TITLE: "Said she'd be back"
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex in some chapters
SPOILERS: episode 7.4
FEEDBACK: Joss-a-licious!
DISCLAIMER: Mutant Enemy made this universe, I'm just taking a non-profit tour.
CHARACTERS: Spike & Buffy, set between the last two scenes of 7.4
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Prophesy Girl
"And you will."
Her eyes. There's something wrong with her eyes, thought Buffy, staring into the blonde girl's face. Then Cassie collapsed at her feet.
"Cassie!" She dropped to her knees beside the girl, stunned. Not after all this. She couldn't lose her now. Buffy pressed her fingers against the girl's wrists. No pulse. Okay, maybe she just wasn't feeling it there. Her fingers moved to her throat, feeling around frantically. Nothing.
CPR. The first aid training Giles had insisted they all learn after her encounter with the Master came rushing back, but not quickly enough for her liking. Tilt head back, pinch nose, breathe in for six, or was it seven? Quick, short breaths anyway. Cassie's lips tasted like strawberry gloss and duct tape.
Chest compressions. Fifteen. Hold back. Full slayer strength could crack the girl's ribs open with a single push. Check pulse. Nothing. Nothing, damnit. More breathing. More chest compressions. Help. Need help.
"Spike!" She hated it, hated that his was the first name that came to mind. Hated that she needed to call him. Hated that she knew he'd come. "Spike!"
She could hear that prat stumbling around inside the library, moaning. She wanted to go in there and kick the shit out of him, but she couldn't leave Cassie. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Nothing. She's comes back from the dead three times, four maybe? Cassie could come back. Like she did all those times.
Except Cassie saw prophesies, instead of being written about in them. Buffy tilted the girl's head back, time for more breathing. Stopped when she saw the glazed absence in her eyes. Cassie's face was so young, so open. But her eyes.
Just like mom's eyes had been. Just like Tara's.
Familiar footfalls. A black boot toe, then another, stepped into the periphery of her vision. "They hurt the girl."
Buffy didn't look away from Cassie's face as Spike knelt across from her. His hand reached out, fingers spread, trembling a little. They brushed along Cassie's cheek, then gently pulled her eyelids closed. She looked almost peaceful, sleeping, like that. Buffy wondered for a moment if that's what she'd looked like, when they'd laid her out in her coffin.
911. She reached for her cellphone, then remembered she'd left it in her jacket pocket at the office. Shit.
"Spike, I have to call for help. Stay with her."
He nodded, never taking his eyes from Cassie's face. "Couldn't help." His hand reached down, lifting Cassie's small fingers between his.
Buffy turned and ran, dodging another crossbow bolt at the next doorway, and raced to her office. Made the call. She hated making that call. Sometimes she wondered if the operators were getting to know her voice, from all the times she'd had to call in injuries and deaths over the years. Five minutes, they said.
Spike was still sitting with Cassie when she got back to the library, petting the back of her hand and whispering something unintelligible under his breath. Her eyes went to Cassie's throat but it was still intact, the soft skin unbroken. He hadn't fed, then. She wondered if he'd thought about it. She hated that, with him, she always had to wonder about that.
Seeing her in the doorway, he released Cassie's hand and stood, backing away slowly. "Tried to help." Like a lost boy, trying to understand why his puppy was all broken.
"I know."
Then he was gone, vanished back into the library and the darkness. She knelt beside Cassie, pushing a stray lock of hair back from her forehead, and waited for the ambulance to arrive.
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex in some chapters
SPOILERS: episode 7.4
FEEDBACK: Joss-a-licious!
DISCLAIMER: Mutant Enemy made this universe, I'm just taking a non-profit tour.
CHARACTERS: Spike & Buffy, set between the last two scenes of 7.4
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Prophesy Girl
"And you will."
Her eyes. There's something wrong with her eyes, thought Buffy, staring into the blonde girl's face. Then Cassie collapsed at her feet.
"Cassie!" She dropped to her knees beside the girl, stunned. Not after all this. She couldn't lose her now. Buffy pressed her fingers against the girl's wrists. No pulse. Okay, maybe she just wasn't feeling it there. Her fingers moved to her throat, feeling around frantically. Nothing.
CPR. The first aid training Giles had insisted they all learn after her encounter with the Master came rushing back, but not quickly enough for her liking. Tilt head back, pinch nose, breathe in for six, or was it seven? Quick, short breaths anyway. Cassie's lips tasted like strawberry gloss and duct tape.
Chest compressions. Fifteen. Hold back. Full slayer strength could crack the girl's ribs open with a single push. Check pulse. Nothing. Nothing, damnit. More breathing. More chest compressions. Help. Need help.
"Spike!" She hated it, hated that his was the first name that came to mind. Hated that she needed to call him. Hated that she knew he'd come. "Spike!"
She could hear that prat stumbling around inside the library, moaning. She wanted to go in there and kick the shit out of him, but she couldn't leave Cassie. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Nothing. She's comes back from the dead three times, four maybe? Cassie could come back. Like she did all those times.
Except Cassie saw prophesies, instead of being written about in them. Buffy tilted the girl's head back, time for more breathing. Stopped when she saw the glazed absence in her eyes. Cassie's face was so young, so open. But her eyes.
Just like mom's eyes had been. Just like Tara's.
Familiar footfalls. A black boot toe, then another, stepped into the periphery of her vision. "They hurt the girl."
Buffy didn't look away from Cassie's face as Spike knelt across from her. His hand reached out, fingers spread, trembling a little. They brushed along Cassie's cheek, then gently pulled her eyelids closed. She looked almost peaceful, sleeping, like that. Buffy wondered for a moment if that's what she'd looked like, when they'd laid her out in her coffin.
911. She reached for her cellphone, then remembered she'd left it in her jacket pocket at the office. Shit.
"Spike, I have to call for help. Stay with her."
He nodded, never taking his eyes from Cassie's face. "Couldn't help." His hand reached down, lifting Cassie's small fingers between his.
Buffy turned and ran, dodging another crossbow bolt at the next doorway, and raced to her office. Made the call. She hated making that call. Sometimes she wondered if the operators were getting to know her voice, from all the times she'd had to call in injuries and deaths over the years. Five minutes, they said.
Spike was still sitting with Cassie when she got back to the library, petting the back of her hand and whispering something unintelligible under his breath. Her eyes went to Cassie's throat but it was still intact, the soft skin unbroken. He hadn't fed, then. She wondered if he'd thought about it. She hated that, with him, she always had to wonder about that.
Seeing her in the doorway, he released Cassie's hand and stood, backing away slowly. "Tried to help." Like a lost boy, trying to understand why his puppy was all broken.
"I know."
Then he was gone, vanished back into the library and the darkness. She knelt beside Cassie, pushing a stray lock of hair back from her forehead, and waited for the ambulance to arrive.