TENWEK HOSPITAL- KENYA, AFRICA-

There had been word of a body that had been lifted out of the Tsavo reserve and brought to hospital with her. But he couldn’t be bothered to think of that now. Not when his Slayer was lying in a hospital bed in front of him.

Rupert Giles knew he should care about what happened to the “body” and where it was now, but, as he stood with Panya, at the foot of her bed at the end of a seemingly endless row of beds in the small hospital, all he could think about was her. There was no privacy here. Privacy was a luxury for other places, places he knew she should be now.

Here it was hot and stifling. The heat made it difficult for him to focus. There was little light here. He knew that the use of natural light was sensible because it helped keep the heat down. It helped to keep the patients here as comfortable as possible while their systems were compromised, while they recovered their health.

It made sense. And, somewhere in his rational mind, he knew that the care Buffy was receiving at this facility was perfectly proper and the best that could be had. Still as he worried over her, as he watched her as she slept under the insect netting, as he saw the sheen of sweat break out on her face, he wished that the hospital was better equipped. He wished that she were back in her bed in Sunnydale. At least there, he was more certain of the cleanliness of Buffy’s surroundings. Looking around at the questionable sanitation here, he was saddened. He knew that this was the best that Buffy could hope to have, given her current condition. He also knew that the doctors were doing the best they could under very trying circumstances and stressed-to-the-limit resources. Even so, he wished he had never caused her to be here in the first place.

He wished he had taken better care of her. He realized now, that he’d put her in danger. He knew she could have died. He’d put her in harm’s way. He’d left her alone with a killer.

The fact that she was even able to sleep, restlessly or not, now, wasn’t due to any diligence on his part. That was due to the park rangers and their marksmanship.

He knew that Buffy wouldn’t be foolish enough to go out beyond the protections of the fires or the burma. She had lived for years on the Hellmouth. She knew better than to put herself in danger. She’d lived longer than any other Slayer in history, even before Willow had used her ill-conceived magic. She knew how to take care of herself.

He knew the story of a lion attack was a cover-up. Lion attack indeed. He knew the truth. And, so did Buffy. As Giles looked at her as she slept, he would have been hard pressed to give a bloody damn where the mysterious “body” was. At this point, all he did give a damn about was Buffy, and her health.

She could hear the whistle of the wind as it blew through the grass. She wasn’t sure if it was the wind, or the sight of him, that made her cold.

Buffy wondered, as she looked at him, why on earth he’d chosen to look like he did. He was a vampire. His job was to be a creature of the night, stay to the shadows. It had always worked this way. But, not with this one. With Spike it was different. Spike had been full of life, from the very beginning. Buffy could remember the way he seemed to be drawn to the light. With Spike the shadows were a necessary evil. They weren’t wanted. In fact, he sought out the light. It seemed as if the search for light became his reason for being. When others shied away from danger, he went straight for it. It was amazing. What else would explain the beacon of a hairstyle? Did he want the Slayer to find him?

Yes. Yes, he did. He had even said as much. And now, standing here in the dark African night, with blackness all around them, both natural and man-made, she was grateful for his gregarious nature.

It made him easy to find.

And, she was horrified by it.

It made him easy to find.

She could see his shoulders shaking, and heard the soft cries escaping as he held his head in his hands. She wanted to comfort him. She put her hand on his shoulder and he went still. His body went suddenly as still as stone. And, it frightened her, “Spike?”

The glowing amber eyes of a hunter- a killer faced her, “Slayer,” he growled. There was no mistaking the lethal intent. He was poised on the brink of attack. And whatever he attacked, he was going to kill.

And, he was looking at her… “Spike!”

The name that came from her lips, shaded with shock and pain, only served to galvanize his thoughts. Rupert Giles knew now that he had failed his Slayer. And, he also knew that he was not going to let that happen again.

He would not put her in danger, thoughtlessly, again. No matter what form in which that danger came.

He walked around to the side of the bed and, moving the netting aside, he tried to soothe her as the peace of sleep left her. He held her gently, trying to keep her from hurting herself further, “It’s all right,” he said in a low voice, the magnitude of what had happened was beginning to sink in for both of them, “It’s all right. It’s over now. You’re safe. He’s gone.”

Buffy couldn’t understand why her chest hurt. It hurt to breathe and her chest felt tight- constricted by the gauze that was wrapped around her middle.

The tight feeling in her chest was familiar. This had happened before, many times. Broken ribs. But, how did my ribs get broken? Oh…it must have been when …Why were her ribs broken?

Buffy took in another breath and was rewarded with the familiar stab from her fractured ribs. She looked around at her very unfamiliar surroundings, and found the face of her Watcher, close in her vision, “Giles,” she sighed, “I’m glad you’re back. It was really scary for a while. Spike, he…”

The sad and broken tone in her voice made it even harder for Giles to tell her what he knew he had to, “I’ve placed a call, to Devon, and I’m taking you back. As soon as the doctors say you’re well enough to make the trip, I’m going to make certain that you’re flown back to England to recuperate. In any case, I have to check in on Willow’s progress,” he smiled sadly at Buffy’s confused look, “Wouldn’t it be nice to see Willow again?”

She shook her head. Willow, no. She’s a murderer. But Spike- he’s… “No,” Buffy pleaded, “we can’t leave! Not now. Not when Spike…”

His tone hardened. How could a Slayer be this naive? “The vampire is not my concern now, you are my only concern here. You are all that matters now.”

Buffy’s chest hurt again, and this time it wasn’t from the broken ribs. Her heart hurt because Giles’s voice was hard. His voice sounded like it did after Jenny was killed. After Angel…There was only one reason that he would use the word, “vampire” as if it were a curse. She let in a short, painful breath and looked at her Watcher with new eyes. What she saw hurt her more than she could say, “You think he could do this?” her voice was soft. The shock of knowing what he was thinking made it hard to speak even more than the pain in her chest did, “Giles, you told me…he has a soul, remember? He wouldn’t do this.”

He wanted to believe too, more than she knew, “Do you remember what happened? They said that you were in cardiac arrest when you arrived…”

“Cardiac arrest?” Buffy’s eyes widened, “There wasn’t any blood loss, was there?”

Giles thought for a moment. The report the doctor had given him made no mention of any loss of blood. “No Buffy,” he said, “ there was no mention of blood loss.”

Her forehead creased as she tried to call memories from the recesses of her mind.

Giles did not want to see her in pain any longer, “Buffy, you should rest. It’s not important now…”

“No Giles, it is! It is important,” the sound of a gunshot echoed in her mind, “Oh my God, Giles. There was a gunshot,” she looked up at Giles and asked, “Giles, was I shot?”

He looked over at Panya in shock. His Swahili was indeed lacking. Perhaps, he had missed something. Panya shook his head quickly, indicating that he had not been informed of that injury.

Giles sighed in relief, “No you weren’t shot, thank God.”

Buffy glanced quickly around the darkened hospital ward, “Where is Spike?”

Panya’s face was grim, “Simba was not here when we arrived.”

“Not here?” Buffy’s heart leaped into her throat, “Then…where is he?”
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LONDON, ENGLAND-

Travers panted from exertion, and wiped his moist brow. He looked down at the broken vampire at his feet. He put his handkerchief back into his suit pocket and knelt close to the vampire’s face so that there would be no mistaking, by the vampire, his meaning. He shook his head in pity, “I don’t know what you think you’re gaining by keeping silent. If you tell me, I can assure you that this abuse will stop. Do you want it to stop?”

Yeah, I know the drill. Done it myself, back in the day. I tell you what you want to know. And, the pain does stop, because I’m dust. No deal, Watcher. Keep kicking. It doesn’t even sting yet.

That’s a bloody lie. This hurts like Hell. But, there’s no way, in Hell, I’m telling you that.

Quentin still saw the glint of defiance in his prisoner’s eyes. He would have to take care of that, “This is all for nothing, you know. You are nothing. You’re a thing,” he said as he kicked the vampire once more.

When the ripples of pain were finished coursing through his body, Spike gave a weak chuckle as he stared up into the Watcher’s eyes. His voice was weak as he began, but gained strength as he realized that he’d just been given the upper hand. The Watcher’s disguise was threadbare. He could see the frightened lad poking through, “You know, Watcher? I’ve been told that many times before,” a cough rattled through him, “Many times. By better people than you.”
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