[037] - action

[slaying]

[Buffy had never before noticed the terrifying effect of blood on snow. Especially when it was her own. In California, blood had a habit of sinking black into the dark, uncovered ground. But as she walks slowly back into the village, she winces to look over her shoulder and see the sporadic trail of bright, bleeding red behind her. There's a bad

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[hippocraticly]

[ McCoy had been opting to stay inside due to the abundant snowfall that had fallen since Christmas and the accompanying winter chilliness in the air, although the weather had been ordinary since the New Year chimed in Luceti. The doctor had only been outside during the sporadic journeys to and from the clinic and drinking at the Good Spirits Bar, the latter of which he had just returned from when he noticed a smear of blood on the door to House Seven.

Concern and worry that had been dampened by liquor returned with full force as he pushed open the door and made a beeline for Jim's room; and as expected, there was a familiar mop of blonde hair awaiting him there. His shoulders sagged in an expression of relief, before they tensed up again at the state she had been returned in. ]

Buffy?

[slaying]

[Buffy hisses quietly as she applies another torn strip of the bedsheets to her stomach's right side. The injury, deep and ragged, is exposed only briefly from beneath a white camisole before she fits the clothing back down over her very amateur bandage.

And when the door opens, she is startled. Her head twists and she looks, face haunted, at the entrance. She is such a mess, but there's a can't-be-helped smile when she sees the Doctor. Can't be helped, at least, until she feels the jab of pain once again and has to turn away, holding her palm against herself.]

[hippocraticly]

[ Apart of McCoy, that seldom seen positive side that the doctor possessed, was hoping that Summers would have been returned in the same condition as her previous kidnapping, but watching how she pressed a hand hard against the wound on the right side of her body only proved how unpredictable the Malnosso were.

And the lack of a sarcastic retort from Summers in response does nothing to quell his worry as he disappeared from the door way, only to return moments later with his medical kit and kneels down next to the bed where she is seated and glances at the woman. ]

Let me see that.

[slaying]

[She doesn't reply right away. Oh, not at all. Because that would mean she would have to stop biting hard on her lower lip. And that little prick of extra pain was holding down her visceral reaction to the rawness of the injury beneath her hand.

Slowly, she pulls her palm away. Red is already streaking through from below, staining her tank-top with blood. Now, closer, the Doctor must surely be able to see the hand smudges and odd pools collected around her.

Buffy looks him straight in the eyes, her own wide and searching. When she speaks, her voice is very quiet as if even volume would affect the intensity of the pain.]

Why won't it stop?

[hippocraticly]

[ His brow knits with noticeable confusion as he examines the wound after gentle peeling away the crude bandaging made from Jim's bed sheets. Although she was in a similar state to the one she had been after confronting and defeating the general last year, it was somewhat different now. Treating her back then, he noticed the sluggish regeneration as the day went on.

But now? It was a very different story as he surveyed the streaks of blood and smudges that were staining her tank-pop. The tremor in her voice as she asks that quiet question affects McCoy more than he thought possible, and he breaks eye contact with the Slayer to reach for the alcohol in his kit and taking out a gauze to press gently it against the wound in hope of fighting off any possibility of infection. If this was Summers on any other day, he might not have bothered considering how many times she boasted about her immunity to sickness, but the condition of the wound has him worried. ]

It's all right. [ He tells her gently. ] Nothing to be worried about.

[slaying]

[There is a shudder as the alcohol touches the wound and it feels like it's burning. Searing. She cannot remember a pain like this, or helplessness like this since the Watcher's test. Or, perhaps, since crawling out of the grave. But then it been such a mixture of mental and physical and right now there was just it.

Her fist grabs onto her knee with a fierce grip.]

Which hat are you wearing when you say that? The friend-hat, or the doctor-hat?

[They take a lot out of her, these words.]

[hippocraticly]

Take your pick and stick with it. [ McCoy notices the effort from Summers in muttering those words at him as he continues to clean around the wound. ] Don't talk.

[slaying]

You realize, that's like telling a...flower not to grow. Or, telling you not to be a doctor. Talking's my thing.

[But she stops at that, drawing her teeth across her bottom lip in another display of how not-well she was coping with the pain.]

[hippocraticly]

Shhh.

[ He finishes cleaning up the wound before inspecting the wound again. Satisfied that the blood has now clotted thanks to the gauze he had pressed against it, even if it was not as quickly as he expected with Summers, he reaches into his medical kit to take out some bandages and wrap it. ]

I'll give you something to knock you out once I'm done with this.

[slaying]

[Buffy twists her neck, looking down at the doctor's work.] Knock me out? I have to be knocked out? Why do I have to be knocked out?

[Just the teensiest edge of panic.] I can't--no thanks to the knocking out. Not until I've figured...this out.

[hippocraticly]

[ McCoy sighs as he hears the panic in her voice and her fervent objection to being sedated. Best not to call any unnecessary stress. ]

... All right, fine.

[slaying]

This? This is not how it's supposed to work. [She settles further back on the bed, resisting the temptation to hold onto her side, scratch away the bandage she can feel tight against the wound.] This feels wrong.

[hippocraticly]

You're injured. [ McCoy sounds aggravated at that people responsible as he puts his equipment back into his medical kit and closes it with a soft click. He glances at the woman to check whether or not she is peeling the bandages off much like Jim would. ] You're lucky you didn't go into septic shock.

[slaying]

[Despite her discomfort, she feels too alarmed to cross the Doctor's orders too much.] I've been injured before. This isn't just being injured--there's,...there's gotta be some kind of spell involved. [Her eyes widen, and she sits bolt upright with the conclusion she has jumped to.] They've cast some kind of enchantment on me. Made the pain feel worse.

[hippocraticly]

[ McCoy gets to his feet as Summers leaps up. ] Magical mumbo-jumbo? [ No, he does not sound at all bitter that he can't even contact the simplest of Filial spirits in this place and they curse her with some 'charm' or whatever they call them. ]

Stop leaping around and just lie down for a second. [ And then another thought occurs to him. ] You probably need to change out of that shirt of yours too.. do you need any help? I can find Uhura or Emony.

[ Because he is not going to play dress up with his best friend’s girlfriend. ]

[slaying]

But, I guess--[she stops, holding out her scratched arms to check for tell-tale marks]--last time it wasn't magic. It was just...a drug. But--[she shakes her head. Bones doesn't want to hear it. She knows that, it just takes her a little longer to get there. His offer, however, helps.]

Yeah. Help'd be nice. I like help.