Chapter 41: Bullets and Magic
As she came toward Buffy, Willow cast a worried glance toward the sky. Really, her friend shouldn’t be taking chances like this. The clouds could clear out in a minute, and then poof. Still, Buffy didn’t seem concerned about that danger at all. She was pacing restlessly, an habit she seemed to have picked up from Spike.
“Hey there,” Willow said cheerfully.
“Hi Will. What are you doing here so early? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your classes?”
Willow nodded absently, noticing that, despite her forced smile, Buffy sounded upset.
“Spike called,” she answered, “He wanted Tara to drop by. He wouldn’t tell why though. Do you know what he wants from her?”
By the slight frown that touched her forehead, she knew. But the frown disappeared instantly, and again, the forced smile came back.
“Nothing to worry about,” Buffy said with false brightness. “Enough worries with the Evil Uno.”
“The sinister yet addictive card game?”
Even bad jokes were not working, and Buffy only gave her a blank look.
“You’ll find him,” Willow declared optimistically. “He won’t be much good without his friends.”
“No. He won’t.”
Buffy’s words were quiet, and Willow understood she wasn’t talking about Warren anymore. They shared a smile, and at last it looked natural on Buffy’s lips. Willow was about to suggest getting inside, as the sky looked like it was clearing out, but something behind Buffy caught her eye.
“Buffy.”
Her friend turned to see what she was looking at. Warren. He was in the back end of the yard, his face twisted by rage and almost unrecognizable.
“You think you can just do that to me?” he yelled. “That I’d let you get away with it? Think again.”
As he finished talking, he raised a gun toward them and opened fire, several detonations exploding in a quick succession. Instantly, Buffy shoved Willow to the ground, and the redhead was slightly stunned for a second. She regained her senses just as Warren stopped shooting, and thoughtlessly she gestured toward him, words escaping her lips. She stared at him for a second, as he was now trapped in a cage of air. She had used magic instinctively, without even realizing what she was doing. Surely Tara would understand.
Abruptly, she was brought back to more immediate matters by a growl. Buffy was on the ground, vamped out, her chest soaked in blood. Willow’s first thought was that she couldn’t let her friend die. A quick look at her golden eyes reminded her that it wouldn’t happen, at least not because of a bullet.
“Buffy?” she called hesitantly. “Are you. ok?”
Buffy’s hand rose to her chest, pressing against the wound, as if trying to stop her own blood.
“God that hurts.”
She started struggling to get up, and Willow helped her to her feet, holding her steady.
“Let’s get you inside,” she suggested. “Can you walk?”
Buffy nodded, though her teeth were bared in a snarl. If it had been any other vamp, even Angel or Spike, Willow would have been afraid.
“Warren.” she said suddenly, turning her head to look at him.
“He can’t go anywhere,” Willow informed her.
“What if. someone sees him?”
It was weird how she was panting, as if struggling for breath, Willow thought worriedly. She didn’t need to breathe, so why was she?
“I’ll get him inside once you’re settled down, and lock him in the basement until we have taken care of your wounds. Ok ?”
Again, a nod was all the Slayer could manage for an answer. With Willow’s help, she staggered to the house, and sat down in the kitchen.
“Bloody hell! I had forgotten how much that hurt!”
Clasping a hand to his chest, Spike raised his face toward Tara. The Witch was so pale, he could have believed she was the wounded one.
“Hey there Glinda,” he tried to say lightly despite the pain, “Don’t you worry, I’ll live. Mostly.”
She blinked and took a step toward him, reaching out hesitantly.
“What. what happened?” she stammered.
He struggled to get to his feet, grateful for her hand holding his arm gently.
“Bullet, by the feel of it,” he grunted. “Got in and out. You’re lucky it didn’t.”
A horrible thought suddenly ran through his mind. The bullet had came in from outside. From the backyard. The backyard where his Slayer was.
Unsteadily, he walked to the broken window, and couldn’t help the growl that rose in his throat. All he could see was Buffy lying on the ground, wounded too.
Absently shaking off the Witch’s hand, he stumbled toward the door, grinding his teeth not to groan with each step. He was still pressing a hand to his chest, and was dimly aware of the blood oozing from the wound in his back, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that did was that Buffy was hurt.
Finally, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. His mind barely registered Willow stepping out through the back door. All his attention was focused on his bleeding Slayer. As steadily as he could, he walked to her, wincing at the pain that was flashing through her gold eyes. She moaned his name, and he would have given his unlife to make the hurting stop. He kneeled next to her, glancing at her back and finding it clear of blood. Gently, he pulled her hand away from her wound and inspected it, fighting his instinct to lick it clean.
“It’s ok, luv,” he cooed. “I know it hurts, but you’ll be ok.”
He reached up with his clean hand and caressed her face soothingly. Her eyes and their fire ran over him, and when they locked with his again, more than pain was flowing through them. Worry.
“You’re hurt too.”
He was about to tell her it was nothing, and in truth he had been shot worse than this before, but he was interrupted by the door opening. Warren stepped in, and Spike shifted to game face, growling instinctively. Then he noticed that the wanker was not walking, but rather floating. The explanation came when Willow entered the kitchen behind him, closing the door carefully. Her eyes first settled on Buffy and Spike, and she gave a little start when she saw his angry countenance.
“I got him,” she said quickly, “he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
Then she noticed Tara, who was standing by the table, her front still covered in blood. Willow’s face paled, and for a second Spike was sure she was going to kill Warren, right then and there, with her bare hands if needed. Apparently, her girlfriend had the same thought, and she raised an appeasing hand.
“I’m fine, it’s not my blood.”
Gingerly, Willow approached Tara, as if afraid to believe she was indeed alright.
“Oh baby. I got so scared.”
The Witches hugged, seemingly forgetting the bad guy standing right behind them and the two vampires bleeding. well, not bleeding to death, but still.
“My God the Slayer is a vamp!”
Warren’s startled exclamation brought everybody’s attention back to him. Spike could only think of one thing. He was going to find a way to get the chip out, and when he did, he already knew who he would try to hurt as a test. More than try. More than hurt.
“Willow,” Buffy hissed through almost clenched teeth, “Can you take him down to the basement until we decide what to do with him?”
One witch went down the steps with the bound idiot, the other ran to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom. Meanwhile, Spike led Buffy to the dining room and coaxed her to lie on the table.
“We have to get that bullet out of you, luv,” he explained gently.
As he smoothed her hair away from her face, she shifted back to her human features. He tried to do the same thing, but didn’t manage to. The pain from his wound, combined with his anger and worry, made it impossible to concentrate enough for that. Finally the Witches were back.
“We need something to extract the bullet from her chest,” he said, trying not to growl.
“What can we use?” Tara asked, depositing bandages and compresses next to Buffy on the table.
“I can.” Willow started, but stopped immediately, biting her bottom lip.
A look passed between the two girls, charged with a lot of tension, and Spike wondered what was going on that he wasn’t aware of. Finally, Tara nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off Willow.
“We can use magic to draw it out,” she said slowly. “Together. I’ll shield you from using too much. Like I did for the soul spells.”
Willow’s face suddenly brightened with a grateful smile.
“Girls,” Spike grunted, “stop with the dovey looks and get to work already.”
Lying flat on the table, Buffy was staring at the ceiling, her eyes following imperceptible cracks in the plaster. The pain in her chest was still throbbing, but she was used to it now, as much as one could get used to pain. Not moving helped. Knowing that Spike was within reach helped too. He was wounded also, and she couldn’t help but wonder by what sick twist of fate they had both been shot, while one of them was in the garden and the other on the second floor of the house. And as she lay there, immobile, waiting for someone to do something, anything, to take the pain away, the words he had said earlier came back to her.
I want the chip out. I need the chip out. And I will have the chip out.
Part of her mind told her that, if the chip had been out just a day before, this wouldn’t have happened, because he would have helped her defeat Warren right away. Another part argued that his idea of helping her probably would have included snapping Warren’s neck. And even if Warren was a murderer, she still couldn’t let Spike kill a human for her. She had seen the look he gave Warren when Willow brought him in, and it only confirmed what she thought.
Finally, there was movement around her, and Willow’s face leaned above hers.
“Don’t move, Buffy,” she said with a confident smile. “You’ll be all better in a minute.”
Buffy tried to return the smile, but it ended more like a grimace. She looked down to her chest, above which Willow’s hand was hovering. Her other hand was clasping Tara’s, and a faint light seemed to flow between the two Witches. Then Buffy saw it. The bullet. Coming straight out from her flesh, as if in slow motion, and flying right into Willow’s hand. Next, she felt the blood stop seeping from the wound, the pain vanishing slowly. Willow stepped back one step, and tentatively Buffy brought a hand to her chest, searching for the wound. It was gone, replaced by tender scar tissue. She looked at her friends, forcing words out of her dry mouth.
“Thanks. ‘Feel much better.”
Her eyes found Spike, standing next to the two girls, his hands gripping the back of a chair to support himself. Despite the pain he was obviously in, he appeared relieved to see sit up and climb down from the table. She walked to him, intent on helping him stand as he had helped her.
“Can you do the same for Spike?” she asked Willow and Tara.
They exchanged a quick glance, before nodding both at the same time. Again, Willow’s hand moved above Spike’s chest, and this time Buffy could see through the ripped material of his shirt as his flesh was knit back together, on his chest as well as on his back. When her hand fell down, Willow staggered a little, as if exhausted, and Tara made her sit down. Spike’s hand touched the new scar, as Buffy had done, and a curse escaped his lips, half incredulous, half amazed. His face shifted to his human countenance, and Buffy realized she hadn’t even noticed it was gold that was looking at her instead of blue. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair, and she closed her eyes in pure contentment. Forgotten were pain, anger, surprise, fear. In his arms, she was safe.