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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok. I am done reading all of Slaymesoftly's stories. Time to return to my own and hope she has a lull in creativity.
With one emotional trial withstood, Buffy set out for the concrete parking structure adjacent to Emergency, looking for Spike. She knew Willow had stayed behind with Xand to give them time to address each other, but hesitation claimed her once she found his car, parked in a far corner. Seemingly inanimate, she just stood and stared. Black plastic sheeting and duct tape blocked any view of the interior, but her body could feel him. Little prickles traipsed up her spine. She felt a habitual inclination to roll her eyes and smiled at that for an instant. Months of soulful Spike had not yet outweighed this often subconscious reaction to his presence, a vestige of his "menace" years. Years? "Ugh, how did that happen?" she wondered.
Standing there felt instinctual. She remained as is. Emotional defenses were locked in. This was a threat of a different nature, the "normal life stuff", she called it. Such a stance allowed ideal readiness, to flee, exits unobstructed. Buffy was weary of trusting that things were ok. She resisted such an assumption.
It was true that the hospital staff had given immediate care to Xander. They had calmed their fears. The fever could be lowered, which would address the seizing. Still, the what and the why remained. If she was better at detangling a slayers psyche, she may have understood that relief would have felt like betrayal. Relief led to relaxing. Somehow relaxing in the interim between threats, between sacrifices, seemed wrong. Buffy always tried to do what was right. Besides, she regarded letting one's guard down an invitation for all sorts of nasties. Believing in Xander's permanence now, at least this day, was enough of a presumption.
And then Spike? Approaching his existence equalled swallowing a miracle. To be sick and then better was one thing, but dead and then alive? Well,.. reconstituted, whatever. "Who could possibly be rooting for the Big Bad? Must be help of the highest order?" She took oxygen deep into her lungs as if it would bring answers, clarity to her brain's grip on it all. Buffy didn't accept that this being could be the same one she knew, all passion, skill, vulnerability, evil and goodness, uncomfortably combined. "What gall," she thought. All that need to fight grief every day, for the girls, and home, and Anya. Such a devastating sequel to losing her mother and Tara just before. Evading is what Buffy did best when her world demanded too much of course. Demons were no problem. Ideally one moved towards violence and away from heartache, at least in her world. It would have been easier, a little bit, with him around.
"Ohhkaaay, one soulful vampire that confuses the hell out of me coming up. Is fate a person? Cuz I'd like to have a word, maybe inflict some bodily harm," she said out loud to no one. It was fate she supposed, that had thought nothing of slapping that last body on to the pile, even though that last body had been the hardest comrade to lose thus far. He stopped existing. "It's a trick," she told herself. Spike, now, in this car, in this parking lot, in this city, in this world, made all her sadness ridiculous. What a cost she had paid. "I mourned him for nothing," which came out a little bit louder. A spark of anger prompted her to resume her path to the two-door, but she cooled as she walked. Motion affected her like it always did. Less thinking, more doing. A slayer thrived on action, particularly the violent kind. Even putting one foot in front of the other felt better than immobility, much less, immobility with pondering.
Spike jumped at the sound of the door handle.
Buffy hurrumphed with an exhale into the front seat.
"Where's Red?" he asked.
She eased into the effort of an answer. "Said she would be right behind me." A pause stretched until she continued. "So what's with the car? Too flashy for you. Don't you go for antiques?... Course you are an antique in a sense, appropriate."
Spike suppressed a grin at that. "A classic is not to be scoffed," he replied. "Never gonna get over losin' my black baby, she's buried with the lot in Sunnydale…" He winced. "Sorry for that, was out before I thought about it. A car of course doesn't compare with lost souls... Xander?" he transitioned jarringly.
"It's ok," she quickly replied. "And he's ok."
It was then that another voice interrupted his attention, despite a resumed silence within the car.
"Spike?"
"Right hate it when you do that Red. Get your magic out of my head."
"Listen, somethings not right here."
"Lotta things luv, gotta be more specific…You know… I'm not against an old fashioned conversation," he said with obvious irritation. "You're still taking shortcuts?"
"Not usually," she answered. "I'm someone else at the moment, did a glamour so that I could access a computer in private."
Spike raised his eyebrows, capturing Buffy's attention beside him. She gave him a perplexed look.
"Your witch," he explained turning to face her.
"Nothing like a sodden inner body experience," he said dourly out loud. "Well, go on."
"I'm just seeing if there have been other patients recently like Xander."
"Couldn't you do that from home?"
"Look I know I haven't exactly inspired faith in you with the witchiness in the past, but listen… there's a guy in the waiting room still filling out an admission form he was supposedly penciling in hours ago when we got here. Plus, the nurse attending to Xand isn't on the posted rounds, like he doesn't normally work here. And I snuck a peek at Xander's chart earlier. There are sedatives listed, but I've been told we are just waiting for him to wake up on his own so we can take him home. Something's wiggy."
"Ok look," Spike interrupted with a tone of resignation. "Can you wing a three-way so we can do this proper?"
Buffy's eyes widened.
"No," Willow said. "Too distracting. I'm already multitasking… You said that out loud didn't you?"
Spike answered with a smile that only his passenger could see, obviously proud of himself. She glared at the crass innuendo, having worked out that he was referring to her inclusion in the conversation.
"What else then," he prompted.
"Well, there wasn't time to bring it up before, but I picked up a strong mystical signature from Xand back at our place. As soon as his symptoms were under control from his treatment here, it disappeared."
"WAIT GOT IT!"
"Eh! I can hear you just fine on this end, a notch less enthusiasm please!" echoed inside the vehicle.
Buffy let out a snort unbecoming enough to cut her mirth immediately.
Willow pushed her face up closer to the monitor.
"I see three people in the last eight weeks who mimic Xander's condition. Oh wait, make that four. One is deceased, an eighty-four year old. He died on-route here from a rest home. They did ask me in a questionnaire if he has recently been in contact with the very young or the very old. Anyway, same fever, same seizures for all of em."
"So he's sick and their trying to figure it out. I'm not seeing the problem here Red."
"But," she stammered. "The sleeping pills all covert-like?"
Spike sighed. "I don't know…look…"
"Why not just tell me they need to keep him a while to do tests or whatever? Why stall his discharge?"
He considered that.
"Cuz they want everyone to think we have overreacted to a simple flu strain that's why. Alright, you want to yank him don't you?"
"Mm hmm," she said. "Good things don't usually come our way in hospitals."
"Then why did we come?" he said exasperated.
"Because we didn't know what to do!" she returned trying to earn his understanding. "Even if this is something supernatural, it presents itself normally enough on the surface. He could have died before I had a chance to throw spell ingredients together to investigate a source."
"Bring him out front then," he said calmly.
"Uh… ok," she said.
"You do still resemble some lucky fellow to anyone who sees you right?" he assured himself.
"Yeah, an administrator of sorts I think, high up enough to have their own office. And a woman I might add. I'm not sure for how long though."
"Best get moving then, do this whole escapade in reverse."
"Yeah, got it. I'll go get him, ugh…somehow."
"Willow?" Spike said back, again aloud. He turned once again to Buffy.
"Guess she hung up," he told her.
"What's going on? Willow never uses this much magic unless she thinks it's justified."
He turned the ignition and said with too much nonchalance, "I'm thinking CDC."
"Um," Buffy spoke with a tone of someone who is lost. "Critical, Dire, Catastrophe?"


Chapter End Notes:
This one was a bitch, but I like it better than chapters one and two, which don't feel "finished". Anyone going to SlayerItacon?



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