Fic: Deciphering Fire, Pt 8
Mar. 8th, 2006 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleysgirlBetter short than... never, right?
Previous parts here or tagged.
"Cut it out!" Xander says from the front seat, and Spike seriously considers clamping a hand over Dawn's mouth if it'll get her to stop shrieking. "Do you want me to crash?"
Dawn's eyes are huge in her pale face. "You're not even watching the road!"
"Well, that could have something to do with the fact that my eardrums are being ruptured," Xander snaps. His knuckles are white.
"Oh, so now intact eardrums are necessary for driving?" Dawn snaps back.
Spike, refusing to be the voice of reason, especially under the circumstances, says sharply, "Both of you shut up. Barely missed being turned into a cinder by a dragon -- I don't fancy picking myself out of a car wreck to top off the day," and they both go quiet. Thank God.
The streets are mostly deserted, but there're cars everywhere, so Dawn's got a point about Xander needing to watch where he's going. It hadn't taken long to find the SUV that matched the keys -- it'd been close enough to the building they'd holed up in that they probably could have left hours before they had, if they'd only known. Now all they have to do is... well, that's the problem, isn't it? They're going back to Dawn's flat because it's the only place any of them are familiar with, but that doesn't mean it's any kind of a solution.
"Ow," Dawn says beside him, and Xander glances in the rearview mirror, alarmed.
"What?" Xander says.
Dawn shakes her head. "Nothing."
"Baby's kicking?" Spike guesses, and Dawn nods.
"Not hard," Dawn says. "It's not big enough for that. Yet." She grimaces and licks her lips. "I'm just not used to it. It feels weird."
"But you're okay, right?" Xander asks.
"Yes, mom," Dawn says.
Spike resists the urge to tell them to shut up again.
For about four seconds.
"Shut up," he says. "Both of you. Not going to say it again." He's got better things to do than listen to the two of them bicker like children; he's watching out the windows, all around. Just because things seem calm doesn't mean they are.
Just then, there's the sound of a woman screaming. Dawn's hand slips across the seat and finds Spike's, and he squeezes her fingers.
"Getting close to your place?" he asks her.
She swallows. "I think so. Um, right at the end of this street."
"Got it," Xander says, then goes quiet again.
Spike thinks maybe he liked it better when they were arguing. The silence just emphasizes how fucked up things are, and none of them need that.
"There," Dawn says, pointing. "That's my building."
Someone's just running up the steps toward it, struggling to unlock the front door, and there's something chasing him -- some sort of demon, Spike doesn't rightly know or care what sort, because Dawn lets go of his hand and gives him a wild, pleading look, and he's out of the car before it's even stopped, ignoring Xander's strangled shout and the feel of what might be a yard of skin being scraped off his palm as he falls and catches himself and runs.
In the background there's the sound of the tires on pavement; it's accompanied as always by the sharp hot smell of rubber. There's blood in the air, sweet, and Spike keeps his eyes on the young bloke being manhandled by the demon. Thing's got more mouths than arms, and that'd be saying something, but Spike's too busy jerking it away from the kid. Or what he'd have called jerking if the thing hadn't outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds -- it barely moves when he tries to toss it, and then it's got hold of him. He doesn't let go, though. Result is they both go arse over kettle down the stone staircase -- assuming the demon's even got an arse. They run out of momentum halfway down with the thing's weight solidly on top of him.
Spike can hear some muffled sounds, then there's -- well, whatever it is burns through him with enough power to fry more than a few brain cells. Can't even scream, it's so strong, but when it's over the demon's gone and he's left twitching there.
"Spike?" Bit's voice. "Oh my god, did I kill him?"
"He's already dead," Xander says. It's a valiant attempt to sound casual, but Spike knows better. Knows that voice as well as his own. Xander's hand settles on Spike's chest. "Come on. We need to get him inside."
And since Spike can't move or, apparently, talk, all he can do is lie there as Xander manhandles him up over a shoulder and carries him into the building.
TBC
Previous parts here or tagged.
"Cut it out!" Xander says from the front seat, and Spike seriously considers clamping a hand over Dawn's mouth if it'll get her to stop shrieking. "Do you want me to crash?"
Dawn's eyes are huge in her pale face. "You're not even watching the road!"
"Well, that could have something to do with the fact that my eardrums are being ruptured," Xander snaps. His knuckles are white.
"Oh, so now intact eardrums are necessary for driving?" Dawn snaps back.
Spike, refusing to be the voice of reason, especially under the circumstances, says sharply, "Both of you shut up. Barely missed being turned into a cinder by a dragon -- I don't fancy picking myself out of a car wreck to top off the day," and they both go quiet. Thank God.
The streets are mostly deserted, but there're cars everywhere, so Dawn's got a point about Xander needing to watch where he's going. It hadn't taken long to find the SUV that matched the keys -- it'd been close enough to the building they'd holed up in that they probably could have left hours before they had, if they'd only known. Now all they have to do is... well, that's the problem, isn't it? They're going back to Dawn's flat because it's the only place any of them are familiar with, but that doesn't mean it's any kind of a solution.
"Ow," Dawn says beside him, and Xander glances in the rearview mirror, alarmed.
"What?" Xander says.
Dawn shakes her head. "Nothing."
"Baby's kicking?" Spike guesses, and Dawn nods.
"Not hard," Dawn says. "It's not big enough for that. Yet." She grimaces and licks her lips. "I'm just not used to it. It feels weird."
"But you're okay, right?" Xander asks.
"Yes, mom," Dawn says.
Spike resists the urge to tell them to shut up again.
For about four seconds.
"Shut up," he says. "Both of you. Not going to say it again." He's got better things to do than listen to the two of them bicker like children; he's watching out the windows, all around. Just because things seem calm doesn't mean they are.
Just then, there's the sound of a woman screaming. Dawn's hand slips across the seat and finds Spike's, and he squeezes her fingers.
"Getting close to your place?" he asks her.
She swallows. "I think so. Um, right at the end of this street."
"Got it," Xander says, then goes quiet again.
Spike thinks maybe he liked it better when they were arguing. The silence just emphasizes how fucked up things are, and none of them need that.
"There," Dawn says, pointing. "That's my building."
Someone's just running up the steps toward it, struggling to unlock the front door, and there's something chasing him -- some sort of demon, Spike doesn't rightly know or care what sort, because Dawn lets go of his hand and gives him a wild, pleading look, and he's out of the car before it's even stopped, ignoring Xander's strangled shout and the feel of what might be a yard of skin being scraped off his palm as he falls and catches himself and runs.
In the background there's the sound of the tires on pavement; it's accompanied as always by the sharp hot smell of rubber. There's blood in the air, sweet, and Spike keeps his eyes on the young bloke being manhandled by the demon. Thing's got more mouths than arms, and that'd be saying something, but Spike's too busy jerking it away from the kid. Or what he'd have called jerking if the thing hadn't outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds -- it barely moves when he tries to toss it, and then it's got hold of him. He doesn't let go, though. Result is they both go arse over kettle down the stone staircase -- assuming the demon's even got an arse. They run out of momentum halfway down with the thing's weight solidly on top of him.
Spike can hear some muffled sounds, then there's -- well, whatever it is burns through him with enough power to fry more than a few brain cells. Can't even scream, it's so strong, but when it's over the demon's gone and he's left twitching there.
"Spike?" Bit's voice. "Oh my god, did I kill him?"
"He's already dead," Xander says. It's a valiant attempt to sound casual, but Spike knows better. Knows that voice as well as his own. Xander's hand settles on Spike's chest. "Come on. We need to get him inside."
And since Spike can't move or, apparently, talk, all he can do is lie there as Xander manhandles him up over a shoulder and carries him into the building.
TBC
