6th Profile [ Video]
[There's the sounds of something fumbling and the Forge, which had first been pointing at a ceiling when it clicked on, is sent on a whirlwind of color and shapes (hope no one has motion sickness!) before it settles again, someone hissing out in pain as it does so
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He's been tearing around the real world and the forgeworld, more ably in one than the other, ever since the call first went up. He's been tracking her scent, with more difficulty than usually 'cause it's oddly diffused; but finally arrived here.
But before he notices where here is, he hears her name over his forge. He grabs it up, as at anything that might be remotely related, and stares into it at Reid's image-missing the real Reid metres away.]
Why? What happened? Was she with you? [when whatever happened to you happened 'cause that would mean it also happened to her fuckfuckfuckGAH?
Then he happens to see his own image behind Reid's in the forgescreen. He blinks, looks up, and notices that he's in the same room as in the post… and in fact in the room with the guy posting. He blinks, tosses his forge aside, and goes right to Reid, helping him a bit more off the floor.]
…Well, that answers one question.
What happened?!
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She said... she wanted to try something and wanted to me to help her. She said that I was all about learning and profiling and that it was sort of a profile about her.
[There's another pause as he tries to organize his thoughts.]
She was doing some sort of spell I think. I'm not entirely too sure, I didn't get a chance to ask and I know magic from Las Vegas, not... that. [Said with an awkward hand gesture.] Nothing happened and then everything was green.
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Green.
The totally trashed floor.
Spell.
With magical supplies howthehellhe hadn't noticed before.
Green. Spell. Magic. Profile about her.
Radiating out from… an explode-y… pattern…
The dissipated scent. Electrified.
Fucking green.
For a moment, sitting in the rubble next to a total stranger, and a human, and to Spike's eyes a wimpy one, Spike looks like he's going to cry.
Then he looks like he wants to kill Reid.
Then he swipes his face with one hand, levers himself off the floor, and hooks his hands under Reid's arms.]
C'mon, mate. Let's get you to the Clinic. You didn't know. But you can't do anything now.
[where they'd fix his head and give him a few minutes to remember stuff and then he was bloody well going to tell Spike much more than that.
As an afterthought, Spike scowls down into Reid's forge, still transmitting.]
Yo, Hawkeye. Call off the search. They're not gonna find her.
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[And Reid's shaking his head, even though it's making him dizzy, his words starting to string and slur together that it almost sounds like one.]
[Then he forces himself to say one coherent sentence, his hands reaching up to grab at Spike's arms and long fingers closing over them, somewhat strong for a skinny geeky kid. This is important to him.]
What happened to her?
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What happened is she's a bloody human teenager in a world without a parent, or anybody to hover over and tell her not to do bloody stupid things, like sodding magic, and the nearest this blasted world gave her to anybody like that was me and that clearly wasn't any fucking good!
[He lets go of Reid abruptly. But will catch him if so doing imbalances him.
Sitting with a thud back down beside Reid, Spike exhales very, very slowly. His eyes stay fixed on the spot on the floor, from which chaos radiates.]
She was too worried about what she used to be. Ever since… no, not since she dreamed… always. She was worried about… having been that. So she mucked about with [the word sounds like a curse from his mouth] magic.
She wasn't born as a human kid. She was made human. She started as a… ball of green energy.
[ducks his head again. Finally raises it and glares at Reid. Through a tear or three.] So. You might have some weird radiation poisoning or ( ... )
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[His mind isn't processing things they way it normally does. So he grabs for the one thing he can and goes with it.]
[Because Dawn is like the little sister he's never had and while he knows all this new information about her, it still doesn't change that.]
But that's... she's still Dawn.
[Doesn't even realize he slipped, calling her by her first name.]
[And then he's starting to feel woozy and he knows that if any of his team was here, they'd make him go. And he really doesn't have the energy or the strength to argue if Spike decides to haul his ass there.]
... I... all right.
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Because damn is it so what Dawn needed to hear.
Swiping his face on his sleeve (that poor abused leather) he turns and belatedly takes one more look around the room. An item or two sucker punch him to the gut, but he's done reacting outwardly for now. Only crosses the room back toward Reid, and en route swipes up the book to stick it in his pocket.
His hand stops just shy of her clock-shoes. It may or may not visibly tremble before he withdraws it: leave them where they are.
Returns to Reid, links his arm under the doctor's, and helps him to his feet. If Reid should pass out on him, he'll just carry the guy outright, but for now, making Reid staying conscious enough to try and plod is probably a good idea. Who knows. Spike doesn't feel like he knows anything.]
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Right before.... right before I hit... whatever... I think she wondered if 'this means yes'. I'm not sure... whatever it was she was talking about, but....
[Let's his voice trail off.]
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He throws his focus, ferociously, to Reid, and glances over.] You look like hell, mate. Can you make it?
[There's a small possibility some bit of the gnawing in his stomach is due to the smell of free-flowing blood so close to his face.]
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Had worse.
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'Course you probably can't tell 'til you've had it checked, really.
[Realises that might be demoralising. But what's moralising about any of this…]
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Got kidnapped once. Unsub had... three personalities. Two of them tortured me for two days.
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[strange thing to say when he's obviously got both hands and is using them to keep Reid upright as they trudge hastily Clinicward. This seems good, though; Reid seems a bit more awake, and walking quicker, so keep him talking.]
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You still have them.
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[Maybe that's the concussion talking.]
Ah... I shot him.
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