Title: Walk the Crimson Road (1/??)

Author: Tim Williams 

Rating: TV-14 or so.  Violence.

Pairing: Buffy/Xander, a few hints at others

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, etc.  Even the ideas are
probably things I've read and half forgotten.  Joss owns Buffy, Xander,
and crew.

Distribution: Take my fanfic! Please!

Feedback: I'm totally obsessive compulsive about checking my mail for
feedback.  Please help me with my problem? ;)

Spoilers: Late season 4.  If you know who Adam is, that's about all
there's going to be.  It's kinna nonspecific.

Summary: Sequel to Carve the Crimson Road.  The cat's out of the bag.

Author's Notice: Yep, Carve the Crimson Road is over.  I should have
done (8/8) on it since I knew I was probably going to cut it there, but
I didn't plan on starting this one the way I'm going to, so...  Well,
the tone shifts some, but this story continues the same continuity as
the last.  And I'm keeping the POV stuff :)

Anyway, enjoy your meal!

***

        "Will you help me?"
        "Help you?"  I look at the little girl oddly.
        "Build a castle."
        "A castle?"  She was smiling so sweetly.
        "In the sandbox."
        "Sandbox?"  She was acting like she knew me.
        "Yeah."  
        "Where am I?"  Who am I?
        "The playground, silly." 
        "Who are you?"  How do you know me.
        Giggles.
        "Buffy."
        "Buffy?"  It's familiar.
        "Yeah, Buffy."
        "Okay, Buffy... I'll help you build a castle.  Do you have a bucket."
        "No."
        "Well, you can't build a castle without a bucket."
        "There's one over there."  Points.
        "Okay, let's go get it."
        "Okay!"
        "Hold my hand."
        "Eww, no.  Boys are gross."
        "But we have to cross the street."  There wasn't a street there
before.  There was now.  "Hold my hand."
        "Okay."
        We walked across the highway, which sucked at our heels.  I don't know
why.
        "Is this the bucket?"
        "Yeah."
        "Why is full of worms?"
        "Uncle Adam takes it fishing."
        "We can't use this bucket, or we'll have to dump out your uncle's
bait."
        "We can put them in there."  She pointed.
        "What is it?"
        "A room."
        "Won't we make a mess?"
        "No one ever goes in there.  They won't care."
        "Okay."
        I walked inside.  
        White walls.
        White floor.
        I turn around to see the door slide closed behind me.
        It's a clear sheet of something.
        I drop the bucket which sloshes.  It's full of blood now.
        The blood covers the white floor, splatters on the white walls.
        Buffy.
        Outside, the sky grows black and I see Buffy twisting... becoming...

***

        beep
        hiss
        beep
        Simple sounds.
        Hospital sounds.
        drip
        I hate hospitals.
        I think I've been in them too many times.
        But I don't remember.
        beep
        There's not much I do remember.
        The blond girl..
        Buffy.
        In my dreams, she's there.  
        We do different things.
        Normal things.
        Who is she?
        Who am I?
        Where am I?
        Well, that one I know.
        I've heard the nurses talking.
        LA.
        I think I know something about LA, but I don't remember.
        Like everything else.
        I've been here for three days, that I can count.
        Before that, I don't know.
        The nurses don't tell me much.
        I know I was brought here from somewhere else.  Because of the extent
of my injuries.
        Gunshot wounds, two, to the chest.
        Lots of trauma, but something about my body made it hard to operate.
        Someone mentioned that my ribs were covered in metal strands.
        I'm so weak.
        But I don't look like a freak.
        Except for the disk.
        They call me John here.  
        John as in Doe.
        That's who I am.
        The disk is silver.
        It's about the size of one of those old Kennedy half dollars.
        There isn't a president on it.
        It's got some weird wavy pattern on the face.  
        It's not familiar to me.
        I can't remove it.  
        It's like it's part of me.
        I wish I knew someone here.
        How did I get here?
        Who shot me?  
        Will they try it again?
        Damn, I hate this food.
        But it's better than just the IV.
        That's all I had for the first day I remember.
        A knock on the door.
        Brenda's head popped in.
        She's a nurse with pretty red hair.
        I call her Wills. 
        I don't know why.
        "John?"
        "Yes?"  
        My voice is weak.  I'm still weak.
        "You have a visitor."
        "A visitor?"
        "Do you think you can see him?"
        "Send him in, please."
        She nodded a bit and backed out.
        The door opened fully and in stepped a man.
        Older.
        My father?
        It's possible.
        Small glasses.
        Dapper clothing.
        "Xander?"  It wasn't familiar.
        British accent.
        I smiled weakly.
        "Please, call me John.  Everyone does."