FIC The Futility of Grand Gestures (1/10) (BUFFY)

[blairprovence]

Title:  The Futility of Grand Gestures
Author:  blairprovence
Rating:  PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s):  Buffy, Giles
Warnings:  Season 3, Serious Angst
Disclaimer:  All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
Summary:   Buffy would do absolutely anything for the people she loves.  That's a good thing, right?
Author Notes:   Completed at long last for my scheduled day on summer_of_giles  2008.  Apologies to my flist for the mass posting.  Set after the events of Graduation, Part 1.

She noticed the beeping first, from beneath the deep, dark fog that clouded her mind - a high-pitched sound just atonal enough to pierce the cushion of darkness that had held her for so long. She didn't know how she knew time had passed - but it had, and her chest began to hurt with a sense of urgency, the source of which she could not quite recall.

 

There was something she had to do, something terribly important - though she couldn't move, nor speak, nor even open her eyes. 

 

But she could listen.

 

There was a murmur of voices underneath the beeping, alternating soft and deep, and the lilting call of her name in a voice that she recognized as her mother's.  Her mother, who wasn't supposed to be here, who was supposed to be gone for a reason Buffy couldn't remember.

 

Her dry, parched lips formed a soundless word - Mom... But there was no reply.

 

As long minutes passed, the murmuring became more distinct, and other words were audible - words like 'blood loss' and 'coma' - and longer words that were the names of drugs Buffy couldn't herself pronounce.  She realized she was in the hospital, again, and felt the fluttery beginnings of panic in the pit of her stomach.

 

She hated hospitals.

 

After another long, grey period, the cadence of the beeping changed, and the murmurs became sharper, more urgent.  Her mother said her name again, but differently this time - the kind of "Buffy" that was usually followed by her middle name, and a sharp command or reprimand that meant she had better listen up and pay attention.  Though her mother didn't sound mad, really – more relieved, and teary, as though she had feared never having the chance to talk to her daughter again.

 

"Buffy, can you hear me? It's Mom, Buffy."

 

Buffy tried again to speak, but she could make no more sound than the last time.  Then she felt the cool, sweet tang of cold water against her lips, and she drank greedily.

 

"Slow down, sweetheart.  It's all right.  Everything's all right."

 

There was a sound from far away that might have been a snort.

 

"Mom," she croaked, her voice sounding ancient.  "Wha'..."

 

"You're in the hospital, baby," Joyce said, smoothing Buffy's hair with gentle fingers. "You're going to be all right though."  There was such relief in her mother's tone that Buffy knew at once it must be true.

 

It gave her the courage to open her eyes.  The room swam slowly into view, lit by too-bright lights.  Her mother appeared in front of her as a large beige blur.  Behind her indistinct form other shadows walked, darker and less comforting.

 

"What happened?" she managed to ask as her mind whirled tipsily.  For some reason she could not remember how she had come to be there.  The last thing she could recall was...Prom?  Giles smiling at her proudly, looking adorable in his tux.  Angel appearing - tall, dark and handsome, and one last bittersweet dance.  And then a long, white blankness.  What had happened?   Had the Mayor attacked them?  She struggled upward to a sitting position, but her arms were weak, rubbery and unwieldy, and she was forced to collapse back against the pillows.  "The Mayor?"

 

She sensed, rather than saw, her mother turn away from her.  "Would you excuse us for a moment, Doctor?"  A murmured assent, and then one of the dark blurs left through the bright white doorway.  As her vision began to clear, Buffy counted three more forms behind her mother, hovering back against the far wall around the door.

 

"The Ascension-" she persisted, blinking rapidly.  "What-"

 

"Apocalypse averted," a low, angry voice said from over by the door.  "Again.  The Mayor's history."  Was that...Xander? Xander's voice?  He didn't sound quite right.

 

"What?  When?"  The blur came forward, sharpening into a picture of her bestest guy friend in the world, sporting a red, bruised face, two black eyes, and a scowl darker than Buffy had ever seen him wear.

 

"Two days ago," he snapped.  "Graduation, remember?  Big Time Badness.  But I guess you were too busy doing your Sleeping Beauty routine to show."  He was incredibly angry, she could tell.  Angry at her?  What had happened?

 

"Xander," her mother admonished softly, but she didn't sound mad, exactly.

 

Buffy raised a hand to rub her forehead, and only then did she notice the IV line attached to her arm.  She stared at it, puzzled.  "I don't-...what happened to me?"

 

Shock ghosted briefly across Xander's battered face, but it was quickly supplanted by renewed fury.  "What always happens," he bit out, his tone as sharp as bullets.  "You, doing whatever the hell you want, and who gives a damn about the rest of us."

 

"Xander!" her mother said again, and she did sound mad this time.  Joyce reached out to lay a quelling hand on the young man's arm, but Xander shook it off.

 

"I hope you're happy," he spat, glaring down at Buffy.  "They're dead, but who the hell cares, right?  'Cause your precious Deadboy's still around, and that's all that matters, isn't it?"

 

"Angel?" she whispered, uncertain.  Yes, Angel - there was something she was supposed to remember about Angel, something important.  About Angel and...Faith?   Her stomach churned as she recalled her sister Slayer, the fierce, bitter girl who had betrayed them all.  Yes, there was something about Faith that she'd forgotten. What was it?

 

"Xander, I want you to leave," Joyce said firmly, her hand on Xander's shoulder, drawing him away from the bed.  "This isn't the time or the place for this."

 

Xander gave a bitter snort of laughter, eyes wild and wounded in a crazed dark face.  "It never is, is it?  'Cause she's the Slayer and the rest of us are shit."  His furious gaze branded Buffy as he turned back for one final shot.  "So long, Buffy.  Have such a nice rest of your precious life."  He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, passing a now clearly visible Oz and Willow, who huddled together next to the doorway. Buffy squinted at them, reeling inside from Xander's diatribe.

 

"Will?" she whispered.  Her best friend looked terrible, twin smudges of deep purple shrouding red-rimmed eyes, a wide maroon gash scoring one pale cheek.  Willow looked smaller, somehow - shrunken and diminished, and she stood so close to Oz it was as though they were trying to fuse into one person.  He was bruised and battered also, and his arm was in a cast.  He hovered over Willow as though he were afraid she might vanish should his attention waver.

 

They said nothing, and Buffy returned her attention to her mother's worried face.  "Mom?"

 

Joyce reached out to caress her cheek.  "Xander's just upset, honey. You see, sweetheart, Mr.-" She blinked and looked away, biting her lower lip.  "Um, Cordelia?  She-"  Joyce paused again and swallowed.

 

"Cordy?  What?"

 

"Miss Chase died when the Mayor ascended," another voice – a British voice - said, and Buffy turned her head to discover Wesley Wyndham-Price seated in a chair by the window.  He was staring at her, his back ramrod straight, still dressed in a suit despite the crutches resting against the wall next to him and the unwieldy cast on his lower right leg.  His chin actually showed the faintest hint of stubble, and his hair was messy - and she realized she'd never seen her impeccably groomed ersatz Watcher so disheveled.  It seemed almost surreal.

 

She blinked at him.  "Cordy died?" she repeated, not really processing his words.

 

"The Mayor got her," Oz volunteered, sounding oddly detached.  "And Principal Snyder."

 

"And approximately fifty members of the graduating class," Wesley offered bluntly.  "In addition to assorted parents and school officials from the audience."

 

Cordelia gone?  The thought was so huge that Buffy could not comprehend it. It wasn't supposed to happen that way - not to them, not to the ones she held most dear.  Cordy belonged to the Scooby Gang; even when she said she didn't, she did, and no one in the Gang was supposed to die.  The Evil wasn't supposed to win, not like that. "But Mayor Wilkins-"

 

"Died in his demon form from injuries sustained from a massive explosion during the ceremony," Wesley supplied matter-of-factly.

 

Buffy stared at him.  "Oh."

 

Oz and Willow approached her bed, and Joyce stepped reluctantly out of the way.  Oz had his uninjured arm around his girlfriend's waist and appeared to almost be supporting her full weight. Willow shuffled her feet as though she'd forgotten exactly how to walk, and her wide, blank eyes were dark and hollow.  Mottled bruises stood out in stark relief against her pale skin.  She clutched the witch Pez dispenser Oz had given her long ago in one abraded hand, her grip so tight that her scabbed knuckles shone white.

 

"Willow?" Buffy whispered, but Willow didn't seem to hear, her blank stare never wavering from somewhere near the foot of the bed.  Buffy had never seen her friend look so devastated, not even when Ms. Calendar had died.  She knew Willow felt things deeply - maybe more deeply than any of the rest of them - but she still found the extremity of Willow's reaction just a little off. 

 

Sure, Cordelia had been a friend, but she and Willow had never been especially close.  Had someone else...?  But, no, Willow's parents hadn't planned to attend graduation even before the gang had found out the date of the Ascension and ordered their loved ones out of town.  Oz and Xander were obviously alive, if not quite all right, so then why...?  A wave of dark foreboding made her shiver, and she focused resolutely on her friend's drawn face.  "Will?"

 

"We came to say goodbye," Oz said after a moment, when it became clear Willow wasn't going to speak.  "Willow's coming with me on tour."

 

"What?"  Buffy frowned in confusion - they had discussed whether or not Willow should accompany her boyfriend on the Dingoes circuit across California, but the redhead had ultimately decided she didn't really want to be a roadie.  She and Buffy had instead planned on one last 'girls-only' summer' before college.  "I thought-"

 

"She needs to get out of here," Oz interrupted, startling Buffy.  Her gaze narrowed on his face, and she realized he wasn't really looking at her, either.  Willow's right hand gripped his with white-knuckled intensity, and both of them were staring down at the hospital bedcovers, as though they couldn't bear to look Buffy in the face.  "We're glad you woke up before we had to go.  We're leaving tomorrow morning."

 

"Oh," Buffy repeated faintly.

 

"So, uh, take care."  Neither he nor Willow reached out to touch her, to take her hand or hug her goodbye.  They turned to go, and Willow's gaze flickered over Buffy's face without recognition. She leaned in to her boyfriend's side and he wrapped his left arm more firmly around her shoulders, shepherding her toward the door.  Buffy reached out a hand and opened her mouth to call them back, but she couldn't find the words.

 

"Mom," she murmured in distress after they disappeared into the hallway.  Joyce rushed to the side of the bed and enveloped her in a hug, mindful of the trailing IV line.

 

"I'm sorry, baby," Joyce murmured, rocking her daughter gently back and forth.  "I'm so sorry." Buffy closed her eyes and buried her face in her mother's blouse.

 

"Mrs. Summers, may I speak to your daughter alone for a moment?"  Wesley's voice was ever-polite, but there was an edge to it that made Buffy tense in her mother's embrace.  Joyce froze, her hand halting mid-rub on Buffy's back.

 

"Mr. Wyndham-Price, I really think I ought to be here when-" Joyce began, but Wesley cut her off.

 

"I'm afraid we need privacy for official Council business, Ma'am," he insisted firmly.  "I only require a few minutes."

 

Joyce regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded.  She briefly caressed Buffy's cheek with one palm and kissed her forehead before rising from the bed.  "I'll be right back, honey. I just want to check in with your doctor and call your father."

 

"Wait, Mom-" Buffy said, but Joyce didn't miss a step as she exited through the door, and Buffy suddenly got the feeling that her mother was eager to escape the room.  Her stomach twisted in nervous knots as she considered the myriad possible reasons why Joyce would wish to be elsewhere at that moment - and none of them boded particularly well.  Buffy glanced back at Wesley, who was regarding her with a slight frown on his face.  After a few tense, silent moments, he sighed and struggled to rise from his chair, leaning heavily on one of the crutches.

 

He cleared his throat, appearing uncertain as to how to begin.  "Er...ah, how much do you recall of the events leading up to your hospitalization?"

 

She frowned and bit her lip, her nervous fingers twisting the bedcovers.  "Um, nothing really - I guess.  I, uh, I remember the Prom...and Giles taking me for ice cream..."  Her mind reflexively skittered away from picturing Giles, but she shook off her uneasiness, scowling in deep concentration as she tried to remember further.  "And...um, I remember Willow and Xander talking about...uh, Las Vegas?  Siegfried and Roy?"  Her frown deepened in confusion. "No, that can't be ri-...the Mayor...that's right, the Mayor."  She looked up at Wesley.  "He was going to be the commencement speaker at graduation, and Xander was totally wigged..."  Her eyes widened in horror.  "He came into the library! And he said he was going to eat me and Giles stabbed him!"  Her breath caught at the memory.  "But of course it didn't do any good..."

 

"Yes," Wesley agreed, watching her closely.

 

"And demon-girl had been to an Ascension," Buffy continued, closing her eyes as hazy images rushed back to her from that day in the library.  "She said it meant he'd become like some kind of uber-demon and destroy the whole town.  So we figured he was gonna use graduation as a kind of all-you-can-eat buffet or something."

 

"Yes," Wesley said again as he leaned forward, eyes glued intently on her face.  "And?"

 

"There was this...professor guy."  She swallowed, her stomach roiling with sudden queasiness. "In the paper.  And we thought...uh, that Faith k-killed him for the Mayor, so I went to check out his place..."  

 

Angel had been there, she remembered, and they had argued, as they always seemed to do lately.  They had argued, and he had turned to storm away from her, and then....

 

The image rushed back to her in vivid Technicolor.  "Someone shot Angel!" Her stricken eyes found Wesley's, begging him to disagree.

 

"That's correct," Wesley murmured.

 

"Faith..." she whispered, disconsolate.  It hurt so much every time she was forced to face how much her sister Slayer actually hated her.  Faith had tried to kill Angel this time - there was no other possible interpretation of her actions, not when she'd chosen to use a wooden arrow.  Buffy guessed it was a good thing Faith had bailed so often on training; she was nowhere near as good with projectile weapons as Buffy was.  But the intent was clear nonetheless.  "Faith shot him."

 

"With a poisoned arrow," Wesley agreed.

 

Buffy glanced over at him.  That she hadn't remembered.  Her brow furrowed.  "Poisoned? But that wouldn't-"

 

"The colloquial name translates roughly as 'Killer-of-the-Dead'," he supplied briskly.  "A special poison designed to incapacitate vampires.  Very effective, as the cure is quite hard to come by."

 

"Cure?"

 

He regarded her silently for a moment, then nodded to himself, as though coming to some sort of decision.  "Yes.  The cure - which is draining the blood of a Slayer."

His words hit her like a lightning bolt.

Part 2

 

Comments

You have been nominated at the Bodice Ripper Awards

[scratchingpost1.livejournal.com]

Your story or fanart has been nominated at the Bodice Ripper Awards. If you would like the story (or fanart) to be nominated, please let me know. Information on the nomination can be found here: http://bra.drakeleather.com/nominees_round12.shtml

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Re: You have been nominated at the Bodice Ripper Awards

[blairprovence.livejournal.com]

Totally fine with me. Thanks!