[location: Buffy's basement]likeajoanJune 8 2009, 05:25:54 UTC
John was of course, in fact, currently in Buffy's basement. After Cian and Buffy had succeeded in knocking him (or Asher, technically) unconscious in central Taxon, they'd carried him back here, lashed him very tightly to the aforementioned chair, then locked the door.
She'd been checking on him periodically, and had kept herself within earshot-- so when she heard his shouts she made her way down to the basement with all possible haste. It was with relief that she could sense, immediately, that he was no longer a vampire.
"Hey." She said, in a subdued manner, as she approached him. "Do you remember where you are? Why you're here?"
"Here is my basement." She replied, almost apologetically, as she looked him over-- specifically his injuries. "Something happened." She pulled a small key out of her jeans pocket and walked behind him, crouching down to uncuff his hands.
"You have memory loss. You've been a vampire named 'Asher' for the past week or so. I had to stop you from hurting people. I'm sorry about all the... well, your face."
If his face didn't hurt as much as it did, he would have stared at her for a little while longer before speaking. "No such thing as vampires. Where did my week go?"
"Your week went where I said it did." Pocketing the cuffs once they'd been unlocked, she then went to fetch a knife from a nearby shelf, to start working on the ropes that bound his legs and chest.
"Maybe vampires don't exist in your world, but they do in mine. And I'm not lying to you. You don't believe me? Check out your girlfriend's neck."
"My..." His eyes widened and he started pulling to get himself free. "Where's Charlie? What happened to her? I want to see her right now!" The temperature in the room goes into freefall as John starts to panic.
The sudden cold surprised Buffy, she glanced up at the water pipes in the ceiling with confusion, before returning her concentration to John, and the knife in her hand. "Please, calm down. I can't do this with you struggling." She didn't want to accidentally cut him, obviously.
"Charlotte's fine. She's safe, she's here, upstairs. My friend Xander has been taking care of her. You can see her in a minute-- I need to get you free first though."
He stopped struggling, barely. But the temperature in the room did not improve. Just because he wasn't obviously fighting didn't mean he wasn't in a complete panic about anything having happened to Charlie. She and the monsters were all he had in this place and losing her or her being hurt as simply not an option.
She muttered something like "Full copper re-pipe my ass" under her breath, and tried not to shiver as she efficiently hacked through the ropes that bound John to the chair. Evidently she still blamed the heating system for the temperature drop. Once done, she stood back to let him get up.
"Do you want a drink of water or anything, a shower maybe, or...?"
Buffy held up a hand in a staying gesture. "Okay. She might not be-- it might be kind of a shock for her to see you without warning. She was pretty shaken up. Would you mind waiting here, for just a minute, while I tell her that you're... back?"
She rubbed at her bare arms, beginning to have the vague sensation that the temperature was linked to John somehow, his mood-- though how that was even possible was a mystery to her. She nodded, without saying anything, then turned and quickly took the stairs up to the house, eager to get away from the cold.
"Charlotte?" She called, loudly, as she reached the living room. The rest of the house was comfortingly warm, she noted, almost unsurprised.
Charlotte sat on the couch, her long legs curled under her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She'd picked up a book, but it lay open and ignored on her lap. When she heard Buffy's call, she looked up without blinking. She took much longer to switch gears from what she was thinking and really focus on the young woman.
"Hey." She said, in a much softer voice than previously. It was fairly obvious to her that Charlotte was still very spaced from the whole experience, and Buffy couldn't keep the concern from her face.
"I just went down to the basement again. John, he's back to normal. I've untied him. He really wants to see you, urgently. Do you think you're ready? If not, I can ask him to wait."
...Or force him to, considering his determination-- but she'll leave that unsaid.
The book went onto the side table and the blanket was folded very neatly before going on the back of the couch. All Charlotte's movements were eerily deliberate. She still hurt all over, the bruises on her wrists showing against her fair skin. The bites were healing, but her neck was still a little stiff, and she has nice bruises on her cheeks where he'd cuffed her to keep her quiet.
"It will only be worse if I wait." She swallowed. "And I promised him."
She'd been checking on him periodically, and had kept herself within earshot-- so when she heard his shouts she made her way down to the basement with all possible haste. It was with relief that she could sense, immediately, that he was no longer a vampire.
"Hey." She said, in a subdued manner, as she approached him. "Do you remember where you are? Why you're here?"
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"You have memory loss. You've been a vampire named 'Asher' for the past week or so. I had to stop you from hurting people. I'm sorry about all the... well, your face."
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"Maybe vampires don't exist in your world, but they do in mine. And I'm not lying to you. You don't believe me? Check out your girlfriend's neck."
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"Charlotte's fine. She's safe, she's here, upstairs. My friend Xander has been taking care of her. You can see her in a minute-- I need to get you free first though."
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"Do you want a drink of water or anything, a shower maybe, or...?"
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"Fine. Hurry."
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"Charlotte?" She called, loudly, as she reached the living room. The rest of the house was comfortingly warm, she noted, almost unsurprised.
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"Yes?"
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"I just went down to the basement again. John, he's back to normal. I've untied him. He really wants to see you, urgently. Do you think you're ready? If not, I can ask him to wait."
...Or force him to, considering his determination-- but she'll leave that unsaid.
Reply
The book went onto the side table and the blanket was folded very neatly before going on the back of the couch. All Charlotte's movements were eerily deliberate. She still hurt all over, the bruises on her wrists showing against her fair skin. The bites were healing, but her neck was still a little stiff, and she has nice bruises on her cheeks where he'd cuffed her to keep her quiet.
"It will only be worse if I wait." She swallowed. "And I promised him."
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