Title: One From Many
Author: Meredian
Rating: This part... PG-13. Will(should, if ye gods are kind) be NC-17
Summary: This is the final chapter in my "Like a Wind" series. The 'verse is
here:
http://www.angelfire.com/al/LadyBathory/likeawind.html
Takes place almost directly after "Underneath". Xander is in the hospital,
and Giles is, well, read.
Disclaimer: This is not mine. Well, Giles and Xander and Co. belong to Joss.
And the series title, "Like A Wind", was inspired by Stephen King. As was
the title of this fic. And as yet ANOTHER King note, if you know "The
Stand", there is a pretty obvious take off on a certain weapon. I like it,
'kay?
Note: This is for Niccy, Chelle, and 'Nat, for reminding me that I need to
write this. And for Laure, 'cuz she gave me an oppourtunity to write my evil
easter fic. And for Losh, when she's finally able to read it. *g*
Note 2: I apologize if this is terribly melodramatic and rambly.

**

The soft "meep, meep" of the monitor followed him, even as he drove home,
even as he ran upstairs to hurridly grab something leather. Even through his
unshed tears.

It ran through his head like a soundtrack, pushing him on, giving him reason
to throw various objects in the leather satchel. He paused, glancing at the
array of things before him. His brows knitted together briefly, seeing that
something was missing. He walked over to a large bureau off to the side, and
rummaged around in it. When he found what he needed, he raised it up briefly
to the light.

A bright ray gleamed off silver like a star.

Returning, he set the slender object down beside the bag. He continued to
pack, cramming the satchel full of clothes and papers. Finally, he snapped
it shut. His gaze fell on the piece of silver and leather sitting next to
the content bag. For a moment he sat, considering.

Then he rolled his right sleeve back. Reaching over, he picked up the slim
length. A few minutes passed as he worked on the leather, wrapping and
strapping it around his arm. He stuck his arm out into the air of the house.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, the knife shot out of the strapped on
casing with the speed of a cheetah.

Smoothly, Giles pushed the blade back into place. When it clicked home, he
spread the shirt sleeve over the leather and skin, concealing the weapon.

He left the sleeve unbuttoned under the tweed coat.

Picking up his satchel, he walked swiftly towards the door. As he entered
the foyer, he picked up the airline tickets off of the table.

Walking outside, he locked the door behind him.

**

The hospital bustled with nurses and patients. Loud voices surged over the
intercom. In the Intensive Care unit, a doctor spoke with Buffy, Willow, and
Oz.

"He's stable, but we are keeping him here in case the bleeding starts up
again. Hopefully, we'll move him to the general ward tomorrow."

"What's his condition?" Buffy asked.

"I can't really discuss that with anyone but his parents... unfortunatly, we
haven't been able to get ahold of them."

"But... we are his friends!"

Willow nodded silently in agreement, her eyes cast downwards.

"It's policy."

"Screw policy!"

As they argued, no one noticed the man walk quickly through the ward,
ducking behind people as to avoid notice. He found his destination, once
more looking in on the sleeping boy in the room. Touching the glass, hearing
the beeping of the monitor, a tear dripped down his face.

"I love you, Xander."

He leaned forwards, forehead brushing the cool surface. For a moment, he
stayed there, quiet, resigned.

"Can I help you?"

Jumping a bit, Giles turned to face the concerned eyes of a nurse. She gazed
at him, face reflecting sympathy... and a touch of suspicion.

"Ah, yes. I'm in a hurry, needing to catch an urgent flight... but I need a
small favor."

"Yes?"

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, creased sharply.

"Give this to Alexander Harris. He'll know who it's from. Please."

Her features softened somewhat, letting down the "skanky old man" guard.

"Of course. Do you want to leave a number, or a name?"

"No... I really must leave."

Before the nurse could reply, he headed away, towards the more secluded
stairs at the end of the hall.

She shrugged slightly, and walked into the room. Leaning over, she set the
paper on Xander's nightstand. Her footsteps headed out on the sounds of his
steady breathing.