There was snow falling as they left Basel. By the time they began ascending through the hills toward home, the temperature had dropped significantly, and the fall was becoming thicker.
Gregor slowed the car to a crawl as he navigated carefully up a known road barely three miles from home.
“Shall I return to the town, Master William?”
“Do you think it will get any worse?”
Before Gregor had time to answer, a car careened far too quickly around a sharp corner in the opposite direction. Gregor had time to take an unneeded breath, before the out of control vehicle struck their car head on, and sent both vehicles tumbling down a (thankfully not too steep) slope.
Sadly the Master’s car hit a tree half way down, though it was a miracle that the angle of impact simply tore the roof off and twisted the chassis, rather than splitting the vehicle and impaling its occupants.
Xander wasn’t sure how long he had been ‘out’, but registered that they were upside down… or at least at some odd angle. As awareness returned, he flipped painfully in his seatbelt, finally freeing himself from his restraints and hitting his leg in the process. The net result was that he relieved his stomach of the wonderful delicacies and imbibed cocktails of the evening, by retching painfully onto the sloping floor of the vehicle.
Desperate and in total darkness, he found first Spike, then Gregor, by feel. Relieved to discover… just not dust, not dust… but so … *oh Gahh* *Both so broken!... *
Gregor was pinned in place, having been impaled on metal door upright after the roof was sheered off. Xander felt along the vicious shaft passing all the way through the right side of their intrepid driver’s chest and knew intuitively that it had ‘gone all the way’. Xander could not tell if there were any other injuries but given the state of the vehicle… He tried desperately to pull Gregor free but simply… failed. The shaft seemed to have jammed itself through Gregor’s torso then embedded itself in the seat back.
All Xander could do was pull his wrist across some of the twisted metal and dribble his meager offering into the semiconscious vampire’s slack mouth. Gregor finally roused a little and managed to whisper, “Thank…. [painful half cough]… the Master … please…”
It must only have been a matter of a minute or so … but it felt like hours… Xander scrabbled back to the rear of the car, suddenly panicked that he had somehow let his partner dust… But the body was still there… not dust… he sent a prayer of thanks… no dust. It was then that Xander realized the doors of the car were ajar… more than ajar… his side seemed to be utterly absent…
He knelt on his undamaged leg and pulled Spike’s inert figure as hard as he could. The vampire came free, sliding down the ‘slope’ that had once been the luxurious leather bound back seat. He thanked whatever god it was that had made Spike don the annoying lined cape as they slid awkwardly… (and extremely painfully for the conscious party!)… onto the snow. They kept sliding for a few seconds but apparently came to rest against a sapling fir tree. Xander was never more thankful for local flora.
His own chest hurt beyond anything the tortures of the Initiative had ever done, and he knew he’d felt bone poking through where his shin should be smooth, but his concern was the broken Greek demi-god in his arms.
The Consort could see nothing in the darkness so simply used feel. Spike’s back was definitely misaligned, but Xander was no doctor. The legs were obviously broken, one at the thigh and one at the ankle, the torso had no palpable damage, the face was… fine, but the skull… there was a soft patch… and there was blood... His dear love had not roused at all. There was no connection in the link.
They needed help. And he remembered. The car had a mobile on speaker whenever they drove…
Despite his own injuries, he pushed his partner aside ever so gently, resting him against ‘their’ tree, then crawled awkwardly back to the car.
Gregor was still, but as he felt the tingle of a Master returning, rallied a little, though apparently quite delirious, “Thought you were… gone… please take me… Master… upstairs… please? It hurts… I’ll be good… I’ll be…” There were crimson tears tracking down the handsome face. Xander didn’t know if it would help but again shoved his wrist against the mouth of Anton’s loyal servant. The game faced Gregor teased open the previous wound, taking only enough to simply send him into a healing coma. Xander pulled away as the fangs retracted and Gregor gave an unconscious sigh.
He retrieved the phone and literally slid back to his lover who was still wrapped in his traditional ‘fighting cloak’, unconscious.
The injured human was still bleeding from the wound Gregor had opened again. He angled Spike’s head back over his own thighs and dribbled the precious fluid down the throat, then lifted the inanimate head and torso just enough to let the fluid flow down to the vampire’s stomach. Between each effort to try to have Spike feed, he attempted to call Anton, then Stephano… then in desperation, Jim. No one answered. There was another number on the received call list that he recognized as European, he simply hit send. Mistress Minna answered in person despite, or perhaps because of, the hour.
“It’s Alexander, the Master’s Consort. There has been a car accident. Master alive but we need… help…”
All he heard was, “Kip fon *On*”
He kept feeding Spike until blackness took him too.
……..
Xander woke slowly, vaguely aware of a metallic taste in his mouth and heavy sensation all over. He began to try to roll over but found his body utterly uncooperative. He tried to reach Spike through their link, finding only silence. A sense of cold dread flowed, causing him to begin to pant and beg… and moments later attempt to tear off the oxygen mask and pull free of the I.V. and the restraint that held his arm still. His struggles were to no avail as an attentive nurse called for help and he was easily subdued.
Tears still trickling beyond the oxygen mask from his good eye, he could just make out that his shattered calf was in plaster and suspended just a little, and that his ribs and torso had been strapped.
Feeling consciousness slipping again he had to know… With his every fiber of resolve he mouthed… “Please… Sp…?.... Wil….? Gahhh pleee?”
A kind hand brushed across his forehead and the resonant baritone of a familiar voice purred. “He’s here Childe… he’s next to you… now rest… just rest.”
He was aware of warm fluid flowing into his mouth but blackness took him before his good eye could focus.
………….
Xander drifted in and out for the next two days. Some of it medication induced, some Sire’s blood.
When lucid, he heard snippets but still could not get his good eye to agree to open… He wondered if he was totally blind now…
One day he heard enough to know the other driver had been *quite* inebriated; enough to know the police had been called; enough to know that his call to Minna had resulted in them being transported to a local ‘private clinic’; enough to know that Gregor had been reported dead at the scene by the police, and that William had been… ‘critical’, and the other ‘occupant of the vehicle’, Xander, was in a ‘serious condition’. The other driver had apparently walked away with ‘some bruises’.
Xander himself had internal bruising apparently, internal bleeding was a ‘problem’. He wasn’t really sure what that meant, though he did wonder if it had some effect on his obvious inability to string sentences together. Odd thought?….then … black.
…….
Someone stroked his forehead. The hand was warm. He wondered if that meant he was recovering… or if he was dead. If Spike had dusted… then… being dead was ‘of the good’. He tried weakly to reach Spike through the link… got a low hum and wondered if that was a good sign… then … black.
………….
It was almost nine days after the accident. Xander knew that because it was the first sensible question he had been able to ask since.
Awareness hit him like a train… he arched and cried out.
Anton’s visage was present within seconds. “It’s alright, little one, it’s alright!” He stroked the furrowed brow and wondered sadly if the Master was ever to wake up or the Consort to suffer the worst of deaths.
Xander tasted the wonderful fluid… wondered what it was, then pulled away sated.
Anton continued to feed his adopted Childe…. He *and the slayer* also fed the Master and his loyal friend Gregor. All patients were recovering but Anton worried. William had yet regained consciousness.
……….
Xander regained awareness again on the eleventh day post accident. This time he seemed to feel… awake, though the concept of what, where or how seemed quite beyond him.
With his throat still raw from lack of use, he rasped, “Spiiii???” Someone quickly shoved a drinking straw into his mouth and a little too much water later, he coughed and repeated the question. “Spike?”
‘Thank whichever god’, he thought as his eye finally focused, and it was Anton’s pretty features that greeted his slowly blinked waking, albeit worried frown firmly in place.
“Dear Alexander!… Are you really with us?”
Xander nodded… [felt like Noddy]… blinked… [was there a ‘Blinky?’] then simply started to cry.
“Oh… [hic] … Sire!!” Anton swiftly ‘unplugged' all the equipment he could and drew his Childe’s consort into a loving embrace.
“Oh Alex… thank Artemis… thank all the gods…”
He tore open his own shirt, scoring his right pectoral in the process, and rolled ‘his boy’ to his chest. Xander latched on, managing to lift his hand and stroke one of the arms holding him. He took two slight pulls, then fell back into a light sleep.
That afternoon, he talked quietly to Buffy, had some physiotherapy, and spoke to a sobbing Sandy and deeply concerned Jim on the phone. They both apparently knew Spike was ‘critical’ and how badly Xander had been hurt.
Xander couldn’t help himself, his own voice hitched as he talked to his dear friends. Jim handed the phone back to Sandy, Xan knew instinctively his boss was…. probably too emotional to speak. There was a ‘dead body’ of a blonde in the next bed to him. He suddenly could no longer speak either, and as the phone fell from his hand onto the pillow, Sandy *promised* that they were praying for them, Jim had apparently even came to church last Sunday. Xander knew what that meant. He just managed a ‘Thank you … and [hic] Jim… just… thanks.” Then dropped the phone altogether.
Xander felt silly that he had been unable to hang up properly and began to sob openly. The lovely young nurse on duty, must have realized his distress. She moved quickly to roll him onto his side facing Spike then tucked a pillow against his torso for comfort. She sat on the bed stroking his forehead and let him know how his ‘friends were going’. Speaking quietly and easily she was able to convey that Gregor opposite was apparently awake and healing. That Anton had been, that Buffy had been and that William was… stable.
It occurred to him after a while, what was ‘stable’? If Spike was the Master of Europe, surely ‘stable’ wasn’t good enough!… without Spike… what if Spike? It hurt to cry… and that just made it worse… his good eye was against the pillow so he could only just see a bit of Spike still not moving… He didn’t care about the pain any more… he just cried. Alison sat and held his hand.
………
Xander knew it was a nightmare… or something! He felt it, the intense pain, the confusion, the desperation, then Anton was there. His body moved involuntarily just before his Sire arrived. He tore out his IV and literally broke the restraints to assist his Master.
Spike was arching over his bed and crying out. It was the first sound he had made in two weeks and the message through the link was one of sheer distress. Anton was at his side in an instant, wrist wound dripping, his Childe receiving the desperation and reassurance of both consort and Sire as consciousness returned with an almighty gasp and game face settled in place.
Anton was there.
Xander was steadied, and allowed to offer… He knew he was begging but no longer knew why.
Rich red fluid flowed into his mouth and he gave in to oblivion but not before sending a begging message for any deity who was happy to help an ensouled vampire named William.
Some time later, Xander registered the conversation, “He is utterly extraordinary! The Consort is an equal in all things… we must follow the Master’s example.”
Xander could not help a rather incredulous internal smile, ‘Again, with the Consort thing’.
Later he would learn that in vampire circles he was now, apparently, being revered as the benevolent and *ultimate* consort. The fact that he had ‘saved the Master’ *and* Gregor (his Sire’s first minion) with his own blood was considered extraordinary, the act of a Sire not a Consort, and particularly extraordinary where Gregor was concerned.
Despite the desperation of the accident, the ‘deadly Consort’ of the Master had inadvertently become both deadly *and* a role model for clemency and heroism… And his legend grew.
That night however, Xander just felt tired, as Spike arched in pain again and again. Xander finally became too distressed and struggled across, despite his own plaster, to join his partner on the narrow hospital bed, holding his damaged beauty in a tight hug and gave up as much of his own bodily fluid as he could afford.
….
They were being ‘lifted home’, a strange concept… given that he suddenly recalled that there were ‘projects’ and home should be about another continent… and that ‘lifted’ was about a helicopter….
On the fourth day back at the chalet, (day seventeen post accident), the still semi-conscious Spike had taken blood from his Sire, the Slayer and his Consort, along with some fresh, high quality ‘human’ obtained willingly from Anton’s friends. At the end of the feeding, Spike fought back to full consciousness but still struggled to hold a conversation…
He recognized faces… but could not really remember the words… He opted for the familiar… “Pe….? S…??” and was rewarded by rich fluid and the smell of the sea… An odd thought occurred, he wondered if all the faces he would see had the same odd watery streaks.
Then Xander kissed him… and bared his neck.
Spike’s fangs dropped, and despite his broken back, despite the long coma, he drank and was sent such love through the link… that eventually, after four long drafts, Xander felt the link move again. He cried and rejoiced.
Anton also felt the jolt, embraced his Slayer and shed tears of relief. This was not about some European ‘power-play’, it was William!