(Untitled)
Characters: The kidnapped victims and their rescuers
When: March 12th
Where: The Ritual grounds
Rating: ?
Summary: Rhode is dead and the ritual failed. Lucifer's gone. The coma victims are waking up.
( Woke up this morning was feeling quite weird )
When: March 12th
Where: The Ritual grounds
Rating: ?
Summary: Rhode is dead and the ritual failed. Lucifer's gone. The coma victims are waking up.
( Woke up this morning was feeling quite weird )
Rhode was dead, a fact that he personally took pleasure in knowing. As he searches through the sea of graves, not a single person in sight, a sense of dread begins to wash over him. The stench of rotting flesh isn't helping matters, but he's determined not to give up until he finds her; until he at least sees her with his own two eyes.
Wading through a bloodbath of disgust, he hears something in the ground, somewhere below his feet. It's very faint, but he can make out the subtle thuds of struggling. Someone is down there. Impulsively, he drops to his knees, frantically digging. If someone were buried alive, the odds of them surviving too long without air are pretty slim. His actions become even more hurried when he realizes it just might be Faye underneath this rotting earth.
His hands soiled with dirt and blood, he continues digging, breathing hard, only pure adrenaline keeping him from succumbing to exhaust.
"Faye?!" he shouts, hoping to hear a reaction from below.
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Eventually, the sight of Spike's hands drenched in blood becomes too annoying. Out of nowhere a shovel appears in Fran's hands. He holds it for just a second, before silently handing it to Spike.
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Spike. He's here. And he's alive. He's not dead. He's not---
Maybe this is a dream. Maybe what she saw back there was reality. But something tells her it wasn't, that this is what's reality. Even if it isn't, she wants to believe it. That image of him hanging there dead jumps back to the forefront of her mind, haunting her, and she shuts her eyes furiously in an attempt to drive it out.
She opens her mouth to respond, to let him know that she's here, dammit, but the words won't come. Her throat is dry and constricted, and her vocal cords won't respond. Another deep breath of that foul stench sends her into a coughing fit, and she knows that if she doesn't get herself out of here before much longer, she's going to run out of air. But she's not going to give up. Not now.
Her efforts begin to double. She kicks at the packed ground on top of her hard, with all the strength she has, in the hope that this will get her somewhere.
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Prompted by the faint sound of her cough, he continued digging, dirt caking underneath his nails.
"You gonna just stand there?" he says over his shoulder to Fran. "Put that shovel to use."
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"..."
"Hey, Faye, just wait a little longer. This lunkhead and I will get you out, okay? It'd be nice if you were alive as well, please."
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She's getting very frustrated, very quickly. Her efforts are amounting to nothing. Her kicking and her digging and everything she's trying are creating no opening to the surface, or moving any of this disgusting mixture at all. Her strength is beginning to deplete (after all, she's been in a coma for a week, and her muscles aren't exactly in the greatest shape... yes, she's weak right now, but she'd admit that in a million years), and she can't seem to get a handle on a good breath without coughing. She knows her time is running out, and she's becoming more desperate by the second.
Despite her continued struggles, she hears a new voice come through the ground, even if she can't tell exactly what it's saying. ... Fran? He's here too?
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"Hold on, Faye," he called through the dirt. The two of them were getting closer, and he knew it.
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"Ah, Spike. I think this might be her."
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-- Ow. What the hell was that? Did someone just hit her in the shoulder with a shovel?
Though she's grateful for contact from the surface, and knows that this means this mess will be over soon, she can't help but be mildly annoyed, even while on the verge of passing out. Was that really necessary? Surely this could've been accomplished with a little more care and skill.
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"Faye..."
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"You can thank us later."
He scoots away a bit, letting the two have a bit of space.
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Gladly letting him pull her close, she wraps her arms around him to return the embrace with what strength she has left. She buries her face in his shirt, clinging tightly, breathing him in, never more glad for this, having pathetic thoughts of never wanting to let go but not caring what any of this makes her look like right now.
When she hears Fran's voice, though, she turns away to look at him blearily for a brief moment. There's a sarcastic comment brewing in there somewhere that has something to do with being hit by a shovel, but at the moment, she's too weak to deliver it. The effort is appreciated, though. Really. She's grateful, whether she'll ever say it or not.
But that proves to be too much, and it doesn't take long before her head flops back to where it was.
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"You okay?" is all he can manage to say at the moment. He finds a way to calm his breathing and regulate his voice. One would be hard-pressed to find any overwhelming happiness and relief in his voice, but Faye can probably feel it in the way he holds her.
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"You're not dead, right? Otherwise, this would have been useless."
This is concern and empathy from Fran. Treasure it.
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But for now, she doesn't move from where she is. She can feel that overwhelming happiness and relief from Spike, and it's mirrored in her own feelings. Her arms wrap around him even more, and she presses herself to him with all the force she can muster, clinging so tightly to him at this point that her knuckles are probably turning white.
Just his smell, the feeling of him breathing against her, the sound of his heart beating right under her ear, is enough for her in this moment, reassuring her, soothing her into a state of relative easiness. She was so terrified that she'd lost it all forever, that what she had seen had been real. But she hadn't. He's here. He's here. That one little piece of knowledge is the only thing in the world that matters to her right now.
God, she loves him. So much. If you'd asked her months ago, she would've never imagined that something like this would happen. But she's never loved him more than she does at this moment. What would've seemed impossible months ago was now so real to her, so.... She had seen what it would be like to lose him. It tore at her completely. And it was a sight she never wanted to see again. No matter how stupid that makes her sound.
She closes her eyes and rests her head there, letting him surround and envelop her completely. Maybe, just this once, it would be all right just to be held. (Protected, maybe, although she'd vehemently oppose such a suggestion if it were verbalized.)
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Steadying her, he gives Fran a glance and a slight nod; a sort of non-verbal indication of 'thanks for your help, man.'
His attention mostly on Faye again, he wraps an arm around her waist, ready to be her crutch, her knight in shining armor, or her steed, whichever she needed. "Let's get you home."
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