Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.


SECTION 6 - GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN

Some boys take a beautiful girl
And hide her away from the rest of the world
I wanna be the one to walk in the sun

Hey now, hey now
What's a matta with ya?
Girls just wanna have fun now
Come on

(Cyndi Lauper, Album - 12 deadly Cyns... and then some)




Chapter 6.16
Thursday, May 16th, 2002

Spike cradled Buffy in his lap as they both waited anxiously by her sister's bedside. The slayer stroked her sibling's hand as if hoping the contact might help pull the teenager back from her delusion. Spike, in turn, stroked Buffy's back and twined the fingers of her other hand with his own.

"She should be coming out of it by now. It's not working. She should be better."

"Shhh. love. It's only been half an hour. Plenty time yet." Spike's words were partially belied by his own anxiety that Buffy could feel through the bond. "And if the first dose doesn't bring her round we've got plenty more. And to be quite honest I wouldn't be too upset if it took all three bottles to put the Bit to rights." An element of self-satisfaction made itself known.

"Spike, what aren't you telling me?"

"Hell!" said the vampire with a disingenuous smile. "Did I forget to mention that I'm expecting your ex to turn up looking for the leftovers? ...Once he puts two and two together and works out what's wrong with his missus, that is."

"Spi-ike." Buffy sounded surprised and impressed. She pressed her lips to Spike's forehead.

"You're not ticked?" the vampire asked.

"It seems to smack of justice to me, in an eye for an eye sort of way. I guess it's sort of petty, but after what she did... and I guess there's no permanent damage."

"Hey, I don't claim to be a champion. You want petty and vindictive? That, I can do."

"So? You have all the antidote?"

"All that they had on the train . I guess if Huck Finn doesn't come looking for it then we know they've got the base back up and running again."

"Where do you reckon Brandon and his dad fit into all this?" Buffy asked.

"I'm not rightly sure. It's a bit strange that he knew about the whole Hostile 17 thing, but when he said he didn't set the kids up, I believed him. And I know at that age everybody thinks they're immortal, but you don't get in the way of a bullet for someone you're setting up."

"So, you think Brandon's okay?"

Spike shrugged. "As much as I'm going to think any kid who comes after my Niblet is okay."

"That's enough of a recommendation for me. And dad?"

"I guess we'll hear him out."

At this point a nurse bustled into the cubicle. She passed a medium sized bag she was carrying to Buffy before she began going through the motions of taking Dawn's temperature and pulse.

"The gentleman who came in with you earlier dropped those off for you," she told the couple. Then, she continued almost as if she were talking to herself. "Hmm, temperature's dropping. Pulse is still the low side of normal."

"So, she's improving? Right?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, it seems so but we won't know for sure until she comes round and stays round."

Spike's attention seemed to be caught by some noise from outside the cubicle. "What is it?" Buffy asked, as the receptionist's protests became more voluble and the nurse moved out into the corridor to see what was causing the disturbance.

Spike's reply came slowly, and by the time he finished he was almost being drowned out by the woman's protests and by the sound of curtains being pulled aside. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, pet, I think it's Brandon." As he said the teenager's name, the curtain around their cubicle was pulled aside to reveal the youth, still in a hospital gown, one hand clasping the stand to which the bag for his saline drip was attached. His father hovered closely behind him.

"Well, I guess the Summers women go for the stubborn types." Buffy did her best to make light of the situation.

The older Michaels shrugged. "As soon as he woke up he was asking for her. When I said she'd been brought in, there was no way to keep him in that bed."

"How is she?" the teenager asked, looking as if it had taken all his reserves of strength to make his way down there. Spike slipped out from under Buffy and moved round to the opposite side of the bed to pull aside the curtain between Dawn's cubicle and the next, revealing an empty bed.

"The fever's dropping. As to the rest, it's a waiting game. Why don't you pull up a pew?" Spike took the seat next to Buffy's leaving the chair between the two beds for Brandon's father after they helped the teenager onto the empty bed.

"Really!" the nurse protested. "You can't just commandeer a bed anywhere you feel like it. These beds may be needed at any time for emergency cases."

"Well, in that case, maybe you should consider transferring Dawn up to the same room as her young man, because I have a funny feeling he's not going to be leaving," the vampire suggested. "It's past due for her to be moved to somewhere with actual walls, anyway. I mean, anyone could just come barging in here whenever they want," he added dryly.

The nurse scowled at the group and stalked off.

Brandon's father looked over at the vampire. "You seem to have a gift for ruffling people's feathers."

"Well, it's not like the boy's doin' any harm where he is, and it is past time they moved her out of here."

"I think they're still supposed to be assessing her, so they can know which ward to put her in," Buffy offered. "It's not like I'm in a hurry for them to stick her in the psychiatric ward."

"Shhh, pet." Spike's arm wrapped around Buffy's shoulders and she found herself pulled back onto his lap once more. "Not gonna happen. Not when they know it's a result of the poison. Not unless she was dangerous, which she isn't, though I don't think I'd want to be in your shoes, kid, when she does come out of it.

Anyway, what'd the watcher send you?"

Buffy pulled open the bag and flipped through its contents. "Some clothes for Dawn, a couple of thermos flasks, your car and bike keys and a note." She pulled the envelope from the bag. Spike looked over her shoulder as she read it.

"Dear All,

Willow is fine. Riley dropped her off about an hour ago. She has a migraine-type headache, but other than that she seems okay in herself, though she is anxious to know what transpired whilst she was unconscious. She assures us all that a bit of willow bark will put her right. You may want to stock up on aspirin before you get home.

The car is outside, ready and waiting for when you need it and the bike's back at Spike's flat. Tara picked out some clothes for Dawn to wear coming home, whenever that is, and she also thought you might both need a pick me up, though Spike may have to be careful where and when he drinks his.

I hope this finds you all in the best of health.

Wesley."

"You know I sometimes wonder what we did before that guy started hanging round," Spike said.

"We relied on Xander and gave him very specific instructions," Buffy told him.

"I don't suppose here would be the ideal place to discuss what happened tonight?" Brandon's father asked.

"No, not unless we just move back up to your room anyway," Buffy answered. "Though I agree we need to talk."

"I had a feeling you might think you were due some sort of explanation."

"You feel right." This was from the vampire. "But, as you said, here isn't the place. So, how about we call a truce for now."

The minutes ticked by as slowly as the first thaw of spring. After another half-hour Spike fetched the doctor from his Buffy-imposed exile in the waiting room and handed over a second bottle of the antivenin to inject her again. All the time they waited Buffy fretted and Spike did his best to reassure her, despite his own worries. Then, about twenty minutes after the second injection, Dawn's hand shifted slightly under Buffy's.

"Dawn? Dawnie? Are you okay?" Buffy whispered.

Dawn's free hand reached to remove the tape that once again held her eyelids closed. "Jeez, I wish you guys would quit with this stuff. I'm going to have no eyelashes left," she teased her sister as she pulled the tape from her eyes.

"How're you feelin', Bitlet?" Spike asked softly, his gaze fixed upon his pseudo-daughter's face.

"Kinda hung over... not of course that I would know hung over," she hastily covered. "Just that I feel like Xander looked when him and Anya broke up."

"Nice try." Her sister was too pleased to see her back to herself to make the strict voice stick. "We'll discuss your impending alcoholism when you get home. For now, I think, maybe the guy in the next bed wants a few words."

Dawn swivelled her head in the opposite direction and then winced as the movement sent a spearhead of pain to her temples.

"Would there be any chance that you all might leave us alone for five minutes?" Brandon looked hopefully at the adults in the two cubicles.

"Reckon we should go find a doctor. Let him know she's back in the land of the living. Maybe see if there's anywhere we can get a decent cup of coffee round here, but talk quick 'cause we kinda want some time with her ourselves." Buffy rose to her feet and stretched a hand to her fiancé as he made to follow his own suggestion.

As the adults cleared the room Dawn looked Brandon up and down. "You don't look too bad for a guy who was shot last night."

"I don't feel too bad either."

"Okay. What is it with you? I'm a bit confused here, and what with that and the humongous headache, I'm kinda cranky. Now, I guess I owe you an apology for thinking that you put that stuff in my drink, and I'm sorry for what I said, but if you've just been going out with me as some junior spy mission for daddy, then you better tell me now."

 

---

 

Spike turned to Brandon's father as they left the ER treatment area, having informed the doctor that she'd come round but insisting he await her sister's return before examining the patient. "I guess now might be a good time for that talk. What say we use Brandon's room, since he doesn't seem to have a use for it."

It actually took the three about a quarter of an hour to sort through the situation to their satisfaction, but Buffy just wanted to make sure she had everything straight.

"So your old army buddy asked you to take the job so that you could keep an eye open for anything unusual that the army might be up to in these parts, because he thought there was something fishy going on? And all you get in return is a glowing recommendation for department head when Sunnydale High re-opens next year?"

"Pretty much. But Jim's a friend. I did it because he asked."

"And you only knew about us because you reviewed the files on what happened two years ago."

"Files, video footage, whatever Jim could lay his hands on."

"So, you don't know anything about any surveillance?"

"Just what it said in the minutes of the meeting when The Initiative was supposedly being wound up, that it was thought they should keep tabs on you to ensure you wouldn't go public. I would have assumed that it would have lapsed long ago once it became apparent you had no such plans."

"We don't think so."

"I can see if there's anything Jim can do about that. Once they track down the people this Sam Finn was working with."

"Just one more thing. You say you had access to the files. Does that include the files on the prisoners? And what sort of video footage are we talking about?"

"The files are a bit hit and miss. A lot of the records were destroyed. There were quite a few fires that last day, but there were some inmate files." He gave a nod toward Spike. "Yours was an especially thick one. As far as video goes, it's just really surveillance camera footage of that last day. The video storage room was a write off. All the tapes of the day to day stuff were destroyed."

"We're going to need to see whatever you've got?" Buffy watched the former soldier carefully for any sign he would refuse her request, even if she had framed it as a statement.

"I'd have thought you would already know most of this. You were for a time part of the operation, and you were both there on the final day."

Spike knew why Buffy was asking and chose this moment to speak up. "Mr Michaels, some friends of ours lost a family member in that place. A little girl is growing up with no father. I don't think it's too much to expect for us to find out what we can about what actually happened to him."

"No, you're right. It isn't. You can have a look through anything I have, though I'm afraid I can't let you take copies and I'll have to be there."

"That's fair, I suppose," Buffy admitted. "And your guy's going to track down whoever authorised the train and whoever else was helping her and see to it that this demon hunting squad gets disbanded and the base is closed down again? Properly, this time?"

"I don't think you're going to need to worry about them resurfacing any time in the near future," the man confirmed.

"Alright, then. I don't doubt that we're going to have more to discuss, but for now, I think we both want to get back to Dawn."

 

---

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow up a bit. Up until this morning, I didn't know that there was any connection between your lot and dad coming here. I knew that Uncle Jim had asked him to take the job as a favour to him, but I had no idea why.

I asked you out. okay, this is going to sound so hokey that you're probably going to dump me. The first time I saw you, just for a couple of seconds, it was like you glowed. Like you were this beautiful angel walking among us and I just knew."

"So, is there a history of mental illness in your family?" Dawn countered but not in the caustic tone that he expected.

"Look, I know how it sounds. This isn't some line that I'm feeding you to worm my way out of things, and normally, it would take ritual torture to get me to admit something like that-."

"I believe you. Just answer the question."

"Okay, no, to the best of my knowledge there is no family history of mental illness."

"What about second sight?"

"What? Why?"

"Just. Answer. The. Question."

"Well, yeah, actually. My grandfather, on ma's side's supposed to have a touch of the sight. But I don't see what that..."

"You will... soon, assuming you still want to keep seeing me, that is?"

"You think I'd let some other guy take you to that formal in that killer dress that you won't let me see?"

"I don't know. Getting shot at would put most guys off, never mind getting shot."

"Well, like your sister said, the Summers girls seem to go for the stubborn type."

The End

The story continues in Fumbling Towards Ecstasy , the fourth "book" in the series... Or if you wait a few days, once I've had a little break from the daily postings I'll start posting it here.