Title: Atonement, Part 5
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Overall rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Angel
Summary: Angel returns to Sunnydale intent on saving Giles’ life and making amends, but discovers that his good intentions may bring about more suffering than either of them can handle.
Setting: Season four of BtVS, season one of AtS.
Warning: Slash and a little angst.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Kuzui, Fox, ME, Sandollar, etc. own the rights to the characters in this story, but I’m happy to live in their shadow.
They both stood staring for what seemed an eternity but was really only a few seconds before Buffy ran over to Giles. As she knelt down next to him she fervently prayed to whatever god would listen for him to be alive. The thought of losing him—or worse, having to dust him if he’d been turned—made her feel sick.
Then she saw something that filled her with relief—the bite wounds on his throat were still bleeding, the blood sluggishly pumping out with every beat of his heart. Not that losing so much blood was a good thing, but given the alternatives, she was downright giddy with relief.
“He’s alive,” she said, almost to herself. From behind her she heard Xander let out a huge breath.
Buffy tore a strip off the sheet Giles was lying on and pressed it hard over the bite to staunch the bleeding.
“Angelus,” said Xander vehemently.
“I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right—I was stupid to bring him into this…but I didn’t know…”
“No—Buffy, he said he was going to wait for us in the car, which means either he’s saving us for dessert, or we’re rideless.”
“Well we can’t stay here; the demon cult guys could be here any minute.” She looked down at Giles’ peacefully unconscious face. In a way it was a good thing he’d passed out, because carrying him with that broken leg would have hurt like hell. She wrapped him up in the bloodstained blanket, not even attempting to try and dress him, and gently hefted him over her shoulder in a fireman’s hold. As Buffy carried him over the threshold, she tried not to think what must have happened to free him from the trap.
“Hurry.” Said Xander needlessly, lighting the way for both of them as they raced up the long corridor. The thought of running into a bloodthirsty horde of demons in the corridor with nowhere to hide was enough to spur them on.
By the time they got to the surface, the sun had set. Streaks of red and orange still scarred the sky, marking its final descent to the horizon. A couple of times along the way they had to find cover to avoid being spotted by groups of demons arriving for the sacrifice. Luckily the demons were all too preoccupied, chatting excitedly about the upcoming ritual, to notice the poorly hidden trio of humans in the brush. Each time they had to stop, Buffy checked up on Giles. The bleeding had nearly stopped under her makeshift bandage, but in the moonlight he looked deathly pale, and there were dark smudges around his eyes.
Despite the delays, they made good time, hoofing it between their forced breaks. When they finally made it to the dirt side-road, they were surprised to find the Citroën still waiting for them. They approached cautiously, fully expecting Angelus to jump out at them at any moment. But the car looked deserted. Xander flashed his light through the window to check inside, and that’s when Buffy saw the writing in the dust on the windshield.
“Xander…” she said.
He joined her, and as he read the message left for them by Angelus, his lips drew into a hard thin line.
It said, simply: “Willow or Giles.”
“You drive,” said Buffy, and she slid Giles carefully into the backseat, climbing in after him. As Xander sped through the desert towards Sunnydale, Buffy made Giles as comfortable as she could, laying him down on the seat with his head cradled in her lap. She couldn’t take her eyes off him: it was as if she feared he would suddenly die on her if she didn’t watch him closely.
“I don’t get it,” said Xander out of the blue.
“Angelus is giving us a choice,” Buffy explained. “We can either save Giles by getting him to the hospital in time, or we can try to get to Willow before he does.”
“I get that,” said Xander. “What I don’t get is how Angel lost his soul. What could possibly have made him so damn happy? I mean, it’s not like they had sex or anything.”
Xander chuckled nervously when Buffy didn’t answer him. “That’s it, isn’t it,” he said with a rigid smile plastered on his face. “Sweet Mother of God! That’s why Angel was there. They had sex!”
Buffy hugged Giles’ shoulders as if protecting him from Xander’s words. “I didn’t know. I swear, Xander, I didn’t know.”
Xander had grown pale at the thought of what Giles must have gone through, and for a moment he thought he might have to pull over and be sick. He looked back at Giles in the rear-view mirror and his hatred for Angelus consumed him.
“We’re taking him to the hospital,” he bit out matter-of-factly.
“Of course we will, Xander. But we have to go to Willow first. We don’t know how much of a head start Angelus has on us.”
“We don’t know how much time Giles has, either,” said Xander. “The hospital’s on the other end of town—we don’t have time to make a side trip.”
Buffy ran her fingers through the hair at Giles’ temple, smoothing it gently as she thought. She knew Xander was right—Giles was weak and growing weaker by the minute.
“Right,” she said. “Then we’ll just have to do both at the same time. As soon as we get into town, drop me off and keep on going to the hospital. I’ll get to Willow on my own.”
“It’ll take you too long to get there on foot,” Xander argued.
“We don’t have much choice, do we? And I’m a lot faster than you might think.”
Xander pushed the ancient Citroën to its limits and made it back to town in record time. Just inside the city limits he caught sight of the bus depot and he got an idea. He made a hard right and pulled up behind a line of taxicabs in front of the depot.
“Have you got any cash?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Buffy as she got out of the car. Before he pulled away, Buffy leaned into his window. “Promise me you’ll stay with him?”
“I promise. Now go.”
They parted ways, Xander peeling away from the depot like a madman to make up for lost time. He chewed the inside of his cheek and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously, wishing Giles would make a noise—any noise—just to reassure him that he was still alive back there.
The car squealed to a stop outside the hospital’s Emergency entrance. Xander bolted from the car and flagged down the first person in scrubs he could find. It turned out to be a nurse on her way out for a smoke, and she sighed resignedly as she pocketed her cigarettes and walked over to the frantically waving young man.
Thankfully, when she saw the shape Giles was in she became all business, and faster than Xander would have thought possible, she had a team of people descending on the Citroën. They quickly loaded Giles onto a stretcher and started wheeling him into the building.
A rumpled and exhausted-looking young intern shepherded Xander away from the entourage and began asking him questions. Was Xander a relative? No—just a friend. Was he the one who’d found him? Yes. Did he know what happened? No. Where there any allergies they should know about? Was there someone they should call? Did he have insurance?
Xander did his best to answer the questions, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d let Giles down. He should have known about his allergies and his blood type and all that stuff. After all, he was the closest thing to family that Giles had here in the States.
He watched them wheel Giles into a little room crammed with machines and began to follow them, but the rumpled doctor blocked his way. Xander craned his neck to see through the door’s window into the tiny room, trying to catch a glimpse of Giles.
“I know you’re worried about your friend,” said the intern, “but you’ll just be in the way in there right now. Dr. Martinez is the best, I assure you. Your friend is in good hands.” The young man gave Xander’s arm a reassuring squeeze before joining the others in the forbidden room.
Out in the parking lot in front of the Emergency entrance, the Citroën rocked on its wheels. Hidden in the trunk of the car, Angelus had been waiting with the patience of a saint—or at least a saint who’d lost his soul and was hell-bent on causing misery and chaos. He’d waited for the car to reach its final destination, and then he’d waited until all was quiet. Now it was time to make his move: popping the trunk from the inside, he slipped out from his hiding place unnoticed.
Like he’d thought, they’d split up, leaving Xander and Giles vulnerable while Buffy went off to ‘rescue’ Willow. All he needed now was a window of opportunity and he would finish what he’d started. He was furious at what Angel had done with Giles. Not the sex part—that had actually been pretty hot—but all that compassion and tenderness he’d shown the man…it was nauseating, really.
Angelus intended on savouring his revenge. And when it was all over, he might just have a new playmate.
Xander paced restlessly around the waiting room, biting his nails and constantly pestering the front desk for any news on Giles. His stomach seemed to be roiling with acid and with every minute that passed he grew more and more anxious.
At last he saw the rumpled intern walking towards him and he nearly pounced on the poor man.
“Well?” Xander asked.
“Your friend lost a lot of blood, but we’ve got him stabilized.”
“Is he awake? Can I see him?”
The young intern hesitated and studied Xander carefully before answering. “His injuries were extensive, Mr…Harris was it?” Xander nodded. “Are you aware of what happened to him?”
“No. Like I said earlier, I found him like that and brought him straight here. I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“That’s right—you did say that,” said the intern sceptically. “Then you’ll have no information that might help the medical examiners that are currently checking him over?”
Xander felt his cheeks burning. He knew what the doctor was implying, and he also knew he was the obvious suspect. But what hadn’t occurred to him until now was that they were treating Giles as a rape victim. Xander could feel the doctor’s intense glare on him as he sputtered out his declarations of ignorance.
The rumpled young intern obviously interpreted Xander’s reaction as one of innocence and indignation, because he slowly nodded and asked Xander to follow him. He led him back to the little forbidden room and ushered him inside.
“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” said the intern, “but you can sit with him if you’d like. I should warn you, though, that the police have been called in—standard procedure in a case like this. They’ll want to ask you some questions.”
Xander nodded, his mouth dry as the Sahara. This was like the time he’d been caught eating cookies from the bulk bins at the grocery store, only much worse—he had a feeling the police wouldn’t be as quick to believe him as the intern had been.
Xander waited for the door to close behind him before approaching Giles’ bed. Now that he’d been cleaned up, it was obvious that the blood they’d seen around his mouth had come from a split lip. He felt relief all over again at this added proof that Giles hadn’t been turned. Still, he couldn’t believe how pale and fragile Giles looked under the harsh fluorescent lights, hooked up to all those machines. After a moment’s awkwardness, Xander took his friend’s hand in his own.
He happened to look up at that moment, and saw the young intern smiling knowingly at him through the window. Xander smiled warily back at him, realising the man had misinterpreted the whole hand-holding thing, but not caring enough to set him right on the matter.
The cab ride to campus ranked high up there on Buffy’s top ten list of frustrating events in her life. The driver flat out refused to go faster than the speed limit and seemed to take an evil glee in stopping for every orange light—even the ones he could easily have made.
As soon as UC Sunnydale came into view, Buffy tossed a handful of bills at the driver, bitterly resenting the time restraints that made it necessary to let him keep the change. She jumped out of the cab before it could come to a full stop and hit the ground running.
She crossed campus like she had the devil at her heels and when she reached her residence, took the stairs three at a time. She pulled a stake from her purse as she flew down the hallway to her dorm room and kicked the door open. Buffy stormed in, ready to stake anything that moved, but all she saw when she got there was a startled and bewildered Willow, lying on her bed with her foot propped up on a pillow.
“Hey, Buffy,” said Willow uncertainly. “What’s up?” But what she really meant was ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing breaking down your own door?’
“Is he here? Has he shown up yet?” asked Buffy.
“Oz is locked up tonight,” said Willow, confused. “Full moon, remember?”
“Not Oz. Angelus,” said Buffy. “Has Angelus been here?”
“Angelus?” Willow said, her eyebrows climbing towards her hairline. “Buffy, what…oh…Oh my God…Angel lost his soul?”
“He did. Then he went all psycho killer on Giles,” said Buffy grimly.
Willow blanched. “Giles!”
“He’s alive. We got to him before Angelus could finish with him.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” Asked Willow with a fearful squeak.
“I don’t know. Xander took him to the hospital, but…he didn’t look good, Will.”
“Then why did you come here? You could have called me from the hospital,” said Willow.
“Angelus left us a message—I thought he was coming here.”
“What did the message say?”
“It said ‘Willow or Giles’. He was giving us a choice of who we could save,” said Buffy.
“Or maybe he was making you guess which one of us he would go after,” suggested Willow.
“Then Angelus might have been after Giles this whole time,” said Buffy. Without another word she turned on her heel and marched out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
“I’ll just stay here, then,” said Willow to the empty room. “Stupid foot,” she said to her own disabled appendage.
Xander’s visit with Giles was anything but private. Nurses and orderlies kept popping in to check on Giles, and Xander sensed from their varying attitudes that the general consensus was that he was either Giles’ boyfriend or his assailant. Or both. He tried not to let it get to him, but every time the door whooshed open he found himself grinding his teeth.
Christine, the nurse who’d helped him get Giles out of the car, entered the room and Xander unclenched his jaw. She seemed to like him, and so far she was the only one who’d volunteered any information about Giles’ condition. She smiled warmly at him as she checked Giles’ saline drip.
“How long until he wakes up?” asked Xander in his hushed, hospital voice.
“Not for a while,” she answered. “We’ve got him on morphine for the pain, and that should let him rest comfortably.” She saw the concern etched onto Xander’s face and took pity on him. “He’s tough, Mr. Harris. He’s doing much better than we expected considering his injuries. Just be patient. Let him sleep—give his body time to heal itself.” She winked at Xander and marked something down on the chart at the foot of the bed.
Xander was just starting to feel better about the situation when two uniformed policemen squeezed their way into the room.
“Can you give us a minute?” the tall, dark-haired one asked Christine. It wasn’t so much a question as a demand, and Christine timidly retreated from the tiny room.
“Are you Alexander Lavelle Harris?” asked the puffy-faced blond cop. He had a little notebook in one hand and a pen poised expectantly in the other.
“Yes,” answered Xander, feeling his hands go cold in an instant. It’s never a good start when they use your middle name. Middle names are only used when you’re in trouble; it was a well-known fact.
“You’re the one who brought in Mr. Giles?”
“Yes, but I…”
“Do you know Mr. Giles?”
“Yes, but…”
“How close would you say you are to Mr. Giles?”
“We’re friends. Good friends, but…”
“Can you tell me how it is you came to find your ‘good friend’ in this condition?”
Xander licked his parched lips and was about to spew out the same story he’d given the intern, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that stopped him cold. In the window, behind the two cops, a dark figure had appeared—Angelus grinned malevolently at Xander and waggled his fingers in a mocking ‘hello’.
Fury filled Xander, and for a moment he forgot where he was and whom he was with. All he could think of was getting his hands around Angelus’ throat and squeezing the un-life out of him. He made a mad charge towards the door, but the cops immediately grabbed him and struggled him to the floor. Xander fought to get free, but they held him down, and they were not about to let him go.
In the window, Angelus laughed a hard, mirthless laugh, then disappeared from view.