Scarlet Letter
Part 1
am I flying?
"...left him on her doorstep..."
no...I'm not flying, I'm falling
"...will he wake up?"
at least it feels like falling
"Xander?"
calling...someone calling me...sorry, Xander can't come to the phone right now, he's too busy falling...
Thud.
Xander moaned. He felt like he'd been catapulted from a great distance and had crashed into the ground, head first. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache, but his head was currently leading in the "source of greatest pain" contest. This was not a contest Xander ever wanted to enter again.
"Oh! Oh! He just made a noise and did the eyelid twitch thing! Xander? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, please, open your eyes now, okay?"
"Cordy?"
His lazy lashes shook off the haze, and he opened his eyes. "Unnnh...w-what? What are you doing...in my room? Please don't tell me...we finally had sex and I was...too drunk to remember," he groaned softly.
She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Yeah, right. Pervert! You should be so lucky. In the unlikely event that you could ever convince me to sleep over in that gigantic pile of dirty laundry you insist on calling a bedroom, I'm sure you'd find some way to preserve the moment on video so you'd never forget."
Cordelia took his hand and gently placed it up to her cheek, and Xander was surprised to feel a faint wetness there, and saw that her eyes were red and swollen from recently shed tears.
"Who died?" he mumbled, his tongue still fuzzy.
"You did, almost. Welcome back."
Xander jumped a little when Oz's deadpan voice piped up from the other side of the room. Oz walked into view, and peered down at the bed. His hair was partly blue today, so Xander figured it must be Thursday. "Hey, did you see Elvis?" asked Oz.
"Huh?" Xander surveyed his surroundings, and realized he wasn't home in bed. He was in a hospital room, and the strange itch he felt on his arm was from an IV needle. He saw a tube running into his forearm from the drip bottle suspended at the side of his bed. He looked down and frowned when he saw the ugly striped hospital gown, and felt gauzy bandages wrapped around various achy parts of his body.
"Uh, sorry, no King." Xander wracked his brain for memories of how he'd gotten hurt, but his thoughts were nothing but muddied waters. Disjointed images and feelings swam through his mind, but he couldn't make sense of them.
...strong hands crushing my wrists...someone singing...blood on my chest...and falling...I felt like I was falling...
Xander blinked and licked his dry lips, and began to wonder if his memories should be filed into the "Things Better Left Alone" category.
"I knew Elvis wasn't really dead." Oz grinned and gestured to the open doorway. "I'm going to grab Willow and Buffy. You kids behave." He popped out, leaving Xander and Cordelia alone in the room.
"I died?" he rasped. His throat felt tight and scratchy. Nervousness and confusion were familiar feelings for Xander, but this was a situation where he really hated being Clueless Guy. He gripped her hand tightly, searching her face for a sign that Oz had been joking. "Cordy? What happened?"
"Shhh. It's all right now." She leaned against the bed and stroked his hair, her lip trembling almost imperceptibly. "You didn't die. Buffy found you, and she got you to the hospital on time."
Buffy? Hard to remember...I was falling...and I was sticky and wet. She kept yelling at me to stay awake, but I didn't want to listen to her. I wanted to keep falling.
"I...I think I may have bled all over her porch." Xander put his hand to his neck, and felt for the bandage he instinctively knew would be there. He'd been bitten. Xander couldn't remember the circumstances, but he knew with absolute certainty what, well, actually *who* was responsible for the near-fatal wound. Who else would take the trouble to deliver his lifeless body to the Slayer's doorstep?
"Dead Boy," he whispered. He let go of Cordelia's hand, and felt his whole body clench into a fist. Nobody could stir up that queasy mix of fear and hatred in his stomach like Angelus. Xander was almost relieved that he couldn't recall everything that had happened to him. He was sickened enough as it was.
"I guess I won the Sunnydale lottery. Odds of surviving: 10 million to one."
"He'll never hurt anyone else again. Buffy promised us she'd kill him," she said, tears sliding down her face. "After what he did to you and Ms. Calendar, I wish I could trap him in a tanning bed with the lamps turned up full blast. Nobody tries to take my boyfriend away from me, nobody!"
Xander let a small smile nudge through his tension as he marveled at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Death by beauty salon, huh? I guess I'd better stay on your good side for the next few weeks. I'd hate to have you punish me with a painful leg wax or a bad home perm."
"Too late, you're already in big trouble." Cordelia stood up and wagged her finger at Xander. "Your little trip to the hospital means I'm missing Aura's annual beach party, which is only the most significant social event of the season. You owe me big time, buster." She smiled and wiped at her damp eyes.
"Wow. Taking care of my life threatening injuries falls higher on your list of priorities than hanging out with a bunch of snobby, bulimic cheerleaders. I'm touched, really," he chuckled. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"I'm going to hold you to that. You know, I noticed there are lots of utility closets in this hospital." Cordelia leaned in and kissed Xander lightly on the lips. He winced and shrank away from her touch.
dead leaves...her lips tasted like decay
Surprised by his reaction, Cordelia stepped back. "What, did I hurt you?"
What the heck was that? Since when am I scared of smootchies with Cordy?
"Uh, sorry...I guess I'm still a little sore." Xander patted Cordelia's arm apologetically. "Give me a couple of Tylenols and another plasma injection, and I'll be back in the closet in no time. Err, with you. Back in the closet with my extremely kissable girlfriend is what I meant to say."
"Xander!"
Willow and Buffy rushed into the room. Cordelia struggled to remain supportive and non-threatened while the two girls swept her boyfriend up in a whirlwind of tears, hugs and kisses. Armfuls of balloons, flowers and chocolates were shoved in his general direction while his best friends recounted how scared they'd been after he'd been hurt, and how grateful they were that he was going to be okay.
Xander grinned at all the attention he was receiving. "Man, if getting bit by a vampire is going to make all the hot chicks in town happy to see me, I've gotta do this more often!"
That's right...keep it light, man. Make with the jokes, and whatever you do, don't let any of them see how freaked out you are.
"Don't you dare!" shushed Willow. With Oz in tow, she hopped up on an empty hospital bed. They sat side by side, holding hands. "Once is enough, mister. We've seen way too much of this hospital. Hey, Buffy, isn't this the room you stayed in last week?"
Last week. Last night was fuzzy, but he couldn't forget his confrontation with Angelus last week. The vampire had scared the bejesus out of Xander, but he'd stood up to him and protected the fair maiden from harm.
Buffy grimaced and shrugged her shoulders as she arranged the gifts on Xander's bedside table. "Ech. Don't remind me, Will. Bed-ridden Buffy was not a good Buffy to be. At least we know we cleared out the Der Kinderstod before Xander showed up. Leave it to me to make your hospital stay demon-free, big guy. Consider me your very own personal bodyguard until you get out of this place." Translation: I'll make sure Angel can't waltz in here and finish the job.
As he looked at Buffy, hidden memories spilled out from under the black velvet curtain in his mind. Xander could sense Angel lurking in the shadows, hidden somewhere behind the veil. As the curtain rustled, he thought he could hear singing, and faint traces of laughter. He remembered calling out Buffy's name, and a burning sensation, a pain so intense it felt like swimming in molten lava.
Were you there? Did you see, Buffy? No...you weren't. You couldn't help me. I was all alone.
He shuddered and tried to blink the scary thoughts away. Not going to go there just yet. Xander wanted some time alone to go over his mental home movies, because he was pretty sure they were not appropriate for the general viewing audience. The curtain was going to remain closed for the time being.
Xander had a hard time keeping his emotions in check when their eyes locked. Buffy wasn't just his friend, she was his hero. He loved this wonderful, amazing girl who had saved his life on more than one occasion. Yet he was embarrassed to feel a trickle of resentment towards her, too.
Xander wouldn't be lying in this hospital bed if she hadn't released Angelus into the world. Buffy couldn't bring herself to kill her ex-lover, and now Xander and all his other victims were paying the price for her folly. He tried his best to suppress that bitter thought.
"Buffy...um, I can't remember much of anything, but Cordy told me that you saved my life." He chuckled. "Hey, what else is new, right? Anyway...thank you."
Her eyes rimmed with tears, Buffy pushed a stray lock of hair out of Xander's face, and he knew her affection for him was strong. Not the love he'd always hoped for...but he supposed it was enough. "Just returning the favor," she said, keeping the mood light. "You know, we really need to find new ways to hang, 'cause giving CPR and bringing each other to the hospital just doesn't spell fun like it used to."
"Know what spells fun in my book? Naked Twister. Less potential for fatalities," offered Xander, generating disgusted looks from the three girls in the room.
"Yet plenty of potential for bodily injury," drawled Oz. "Just ask Devon about the "right foot blue" incident. He still has scars, both emotional and physical."
"Hey, he said he got that..." Cordelia, keying off Xander's jealous look, trailed off without finishing her sentence.
A matronly nurse dressed in soft, peachy scrubs floated into the room, checking his chart and the IV drip with practiced ease. "Alexander, it's nice to see you awake and smiling. You gave all your friends here quite a scare...they haven't left the hospital all night. They also helped us track down your parents. Don't worry, they're driving home from your Aunt's place in Eureka, and they'll be here in a couple of hours." She smiled warmly and wrote a few things on his chart.
"Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad. They're going to be really excited to see me once they get the hospital bill. Think you can give me a shot or something so I can clear out of here before they show up?" he asked.
The nurse indulged him by giggling at his joke, and explained that although he was progressing nicely, she still needed to examine him. "Would you kids mind stepping outside for a moment?" Cordelia and Willow hugged him on their way out the door, but Buffy paused at Xander's bedside.
"He's going down, Xander," she whispered so the nurse couldn't hear. "No more Ms. Nice Slayer, he won't ever lay a canine on any of my friends again." She squeezed his hand.
I wish I could believe her, but despite what he's done, she'll always love him. And that...that hurts more than anything I feel right now.
He nodded, but couldn't say anything in response. She backed out of the room. "I'll be right out here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
The nurse drew the privacy curtains around the bed. "I'm going to check your dressings now. You have several serious incisions, and I want to make sure there's no sign of infection." She pulled the thin, white hospital blanket and sheet to his waist, and gently unfastened his hospital gown at the shoulder. He cringed a little as the adhesive tugged his skin when she pulled back the bandage at his throat. The nurse gasped.
"What? What? Gangrene? Oh god, please tell me you don't have to amputate my head!" Xander looked to the nurse for reassurance, his nervousness increasing when he saw her shocked face.
"No...I...it's gone. I don't understand. Your neck...there was a deep gash. How could it have healed so quickly?" She smoothed her fingers along his neck trying to find a wound that wasn't there.
"What?" Xander pulled one of the Mylar "Get Well Soon" balloons closer and peered at himself in the reflective surface. There was no scar. The old bandage had absorbed some of his blood, but the wound itself was now completely healed.
"Please, may I see the other one?" asked the nurse.
Other one? Jeez, how many places did I get bit? Yuck. I don't think I want to know the answer to that question. Fangs in new places...gyah!
The nurse seemed almost scared to look at the other bandage. Xander seconded that emotion. She pushed his hospital gown down further, and he noticed for the first time the large bandage covering his chest. It was Xander's turn to gasp when the nurse removed the dressing.
Crudely tattooed above his heart was a large, crimson "A."
Part 2
It itched.
Xander rubbed his chest, irritated with the tattoo he neither asked for nor wanted.
Great. Thanks a bunch, Dead Boy. How am I supposed to explain the huge "A" on my chest to everyone in gym class? I don't think anyone is going to buy "I cut myself shaving" or "I ran with scissors."
He still felt tired and achy, but at least all his wounds had healed. Which was both good news and bad news. Good because it meant Xander wasn't going to die, but bad because no human being should be able to regenerate so quickly. The doctors wanted to study Xander more closely to determine the reason for his lightning fast recovery, but his Mom just wanted to bring him home.
Xander's parents were in the hallway, busy arguing with the doctors to get him released. He tried not to cringe when he heard phrases like "an extra night is too expensive" and "that's not covered by our insurance."
His parents hadn't seen him when he'd originally been brought to the hospital, so Xander didn't think they really comprehended how serious his condition had been. One night of bed rest isn't enough to cure someone who had his throat ripped out and three-fourths of his blood drained from his body. Xander wished the doctors could give him a reasonable explanation for his recovery, but after living on the Hellmouth for so long, he knew the answers wouldn't be found in any medical textbook.
He scratched his chest while he worried about his current situation.
Xander crawled out of bed and walked to the window. The sunlight shining through the glass didn't burn him, and he had a pulse, so he knew Angelus hadn't somehow turned him into a vampire. Thank God for that. Xander would rather have died than become a soulless killer.
"Ahem."
"Giles!" Xander whirled around and tugged self-consciously at his short hospital gown. "Uh, what I wouldn't give for a pair of Snoopy pajamas right now!"
He crept back to the bed, keeping his backside carefully to the wall, and slipped below the covers while Giles pretended to be interested in Xander's balloon bouquet.
Giles sat down in the chair next to the bed. "I spoke to your parents and the doctor, and they said I could see you. They filled me in on your medical status, but tell me, how are you feeling?"
"Fine." A beat. "Well, about as fine as anyone is going to feel after being attacked by a 241-year-old bloodthirsty sociopath. I'm not loving the back draft from this little dress they make me wear, either, but once you get past all that stuff, I guess I'm good. Uh, did you see the girls or Oz out there?"
"Buffy insisted on staying outside to protect you, but I sent the others back to school. I-I hope you don't mind, Xander, but I wanted to speak to you privately."
"Uh oh. If what you have to say to me has anything to do with me becoming a flesh-eating zombie, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to be an extra in the next George Romero movie..."
"No, don't worry, you're not a zombie," interrupted Giles gently. Usually the Watcher was annoyed by Xander's sense of humor, but now he was going out of his way to be patient and kind with the boy. "Zombies are reanimated corpses, and you didn't die. That's the part I don't understand. You should be dead."
Realizing that sounded callous, Giles tried to cover his blunder. "Er, not that we aren't all completely relieved that you're still with us, Xander. What happened to you was terrible. If you're not up to talking about your experience yet, I'll understand, but I think we need to explore whether there are supernatural forces at work here. I'm...concerned about you. I want to understand what's going on."
"You and me both," Xander agreed. "I've been trying to piece together what happened yesterday. I have little flashes where I can almost remember stuff, but it's like my brain turned into an Etch-a-Sketch...all shook up and totally blank. The whole not-dying thing has me really stumped, too. But not as much as this." Xander unfastened his gown, and revealed the tattoo.
"Good lord!" Giles gaped at the large, red "A" someone had scraped into Xander's chest, a barbaric reminder of the assault he had endured. There was an awkward pause while Giles tried to compose himself. "I-I'm sorry Xander. I had no idea..."
"What is it? Please, look at it and tell me what it means," begged Xander. "The doctors are all spooked about me being Mr. Speedy Recovery guy, so give it to me straight. Do you think this thing is some kind of magical mojo that kisses my boo-boos and makes them better, or should I be filling out an application for Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?"
Giles' leaned in to examine the mark. "I don't know...hmmm, curious. The technique used to pigment your skin is very unusual. The design is crude, but the clarity and color of the tattoo are extraordinary. I wonder...does the A stand for Angelus?"
"Ya think?" Xander laughed bitterly. "Gee, thanks for coming by, Fountain of Knowledge. I don't think I could've figured that part out without you. I thought maybe Dead Boy got inspired after reading Nathaniel Hawthorne and decided to give me my very own scarlet letter."
Giles was somber when he glanced up at Xander. "That isn't funny."
"Cut me some slack. Inappropriate humor is my defense mechanism of choice. Besides, you should be proud that even though I don't know what happened yesterday, I actually remembered something from English class." Xander softened, the sarcasm leaving his voice. "I-I'm sorry for jumping down your throat. All of a sudden my life has turned into "Unsolved Mysteries," and I'm having a problem dealing."
"That's understandable. Survivors of vampire attacks are usually extremely traumatized by the experience, and memory loss is very common. It explains why so many victims haven't reported their assaults to the authorities. What that unholy bastard did to you...it's reprehensible. We will stop him, Xander. I give you my word."
They shared a look, both of them understanding the gravity of Xander's situation. Angelus was a dangerous foe. He was calculating, deliberate, and his actions usually had deadly consequences. The strange mark could very well be part of a spell or a curse designed to destroy him. Giles examined the tattoo again, and without thinking, he brushed his fingers against the angry red lines.
When Giles touched him, Xander had a brief flash of an unpleasant memory, of Angelus holding him down, whispering in his ear. He shuddered as he remembered how the vampire's cruel hands and his own suffocating terror had immobilized him.
"With this mark, your blood becomes mine."
Then the feeling was gone. He gulped, and shifted away from Giles. Suddenly the older man's close proximity made him very uncomfortable. He trusted Giles, but when he'd touched Xander's chest, it released something. Something Xander didn't think he was ready to remember yet. Something he may never be willing to remember.
"Does it...does it hurt?" Giles asked. He sensed Xander's unease, and put some distance between himself and the bed. He lowered his eyes apologetically, and cleaned his glasses even though they were already spotless.
"No, but it kinda itches." He fumbled with the Velcro fasteners on his gown. "The doctor said that was normal. Call me crazy, but I don't think there's anything normal about a vampire trying to carve his freaking name on my chest. Sheesh, don't any of your dusty Watcher books have information about this kind of thing?"
"Well," Giles stalled, reluctant to reveal what he knew. "Well, er...tattoos are used symbolically in some rituals to denote...ahem...ownership or a common bond...a brand, if you will."
"A brand? So that means I'm like Angel's cow?" Xander's face wrinkled indignantly. "He branded me like I'm supposed to be his freaking livestock? I'm so going to kill him!" He brushed the flower bouquet off the bedside table, and the glass vase shattered on the ground. The balloons floated off into the corner.
Cow. Meat. Food. I'm food to him. He's tasted me once. What if he likes how I taste? Is he going to come back for me again? Is he going to kill me next time? I couldn't protect myself before...how can I ever be safe from him again?
Xander turned on his side, not wanting the other man to see how afraid he was. Giles tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, but the young man didn't want to be touched by anyone at the moment.
"I want it off, Giles. Please, go read your books, and find some way to get rid of it. I can't handle having Angel's brand on me, like I'm some kind of farm animal he's fattening up for slaughter."
"We don't know that for sure. That's just one possibility. The bra...um, tattoo may just be Angelus' idea of a sick joke, so we'll do some more research. Don't worry. We'll find the answers." Giles picked up the remains of the flowers and the vase, and threw them in the trash while Xander stewed on the bed.
The nice nurse in the peach uniform breezed into the room. "Alexander, good news! The doctors have agreed to release you, so you can go home. Your parents are signing some forms right now, but they'll be here momentarily. They've brought you a change of clothes, so you can get dressed whenever you're ready." Xander thanked her as she placed a brown paper bag on the foot of his bed, and then she left.
"Well, I guess I'd better be off. I'll go straight to the library and begin our research." Giles stood up to leave. "Buffy is waiting outside, and she'll make sure you arrive home safely. Xander...if you do start to remember anything...and you need to talk to someone about it, don't hesitate to call me. Day or night, I mean it."
"Thanks, man. Hey, can you do me a favor?" Xander asked.
"Anything."
"Keep this -" he waved his hand over his chest "- between us for now, okay? I don't want anyone else to worry."
Giles started to shake his head, ready to tell him that wasn't a good idea, but stopped. Xander may have grown somewhat accustomed to witnessing acts of violence in the past year, but this was his own personal trauma. Angelus had assaulted and permanently maimed him. If he wanted privacy to work out his feelings, Giles would give it to him. After all, he was no stranger to the type of mental cruelty the vampire was capable of inflicting. "I'll do as you ask, for now. But..."
"...but if there is any chance that this is some sort of sinister plot that puts all of us in danger, we'll tell them. I know. I don't want to keep the Scoobs in the dark. I just...this is scary, bizarre stuff for me. Embarrassing, you know? We can talk about the biting part, but the tattoo is taboo. Got it?"
Giles nodded. "Take care, Xander. I'll see you soon."
When his friend had left and he was alone in the room, the tattoo nagged at him. He rubbed at it anxiously, wishing that he could scrub it off like an ink stamp and make everything go away.
Continued in the next part
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