One More Time (Page 2)

"Spike! No! I mean it, don't you dare try that stupid crap on me! I'm—we're not gonna let you die! Just stay with me, talk to me, please!" He felt hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him. "Open your eyes, Spike! Open them now!"

Fighting against the wave of fatigue he felt rising in him, he managed to open his eyes for one brief second, caught one last glimpse of Faye, tears flowing down her cheeks. Now I know I'm dying—I've started hallucinating, he thought, as he fell backwards into darkness once again.

* * *

Pain again. Always pain. Pain in his body, pain in his heart. It was always something. The pain this time, however, was physical, coming in waves from wounds which up until now he hadn't even really felt. Even without opening his eyes, he could see light, blinding, glaring, making him want to squint even though his eyes were closed. Light and pain.

"How is he, doc?" I know that voice. Kinda gruff, a little harsh, but not cruel. Where have I heard that voice before?

"I really don't know, Jet." Yeah, Jet, that was that guy's name. "He's lost a lot of blood. I can do my best to fix the damage, but I really can't say one way or the other." Who are they talking about? Some poor sap must have got himself hurt bad.

The sound of a door swinging open, then that girl's voice again. "What did he say, Jet? How is he?"

"I don't know, Faye. The doctor's not making any promises."

"Jeez, couldn't you even try to lie to me?"

"Would you have believed me?"

"Of course not, but it would've been nice for you to at least try."

The stranger's voice broke in. "Jet, if you wouldn't mind washing your hands just in case? This ain't exactly County General, you know. I might need your help here."

"Sure thing, doc."

A pause, then pain, worse pain, pain so intense it made him jerk back with what little energy he had left, trying to somehow get away from whatever it was that was hurting him so bad.

"Jet, hold him! I've got to get the bullets out before I can finish piecing him back together, and it's not gonna happen with him jerking like that."

"You got it, doc." Weight, heavy weight, pushing him down. So heavy and strong that he knew, somewhere deep down, he wouldn't have been able to get loose even if he wasn't injured at all. "Sorry, Spike ol' pal, but the doc's gotta do this."

Pal? Were they friends? His memory was hazy, slipping further away with each new wave of pain. He knew that voice, knew that name, but it all seemed like another lifetime, somehow separate and distinct from the nightmare he was in. Another wave hit him, and in its wake a sudden moment of clarity, a quick remembrance of the person holding him down. He opened his eyes to see Jet's rugged face above his.

A friendly smile, tinged with concern. "Hey, Spike. How you doing, bud?"

"Jet." It was barely a whisper. "If you'd just deck me right now, I think I'd love you forever."

A small chuckle. "I don't know about that, but…" His face turned to address someone Spike couldn't see. "Hey, doc, we got anything we can give him?"

"Well, Jet, this ain't even my regular 'office,' so I've just got the bare minimum of supplies here, and, unfortunately for your friend, morphine is not on the list. Don't worry, though. I'm sure he'll pass out again in a minute or two."

Jet turned back to face him again, sympathy showing in his eyes. "Spike, the doc…"

"Yeah, I heard."

"I'm sorry, I really am."

A small smile. "Thanks a lot, pal." Another wave, and he was relieved to feel himself slipping away again, away from the outside world, away from the light, away from the neverending pain.

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