Hurriedly she went towards the bathroom, taking a quick shower and emerging feeling somewhat refreshed. She was relieved that the images in her mind were still below the surface, not at all dominating as they'd been before. She could deal with them easier when they weren't overwhelming her. Sighing she decided to give in and picked up the telephone to call Giles, just to see if he had any idea what was causing her these problems. The ringing went on in her ear for over ten minutes, and she groaned as she slammed the receiver down and tried the library, his home away from home. Again there was no answer.
Rolling her eyes in frustration she got dressed in clothes she'd brought with her in her duffel bag, then sat down on the bed, pulling the bag up to accompany her. She searched through the contents, looking for something specific,and found it underneath all of her clothing in a small jewelry box she'd put it in to keep it safe. The ring. The ring Angel had given her the night her true torment had begun. She held it in her hands for a long moment, trying to force herself to do what she felt would be the final step in removing herself from her friends, from him, and from her life before. Buffy found, however, that she had neither the strength nor the desire to throw away the object that symbolized their forbidden love. Shaking her head, angry at herself for her inability to follow her own advice and cut off her emotions, she instead placed the ring upon her finger, deciding that even though they could never be together she could still have that small comfort.
In a flurry of motion the Slayer leapt from the bed, closed the duffel bag, took a quick look around the hotel room and left, hurrying downstairs and out the door in the hopes of making it to the train station on time. As she half walked, half ran down the street, she had the strangest sensation, as though she was being watched. Buffy shrugged it off as being yet another part of her ever growing insanity, and continued on her way, completely unaware of the eyes watching her from the shadows.
Angel was beginning to wonder if they were going to show up at all. It was already three in the morning the next night, and he could vaguely sense Buffy waking up. He was rather hoping the bond would remain as vague as it was now. He didn't want to feel in detail all her deepest thoughts and emotions; it made him feel as though he was, in a way, mentally raping her.
Finally, much to Angel's relief, the Slayerettes walked inside. It took all of his self control and will power not to run away, so as to avoid yet another conversation between himself and the people he'd hurt. Instead he forced himself to stay where he was as they walked farther in, heading straight towards him. Another immediate impulse was to back away, and that too, he forced himself to ignore. "He's in room 316," Angel told them, his voice sounding flat and mechanical even to himself. "They won't let you in. He's listed in critical condition."
"What happened?" Willow squeaked, looking up at him. There was no accusation in her voice at all, just a scared curiosity.
She still looked a little weak from the attack that he had ordered, and Angel found looking at her was difficult at best, impossible at worst. He looked away. "A car acc . . . crash," he replied, still trying his best to appear extremely interested in the wall behind her, and completely unable to say the word 'accident'. An accident implied that no one was at fault, and he was entirely aware that he was completely at fault. Deciding that now would be a perfect time for an escape, Angel spoke again, "I rented another car, I'm going to go."
"I'm going with you," Giles said suddenly. "Obviously the bond is far more powerful than we'd previously realized. It's likely you won't make it on your own."
"No!" Angel shouted, before he could help himself, desperation tinging his tone and something akin to fear in his eyes. The others stared at him in open-mouthed shock, seeing for the first time what lay beyond the facade Angel had been displaying during each conversation he'd had with them. Realizing how bizarre he'd just sounded, Angel sighed, swallowed, and continued with, "I mean fine." Obviously that was not at all what he'd meant, but the others didn't say anything as Angel turned and stalked out of the hospital, Giles following.
Willow and Cordelia looked at one another as they watched the two leave. Then as one, Oz following behind the girls, they turned and searched for Xander's hopsital room.
Angel had been driving for ten minutes in complete and utter silence, not even glancing in Giles' direction. Giles watched him quietly, surprised to note that however uncomfortable this was for the Watcher, it was a thousand times worse for Angel himself. He looked far past tense, and much closer towards truly panicking. "You realize this is the dumbest idea you've ever had, don't you?" Angel asked, finally speaking.
Giles jumped, surprised by the sound of a voice, any voice, in the silence that had filled the car. "What do you mean?" he asked in return.
"In case you haven't noticed, Xander's already dying," Angel supplied. "You'll probably be next." The vampire's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion whatsoever, he was just telling it as he saw it.
"Do you have some plan to kill me?" Giles retorted, an obvious challenge in his tone.
"No," Angel conceded, his eyes still firmly fixed on the road. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to. I didn't plan on killing Xander, either, but he's still dying. Strange coincidence, don't you agree?" Angel finally looked towards the Watcher, then back towards the road, every part of his body tense and on edge.
"I think that right now you should concentrate on finding Buffy," Giles answered after a moment, not quite sure what he should say.
"Right," Angel muttered, smirking slightly. "Finding Buffy. So I can convince her to come back. Never mind what I've done to her, doesn't matter, all's forgiven, let's go home." He stopped at a red light, his face illuminated by the traffic signal. "She's not going to go back," he continued after a moment. "Certainly nothing I can say will persuade her. Let's not forget what caused her to leave in the first place."
Giles' eyes narrowed as he looked at Angel for a long moment. There was brooding, and then there was suicidal. The vampire seemed a lot closer to the latter. Besides that, the tension in the car was getting more than just slightly smothering. "Let's not forget what she came back for," Giles reminded him, more than a little surprised by his own words. It was a lot easier to separate Angel from Angelus when Angel was the one present, and when Angel was as agitated as he was.
Angel was silent for a moment as he turned down a darkened road. "We're getting closer," he said at last. Noticing Giles' puzzled expression he clarified, "to Buffy." Giles' eyebrow lifted, but he said nothing; and Angel didn't continue the conversation he'd started either. Instead he continued to drive, letting silence once again reign in the small car.
"How is he?" Cordelia asked a passing doctor, her eyes wide with concern for her love as she grabbed his arm to stop him.
The doctor looked at her for a moment, then towards the door. "I'm sorry, but unless you're some kind of relative I can't release any information on his current condition."
Cordelia opened her mouth to protest, but Willow spoke up. "I'm a relative," she said firmly. "His step-sister. Please, can you just tell us anything?"
"He's suffered some rather massive injuries to his ribs as well as some internal bleeding. The internal bleeding wasn't a problem, but rib injuries can be dangerous if not closely monitored. Still, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. Apparently the crash caused him to re-injure his arm, which had been previously broken, and we have him on pain killers and sedatives as well. He'll be moved to the ICU in the morning."
Willow nodded, but Cordelia still looked worried. "That's good, right?" she asked quietly, nervously.
"Yes," the doctor said with a small smile before leaving. As soon as he was gone Willow sagged against the wall in relief that her lie had paid off, and Cordelia sat down on a nearby chair. Oz had left to get the two girls something to eat and drink, both of them insisting that they wanted to remain near Xander.
"Thank God," Cordelia whispered, then she looked up at Willow, remembering saying the same thing about her after she'd recovered from her own head trauma not that long ago. Willow smiled weakly back at the fashion queen, who was now destined for summer school after having missed her make-up test to drive with Giles all day and most of the night to arrive at the hosptal. "Do you think they'll be okay?" Cordy asked suddenly, glancing towards the door where Giles and Angel had left twenty minutes ago.
Willow shrugged and sat down on a seat next to Cordelia's. "I don't know," she confessed quietly. "Angel seems a little . . . " She frowned, trying to think of the right word, then sighed. "I don't know, just out of it," she finally managed.
Cordelia raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes heavenward. "Ya think?" she said sarcastically, standing to pace back and forth in front of Xander's hospital room, and more than wishing she could go in to see him. "I just hope he's okay," she said finally, looking at the door that lead to where Xander was lying in a drugged unconsciousness.
"He's fine," Willow assured her. "The doctor said it himself, I mean, I doubt broken ribs are fun; but he'll live, that's what's important."
Cordy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, well, Buffy's alive, too, and how well is she doing? Angel got out of Hell, how well is he doing?" She groaned and continued her pacing, looking more and more agitated with each step she took.
"Cordy, will you stop?" Willow asked pleadingly, getting slightly dizzy watching the cheerleader pace back and forth in a straight line.
Cordelia sighed and flopped back down into the chair she'd been sitting in, yawning loudly, and then biting her lip sheepishly. "Sorry," she murmured with a forced half smile.
"Why don't you go find us a hotel room?" Willow suggested. "Xander will be moved tomorrow, so we'll be able to see him then." When no sound greeted her Willow looked slightly puzzled. "Cordelia?" she queried, and then she realized that the fashion queen was already sound asleep in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.
"Hey," Oz said quietly to Willow, and she looked up, then smiled brightly at her boyfriend.
"Hey," she answered, standing and taking the sodas from his hand.
"Gimme one," Cordy murmured, opening one eye and appearing entirely unaware that five seconds ago she'd been dead to the world.
Willow decided Cordelia needed the caffeine more than she did, and handed her fellow Slayerette both cans of soda, then looked back at Oz, who opened his arms to her. Gratefully Willow leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I hate this," she whispered quietly to him.
"Now you know how we felt when it was you in there," Oz replied, kissing her hair softly and letting her relax against him. The hacker let out her own yawn, and Oz led her towards a chair. In silence, the three Slayerettes silently waited for morning.
Buffy continued walking down the street towards the train station, moving a little faster as she began to feel, with certainty, that she was being followed. She tried to shrug it off as yet another one of her strange images, another sign of her insanity, but nevertheless she was beginning to be a bit worried. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she pushed her fears away, reminding herself that pretty much the majority of the population of vampires were in Sunnydale, or at least in L.A. None of them would go to the middle of nowhere, where she was located.
She kept going, still fighting the strong urge to look behind her, or to plan some sort of attack on whoever was stalking her from a distance. A glance at her watch told her she was already behind. She had to be at the train station in ten minutes, or her route to getting further away from Sunnydale would leave without her. She quickened her pace, and therefore was completely unprepared for the attack when it actually came.
A pain shot through her arm and ran up her shoulder, and she whirled around to face her attacker. Whom she saw caused her eyes to widen in complete and total unprepared shock.
"You killed my Angel," Drusilla accused, her own eyes narrowed with homicidal rage. "You twisted my Spikie's mind."
"Yeah, well, I haven't been having the best of weeks either, believe me," Buffy quipped, almost automatically switching into the mode she knew so well, the mode she had been fighting desperately to escape. It dawned on her vaguely that she had no weapons, no stake, only her own skills to protect her.
"Poor Slayer," Drusilla murmured, looking genuinely sympathetic as she advanced towards Buffy. "Ohh, are you all alone?" she asked. "Alone in the world, without a friend to defend you?" The vampire pouted slightly, and took yet another step forward.
Buffy immediately attacked after that second step, but Drusilla overpowered her easily, considering that Buffy was both unprepared and out of practice. With her arm twisted behind her, the Slayer tried to think of some means of escape, ignoring the part of her mind that was insisting this was yet another strange delusion. Thinking quickly, Buffy kicked Drusilla's leg; but that did nothing to dissuade the obviously very angry, insane vampire. With a twist of her arm, Drusilla threw Buffy into the nearest wall, causing her to begin losing consciousness.
Both pleased and surprised by her easy victory, Drusilla crouched down next to Buffy, whispering into the injured girl's ear, "You hurt my love," she cooed, "now you have to pay." A mad giggle followed, that Buffy could barely make out before she slipped away into pleasant unconsciousness.