“Stay away from her, Angel,” Spike threatened.
“Or what?”
“Do you need another demonstration of my left hook?”
Angel laughed, somewhat sadly. “Do you really think I want to be with someone who doesn’t want me? Do you really believe that I would stoop so low as to prey upon the woman I care about while she’s nursing a broken heart? Give me some credit. Better yet, give her some credit, Spike. Buffy’s not that kind of girl, and if you could see past your own petty jealousy for five minutes, and actually talked to her, maybe you would understand her reasons for breaking up with you.”
“Angel, no...” Buffy protested. She wasn’t sharing any confidences with Spike tonight. Any thoughts she’d had of informing Spike of the situation with her father had shrivelled and died as a result of his harsh words.
“It’s okay, Buffy,” Angel promised. “I gave you my word.”
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in a week she was beginning to feel like she’d done the right thing in breaking up with him. For the first time in a week it felt like it was truly over between them. And she was ready to leave, oh so ready.
But Spike wasn’t going to let her go so easy. “Angel, I wasn’t joking. Let go of her. NOW.”
When Angel once again placed Buffy behind him Spike’s ire was ignited all over again. He balled his fists and swung.
Angel saw Spike’s intention in the tensing of his muscles and ducked, pushing Spike away as the non-connection followed through.
Spike stumbled past, then whirled around with another high hit. Angel was prepared and blocked the punch directed at his face. However, he didn’t expect the one aimed for his ribs. The wind whooshed out of Angel’s lungs as he doubled over from the force of Spike’s blow.
“Stop this!” Buffy begged.
At the sound of her pleading Spike hesitated, turning his attention toward her. But of course her focus was not on him. It was on Angel.
Angel turned, distracted by Buffy’s cry of distress, nudged her out of harm’s way and stepped protectively in front of her. “Buffy, get back!”
And Spike saw red. The sight of Angel’s hands on her, however brief, was enough to bring his temper right to the fore again.
Buffy’s eyes widened in warning a second before Spike’s fist connected once again with the side of Angel’s face. As Angel collapsed to the ground, Spike bounced tauntingly in front of him.
“Get up and fight me, you git!”
“Spike, please!” Buffy pleaded, but Spike wasn’t paying attention to her anymore.
Angel lifted his head from the ground, wiping his hand across his mouth and finding it covered in blood. “You really want to do this?”
“YES! Get up!”
“No,” Buffy shook her head in denial. “No, Angel... Angel, please stop this!”
The soft whisper of his name on her lips was enough to make Spike snap again, and he swung wildly toward him. Angel dodged the blow, pushing Spike away, before ducking out of the way of another.
It became apparent to Buffy very quickly that Angel was only dodging Spike’s attacks, and she met his brown eyes in understanding, even as her worry grew. Spike was raining punches in Angel’s direction, seemingly becoming more and more incensed when they were unreturned.
“FIGHT BACK!”
“No, Spike. I won’t.”
A blow glanced Angel’s shoulder as he barely twisted out of the way. Righting himself he shifted so he was once more standing in front of Buffy. “Stay back, Buffy,” he called over his shoulder, before returning his attention toward his furious adversary. “You don’t have to do this, Spike.”
“Fight me, or are you too weak?” Spike sneered.
“No, Spike. You’re the one who’s weak,” Angel retorted, still feeling the effects of being winded. “All you had to do was—”
“SHUT UP!”
Buffy stepped closer to Angel, concerned for his welfare. She needed to break this fight up before someone got seriously hurt.
“She left you, Spike, and you’ve got no-one to blame but yourself.”
With a shout of sheer frustration Spike shoved Angel as hard as he could, sending himself off balance and Angel sailing straight toward Buffy. Realisation struck him the second Angel began to fall, but it was like everything was happening in slow motion. Spike’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he scrambled for purchase, trying in vain to reach forward to stop the impending collision, but it was too late. As Angel fell to the pool deck he knocked into Buffy, sending her flying into the pool.
“BUFFY!” Spike shouted in horror.
It had all happened so fast Buffy didn’t had a chance to react. Angel collided with her and she instantly realised the error of moving too close to the fight. She sailed toward the pool, too close to the edge, and she tried desperately to twist her body into a better entry position than the way she falling.
The sudden hard impact of the water knocked the air from her lungs, and then her head hit something and everything went black.
Spike was on his feet moving before Buffy hit the water but there was no preventing her fall. The sickening sound of her head hitting the poolside sent fear to the very fibre of his being. Five quick steps to the edge and he leapt into the air, swan diving into the pool after her. He opened his eyes underwater and the sight of her sinking to the bottom almost froze him to ice.
He dove deeper. His fingers found her shoulders as a second splash, followed immediately by a third, disturbed the water behind him. Spike knew there was risk of a spinal injury, and any wrong movement could cause permanent paralysis, but oxygen had to be his first concern. Carefully cradling her against his body, oh so carefully, so as to not disturb her neck, Spike planted his feet on the floor and pushed, kicking toward the surface. He broke it, moments later, lifting Buffy’s face clear of the water as he began to scull and tread to shallower water.
His gasp for breath was a solitary one, and the terror he’d felt upon seeing Buffy at the bottom of the pool compounded when she didn’t open her eyes. He felt no breath on his hand where he supported her head. “Breathe, Buffy, breathe!”
He could take her to the edge, but getting her out of the water by himself would be tricky, not to mention potentially damaging for her. So instead he swam for the shallows. Once he found his footing they’d be okay. Quicker than he had thought was possible, Spike had moved far enough toward the other end of the pool, which placed him almost in the very centre. He supported Buffy’s head above the water and checked for signs she was breathing.
She wasn’t.
Instinct took over and his mouth covered hers, formed an airtight seal, and he blew. Five quick breathes, and then he waited (just as he’d been trained), his own breath held and his heart of the verge of leaping free from his chest it was beating so hard.
One... two... three seconds passed.
Still nothing.
“No! NO! Buffy, breathe!”
Spike could hear the splashes of people approaching but his focus was solely on Buffy.
“BREATHE!” he commanded, before breathing for her again. Mid way between the third and fourth breath, Spike felt her stomach clench, and a second later she coughed, bringing mouthfuls of water out.
“Buffy! BUFFY!” His eyes swept across her face, her eyes remained closed, her mouth unmoving for one second. And then another. And then she gasped.
Spike had never, ever, heard a sweeter sound in all his life.
“Give her here, son.”
“We’ve got her.”
Spike didn’t recognise Coach Jones voice at first; his awareness had an almost foggy edge to it. He didn’t even know how they knew to come to pool deck, as it wasn’t as if it was under surveillance or anything. A few more seconds ticked by and he realised that Angel must have run for help. The animosity he’d held just minutes ago died in the wake of his own stupidity and Angel’s quick thinking.
They reached to take Buffy from him, and although every fibre of his being fought against it, Spike relented. They quickly secured her c-spine with a neck brace. Even though he know she was breathing, panic gripped him as Coach Jones and her assistant checked Buffy for vitals.
“Her pulse is steady, and she’s breathing. Well done, son.”
“But she hasn’t opened her eyes,” Spike murmured, his gaze not leaving her face. She was pale, paler than she’d been before, and to him it seemed her lips were a little blue. Panic seized him again as his mind raced with possible consequences.
“We’ve called an ambulance. She’s breathing, Will, that’s the most important thing,” Coach Jones assured. “She’ll get checked out at hospital and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
It was an empty assurance, one meant to comfort, and Spike knew it. They had no way of knowing if she’d be alright or not, not unless she woke up. Spike exhaled a long, shaky breath at their words as the reality of the situation finally sunk in.
Buffy could have drowned.
Worse thought... Buffy could have drowned, because of him.
Grief overwhelmed him as he watched the two adults strap Buffy to a spinal board in preparation to lift her from the pool. She looked so tiny, so pale. They said she was breathing, but god, she didn’t look good. She didn’t look well at all.
“Angel...?” Spike murmured the name without fully realising he was speaking out loud.
“Meeting the ambulance out the front. Oh, here they come now.”
Spike’s attention drifted fleetingly from Buffy toward the doors of the pool. Two paramedics pushing a gurney walked briskly behind Angel, who looked almost as pale as Buffy. Concern scrunched his brow as he half ran the remaining distance to the pool edge, where Buffy was being gently lifted on the backboard.
“Is she going to be okay? Is she breathing?”
“Yes, she’s breathing, Angel,” Coach Jones repeated her earlier assurance to Spike.
A sigh escaped Angel’s lips and a shudder rolled through him as some of the tension in his frame visibly relaxed.
One end of the backboard was lifted over the edge of the pool, the teachers careful to ensure it remained level and didn’t jolt a still unconscious Buffy.
“On my three we lift her up,” the lead paramedic instructed. “We’ll need one you out of the pool to lift that end while we lift this end.” Coach Jones exited the pool once the paramedics had secured the head end of the board with their hands to the pool deck floor, ensuring it wouldn’t slip back into the pool. Spike moved to the vacated position and held the board near Buffy’s ankles.
“One, two, three.”
Between them they smoothly and safely got Buffy out of the pool and onto the gurney.
Buffy was re-strapped to it almost before Spike had hoisted himself out of the pool, and a warming blanket draped over her. Not wasting a moment, the paramedics began wheeling her toward the waiting ambulance.
Spike refused to leave her side, despite the fact he was soaked through. It was going to take a lot more than some concern of him catching a cold for him to leave her side.
“Now I believe we have most of the details of the accident, from Mr O’Neil here,” one of the paramedics said, gesturing toward Angel. His eyes glanced over his clipboard as they moved through the open gym doors. “But we’ll need to confirm the exact circumstances of the incident, to ensure Miss Summers receives the correct medical attention.”
“Of course,” Spike replied without hesitation. Of course Angel had filled them in, he wasn’t surprised by that at all. Buffy’s safety was apparently not just his first priority. A fleeting sense of respect washed over Spike at Angel’s quick response; he’d have to thank him for what he’d done, if he got the chance. Because Spike seriously doubted he would.
It was looking like it might be one of those one phone call situations.
He was almost surprised by his lack of reaction to the possibility. It was practically a guarantee that he’d be expelled for his actions in this afternoon’s incident once Snyder knew the details. And once the cops were informed, which would be the case when Snyder was notified, Spike would potentially be brought up on charges. His life—or plans for one—were effectively null and void. Spike thought he would have felt something about the fact. Apprehension, maybe fear... something.
Strange, but he had absolutely no concern for his own welfare.
All that mattered was Buffy.
Taking a deep breath he prepared to face the music.
“Miss Summers tripped on her gym bag, and fell into the pool as a result. Is that correct?”
“Tripped?”
Spike didn’t think he could possibly have been more surprised. Tripped over her bag?
He shot a look in Angel’s direction, and caught the slow nod of confirmation. Angel had lied? But why? It didn’t make any sense to Spike. If he’d wanted Buffy then Spike out of the picture was the best possible outcome. Angel should have ratted him out, blamed the whole thing on him. Yet he hadn’t. Why?
“And she hit her head on the way down?”
“No,” Spike refuted with a shake of his head, wanting to set the record straight. His eyes dropped to Buffy’s face again, her eyelashes dark against the pale pallor of her face. “She fell, yes, she fell but it was—”
“Because we caught her by surprised,” Angel interrupted calmly. “Shocked her. She dropped her bag and spun around to face us, tripping over it in the process.”
“And she bumped her head?” the Paramedic asked again.
“As she fell,” Angel confirmed. “She may have winded herself.”
“That makes sense. And why were the two of you here today?”
Spike tore his gaze from Buffy and opened his mouth to respond, only to have Angel cut him off again.
“I was trying to surprise her,” Angel explained. “You see, she and Spike here had been arguing, and I thought bringing the two of them together to talk about their issues would help resolve things.”
Spike couldn’t have been more surprised, even if he were hit in the head by a two-by-four. The things Angel was saying were so completely not what he’d expected that he was stunned silent. When Angel shot a piercing look in his direction, Spike realised he was trying to say something to him. “Issues regarding her father and LA.”
Whatever Angel was trying to communicate with him, Spike didn’t get it, not entirely anyway. But he had some suspicions.
“So she was upset?”
“A little, yes, which explains her clumsiness. Buffy tends to trip over things when she’s upset.” Angel looked to Spike for confirmation.
Spike found himself nodding, despite the confusion he felt, and the unanswered questions hurtling a million miles an hour through his mind. Angel was right about one thing; Buffy did tend to pay less attention to her surroundings when she was upset, a sign that he knew her a lot more than Spike had given him credit for.
The paramedic pointed to Angel’s split lip. “And that happened how?”
“Tackle on the football field,” Angel replied instantly.
“Not related to this incident?”
“Nope.”
Spike wasn’t sure if the paramedic believed Angel or not, but that train of questioning stopped.
“And how long was she not breathing?”
This question was directed firmly at Spike. He swallowed around the lump of emotion the size of Texas lodged firmly in his throat at the reminder of what was possibly the scariest moment of his life.
To Spike it had seemed like an age, minutes, and not the seconds it actually was.
“Thirty seconds, at most,” Spike estimated. Then, upon thinking of how long it took him to respond, swim down to her and then get to a depth where he couple breath for her he adjusted his estimation.
“Maybe forty seconds, definitely no more than a minute,” Spike murmured, trying to clear his throat but to no avail... Texas refused to budge.
“Sounds about right,” Angel confirmed.
The paramedic marked a few things on his sheet and then looked up at Spike.
“Well, she’s breathing now and her vitals are stable. It’s quite possible you boys saved her life.”
Spike swallowed around the lump again. There was a question he needed to ask, one he was almost too afraid to voice out loud, yet he needed to know at the same time.
Angel beat him to the punch.
“Is she going to be alright?”
“You boys got to her, and help for her, fast. That makes a big difference.”
While the words were somewhat comforting, Spike noticed that no promises were made.
Buffy wasn’t out of the woods yet.
The paramedics loaded her into the back of the van. Spike insisted on accompanying her, and upon realising the boy was not taking no for an answer, they relented, tossing him a blanket to wrap around himself and he climbed into the back to join her. He wasn’t surprised that Angel followed in his car.
The ride to the hospital was the longest and shortest trip of Spike’s life. One of the paramedics rode in the back with him, keeping an eye on her vitals. Despite her steady breathing Spike, was still worried.
Too soon, she was wheeled away from him and off to see a doctor, at the same time it was not nearly quick enough.
Now, it was in their hands, and he just had to wait.
If Buffy didn’t pull through he would never forgive himself.
~*~*~
A/N: Soooo, what did you think?