Tribulations - Chapter 44

Buffy still felt shaky, that was for sure. Shaky and kind of sick. Part of it came from the shock of that long, long moment when she'd been sure Celeste was dead. A bigger part came from losing Giles, not knowing where he'd gone to, or when he'd come back, if he did come back. Not to mention the weirdness that had happened with Willow and Seb.

The biggest part of all, though, was not having any idea what that creepy demon-guy had planned for her, only knowing when he did come to take it, things would get bad. Wesley, bless his heart, had done his best to snap her out of that one--which was sweet--but not only did he have his own scary thing going on, he still wasn't exactly what you'd call a people person. Or vampire. Whatever. Looking at him, she'd been able to tell that Wes was just as sick and scared as she was, maybe more so, and had one majorly bad case of British stiff-upper-lipness going on, besides.

Funny, really, that all the time she'd been crazy in love with Angel, she hadn't had the first idea what it meant to be a vampire with a soul. Now, though... Well, maybe she'd never understand completely, but at least she gotten over the worst of her cluelessness. At least she understood that it wasn't a good thing. Not a good thing at all, super-strength and all the other etceteras aside. It was more like being a fish that could breathe air instead of water, but still didn't have any legs--it made you not one thing or the other, with no real place in either world.

Poor Wes. From not-too-far away, Buffy watched him explain things to the ambulance people who'd responded to her 911 call. Wesley had the right kind of voice, all quiet and serious, to make big whopping lies sound halfway credible, which was more than she could do. She always felt like she had a huge neon sign flashing "LIAR! LIAR!" on her forehead, and since not everybody was as reality-challenged as her mom, it was usually a good idea to let someone else do the talking.

Poor Wesley, Buffy thought again. Her fib-impairment aside, she probably shouldn't have made him do all the work. There he was, going through the motions, getting things done, but his shoulders were all hunched, miserable-looking, and his head was bent down.

It seemed like something that could only happen in the Bizarro Universe, but he'd saved her life--Xander's and Celeste's, too. Not that Wesley saw it that way, all wound up the way he was with the worst case of the guilts she'd ever seen. Angel had learned to live with the soul-having part of his life. Not happily, maybe, but he got by. There wasn't any one thing she could put her finger on, but Buffy couldn't help but have a sinking feeling that Wesley might not be able to.

Actually, she had no idea how she'd be able to get through her own summer, or however long it was she had left. Maybe everything she'd been shown by the Hellmouth was a lie, but she didn't think so. As much as she hated to admit it, the whole thing felt true, it felt like her, the old her, at least. Somehow, the little hedgehog-demon, faux-Mr.-Briggs guy was going to take something that would make her change back into Miss The-Universe-Revolves-Around-Me. She was going to...

Buffy shook her head, trying to dislodge the growing blizzard of bad thoughts. Which made her think of the fussy little room, and the snowglobe, and her promise. Around and around and around we go, and where we stop, nobody knows.

If I hadn't done it, made the bargain, Giles would have died, she tried to tell herself. That's a gimmee. You'll get out of this. Somehow, you'll get out of this. How many apocalypses have we been through? We've beaten every one, remember?

Somehow, though, Buffy couldn't make herself believe her own little pep-talk. This felt different. Not to mention that she still had no idea where Giles had gotten to. Or Willow and Seb, for that matter. They'd be back. They would. She had to believe that. It was just some kind of dimensional thing, and then they'd be back.

Sighing, feeling as if a big, lead weight was pressing on her shoulders, she stumbled back down toward the ambulances.

When she got there, Wesley gave her a look that was probably meant to be reassuring. Buffy gave him a flimsy little smile in return. At least the EMT's working on Xander and Celeste didn't look overly wigged--they probably saw worse than this every day, and even if the drug-crazed mugger story was wearing just a little bit thin, they'd probably rather hear that than even a teeny bit of the truth. The team working on Xander--a cute Latina woman and a huge Viking-type guy with flaming red hair--had him in a backboard and collar, but they were talking to each other in perfectly normal voices, which made Buffy fairly sure all that was just a precaution. The other team, two blonde guys who looked like identical twin surfer dudes, already had Celeste hooked up to an IV. They'd put a big, white bandage on her chest, but at this point the bleeding was pretty much down to nothing. Celeste's eyes were open, if sleepy-looking, and like a good patient, she was holding very still.

Buffy went up to her and squeezed Celeste's hand, getting a little smile in return.

"No worries, Buffy. I've had worse than this in training," Celeste whispered.

Somehow Buffy doubted that, but as Giles might have said, Celeste was nothing if not plucky. Somehow she felt better knowing that at least her friend had strength enough to make the effort. "I'll see you at the hospital, okay?" she said.

Celeste shook her head. "Wait for the others," she said, already drifting. "Make sure..." Her voice trailed off and she was out again.

Just as the EMT's were loading their gurneys, a godawful metal-on-metal shriek screeched out for the magically-resurrected library. Dust and gravel exploded from the open doorway and concrete chips rained down from the roof. Buffy ducked instinctively--as did everyone else, she was pleased to note--sure that within seconds the ruins were going to be even more ruinted. To her surprise, the wreck remained standing. A few minutes later a tall figure, obviously a guy, popped out through the doorway, so fast it looked like he'd been kicked.

Buffy's heart jumped up into her throat. She couldn't breathe, much less swallow the lump back down. It had to be Giles. It had to be. She started to run to him, but caught herself: the body language, the way the man moved, was close, so close...

Close, but no cigar--and where had she picked up that weird little expression? It sounded like something her grandpa would have said, back in the day.

"Seb," she yelled to him, with totally faked cheerfulness. "Down here!"

Sebastian picked up speed, until Buffy thought he'd run smack into the ambulance. She was glad to see that he slowed himself down in time to prevent that little accident.

"Celeste!" he panted, going dead white, staggering a little. "Oh, dear Lord, no!"

He seemed so completely wigged that Buffy instantly took pity. "It's okay," she assured him, throwing the EMT's a look that dared them to disagree . "She lost some blood, but she's fine. The baby's fine too."

"May I...?" Seb gasped, gesturing at the ambulance. Despite Buffy's encouraging words, he hadn't gotten even a little of his color back. "I'm... T-that is, she's my wife."

"Be our guest," answered blonde twin number one. He had such an excellent case of California cool going on that it was hard to be scared or panicky in his presence. "You're friend's right, though. Your wife will be fine."

Once the gurney was stowed, blonde twin number two gave Sebastian a hand up into the back, shaking his head sympathetically as Seb, too tall and too wigged to be even halfway graceful, clunked his head on the doorframe. The EMT steered him to a narrow seat beside the stretcher, then shut the double doors. Buffy caught one last glimpse of his white face, given temporary color by the flashing red lights, glancing out at her as the vehicle zoomed away, sirens blaring.

Seconds laster, Willow breezed by her, yelling Xander's name.

Since Xander was still out cold, and couldn't answer, poor Will went into full-on freakout mode, which would have been kind of funny if it hadn't been so obviously real. The two remaining EMT's gave Buffy alarmed looks, which also would have been funny, except...

Except, really, it wasn't funny at all. Nothing was. Willow struggled like a spooked pony, but Buffy finally managed to get a good hold, refusing to let her friend go until she'd at least calmed down enough to listen.

"Will," she said, in her most soothing voice. "Will, listen, it's okay. Xander hit his head, but he's fine. You're here, Seb's here. Everything's gonna be all right." Buffy felt herself choking on that last part--she knew only too well how okay things weren't going to be--but she held it together, for her own sake as much as for Willow's. "You can't lose it, Will. You're stronger than that." She gave Willow a gentle little shake. "You're strong, Will."

Willow let out a big shuddery gasp and seemed to get herself at least partway under control. "It's just... And I... When I saw..."

"Breathe," Buffy advised her, watching Willow's face until her eyes lost the scared-horse look. Actually, for just a second, she could have sworn that they looked jet black clear across, but that went away so quickly it must have been her imagination. She wanted, really wanted, to ask Willow what had gone on up there, but this wasn't the place or time.

"You okay?" she asked instead.

Willow gave a shaky little nod.

"Then let's let them take Xander to the hospital and get him fixed up. I promise you that we'll follow as soon as we can. Agreed?"

Willow nodded again. The EMT's really hustled getting everything secured. Probably they were anxious to get away from the crazy girl. Or girls, as the case might be. Not to mention the creepy guy. Buffy glanced over to the place where Wes had just kind of melted into the shadows, making himself all but invisible.

As she watched, he melted back out again, giving Willow a look that said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Willow hung her head.

"It isn't your fault," Wesley told her softly. "I suppose... Yes, I suppose it had to be done." Freed from its former prissiness, Wes's voice sounded pretty nice, really. Not as deep as Giles's, but soft and proper and ever-so-British nonetheless. Comforting, if he hadn't also sounded so sad. "Yes, there was no other way. The ritual had to be performed. It was essential that I be stopped."

Willow whimpered something that Buffy couldn't make out. Clearly, she'd gone well past emotional overload, and was just about to reenter the meltdown zone.

"Will," Buffy said to her, half afraid to ask. "Is Giles--I mean, did he make it back with you?"

"Giles?" Willow echoed.

"You know. Tall guy. Recovering tweedaholic. Likes books." Buffy's light tone sounded majorly fake, even to her, and she couldn't make out Willow's answer anyway. Wesley touched her arm, though, pointing to the top of the rise. Sure enough, there was Giles.

She watched him for a couple seconds, wondering how she knew that something had gone wrong. Before she knew it, she'd started to run.

She hit him at full speed, and Giles, not having braced himself at all, toppled over like a felled tree, landing hard, with Buffy on top of him. He'd been looking right at her, but something in the way he'd gone down made her suspect Giles hadn't had a clue that she was coming,.

Huh? she thought, but didn't pursue it. Couldn't pursue it, right at the moment.

"You were there, and you were gone, and I was so scared," she babbled. "I was so scared, you can't even believe." Gradually, still holding him tight, Buffy became aware that Giles's heart was beating way too fast. If felt panicky, and Giles wasn't someone who panicked easily. She sat up a little. "Hey," she said. "Are you all right? What happened in there? I freaked when you guys disappeared."

"Buffy..." Giles said, his voice pitched so low she could hardly hear him. He reached up to touch her cheek, shuddering a little as his fingertips made contact with her skin.

"Giles, what is it?" Buffy asked, fighting down her fear. "I feel good, and Seb can talk, so the spell worked, right?"

"You're hurt." His fingertips traced the places where the weirdo vines had bruised or scraped her skin.

"Hardly. It's already going away. You know me--Slayer strength, Slayer healing." Buffy smiled down at him, but Giles didn't react. He seemed to be staring past her, or through her, as if she'd somehow been turned invisible. Her skin crawled, goosebumps breaking out all over her, though it still was a perfect California night, not chilly at all.

Buffy scooted backward, off him, springing to her feet and catching hold of Giles's arm. She just needed to get him home, get all this behind them, and everything would be all right. A lot had happened. They just needed to defuse.

If that's true, she asked herself, then what's with the wiggins? What do I feel as if he's getting farther away from me with every second that goes by?

"C'mon," she told Giles, a lot more sharply than she intended. "Let's go home."

"Yes," he answered, his face looking ghostly-pale in the dark. "Home...would be lovely." His hand reached out for hers, feeling in a place where she definitely wasn't. Buffy moved until his fingertips brushed her arm again, a look of terrifying relief spreading over his face. "Xander, Celeste..." he murmured. "Are they...?"

"Okay. On their way to the hospital to get checked out. Nothing major. They were lucky."

"Yes. Lucky," he answered, raising his other hand to rub his eyes. "Would you..? That is, I think it would be better if I didn't drive."

"No problem," Buffy answered, her hand shaking as she took the heavy bunch of keys he passed to her. But then, Giles's hand was shaking too, so they made a matched set. "You know, I think it would be pretty safe to get rid of your library keys, sweetie. Just a thought."

Giles didn't answer. Obviously, he was faking something, trying not to alarm her, but Buffy could tell from the way he held her hand that he couldn't navigate at all. Well, they'd had a busy evening, him more than just about anyone. Who could blame his brain for being a little fried?

Buffy traded glances with Willow when they reached the bottom of the hill.

"Wesley's giving me a ride to the hospital," Will informed her, in a tone that said, "don't worry about me--I'm covered."

"You're sure?" Buffy asked, just to make really, really sure.

Willow nodded. "I'll call, okay? To let you know."

"That would be great. Give Xander my love, okay?"

Willow nodded again, glancing back once as Wesley ushered her toward a sleek black car. Her head gave a little tilt toward Giles that said, "What's up with him?"

"It's been a long night," Buffy answered. Will had enough to worry about. "Be sure you get some sleep, too. Let me...umn...us know if you need anything."

"Uh-huh," Willow replied absently. Wesley raised a hand in farewell; Buffy waved back.

Now, Rupert, she thought, steering him toward the Citroen, What are we gonna do about you?