Chapter 25
It’s an hour or so later when the door slams open. Giles and I are in the family room. I’ve lit another sandalwood incense stick on the makeshift altar to Osiris which I’m trying to make a bit less temporary. I’ve photocopied and blown up the picture of him from the book and put it in a picture frame behind the scales, which I’ve taken the small piece of meat from and buried it in the yard and set the feather across both baskets of the scales.
Spike is dragging Buffy through the door into the main house. She’s listless. She’s bleeding from her shoulder. Giles and I leap up and let him set her down.
“There was some bloody waxy arsehole demon.” Spike says, “Jabbed her with it’s arm sword bullshit.”
“Something poisonous.” Giles speculates.
Spike hits him with a ‘no duh’ sort of look. Giles returns it with a darker one. I leave them to it and go for the downstairs first aid kit which is in one of the kitchen cabinets.
“You didn’t recognize it?” Giles is asking Spike when I come back into the room.
“If I did would I have called it a ‘bloody waxy, bald arsehole’?”
“Bald too then.” Giles says.
“Yeah,” Spike waves his arms.
I go to Buffy and start getting her jacket off so I can get to her shoulder.
“It was a bit lumpy too.” Spike continues, “Never seen the bitch before. Hope I don’t again. Actually,” he turns away and back, “I hope I do I’ll shove his spine out his mouth and then beat him with it.”
I hear Willow and Dawn at the top of the stairs, just as I’m pulling out the bandages and antiseptic. The wound goes clear through her shoulder and out the back. She suddenly flinches and looks around warily.
Dawn is downstairs ahead of Willow, “What’s happened?” she asks.
Buffy is more focused now and takes her arm out of her shirt. Spike kneels down in front of her and asks how she feels.
She nods, “Better. It was—I don’t know. I was seeing things—I was in a weird place.”
“Well, you’ll be okay now.” Spike says.
Buffy’s smile in his direction is gentle and when he pats her knee she puts her hand over his, “Thank you for getting me home.”
“Anytime, pet.” He stands up.
“So, what happened?” Willow asks.
“We got to the house.” Buffy says, wincing and I apologize for the sting and she tells me it’s okay, “But just as we were looking around for signs of life that thing jumped us from the roof—”
“The roof?” Giles checks.
Spike nods, “Yeah. It was wily and we were sparring with it all over—it got Buffy after it threw me a bit away and countered her attack slamming her into a car and then—”
“It’s not your fault.” Buffy says, “I was off my game a bit.” She sighs.
Dawn helps me hold gauze on either side of Buffy’s shoulder so I can wrap her arm. I’m leery to use antibiotic cream given we don’t know which demon it was and what the toxin would do.
“Still.” Spike says. He starts pacing.
“Well,” Giles says, adjusting his glasses, “We need to work out what demon this was so we can sort out how to deal with the poison.”
“Duh.” Spike remarks, jumping as Dawn shouts Buffy’s name and I see she’s slumped down a bit and is staring off glassy eyed.
“Buffy!” Dawn says, again, looking at us all desperately.
“Let’s get her to bed so she can rest.” Willow says, “and we’ll get into research mode.”
Spike helps Willow get Buffy upstairs. I take Dawn to her room to see if I can calm her down.
“What if she--?” Dawn starts, tearing up, “Poison is usually deadly right?”
“We’ll find out what demon it was—there can only be so many.” I point out, “and we’ll cure her.”
She wrings her hands and then takes mine, “Promise?”
“Promise.” I tell her.
She gives me a hug and I can feel her tears against my shirt.
“It’ll be okay.”
“Everything always seems to be trying to take her away again.” Dawn whimpers, “Like she’s not supposed to be back.”
“She faced deadly things all the time before she died.” I tell her, cautiously, “and she always beat them—we always beat them.”
“Until Glory—” Dawn shakes her head, “Well, we beat them—but she…” She shudders.
“She’s back now, and we’re not going to let anything happen.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.” She says, “Can I help with research?”
“Of course.” I tell her.
“But Buffy doesn’t seem to like that—” she says after a moment.
“I think Buffy would be happier if you helped and found something than if you didn’t and we missed it.”
“She-she’d be dead then.”
“We don’t know that’s what this poison does. Some just make you sick for a while and then work their way out of your system…”
“Hopefully it’s that then.” Dawn says, “But at least I’ll be doing something in the meantime.”