Nexus Chapter 24
With an animal whine, Angel ran to his boy and gathered him into his arms, his keen senses buffeting him with the evidence of multiple injuries. The vampire clutched Xander to him while he surveyed the damage. His boy had a head wound that was bleeding freely, but that was only the beginning. Blood was gushing from Xander´s throat, and Angel wanted to cover the wound with his mouth to stop the worst of the bleeding. But the leg was worse; while he had been fighting off the guards, the Sle´gau, searching for the marrow–rich femur, had ripped a sharp claw into Xander´s upper leg right down to the bone, and blood was pulsing out at an alarming rate.
Angel shuddered uncontrollably; a few seconds later, and the demon would have been extracting Xander´s thigh bone, a hurt that not he nor any one else could possibly make better. Crazed, Angel did his best to attend to the leg, tearing strips from Xander´s ruined clothing to make a tourniquet.
The worst of the bleeding tied off, Angel returned his attention to Xander´s neck; the demon was wild with terror and rage that another vampire would dare to sink its teeth into this throat that belonged to him. He wanted to bite, to obliterate the other demon´s mark, but he was distracted by the terrifying sound of his precious boy´s heart slowing down as the bleeding wounds began to take their toll.
Keening in anguished terror, Angel licked swiftly at the freely bleeding neck and head wounds, then stood with his boy in his arms, frantic to get him to a hospital. It hurt to know that he himself wasn´t adequate to care for his boy, but soul and demon alike were beyond pride.
Just as he stepped forward, his whole attention on his precious boy, the door to the roof erupted open, and Gunn and Fred burst through. Past any kind of restraint, the vampire whipped around and snarled at them, the demon maddened. Fools, playing at hero games, almost cost me my boy, should die, every one of you.
Gunn and Fred halted abruptly at the picture before them. Angel had shown them a frightening face before, gentle compatriot replaced by a vicious, sarcastic, bloodthirsty enemy, but never this; before them, unfettered, the demon crouched, snarling, Xander clutched to his chest, golden eyes blazing, jagged fangs dripping blood.
While the two mortals stood frozen in shock, Angel offered a last warning growl, then ran, leaping off the edge of the roof onto the street stories below.
Having landed on the pavement far beneath, impact absorbed, cat–like, by his preternatural vampiric skeleton, he took a moment to look down into his claimed´s face, concerned that the shock of the landing had jostled Xander. But the boy remained unconscious, pale face drawn in pain.
A few long strides, and he was beside the waiting Plymouth. His first thought was to lay the boy on the back seat, but then he thought better of it; Xander was bleeding enough that death was a real consideration. If the boy were to lose the battle mid–journey, the demon insisted grimly, he wanted him close enough to!to salvage what was left. And in spite of the instincts that screamed it was wrong, the soul knew he would.
Wild with terror, Angel quickly settled Xander´s limp body onto the front seat of the old car, then swept into the driver´s seat, turning his desperate glance to his pale mortal as he started the vintage car and peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires.
As he sped through the city streets with a fine disregard of traffic laws that would have done Spike proud, Angel listened to his boy´s slow, stuttering heart rate, tortured. Inspiration struck, and he quickly brought his right forefinger to his mouth, piercing it and insinuating the bleeding digit between Xander´s slack lips.
Nothing at first, and the vampire found himself pleading hoarsely––“Please, sweetheart, drink so you´ll get better, won´t you please, baby”––then, thank all the powers, Xander´s lips moved sluggishly around the proffered finger, sucking weakly and swallowing the healing blood.
Within moments, Angel heard the weak heartbeat grow fractionally steadier, buying them more time. But he didn´t dare give Xander much; pulling his bleeding digit away from the boy´s mouth, he reflected that, with this much blood loss, there was a real danger of turning the youth by accident, and he didn´t want that. Turning had to be a last resort.
Seconds later, the Plymouth was squealing to a stop in front of the emergency room, and Angel was swinging his boy up into his arms and charging through the electronic doors, yelling for a doctor, NOW.
The admitting nurse took one look at the blood still pouring from Xander and hurried Angel into an empty cubicle, snapping orders as she went. Even as the vampire settled his love oh–so–gently onto the ER bed, medical personnel were surrounding them. He struggled against both his panicked demon and his own terror, fighting to keep his countenance human, as he was gently but firmly pushed out of the cubicle.
On the verge of a meltdown, Angel spent the next ten minutes in one of the plastic chairs in the ER waiting room, filling out forms with hands that trembled.
Next of kin: Angel hesitated, contemplating his official non–existence. Wesley, or Cordelia? Giles? NO! His shaking hand hovered over the page, then he carefully printed “Angel Harris” and wrote down the number at the hotel, and his cell number.
Relationship: Angel barely paused before writing “Partner.”
Insurance Provider: I am, thought Angel, clenching his jaw. I´m going to insure his safety, come what may. At the bottom of the page, where the form asked for a guarantor of payment, Angel filled in his new signature quickly: Angel Harris.
By the time the rest of the AI team arrived at the hospital, Angel was sitting idle, still as the dead, listening to Xander´s heartbeat over the other sounds of the ER.
They stood in a cluster at the opposite end of the waiting room, reluctant to approach the edgy demon after hearing Fred and Gunn´s account.
Finally it was Cordy that crossed the room and sat beside Angel, extending a careful arm around the broad shoulders. “So, what´s the news?” she asked softly.
For a time, she thought the vampire wasn´t going to answer, but finally, he turned to her, face impassive. “I don´t know much yet, except that they´ve been giving him transfusions.” Angel lowered his head again, staring at his shoes. “He lost a lot of blood.”
“So, we´re just waiting, huh?” A gentle hand kneaded the muscles at the back of his neck.
Angel drew a low, shuddering breath. “Yeah. We´re waiting.”
And wait they did. It wasn´t long, even if it did feel like ages. After what might have been minutes, or hours, or weeks, a doctor stepped into the waiting room, studying a chart. “Mr!.Harris?”
“Here.” Angel stood and stepped quickly forward, oblivious to the startled expressions of the others in the waiting room. “How is he?”
“We´ve achieved hemostasis––that is, we´ve stopped the bleeding. The throat wound doesn´t present much of a danger. The other two, the wounds to the leg and head, are the concerns right now. He´s being taken down for some tests, PET scan and head x–ray, to try to get an idea of how serious the head wound is. After that, he´ll go to surgery for the leg. There´s damage to the femoral artery, and that will have to be repaired. The slash is deep; it goes right down to the bone at the deepest point. It will take some time to suture all the layers. Then we´ll probably be looking at a long healing process, followed by weeks of physical therapy. After the surgery, he´ll be in surgical ICU until we´re satisfied he´s out of danger.”
Angel was shaking, panicked, on the verge of a meltdown and struggling to keep his true face from coming to the fore. “Could he die?” His voice sounded like it was forced through sandpaper.
The doctor met his eyes, sympathy in his gaze. “It´s still a possibility. He´s in hypovolumeic shock from the extensive blood loss; there is a certain amount of danger attached to that. And we don´t yet know how bad the head wound is. There is some indication that most of the bleeding was external, a positive sign. We´ll know a lot more about what we´re dealing with once the tests come back. Your!” He glanced back down at the form “!partner is unconscious. Head trauma is tricky, and a lot depends on how long it takes him to come around.”
Cordelia broke in. “So, he´s in a coma?”
The doctor responded carefully. “We´ll wait until we know more to say that.”
“But he might not wake for a long time? Or ever?” Angel´s voice was thick with anguish.
“That´s a possibility, but unlikely. Chances are that he´ll wake fairly soon. Again, we´ll have a better idea of what to expect once the tests are back. Until then, all we can do is wait.” He paused.
“It´s too early to say for certain, but if I were going to place a bet,” the doctor allowed himself a smile, “I´d put my money on your young man to survive this. Xander seems to have a remarkably strong constitution. I was extremely concerned when I first saw him and realized the extent of blood loss. Frankly, not many people would have come through that alive. As it is, the bleeding has been arrested, he´s received transfusions, and the wounds are being dealt with.”
“So, you think he´s probably going to survive. What´s the next worst–case scenario?” This was Cordelia; beside her, Angel stood in stony silence, trembling with fear.
“Well, of course we´ll have to watch carefully for signs of infection, a danger with a wound the magnitude of that on his leg. If the skull fracture is bad enough to have depressed into the brain, there is the danger of brain damage.”
“Oh, God.” Cordelia whispered softly. “What kind of brain damage?”
“There might be some memory loss, or a personality change.”
At this, Angel made a tortured sound, imagining Xander without his humor, or kindness, or quick wit. Or, Gods, with no memory of what they had shared.
Cordelia glanced at Angel, eyes soft with pity. “When will we be able to see him?”
“Once the surgery´s over and we get him settled in to ICU, we´ll make a determination about visitors.”
“I want to see him.” Angel´s voice was a strained whisper.
“Well,” the doctor replied carefully, “hospital policy specifies legal spouses or blood relatives!” He held up a hand as Angel scowled, a little disconcerted by the flash of gold in the big man´s eyes. “!but we´ve been known to bend the rules in cases like this.”
They waited for hours, Gunn, Cordy, Wes and Fred watching Angel, who seemed almost catatonic, withdrawn into his misery. Finally, in the hours before dawn, the doctor returned to them with the information that Xander had come through the surgery with flying colors. Even better, the tests revealed that the skull fracture seemed fairly minor, with no indication that the bone had depressed and damaged the brain. A serious concussion, certainly, but little possibility of brain damage.
Angel listened to the doctor calmly, then returned to a seat apart from his friends, turned his face away, and!cried. His friends kept their distance, respecting his privacy.
The wheels of hospital procedure turn slowly, but eventually, Angel was entering Xander´s ICU room, a (thankfully) windowless room directly across from the nurses´ station. The vampire approached the bed slowly, his eyes fixed on the pale face on the pillow. Once at Xander´s side, he bent over the still body and touched gently where he could, hands shaking.
They had spoken of tests, then days, maybe weeks in the hospital, and weeks of therapy after that. Nerve damage to the leg, muscular damage, loss of movement, loss of response. Angel clenched his jaw. No. Absolutely not. Not HIS boy. A growl rumbled up from his throat, automatically morphing into a purr as he bent over Xander´s still face, kissing the pale, sweat–damp skin wherever the various tubes and wires would let him.
Finally he pulled a chair close to the side of the bed and settled in for his vigil. Angel felt like he was holding himself together by sheer will. The inevitable guilt tore at him like claws, and he was haunted by the time he had lost with Xander while he dithered. The demon was wild, and the proximity to Xander wasn´t soothing it this time; its most primal instincts teetered on the edge of blind panic, not only because its mate was injured, but because its mate smelled WRONG.
The blood loss and transfusions meant that Xander had lost much of his essential scent, confusing the demon, and disconcerting Angel as well. His jaw tightened as he swallowed down the rage that was as much his as the demon´s.
They would pay. The demons that had done this to him would pay, with interest, but first things first; once he was sure that his Xander, his boy, would be alright, then he would seek his revenge. Angel lifted Xander´s hand in his and rubbed cool lips against clammy skin, then rested his cheek gently against the skinned knuckles and set himself to wait this out.
They wouldn´t let him stay. Choking down the temptation to slaughter, Angel accepted the rule; no long–term visitors to surgical ICU. But there was a waiting room (also, thankfully, window free) right outside. More visits possible the next day. Angel settled himself onto a fake leather sofa and again set himself to wait.
Windowless as the environment was, Angel was still keenly aware of the sun´s rising. Plus, the shift changed. And he had been away from his boy long enough. Using his own unique blend of charm and menace, he talked his way into Xander´s room, resolving to stay there.
He looked better, Angel thought, settling again into the chair by the bed. His color was improved, and the vampire tuned his ear carefully to the sounds of his boy´s body. Heart beat and respiration so much better, steadier. And the demons that had done this were roaming the streets.
Angel stayed with his boy through the day. The rest of the gang came in shifts, but had to be satisfied with glimpses of Xander through the observation window, and short conversations with Angel in the doorway. Hospital rules were firm about one visitor at a time in ICU, and Angel wasn´t giving up his precarious place. Possession was nine–tenths of the law; visits were supposed to be short, and Angel had his hands full making them let him stay.
But stay he did, sitting by his boy, brooding and listening to the monotonous drip of various tubes and IVs. Fluids, antibiotics. Nutrients through a nasal tube so that they wouldn´t end up in his lungs. Given that concern, Angel fed Xander his blood in tiny increments, one drop at a time, making sure that his body was between them and the monitoring camera.
In between, he talked with Angelus.
“He still smells wrong. Will he smell right again? When?” The demon fretted.
“That´s what you´re worried about? How he SMELLS?”
“Fuck you.” Angelus´ growl shivered up Angel´s spine. “How will we know he´s getting better if he doesn´t smell right?”
Made careless by weariness, Angel snapped his answer in the internal dialogue. “I know you can hear everything I hear. Don´t you fucking listen? You´re supposed to love him.!”
This time the demon´s snarl rocked him down to his toes. “Don´t y´ ever again question m´ devotion to my mate. Y´ want to be part of their world, fine; y´ take care of the medical shit. I´ll take care o´ the revenge, and I´ll love m´ boy, since y´ don´t seem capable o´ doin´ that.”
Now it was Angel doing the growling. “I´ll be with you when the time comes for revenge. And I love him; you´re one of the reasons I can´t fully express it, asshole. When we were on the roof, you wanted to kill Fred and Gunn. You promised him they would be safe. How can I be with Xander, let you that close to the surface, if I can´t trust you to keep your promise?”
The demon´s roar rocked him again, making him clutch the arms of his chair. “D´ ye dare question my oath? He was near to dyin´, o´ course I was!”
“Was what? Ready to abandon your promise if Xander died? All bets off?”
The demon went still, and Angel closed his eyes at the sudden silence in his mind. Then, Angelus answered, sounding reluctant, but resolved. “The oath stands, no matter what happens to my boy. Yer people are safe.”
Angel drew a breath, a rare occurrence. “Alright, then. That´s a start.”
“But!” The demon´s voice in his head was a sibilant hiss. “If your carelessness costs me my boy, I´ll make your existence a misery. I´ll scream for human blood until!”
“SHUT UP!” Angel bellowed internally. “As if you haven´t ALWAYS made my existence miserable. If something happens to Xander, I won´t need your help to be miserable. And do you think he´d be safer in Sunnydale, being the Slayer´s cannon fodder?” That spontaneous bit of disloyalty to Buffy took him by surprise, shocking him into silence.
The demon almost purred. “Well, boyo, at least you´re starting to get your priorities right. Can be we can work together after all.”
Angel sulked in silence for a time, then offered, grudgingly. “They tell me that Xander´s body will start making its own blood within a few days. Then he´ll smell right, I guess. They´re still monitoring the head wound, but they say he´s out of danger. They want to keep him here a little longer, just to be sure that there are no complications, but he won´t die.”
“Then it´s time to hunt.” The demon´s growl reverberated with his own.
“Yeah. It´s time to hunt.”
As soon as Angel´s instincts told him that the sun had set, he stood and shrugged into his coat, then bent over his unconscious boy, surreptitiously feeding Xander a few more drops of his healing blood. Rubbed his throat gently to make sure he swallowed, then stroked his boy´s blood–matted hair.
“You wouldn´t like this, would you? I know how much you like to be clean. Don´t worry.” He and the demon indulged together in a half–fantasy, half–memory, of kneeling beside a bathtub full of Xander, tenderly cleansing their hurt boy, washing the silky hair, making everything all right again for their mate.
“Soon, baby, soon.” He pressed a soft kiss to Xander´s pale, slightly less clammy brow, then turned and left the room in a swirl of leather.
As he exited through the waiting room toward the elevator, Gunn rose from one of the seats. “Angel, man, where you off to?”
“Got business to take care of.”
“I´ll come with.”
“NO. No, you stay here with Xander.”
“Cordelia´s on her way here. Be here any minute, and they won´t let anyone in to see him at this time of night anyway. Think I´ll just go with you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” The vampire didn´t look at Gunn, just glared at the elevator doors as if he could intimidate them into opening sooner.
At last the doors slid open, and Gunn stepped into the elevator beside him. “I´m going with you, man.”
“I´m stopping at home first; I´ll give you a lift.” They exited the elevator at the parking garage and walked to the Plymouth in stony silence, two stubborn men hell–bent on getting their way.
Angel pulled up in front of the Hyperion and turned to Gunn as he switched off the ignition. “Last stop. All ashore.”
Now it was Gunn refusing to look the vampire´s way. Staring straight ahead, he said evenly, “I´ll wait here. My axe is still in the trunk, so I´ve got everything I need.”
After a moment´s silence, Angel spoke, voice low, eyes flashing gold. “You know, of course, that I´m perfectly capable of throwing you bodily out of this car?”
“Yeah, I know that. So, I was wondering, when Xander finally wakes up, which one of us is supposed to be the one that has to tell him that you went up against his attackers alone and got yourself dead?”
Angel growled softly, bolted from the car and entered the hotel. Ten minutes later he was back, armed to the teeth. He started the car, and the Plymouth traveled through the night, the occupants silent for a long time.
When Angel finally spoke, his voice was a low rumble, sharp with menace. “Here´s how it´s going to be. You´ve got to keep up with me. I´m not waiting for you.”
“Fair enough.”
“And when we find them, the two who put their hands on Xander are mine. You stall ´em. You don´t kill either of one. That´s mine to do. Understood? If not, you get out here.”
Gunn completely got the whole vengeance thing, and he didn´t hesitate. “It´s a deal. I won´t kill either of them unless I have to, to save your life or mine.”
Angel nodded grimly as he pulled up in front of the building where Xander had been attacked. “In that case, I´m glad you´re here to cover my back. Just remember; I´m the one that kills them.”
“Check. But, starting with kind of a cold trail here, aren´t we?”
“That´s why I said you had to keep up. The vampire that drained Xander reeks of him; I can trail him to the end of the earth if I have to, and I will, if that´s what it takes.” With that, he gathered various weapons, shifted into gameface and headed for the back of the building, where the demons had probably exited the premises.
Gunn nodded grimly, hefted his axe, and broke into a run, falling in behind the swiftly–moving vampire.
As it turned out, trailing to the ends of the earth was unnecessary. The vampire and the Sle´gau they were hunting were holed up not far away, along with several other lesser vampires.
So, less than two hours later, the two of them, man and vampire, were on their way back to the Hyperion, their task completed.
They traveled in silence for a time, then Gunn spoke up. “So, Angel, man, you okay? Calm, and all that?”
Angel glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Yeah, I´m good.”
“Okay, then. So, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Gunn.”
“Could you not ever do anything like that in front of me again? I mean, that was some seriously fucked up shit.”
The vampire chanced a longer look then, almost smiling. “Why, Gunn, I never figured you for the squeamish type.”
“Ordinarily, no, but!damn! I may never eat again.”
Angel allowed himself a grin, albeit a sinister one. For the first time since Xander was attacked, he was feeling almost okay. Vengeance had been satisfied, and the demon within was almost purring with pleasure. “I did warn you against coming along, you know.”
“Yeah, but still!” Gunn broke off with a shudder, remembering.
They had burst into the demons´ lair, taking its denizens by surprise. Angel´s order to leave the two leaders alone had been no problem; Gunn had had his hands full for a while dealing with a clutch of minions. By the time he dispatched the last of them, Angel had the leaders under control. The vampire that had almost drained Xander was writhing on the floor, groaning from several serious wounds. The Sle´gau was down too, and Angel was standing over it, hefting the demon´s own war club.
Seeing that Gunn had taken care of all the minions, Angel tossed him a lead pipe. “Watch that one.” He gestured with his head in the direction of the one remaining vampire. “If he tries to get up, hit him with this. Remember, though, don´t kill him.”
Gunn caught the pipe and stepped closer to the downed vampire, nodding his understanding. Then he watched as Angel worked the Sle´gau over with the club, systematically crushing demon bones; hands and feet first, then legs and arms before he started on the torso. The Sle´gau was screaming in anguish before Angel finally started on the skull, swinging the club long after the screaming had stopped and the walls were splattered liberally with the demon´s blood. Once the Sle´gau had been beaten into jelly, Angel turned to the vampire at Gunn´s feet.
It had tried to rise once, and Gunn had swung the pipe, as ordered. Now the vampire moved sluggishly on the floor, half–way between unconscious and awake. Gamefaced, Angel knelt beside the demon and began to slap him lightly. “Wake up, then, little man. Wake up.” Gunn stood to the side and watched.
Eventually, Angel sighed. “I really need you awake for this.” After a few moments´ thought, the vampire raised his arm to his mouth, slashing open his wrist. “You should feel very, very privileged, boyo. Not many I´ve opened a vein for.” The bloody limb was pressed to the vampire´s mouth, and, within moments, he rallied. Sitting bolt upright, the vampire turned confused eyes to Angel. “S–s–sire?” he quavered, confused by multiple messages from his senses.
Angelus was completely to the fore, and Gunn, standing to the side, shuddered.
“Sire? Well, yes, if you like.” It made sense, after all. If the demon was immature enough to stupidly attack a Master´s mate, then it followed that he was young enough to accept a new sire. Angel modified his plans in light of this new development. The master vampire felt none of the affection that normally came with a new childe, though. Instead, he felt the same hatred and loathing for this being that had attacked his mate, multiplied a hundred fold.
“Stand up.” The demon struggled to its feet with difficulty. “Sire is not happy with you.” The vampire hung its head at that, ashamed.
“Do you know why?” Angel punctuated that with a hard blow to the vampire´s midsection that elicited a pained grunt.
The vampire straightened with difficulty, whimpering. “No, Sire, I don´t.”
Angel punched again, his fist breaking ribs.
The vampire keened softly as he bent over his injured torso. Devastated, he raised tragic eyes to his new sire. Everyone knew that sires could be rough sometimes, but sires were supposed to love their childer.
As if he could hear the fledge´s thoughts, Angelus whispered. “I don´t love you. You are loathsome to me.” Another hard blow to the vampire´s midsection, then the Master vampire spoke again. “Do you even know what you did?”
By that time, the lesser vampire had caught the scent on his new sire´s skin, and he knew what he had done, knew that he was doomed.
“Yes, Sire, I know. I attacked your mate. Please, Sire, I didn´t know, I didn´t realize!”
“But you know now.” Angelus hissed low. “You know, and you understand that you have to die.”
“I´m sorry, Sire, mercy!please, mercy.” The vampire dropped to his knees, abject in his apology.
“No.” Angelus hissed. “No mercy for you. No mercy.” With that, Angel began to beat the demon in earnest, deaf to its pitiful pleas.
Gunn, standing aside, felt sorry for a vampire for the first time in his life. But no pity was forthcoming from the master vampire.
Angel pounded on the lesser vampire like a machine, going far past the point that would have killed a human. Finally, he drew the wretched demon up and reached into the pocket of his coat, producing a pair of pliers. Ignoring the vampire´s scream of fear, he calmly fixed the jaws of the tool onto one of the demon´s sensitive upper canines, twisting the long fang free of the bleeding mouth. The younger vampire shrieked in agony, writhing and twisting in Angel´s grip. Gunn, that hater of all things vampiric, felt a little sick as he watched Angel, impassive, methodically extract the other fang as well from the agonized demon, finally dropping the pliers and both long, bloody teeth into his coat pocket.
“Well, that´s that done, then, Childe. Do you understand, then, just how much your Sire hates you? Sires don´t hate their childer, but you´re the exception. Who could love you?” Gunn saw the demon´s agony, going beyond the physical pain.
“I hate the idea of feeding from you, y´ know that, yeah? I only do it because ye´ve got my mate´s blood and I´ll not leave it with one as unworthy as you.”
The younger vampire sobbed as his new sire bent his head to his throat, biting roughly, tearing the throat open, sucking hard. Wanting to retrieve every single drop of Xander´s blood from this unworthy one. It would have been easy to keep feeding, to let the vampire slip away without further pain. But the demon Angelus was too fixed on his revenge for that.
Drawing away, Angel watched the vampire shudder and twitch as it fell to the floor, almost drained, but not quite enough.
Ignoring Gunn´s anxious presence, Angel stood, arms crossed, as the vampire met its slow death, uncomprehending eyes fixed on Sire as it bled out, the flow turning it gradually, painfully to ash.
“Like I said, man, seriously fucked up shit.” Gunn repeated, his tone conveying reluctant admiration.
As he pulled up in front of the Hyperion, Angel contemplated the fact that his relationship with Xander was surely no longer a secret to any one, decided he didn´t care, and turned to Gunn, showing fangs. “Nobody fucks with my boy, Gunn. Nobody.”
Gunn gave him a long, measuring look. “Uh HUH. Next time Xander wants to play cards, I´ll make sure I let him win.
Angel snorted. “Like he needs help to kick your ass. Get some rest, okay?”
“Aren´t you coming in?” Gunn was pretty sure that the vampire hadn´t slept since Xander´s injury.
“No. I´m going back to the hospital.” Angel waited while Gunn pulled himself wearily out of the car. “And, Gunn? Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Gunn watched as the Plymouth pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night fog.
Xander was much improved. His color was better, and his skin felt warm and dry. The vampire hovered over him, looking, touching, sensing. His anxious examination complete, he pierced his finger and fed his boy his blood, rubbing Xander´s throat to make him swallow. Hearing footsteps approaching the door, he withdrew quickly, suppressing a growl. The doctor that had spoken to him the night Xander was admitted entered the room, followed by a gaggle of young people who must be students.
“Mr. Harris.” The doctor looked at him with some surprise. “I didn´t realize Xander had a visitor.”
“I stay with him most of the time.” Angel looked at the doctor steadily, daring him to invoke the ICU´s short visit policy.
“I see.” The doctor held his gaze calmly for a time. “You´re very concerned, of course.” He smiled gently. “Would you mind stepping outside, just for a few moments, while we examine Xander?”
Angel frowned, his eyes roving over the white–coated group that had followed the doctor in. “Who are all these people?”
The doctor´s smile held a hint of pride. “These are our residents, who often accompany doctors on their rounds. This is, of course, a teaching hospital, and we´re very proud of our reputation. These young people are some of the best and brightest young physicians in the field.”
Angel nodded, satisfied. “I want to come back in when you´re finished.”
“Of course. As I told you the night Xander came in, we know when to bend the rules here. Although,” here he turned to the residents behind him, “you´ll all forget you heard that, if you know what´s good for you.”
Smiles from the residents, and Angel couldn´t help smiling too as the demon admitted grudgingly that the doctor was alright, as far as humans went. “I´ll be waiting outside.” Angel stepped outside the room and leaned against the corridor wall.
Long minutes later, the doctor came out and gestured his followers ahead of him up the hallway.
“How is he?” Angel tried to keep the tension out of his voice.
“Remarkably well. He´s healing at an almost miraculous rate. I´m optimistic that he will wake soon. If he does, and if he continues his rapid rate of recovery, I think you´ll be able to take him home soon, perhaps even by the end of this week.”
Angel drew in a stuttering breath, imagining Xander home where he belonged, where Angel could take care of him, be with him every moment!.“That´s good to hear. Thank you, doctor.” Genuinely grateful, he offered his hand to the doctor, who clasped it firmly. “I owe you more than I can tell.”
“Just doing my job, and this is one of the good parts. I don´t mind telling you now, I wasn´t feeling good about Xander´s chances when he first came in. He´s given me a very pleasant surprise.” He clapped the vampire jovially on the shoulder. “Now you just go back in and sit with him. I´ll tell the nurses to let you stay. You just keep talking to him, and I´m sure he´ll wake up soon, and be at home with you in no time.”
Even the demon was humbled in the face of such kindness. “I don´t know what to say, except thank you, again.”
The doctor grinned at him. “Forget it. We´ve all got to stick together.” He winked at Angel. “At least, that´s what my partner Tom always says.” With that, the doctor turned and strode down the corridor whistling softly, and Angel, comforted, returned to Xander´s side.
Whatever magic words the doctor had murmured to the nurses had been very effective. For the rest of the day, Angel was spared their attempts to banish him, and able to devote his whole attention to Xander. The demon was his constant companion, the two of them finding their tenuous new camaraderie surprisingly calming. In spite of his earlier words, Angelus had been present and keenly aware as the doctor had spoken, taking comfort from his assurances. Xander´s body was beginning to make its own blood, and the demon purred as it caught the thread of Xander´s scent among the smells of hospital and disinfectant and the blood of others.
Exhausted, Angel was content to let the demon take the lead, settling close to his boy´s still form, touching restlessly, doubts gradually fading.
Xander struggled up sluggishly from the shadows. The temptation to remain in the safe darkness was almost irresistible, but something called him forward. Waking reluctantly, Xander opened heavy eyes to find his hand clutched tightly in Angel´s, the broad figure slumped over in the chair, dark head resting near his on the pillow.
Angel started awake at the light pressure on his hand, eyes flying open to find Xander´s warm brown eyes open and gazing at him blearily.
“Hi, honey.” The simple endearment, whispered in a dry, tortured croak, was never sweeter than at this moment, and the vampire swallowed hard as he straightened in his chair, his free hand rising to stroke Xander´s forehead gently.
“Hello, sweetling. How are you feeling?” Hands and voice shaking from the quiet exultation rising within, Angel bent to press cool lips to his boy´s forehead.
“Kind of rough, actually.” Xander raised his head a fraction to take in the room, then fell back onto the pillows, exhausted by the effort. “Hospital?”
“Yes, Acushla. You got hurt; do you remember anything?” Angel watched anxiously as Xander closed his eyes, thinking.
After a few minutes, Xander opened his eyes. “I remember. On the roof, right?”
“Yes, that´s right, my own.” Angel rubbed the back of his hand gently against Xander´s stubbled jaw.
The youth squeezed his hand, eyes shadowed with remembered fear. “I thought I was dead!”
“Shhh. You´re alright, baby. You´re going to be fine.” Angel murmured soothingly, sorry he had brought up the subject.
“You saved me!?”
“I got there in time.” Angel bent to press a soft kiss to his boy´s lips. “It´s alright. Everything´s alright.” The vampire brought Xander´s hand to his mouth and kissed each finger lightly. “I want to go tell them that you´re awake; will you be okay?”
Xander´s fingers tightened around his for just a moment. “You´ll come back?”
“Always.” Angel kissed Xander lightly on the lips before releasing his hand reluctantly and leaving to find a nurse.
At sunset the next day, Xander woke briefly––he slept almost continuously––and observed with a worried frown that Angel looked like he felt worse than he, Xander, did. He had been moved to a regular room the night before, and Angel had been beside him ever since, watching over him.
“When did you sleep last? Have you been eating?” he asked fretfully.
“Don´t worry about me, Acushla.” Angel stroked his boy´s dark hair with one hand, holding his hand with the other. “Cordy sneaked me some blood, and a vampire my age can go without sleep for a time, if need be.”
“Yeah, but not indefinitely, I´m guessing. And you look very, very tired.”
Angel smiled tenderly. “I´m fine.” But Xander continued to look at him with concern; the vampire was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes.
“I want you to go home and get some sleep.”
“I´ll not leave ye here alone.” He pressed a quick kiss to Xander´s knuckles. “Besides, Sweet, when I do sleep, I´ll do it for a long time, maybe 36 hours, and I don´t want to do that until you´re a little better.”
Xander´s features settled into a Willow–like resolve face. “The doctor says I´m absolutely out of danger. And wouldn´t you rather sleep before I come home?”
He did have a point. Seeing that Angel was at least thinking about it, Xander pressed his advantage. “The doctor says that I´m healing really fast––thanks to you, honey.” He gave the vampire´s hand a fond squeeze. “He says I might be able to come home by the end of the week, and I´ll need you then. And I´d feel a lot better if I knew you were getting some rest.”
Wavering, Angel sighed and promised “I´ll think about it. Right now, I think you´re the one who needs sleep.” Xander´s waking periods were still very short, and his eyes were unmistakably heavy at the moment.
“But!”
“No buts. Shhhh. Sleep.”
“But!”
Angel leaned close and began to purr softly in his boy´s ear.
“Hey, no fair.” Xander was asleep almost before his weak protest was out of his mouth.
At midnight, Cordelia breezed into the room, took one look at Angel, and planted her fists firmly on her stylishly clad hips. “You look like shit.”
“Hello to you, too, Cordelia.” Still clinging to Xander´s hand, Angel raised his other hand to rub wearily at bleary eyes.
“I think it´s time you went home and got some sleep. And a shower wouldn´t be bad, either.”
“Cordy, you could charm the very birds from the trees.”
“Hey! That was sarcasm! Don´t think I don´t know sarcasm when I hear it.” Tone accusing, she pointed a finger in Angel´s direction. “You always get cranky when you´re sleep deprived, and you´re definitely sleep deprived. Will you just do us all a favor and go home and get some sleep?”
“What she said!” At the sound of Xander´s weakened voice, both turned toward the bed.
“I´m not cranky to you!” Angel´s protest was part indignant and part anxious.
Xander smiled reassuringly. “No, honey, of course you´re not. But you´re very tired, and you´re worrying me. Will you PLEASE go home and get some rest?”
Before Angel could protest, Cordelia put in her two cents. “Yeah, Martyr Guy. Go home and get some rest before you become an even bigger pain in the ass than you are.”
The upshot was that, ten minutes later, Xander was asleep again, Cordy was ensconced in the chair beside Xander´s bed, and Angel, having lost the argument, was reluctantly leaving the room. At the door he turned and gave Cordelia his best “I mean business” glare. “Listen, I´ll go, on one condition.”
Cordy raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.
“If anything happens, if Xander´s condition changes, if he so much as sneezes, you have Wesley wake me. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Now go away.”
Back at the Hyperion, Angel selected a certain volume of vampire lore, showed Wesley the simple charm for waking a sleep–deprived vampire, took a quick shower, then collapsed with a groan on his bed, instantly asleep.
When Angel woke, he immediately sensed, vampire–like, four things. First, that it was mid–afternoon; second, he´d slept a full thirty–six hours; third, he still needed more sleep; and fourth, most important of all, Xander was there, under his roof.
Leaping from his bed, Angel pulled on a pair of sweatpants and bolted to the balcony overlooking the lobby. Below, he found Cordy, Wesley and Fred clustered around the counter, drinking coffee and chatting.
“Dammit, Cordelia!” At the sound of his voice, the three of them looked up at him, Fred smiling uneasily, Wesley looking guilty, and Cordelia defiant. “You were supposed to wake me if anything changed.”
“Will you keep your voice down?” Cordelia crossed the room until she was almost directly under him. “Xander talked the doctor into releasing him early, and insisted that we not wake you up. And it´s not like you would have been able to take him home, what with the sun and all.”
Angel growled, a little, and started to turn to go find his boy.
“And listen up. The move tired him out, and we´ve gotten him settled in and finally sleeping, and don´t you dare disturb him.”
Angel scowled at the three below him, then stalked off, missing the conspiratorial smiles exchanged among his friends.
Striding down the corridor, Angel got past his indignation enough to acknowledge that yes, Cordy was probably right. Xander needed his rest, so he shouldn´t disturb him. But he could check. Stopping in front of the door to Xander´s room, he leaned close to the door, just listening. From inside the room, he heard the sound of even breathing and a strong, steady heartbeat.
Satisfied that all was well with his boy, he reluctantly turned to go back to his room. Two paces down the hallway, he remembered that Xander got cold, sometimes, and wondered if the others had thought to put extra blankets on the bed. No harm in checking, he told himself, opening the door quietly. He´d just look in.
Xander woke with a remarkable sense of well–being. Maybe because he was home from the hospital, and never mind that he had been thinking of packing his bags a few short days ago, the hotel, strangely, really did feel like home. Maybe it was because of the pain pills he´d been fed, or because someone had thought to add extra blankets to keep him warm. Nah, he thought giddily. It was because he was wrapped snugly in vampire.
Oh, this was good. Cool arms held him possessively, one strong thigh draped carefully over his uninjured leg. Resisting the urge to go back to sleep, Xander snugged his face against a powerful throat and wriggled experimentally to see what the results would be. As soon as he moved, Angel tightened his embrace, purring drowsily.
“Sleep, baby.” The vampire´s voice was low and rough with sleep.
Xander shivered at the soft murmur, wanting to stay awake, to savor his master´s presence in his bed, but big, careful hands were stroking him, and the beguiling purr was seducing him back into slumber.
When Xander woke in the wee hours of the morning, he was alone, but the scent on the pillow next to him assured him that he hadn´t been dreaming; Angel had been there, in his bed, holding him. The medication he had been given that evening had worn off, and everything hurt, but the memory of being in Angel´s arms kept him smiling through the pain.
He didn´t have to hurt for long; a soft knock on his door preceded the entry of Cordelia and Wesley. Wesley supported his weight as he made his slow way to the bathroom, then the two of them made small talk to him while he ate a bowl of soup. A studiedly casual query brought forth the information that Angel, accompanied by Gunn, was out taking care of a nest of vampires on the other side of town.
The soup bowl empty, Xander obediently swallowed the antibiotics and pain medication he was given. After informing him that the nurse Angel had hired would be there in the morning to check his wounds, Wesley slipped away, citing neglected research. Cordelia stayed with him, shrewd eyes softened, amusing him with tales of her new life in the city until the pills began to work and Xander fell asleep to the sound of her soothing voice.
Xander woke again in the morning when Fred brought the hired nurse to him. A taciturn but kindly Hispanic woman named Maria, the nurse dismissed Fred, then helped Xander to the bathroom, her plain–spoken professionalism easing his embarrassment.
An hour later, Xander was tucked up in bed, exhausted, but much better. He´d had a bath, medicine had been administered, and the wound on his thigh had been checked and judged healed enough for a lighter dressing. Maria departed with a sparing smile, promising to return the next day.
Alone, Xander waited for the drug–induced sleep, aching for his vampire.
Shortly after sunset, Angel cruised through the night in the Plymouth, alert for signs of demon activity, struggling unsuccessfully to shut out the howls of the demon in his head. He didn´t need Angelus´ input to feel guilty; when Xander was in the hospital, he´d dreamed of having Xander at home in his care, of staying with him every moment. But as he´d crept into Xander´s bed on the day Xander had been brought home, drawing his boy into his arms, he´d been frightened by the possessive passion that had overcome him, wanting to shut out the rest of the world, wanting nothing, ever again, but to cling to him. For Gods´ sake, he´d wanted to BITE him!
Angelus had had it. “Are ye out of yer mind? He´s at home where he belongs, and ye´ve got us out here, y´ fool! Go to him, go to him or I´ll!”
“You´ll what? Throw an even bigger fit in my head?”
The demon snarled. “I told ye what I would do if ye managed to lose me my boy.”
“Will you SHUT UP? He´s out of danger!”
“He´s out o´ danger of dying, ye fool. But he may be in danger o´ leavin´ us, with yer neglect o´ him.”
“Neglect?! I stayed with him every minute!”
“Aye, and now yer makin´ up for lost time, I suppose? Right when he needs us most, yer stayin´ away.” The demon unfolded inside him, restless, insistent. “Don´t ye know that his spirit is fragile?” The inner voice was anguished now, accusing. “He´s never had anyone be faithful to him, except me. Never had anyone that he could depend on. And I´m gone, for all he knows. Would ye have him think that y´!we!.don´t love him enough, between the two of us, to!.”
“STOP! He knows I love him!.”
“NO!” The demon snarled. “He knows that *I* love him. How does he know that YOU love him? What have you given him that he can trust in?” The demon´s voice quieted to a whisper. “He´s not without pride, y´know.”
Angel gripped the steering wheel. “I know. I know that.”
Angelus had applied more patience to this situation than he´d ever known he was capable of, and now the well was dry. “Listen, ye fool. I´m a disgrace to the clan of Aurelius for the leeway I´ve given. What kind o´ a Bond Claimant stays away from his Claimed when he´s hurt? Lets someone else care f´r him and comfort him? Tell me this: If the shoe were on th´ other foot, and ye were hurt and helpless, where would our Xander be?”
The demon had him there. Angel´s jaw tightened, but the demon was insistent.
“Well, where would he be? I´ll tell ye where, he wouldn´t be out joyridin´. He´d be stuck s´ close t´ yer side ye couldn´t pry him away with a crowbar, that´s where he´d be.” The voice in Angel´s head––and who could imagine that Angelus would ever become the voice of his conscience?––softened into a silky whisper. “An´ if he weren´t, ye´d be wonderin´ why.”
Angel pulled the car over with a squeal of tires and dropped his head into his hands. “Shit. Oh, shit.” The lump in his throat threatened to choke him, and he drew in one long shuddering breath. Others were taking care of Xander. He´d avoided thinking about that, but now he envisioned other hands caring for his boy. Strange hands. He´d hired a nurse, for God´s sake! And if he, Angel, were hurt!. Angel groaned, rocked by a lancing pain as he imagined what he´d feel if Xander hired someone to care for him, and stayed away from him.
“Aye, so finally ye get it.” Angelus was in no mood to go easy on his alter ego. “´T´is true I´ve abused my boy in my time; I´m a demon, an´ then there was the damned brandy. But I never tormented him fer so long, and I made my amends as best I could. What´s yer excuse? Is it yer thrice–damned soul that´s made ye so cruel?”
Angel writhed in pain. “God, I´m an idiot.”
“That y´are. Now, what are ye prepared t´ do? Make yer amends, y´ fool.” The demon drew his power about him and made his last stand. “This is it. This is the moment y´ make yer choice. I´ve made my oath that, even if I gain my freedom, I´ll not hurt yer people; for love o´ my boy, I´ll even broaden it to swear that I´ll not seek to hurt any mortal that doesn´t richly deserve it. No matter what yer choice, I swear on my honor as a master of the clan of Aurelius that, come what may, from this day forth, if I gain my freedom, I´ll not kill a human innocent of evil.”
“I´ve been faithful to my promise not to torment ye with desire for human blood. Yet ye´ve repaid me by neglectin´ my boy. I´ll not stand aside any more. Make yer choice. Choose Xander, and I´ll be bound by his precious heart forever more, and I´ll not urge ye to kill again. Keep up the way ye have, and he´ll leave us. And when that happens, I´ll make yer life a torment, an´ I´ll!”
“Oh, for God´s sake, will you SHUT UP?” Angel pounded his fists against the steering wheel. “Do you really think that you have to blackmail me to make me love him?”
Angel winced as the demon´s snarled response thundered in his brain. “Aye, you love him. I´m privy to yer thoughts and feelings, ye fool. But yer love is worthless if it doesn´t make ye be kind to him, an´ apparently I DO have to force ye to do that. An´ I will. I´ll do whatever I have to make ye treat him right. My boy deserves the best, and yer goin´ to make him happy, or deal with me.”
“ENOUGH! You´ve said enough.” Angel sat in silence, hands gripping the steering wheel until it creaked under his fists.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice soft. “I´m afraid to be with him. I can´t control myself!”
“Can´t control ME, you mean.”
Angel sighed, shuddering. “No, can´t control anything. I touch him and I can´t think of anything but him, can´t remember who I am!”
“Do ye´ want to?” The demon´s whisper was urgent. “What are ye´!what are WE!without him? You ARE a fool! He´s made me more human, made me feel compassion, and all hells´ gods know I NEVER asked for that. Ye´re always after bein´ a better man.” The demon spat this out contemptuously. “Well, if that´s what ye want, he´ll be the makin´ of ye.”
Overcome, Angel dropped his forehead upon the steering wheel, helpless against the demon´s murmuring. Angelus rammed his point home. “Don´t ye know that he´s losin´ hope while we sit here?”
Angel sat in silence for a time while he reflected, then straightened abruptly, started the car and peeled out, spinning the car with a squeal of brakes in the empty street, speeding toward the hotel..
