[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?"
Buffy bore a couple of bruises herself from her fight with Asher, but she still felt a pang of sympathy for Charlotte's injuries.
"Okay." She nodded, tempted to tell the other woman to just leave the blanket- that it wasn't important, but she held back. It probably had something of a calming ritual-like quality to it, the folding. She waited until that was done, and then inclined her head in the direction of the basement. "Shall we...?"
Charlotte headed over, but she let Buffy take the lead into the basement. She'd been in the house long enough to know where the door was, where they were keeping John, but she didn't want to go down first. She really needed the petite woman between her and John for a while. At least until she was absolutely certain it was John. Buffy could have been fooled.
It only took a few steps down into the dim basement for Charlotte to realize Buffy hadn't been fooled. The basement was freezing.
When Buffy went upstairs, John started to pace. As he paced, the room got colder. He was not only panicked, he was now angry, too. This was completely unacceptable. He was close to going storming up after her and only his own fear that something was very wrong and his fault were enough to keep him in the basement.
By the time they returned, there were icicles on the overhead pipes and his breath was coming out in clouds of steam. If the room was above 20 degrees, it was only just barely.
Buffy tried her best to ignore the cold (which didn't work even slightly), as she led Charlotte down the steps into the basement. When she got to the bottom she hugged herself and hovered there without saying anything, intending to stick around for as long as it takes Charlotte to feel comfortable with John-- or as long as she's needed, at any rate.
Seeing Buffy nearly shivering, Charlotte made a low, frustrated noise. "Cut it out, John. If you break the pipes, you'll flood the place, which is no way to repay Buffy and Xander for looking out for us." She walked a little ways past Buffy, just close enough so John could see what kind of shape she was in.
Snapping at him helped keep her from slapping him. Given that she couldn't actually slap the person she wanted, that was a good thing.
He stared at her. Seeing her injuries did not have the effect she would have wanted. He looked at both of them, then gave a helpful grunt before going up the stairs and looking for a way outside.
His flight took the cold with him, the room very quickly returning to its normal basement temperature.
Unsure how to react (though glad for the warmth, however brief it might be), Buffy turned to Charlotte, with a look that clearly said she had no idea what to do.
Charlotte shook her head. There was no point. He wouldn't talk to Buffy and probably would just keep going. This was on her now. Of course, it always had been, hadn't it? "I'll go before he freezes the whole place." She looked at Buffy for a long moment. "Thank you. Thank you for stopping him, thank you for not killing him."
John only really made it as far as outside the house before just stopping and sitting down. His hands were in his lap and he was looking down at them, looking for some kind of evidence to tell him whether or not he'd been the one to do that to Charlie. The rest of his body aches did not answer that question, only his hands could.
Meanwhile, Buffy was acknowledging Charlotte's thanks with a subdued smile, and a nod. "It's okay. You're welcome." She glanced up at the doorway, wondering how far he'd gone.
"Good luck with..." (John) "Everything. And take care, okay?"
Charlotte smiled wanly and nodded. She could use all the luck possible at this point. There was no way this could go well. Less badly was the best she could hope for. With a final, small wave, Charlotte headed up the stairs and out of the house.
She was all set to go racing back toward John's place and as such, very nearly tripped over the man sitting on the steps. She let out a small squeak of surprise. "Oh! You didn't leave."
Well of course he didn't leave. He didn't know how to get back to his house from where they were. And he certainly didn't have a tablet with him. Not that any of that was the conscious reason he was sitting on the steps.
His hands were. His bruised hands, with blood under the nails. And his missing time. And Charlie's face.
She sat down a little ways from him, arms curled tightly around her and her chin on a knee. He looked worse than she did, but then the worse of the marks on her didn't show. She watched him for a long while before speaking. "I'm sorry you ended up tied up."
He glanced at her and shrugged. Without knowing what he'd done, he couldn't say if tied up was warranted or not. He couldn't look at her long before his eyes went back to his hands.
Any immediate concern for him was burned away in a flash of rage that left her shaking. She didn't raise her voice or change her expression, but her hands tightened into fists. "Home? You want to go home." She closed her eyes for a moment. "How about you ask what happened first and we go from there?"
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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"Okay." She nodded, tempted to tell the other woman to just leave the blanket- that it wasn't important, but she held back. It probably had something of a calming ritual-like quality to it, the folding. She waited until that was done, and then inclined her head in the direction of the basement. "Shall we...?"
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It only took a few steps down into the dim basement for Charlotte to realize Buffy hadn't been fooled. The basement was freezing.
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By the time they returned, there were icicles on the overhead pipes and his breath was coming out in clouds of steam. If the room was above 20 degrees, it was only just barely.
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Snapping at him helped keep her from slapping him. Given that she couldn't actually slap the person she wanted, that was a good thing.
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His flight took the cold with him, the room very quickly returning to its normal basement temperature.
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"You want me to go after him, or...?"
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So he sat there and stared at them.
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"Good luck with..." (John) "Everything. And take care, okay?"
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She was all set to go racing back toward John's place and as such, very nearly tripped over the man sitting on the steps. She let out a small squeak of surprise. "Oh! You didn't leave."
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His hands were. His bruised hands, with blood under the nails. And his missing time. And Charlie's face.
And he was cold.
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"Can we go home?"
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