stopping short as it occurred to her how insensitive the comment was.
"Do I really think what?"
Willow sighed, instantly chiding herself. "It's just actions, Buffy. I mean, you sorta— Well, you're lying in a hospital bed 'cause you—and then you tell me you love me. It seems...I guess it just seems pretty clear. Very nice to hear—something I wanna hear again, like lots, but right now—"
"Little obvious, huh?"
"Just a little," Willow said with a warm smile.
Buffy returned the smile. "So it looks like I'll be picking out a prom dress based on cut. That is if I go. Something long, but not too full. Sounds pretty actually."
"You're always pretty. Doesn't much matter what you wear," Willow replied honestly. Turning pensive, she asked, "What do you mean 'if you go'? You have to go." Her brow furrowed with concentration as she forced herself to say, "I wanted—I mean I hoped—" A frustrated growl slipped out and she hastily spat out the rest of the request, "I hoped you'd go with me."
Buffy appeared taken aback by the proposition. "Oh, I dunno, Will."
Willow's demeanor turned bashful again and she mumbled, "I meant as friends." The silence turned thick and oppressive and she started to babble defensively, "I just thought—I mean, I hoped that because of everything—all those things—instead of going stag we could— We deserve to celebrate. Making it through this is a big deal—a really super huge deal—and I just—I-I wanted to dance with you. Oh! And make fun of Xander. He's bringing that creepy..." she trailed off sullenly.
"It's totally not you, Will. Just give me a few days. I'm not even sure I'll be able to walk by then. I'm not gonna be much with the 'merry making' if I can't," Buffy replied honestly. When a soft hurt sounding little, "'Kay," came in answer to her statement, she felt horrible.
***********
Buffy laid quietly watching Willow sleep, grateful that after all the excitement they had gotten a new room. The new room was private and it actually had a recliner for her friend. She listened to the soft snores that sounded to her more like the noise a teddy bear might make in a cartoon than a human being. L3: why do I feel like I should be saying, 'You sank my battleship'? Mom and Will left me alone long enough to actually talk to one of the stupid doctors. 'L3' sounds like total garbage to me—like something from a game. Who'd of thought those two little letters...umm...numbers, er — she furrowed her brow — digits? Whatever—would ever mean a thing to me? Now they mean everything.
Seriously considering turning on the TV to distract herself, Buffy played with the remote for a moment or two before setting it aside. I don't have the heart to wake her. I'm sorta stuck here with my—with— Okay let's face it. With a crap load of horror to keep me company—with the worst of all possible... I can't believe Will asked me to the prom. I'm paralyzed. Paralyzed! I haven't had the heart to tell her to go away. I couldn't bring myself to. Not on top of the guilt.
I should. It'd be best. I mean, what can I really offer her but pain? We all know how slayers are replaced. I don't need to go there—something else... Something that's not—
After sweeping her fingers over her eyes in frustration, Buffy placed her hands at her sides gently to avoid making any noise. I want to hit something, but waking her... It'd be mean. She's had so little sleep. That and breaking your bed...generally frowned on.
Broken.
The doc basically said 'broken.' Funny, that was the only word I needed to hear. But go figure, he kept talking—stuff about bone fragments and severed nerves. Whatever. I had him bottom-line it for me. 'The prognosis looks good.' See footnote that says: to him. To me it looks like shit. I'll be able to walk again after I learn how and probably only with a brace. They're coming to fit that tomorrow. I feel like telling them to forget it. It just seems like a waste of cash Mom doesn't have. If I can't fight, then I'm useless. I have the life expectancy of a whiny chick in a slasher film.
And y'know they'll wanna protect me. She looked at Willow again and a tear slid down her cheek. I'm not sure I want protecting.
Buffy stifled a soft, bitter laugh. Will's read my chart. She admitted it. How can she still be hanging on? It's crazy. Totally screwed up. Angel and I are actually the perfect couple now, but he's gone. The 'unfuckable' and the 'can't fuck.' God, how can I live like this?
Y'know...the truly screwed up part of all this: I've got no clue what sex with another girl would be like and one of the two sorta is... I mean, it just seems like it wouldn't be that much different than self-serve. Assisted self-serve? I guess it must be better. It has to be better. Somehow I ended up in some twisted backward reality where Angel's telling me I should and I couldn't feel it if I did. Though, that's not really fair. It is better.
Her mind drifted briefly and she smiled despite the anxiety. Weird to be talking about friendship...and how important it is. Not that it isn't. I just never thought I'd end up— Buffy clamped her eyes shut. I know all the little noises, the expressions, what she feels like, how she tastes. All those intimate details a friend shouldn't know. I can still close my eyes and hear her, see her face. Wow, she was beautiful. Still is...
Several moments passed and her eyes fluttered open. Buffy's gaze fell again on the occupant of the recliner. Doesn't really matter though, just the fact that I can't even control—peeing in a plastic bag—it's a real turn on. Totally sexy. All that stuff's linked. As long as one's missing, the other is too so...
And Will still wants— I can't let her... Buffy looked away from her friend, picking a blank patch of wall to focus on. L3...
I feel like a piece of cheese. Never thought I'd be the one playing bait. A helpless cripple. Though not exactly helpless, I did toss Faith through a door...with Will's help.
I guess the bad is also the good though. Mom and Will are right. The doc doesn't know crap about slayers. He sees me as an eighteen-year-old girl. But he did say: best case—if I do walk again—no brace—its all good—miracle Buffy. The catch: even if I get that fairy tale ending, my back will always be weak. If I ever break it again—and he said I could do it falling down—it'll never heal right...instant cripple—for real—no cheery pep talks...just in a chair for the rest of my extremely abbreviated life. And back to the 'abbreviated life' thing 'cause that's my reality. She clenched her jaw and cringed.
Can't take a fall, can't take a punch, can't slay... Not a slayer—just a girl. If I could only dream. I don't get to dream. I get to stay in the present...and right now...my present sucks.
I should just go to prom with her—one last good memory. But would it hurt her more or less? If I told her to go away now it'd hurt. Would it hurt more for me to—for us to have that one last time together? It wouldn't be me hurting her. That's a good. So I guess 'yes' is it. One last—then nothing. Her resolve finally caved and Buffy started to weep in anger and frustration. No, not nothing—then I make the choice. I rob that fat fuck Travers of the satisfaction by doing it myself. On my own terms.
***********
Mayor Wilkins walked briskly through the halls of the hospital, smiling cheerfully at the people he passed. Striding down an empty corridor, he mumbled to himself, "If you want something done right you just have to do it yourself."
Sweeping his fingers through his hair, he continued to mutter, "Progress is the cornerstone of any community and it's time this community moved forward, starting with a new slayer. Yes, it's past time our little filly was put out to pasture."
He fell silent as he rounded a corner and moved past a nurse's station. Once he was out of earshot, the mumbling resumed, "Do you realize that she's old enough to vote? A slayer? Next thing you know she'll be asking for a pension." He smiled warmly as he passed the waiting room.
A short distance down the hallway, the Mayor turned and opened a door. His gaze fixed on the room's occupant. "What a load of malarkey. I'll give you a retirement package, young lady," he grumbled under his breath and moved swiftly to the bedside, closing his hands around the slayer's throat. A crackling noise and a loud pop followed. His body jerked, but he didn't let go.
Buffy woke up choking and gasping for breath. She put her hands to the Mayor's forearms, struggling pry loose his grip.
The Mayor's head spun violently, whirling through the air. He caught glimpses of his body still standing over the slayer as he flew. Landing abruptly on something soft with a bounce, he heard a stifled shriek.
There was a momentary pause where he was able to deduce his fate. The British Librarian stood behind his headless body with a sword, poised to remove one of his arms. As the Englishman swung, he tumbled to the hard tile floor.
Twirling as he traveled, he caught glances of girl leaping from the chair he must've come to rest in. Then things got even more bizarre. There was a sharp pain to the side of his head and he whirled away from his body, colliding harshly with a wall.
***********
Xander barreled down the hall, ignoring the complaints. I just went for something to drink. Good timing, Xander. Standing at the vending machine and who walks past? The mayor, of course. Yup...that's me: Mr. Perfect-Timing-Guy. He burst through the door to Buffy's room and into complete chaos. Giles was chopping the Mayor's arms off, one after the other, trying to get them to let loose of Buffy. Each time he swung, the limb would simply reattach. At the same time, Willow appeared to be playing kickball with the Mayor's head.
Xander stood slack-jawed in the doorway for a moment just trying to decide who to help. 'Kay, so...didn't see this coming. Quickly shutting the door, he stood behind Giles. The moment the swing came, he grabbed the arm away, jerking it from the slayer's throat.
"Ah, thank you, Xander. Do be so kind," Giles commented and swung at the other arm.
Buffy sputtered as the final hand wrenched free.
When the arm separated, Xander seized it and held it clear. "Go help Willow, Giles. Get something to put the head in. If it reattaches, we're done." He stepped away from the body, struggling to hold the arms. There was a strong magnetic pull between them and the body. It occurred to him that, if the Mayor got his bearings, the body would simply move to reclaim its parts.
Giles rifled through the locker by the washstand and came out with a personal property bag with a draw string. After quickly dumping the contents into the locker, he ran to assist Willow, pushing past Xander.
Willow moved around to kick the Mayor's head back against the wall. When she completed the kick, Giles swept in behind her with the bag and scooped the head up as it began to gravitate towards the body. He closed the bag and let out a relieved sigh.
"Will, more bags?" Xander asked nicely as he moved toward the bathroom. After shutting the arms inside, he walked across the room. Looking at the body, which was still standing ineffectually over Buffy, he offered, "Chop him up like The Judge, it's the best way."
Willow ran for the door before Xander finished speaking.
Beaming at Xander's smiling face; Buffy teased amusedly, "Look at, Xander, with the big brain."
"Indeed," Giles noted. Grabbing the second container of powder and quickly muttering the word, "terminus," he sprinkled a pinch the powder over the slayer to dispel the shield.
The tingling was a bit unnerving when the shield dropped. Buffy felt her hair stand out and couldn't stifle the urge to giggle.
Giles opened the washroom door and seized the arms as they slid across the floor. When he handed them to the slayer, there was a crackling noise and Buffy's hair settled. "Xander, assist me with the body. It makes far more sense for this to be in the lavatory. Otherwise, some passerby may notice the decapitated, dismembered corpse standing in the center of the room."
Buffy held the Mayor's squirming arms out, watching with delight as the two men struggled to move his torso and legs into the bathroom. "Knock off the wiggling or I'm gonna make sure your head gets left in front of a TV. Then y'know what? I'm personally gonna walk into the room and change the channel. I'm thinking MTV." The arms went limp and Buffy started to snicker.
Giles nearly collapsed as the rigid body wilted in his grasp. Once they had wrestled the carcass under control, he glanced over his shoulder and gave the slayer a dirty look. "That will be quite enough 'help' from you."
The expression on Giles' face made the giggle fit worse. "And to think...I left my camera at home," Buffy wheezed thickly through the mirth.
When someone knocked and tried to enter the room, only to collide with the open bathroom door her face blanched and Buffy fell silent. "Oh crap. Company, guys," she hissed, wondering what to do with the arms.
***********
A black, late-model cargo van pulled into a parking lot behind the Sunnydale Police Department. From inside the vehicle emerged five armed men dressed in black paramilitary gear and wearing ski masks. The largest of the men exited the back of the vehicle dragging a cart with tanks of compressed gas. He towed the tanks up to the metal outer door.
The leader announced in a thick Scouse tongue, "Juss like we planned, men," setting the ball in motion.
The large man turned the valves on the tanks and flicked a striker, adjusting the cutting torch head he held until the flame burned white hot. He put the torch to the hinges of the door and began to burn through. Moments later, he cleared the tanks and tugged on the door, lowering it quietly to the ground. He motioned the others ahead as he went to reload the cutting rig in the van.
The four remaining men ran as one through the narrow halls, clutching their rifles. The leader directed them into a stairwell. They marched up the stairs. Once they pressed through the doorway, two of the men leveled their weapons and fired at the pair of police officers that were passing down the hall. Darts hung from their backs as the policemen slumped unconscious to the floor.
The leader directed his team left down the hall.
As they broke into a large, open room, three more officers fell victim to their tranquilizer darts.
The leader made his way to another metal door next to a large glass window. The officer behind the window scrambled for the phone. The leader ignored the officer, producing two small cakes of explosive from a pouch on his belt. He swiftly stuck the putty to the door hinges and pulled a device from a different pouch. After unwrapping wire leads from the device, he stuck them in the putty and pressed the device to the door. Entering a series of numbers into a keypad on the device, he motioned his men clear and ran himself.
The team crouched in an alcove down the hall with their hands cupped over their ears. A loud explosion shook the building and the team stood up and moved as one back down the hallway. Black scoring covered the once-white walls, the window was shattered, and the door was buckled and folded in its frame. Two of the men moved the door aside and the team filed into the space. The officer who had been trying to use the phone was lying unconscious on the floor with blood trickling out of his ears.
The leader moved behind the desk and took a set of keys. Using the keys to unlock the inner door, he motioned for his men to follow. The team entered the jail and hurried to the one occupied cell.
Faith stood up and sputtered, "What the—?" falling on her face as the darts hit her chest.
The leader snarled, "Filthy traitorous mongrel, I have no interest in anything you might say," and spat at Faith as he searched for the key. Once the door was opened, he motioned for one of the larger men to take her.
The man nodded and stooped to pick up the unconscious slayer. When she was manhandled over his shoulder, the team set off for the exit at a brisk march.
***********
Giles abandoned Xander, who seemed to have matters in hand, and quickly took the arms from his charge and shoved them in the locker. Then he went to see where the head had gotten to. He found it stuck along a wall and slowly sliding toward the bathroom door. Snatching up the bag, he lifted one of the chairs and threaded the drawstrings around the leg. After casually taking a seat, he shoved the bag under the chair with his feet.
Xander popped out of the bathroom and hastily shut the door. There was a thud when the Mayor's body collided with it. He straightened his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair then opened the door. "Oh...hi, Mrs. Summers," he offered warmly, "Sorry about that. I didn't feel like going down the hall."
"Its okay, Xander" Joyce walked past him with several garments over her arm. "Oh, a full house. Where's Willow? I'm surprised she's not here," she commented, offering a warm smile.
Utterly straight-faced, Buffy returned the smile. "She just went to get something. She'll be right back."
Joyce moved to open the locker and heard Xander gasp. "I brought you some clothes and your robe. I'm not sure when they'll be releasing you, but it never hurts to be ready."
Buffy's eyes went wide. "Mom, don't—!"
Joyce took one look at the body parts inside the locker and everything went fuzzy.
When Joyce fainted, Xander caught her up and carried her to the recliner. He picked up the dropped clothes and draped them over a chair, taking a seat. "Oops. Sorry, Buffy." Hearing hysterical laughter, he glanced up to see Buffy rubbing her eyes and cackling.
"No, I'm sorry. I so shouldn't be laughing, but," Buffy struggled to say through the giggles, "it's just—" gesturing vaguely at the mess.
Xander was quick to join her, followed closely by Giles. The three of them were chuckling like idiots when Willow entered the room.
Willow took in the scene and commented, "Trash bags were all I could find. Seemed fitting somehow. Now stop laughing and get moving, people. We've got forty-five minutes before the nurse makes her rounds."
Giles came to his senses first and quickly retrieved his sword to begin the grizzly process.
Willow took one of the arms and passed it hand first to Buffy.
Buffy couldn't help it. Catching the hand, she gave it a quick shake and said, "Pleased to meet you," then started laughing again.
"Quit screwing around, Buffy. Clamp the hand into a fist for me," Willow directed impatiently, "I got some zip ties too. We need to make sure he doesn't try to claw his way through the plastic while we move him." When the ties were applied, she took the arm to Giles to cut down. "Wiggling would be a bad. We need to disarticulate all the joints and cut the torso into pieces small enough to carry."
Giles looked up long enough to confirm, "Right, Xander, help control the body and separate the pieces. Willow you bag. You're quite correct about the seriousness of our situation."
"Buffy, when your mom comes around you need to try and talk her down. We need her. The Mayor's roughly a two-hundred pound man. That's fifty pounds for each if we split him four ways," Willow remarked as she held out the second hand to be bound.
"No, Xander, you may not put the mayor's head in a jar. Just because you saw it on Futurama does not make it a good idea," Giles remarked from the bathroom.
Buffy started to chuckle again as Willow glared at her. As Willow went to have the arm cut down, her mother started to wake up. "Uh-boy," Buffy mumbled to herself, meeting her mother's gaze.
***********
When Faith came to, she was lying on her side chained to the floor of a van. As she tested her restraints, a creepy looking, rodent-faced man directly in her view began to speak.
"Faith Lehane, by order of the Watchers' Council of Britain, you are hereby taken into custody pend—" the creepy little man stated, falling silent as the slayer spoke over him.
"Save the speeches. Caught the act last time you were in town," Faith growled as she sensed the others around her, trying to get an exact idea of their number and strength. Her efforts to see them went in vain. There wasn't enough chain to allow her much movement. She considered fighting her way to a sitting position, but the realization hit her that she would be hopelessly folded in two if she did.
Another man spoke, his voice was deep with a thick British accent, "Yes, yes, quite right. Let's just dispense with all the pleasantries, shall we? Be assured that should you try anything so foolish as to— What is it you bloody Americans say?" While he mocked puzzlement there was movement behind her and the creepy little man began to remove his belt.
The second man started to speak again, filling in an answer to his lame question, "Bail?" The belt was fashioned into a noose and slipped around her throat by the creepy man. As the voice continued, the creepy man passed the belt off to someone unseen near the crown of her head, "We've been given authority to use whatever" — the belt pulled tight around her neck — "means are necessary to detain you. The Council wants you back" — something cold slipped between the collar of the orange jumpsuit she wore and her neck — "and they are simply past caring how you arrive."
The jumpsuit began to tear open down Faith's back. Gloved hands brushed against her skin as it was ripped away. The belt pulled tight causing her to choke.
"My personal preferences aside, you'd be well advised to keep your snide trap shut," the unseen speaker drawled, "Travis, you may have your go at this wretched little piece of filth."
Faith didn't have time to consider much before something lashed across her back, opening the skin up, but she was certain she knew the speaker's voice. Her body wrenched reflexively with pain, drawing the noose tighter.
***********
"Would you mind explaining yourself to me, young lady?" Joyce asked harshly.
"Umm..." Buffy sputtered, lowering her eyes, "Er...umm...Mom, the mayor was a bad guy."
Joyce glared at her daughter. "So I've heard but, Buffy, even if he is corrupt it doesn't give you the right to slay him."
Glancing up Buffy looked utterly confounded. "Huh? Corrupt?" she stammered, not quite believing what she heard. Taking a deep breath, she snarked, "And this, Mom, is why I never tell you what's going on."
Rising to her feet, Joyce rounded on her daughter.
Buffy put her hand up to hold off the pending tirade. "First of all: I didn't. That would be Giles. Remember, Mom, bum leg," she explained patiently, gesturing to her leg, "Second: He's a bad guy as in 'not human'," then directed for her mother to look in the bathroom. "No blood."
Joyce's jaw was sagging when she got back from her quick glance in the bathroom. All she managed was to gasp, "Oh."
Willow muttered nervously, "This is actually sort of interesting. Does his appendix look enlarged to you, Giles?" pointing in the doorway as she quickly shoveled another part into a bag and taped it shut.
Giles' voice sounded from the bathroom, "Yes, yes it does, but the man's health is hardly an issue, Willow."
"We don't slay humans, Mom. Ever wonder why Sunnydale hasn't had a mayoral election in a hundred years?"
"Honey, we just moved here. How would I know that?" Joyce replied defensively.
"The mayor was setting himself up to become a demon—a real one. Think: huge, no social skills, and more than a little snacky. He was gonna do it on graduation day. Giles and I busted into City Hall and took something he needed to make it happen," Buffy filled in, falling silent to allow her mother to speak.
"That was you?"
The terse sound of Giles' voice erupted from the bathroom, "No, Xander, you may not keep those."
Buffy quirked an eyebrow and stared for a moment in their direction. "I so don't wanna know," she mumbled dismissively and turned back to her mother, shaking her head. "Yeah, Mom, broken nose," she reminded, sighing before she resumed, "If he had become a demon in the middle of the ceremony, lots of people would've died." She paused to let the sink in, punctuating a moment later with, "Lots of kids, Mom." Glaring, she concluded, "Me, here, now... It was revenge. The mayor came to finish me off."
Giles interjected from inside the bathroom. "Mrs. Summers, your daughter is quite right. What she has accomplished is not only good, it might be called miraculous. Unfortunately, she's paid a heavy price."
Flabbergasted, Joyce made her way back to the recliner. Watching agape as one of the chairs was pulled along by the handles of a white plastic bag with something the size of a large melon in it. A moment's debate left her with the overwhelming conclusion that she really didn't want to know.
When Buffy finally got her mother's attention again, she said, "Mom, we need your help."
Author's Note: Thanks to Mad Hamlet for help with the Gummi Bear scene. Helpful suggestions...always a good.