If asked, he'd... Well, he'd probably own up to the truth, to be honest. He didn't give a toss about politics, found it rather laughable that there was even an attempt at it in a place like this, so, there was really only one thing worthy enough to drag him all the way out there.
Her.
So, he'd found a spot in the back, lurking in that special way only a former creature of the night could do. When she made her way to the stage, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, warm and oddly proud. She seemed so fragile up there, but he knew as well as anyone how deceptive the cover of that book really was.
But she was also his to protect, as much as anyone had ever been, so when she collapsed, he was already halfway to the stage, elbowing his way bodily through the crowd, likely knocking over a few unlucky spectators along the way.
He vaulted up onto the stage, skidding to a stop on his knees at her side. "All right, love," he murmured, his hands hovering near the odd device now locked around her neck. "Fred, open your eyes."
She opens them, not because she's at all convinced that anything is all right, but because she recognizes his voice. Spike. She knows Spike.
But when Fred does open her eyes and notices his hands hovering near the collar, she backs away, pushing her heels against the wood of the stage as she tries to scoot backwards. "Don't touch it!" she shouts, her own hands flying to her neck to rest lightly on the metal there.
It shouldn't be there. the collar shouldn't be there at all, but if it is, she can't take it off. Not now, not yet.
She skittered away like a frightened animal and Spike lifted his hands up, palm out where she could see them, dipping his voice into a low rumble. That same soothing voice he'd used with Dru, more times than he could remember. All those years of talking her down from moments like this, looking into her eyes and knowing knowing she was seeing past him, seeing something he couldn't.
"Wouldn't dream of it, pet," he said, inching a little closer to her, calm as he could manage in the face of all that terror staring back at him. Truthfully, he was frightened for her. He knew she wasn't the type to get worked up over nothing.
"Fred, I know you're scared, but I need for you to tell me what that thing is. You can do that, can't you?"
"It's there, isn't it?" she asks, instead of answering Spike's question. Her eyes are still wide and frightened, though the question should be easy to figure out the answer to, on account of her fingers touching the collar.
So many improbabilities. So many inconsistencies. How could she have thought any of this was real? The simplest explanation is generally the right one, and none of this is simple.
"It's there," Spike confirmed, shuffling just a bit closer, but keeping his hands at a distance.
"In case you've forgotten, love, I'm not known for my brains, or my patience, so you're going to have to start talking to me before I go and tear that thing off with my bare hands."
"No! You can't!" Fred replies, voice suddenly elevated, even though he's already said he won't try to touch it or take it off. "It'll explode. Or implode... implode's more accurate. Either way I'll die. I'll be gone,"
She's looking past him now, seeing him and not seeing him at the same time as she remembers when she first saw what the collar could do.
"Wouldn't want that, would we?" he said calmly, though he could feel the still novel drum of his heartbeat, pulse thundering frantically with all that adrenaline and nowhere to focus it.
"Fred," he said, watching her eyes glass over, "Fred, look at me, love. We're going to get you out of that bloody thing, but you need to stay with me."
Her.
So, he'd found a spot in the back, lurking in that special way only a former creature of the night could do. When she made her way to the stage, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, warm and oddly proud. She seemed so fragile up there, but he knew as well as anyone how deceptive the cover of that book really was.
But she was also his to protect, as much as anyone had ever been, so when she collapsed, he was already halfway to the stage, elbowing his way bodily through the crowd, likely knocking over a few unlucky spectators along the way.
He vaulted up onto the stage, skidding to a stop on his knees at her side. "All right, love," he murmured, his hands hovering near the odd device now locked around her neck. "Fred, open your eyes."
Reply
But when Fred does open her eyes and notices his hands hovering near the collar, she backs away, pushing her heels against the wood of the stage as she tries to scoot backwards. "Don't touch it!" she shouts, her own hands flying to her neck to rest lightly on the metal there.
It shouldn't be there. the collar shouldn't be there at all, but if it is, she can't take it off. Not now, not yet.
Reply
"Wouldn't dream of it, pet," he said, inching a little closer to her, calm as he could manage in the face of all that terror staring back at him. Truthfully, he was frightened for her. He knew she wasn't the type to get worked up over nothing.
"Fred, I know you're scared, but I need for you to tell me what that thing is. You can do that, can't you?"
Reply
So many improbabilities. So many inconsistencies. How could she have thought any of this was real? The simplest explanation is generally the right one, and none of this is simple.
Reply
"In case you've forgotten, love, I'm not known for my brains, or my patience, so you're going to have to start talking to me before I go and tear that thing off with my bare hands."
Reply
She's looking past him now, seeing him and not seeing him at the same time as she remembers when she first saw what the collar could do.
Reply
"Fred," he said, watching her eyes glass over, "Fred, look at me, love. We're going to get you out of that bloody thing, but you need to stay with me."
Reply
Leave a comment