bigapplesauce | Versus [Closed]

This is the wrong city. He had been heading elsewhere to look for the girl - a stupid errand, he thought, but he had his orders - but this isn't the city he was aiming for. That is… interesting. It's far louder than New Arcadia to his ears, but it's also quieter to some of his other senses.

There are… no wards.

A grin spreads across his face. Oh, this is hilarious. An enormous city full of humans should itch with wards, but there's nothing. It's not exactly carte blanche (his kind require invitations), but compared to what he's used to, this will be so, so easy.

Surely his master wouldn't mind if he had a snack before returning. This is a better find than that girl would have been, anyway. He lets out a high-pitched giggle, then heads out of the trees and toward the swirl of humanity beyond.

He's young enough to pass, and it isn't long before he manages to draw a young woman in. It's almost too easy, as if she doesn't even know his kind exist, but he's not complaining. Instead, he guides her into an alley, away from prying eyes.

Well, hello now. Here we go. Barely out the door, and he already has prospects.

He catches a whiff of something that's definitely not native to New York, and moments later, he sees someone shuttle a woman down an alleyway. Everything about it says victim and attacker to Spike. By the time he ducks into the alleyway, the guy already has the girl up against the wall.

He jogs in and yanks at the back of the man's coat, throwing him against the opposite wall. When the girl doesn't seem to get the hint, he yells back at her, "Get out of here, you twit!" She seems to shake herself out of a daze, then does as she was told, running away from the two men.

He knows someone else has joined them in the alley, hears his approach. His gaze flicks sideways, sizing up the threat, and then he goes still, surprised. Whoever this guy is - whatever he is, because he doesn't smell human - he knows the girl. Maybe not well, but he can still sense her on him, a residue she's left behind.

So when the - what is he, some kind of partblood vigilante? When he grabs his coat, hurls him against the wall, he lets himself be hurled. There's no air to be driven from his lungs, but he lets out a respectable grunt at the impact, keeping his moves slow, clumsy, human. Holding the illusion. "Hey," he says, staggering a little and raising his hands in playful appeasement. "Come on, man." He spares the retreating girl a quick glance, a little disappointed that his meal's on the run, but it's all sheer. He can find another, and he can't miss this opportunity to actually find the little blanker who has his master so… intrigued.

Spike doesn't wait to hear the vamp's motivation, or to buy into this play-acting. He can smell blood on him that doesn't mesh with whatever he really is. His instinct says that this is a vampire, but if so, it's not any kind that he's used to fighting.

He throws an opening punch that hits, but it doesn't take the guy down. That's enough to confirm non-human. If the guy is strong enough to take one of his punches, he's in for a decent fight. Now all bets are off. He lets his face transform, and throws a wide kick as the vamp tries to move in closer again.

He dodges the kick a little too quickly - too quickly for a human, anyway - but that punch was harder than anything a human could dole out, and he doesn't particularly want to take a kick if he doesn't have to. Besides, he's still passing (if only just).

When he notes Spike's transformation, he cocks an eyebrow. Definitely partblood, though why he's involving himself in vampire business is a mystery. It's not like he's undercover SOF. But it doesn't matter. What matters is the girl.

Maybe he'll be willing to do things the easy way. "I'm just looking for a girl," he offers, hands still raised in a manner that is ostensibly peaceable. "Maybe you know her." He definitely knows her. "This tall, brown hair…"

"Sorry, mate." The close quarters fighting had worked better before, so Spike moves in. His style is forceful, but well informed and practiced. This guy is too quick to be hit by anything that takes much time to dole out, so he sticks with with short jabs. He works with his fists, elbows, and knees, dealing blows and then, when the vamp wises up to his situation, blocking them.

When the first blow hits him across the mouth, Spike stumbles back smiling, his lip bleeding. "Where did you tumble in from?" He casts a glance around, looking to see if there's anything in the alley that he can use as a stake. Before he can settle on anything, the vamp is back on him. They tumble back and forth for a while, jostling against themselves and the walls of the alley as they both land blows. It's a decent fight, by Spike's standards, but he's not worried about losing. Even if he doesn't have a stake on hand, he can incapacitate the vamp no problem.

He moves away, grabs his knife from his boot, and has it at the vamp's neck in the next moment.

Ugh. Fine. He'll just have to do this the far less fun way. One hand clamps onto Spike's knife arm, moving too fast for human eyes to track - a temporary safeguard, so he doesn't have to worry about his throat being cut in the next two seconds. His eyes bore into Spike's with a compelling clarity no human possesses. But he's no longer even trying to pass, and no one who saw him now would mistake him for human.

He can feel the tension drain out of the other guy's body, and he lets out a little, satisfied laugh as the knife clatters against the pavement. "That's better," he says. "Now, you can tell me where the girl is. You know the one." He can't orient this guy they way he would a vampire, and he can't describe the girl that well in words (all humans start to look the same after awhile), but that's fine. At least he has a captive audience. Reflected in his irises, a faint image appears, like a reflection: a terrified young woman being frog-marched up some stairs and onto a sunken wooden porch. It is unmistakably Sunshine.

Said baker is on her way up the front steps of the apartment building when she hears a familiar giggle from a nearby alleyway. She doesn't think no or that's impossible. She doesn't think at all. Her light-web flares, and she bolts for the alley.

No. no no no no. This is not good. The minute he meets the guy's eyes, he can feel himself being controlled. As he tries to break out of the grip, his body only softens. The knife falls. Suddenly it's difficult to concentrate on standing upright. Attacking is out of the question. His mind tries to strike back, but his body doesn't respond. A moment later, he's completely lost.

"Girl?" He squints at the image he's shown and might be shocked to see Sunshine, were he able at the moment to process any sort of emotion beyond confusion. "Why d'you want Sunshine?" His head lolls back drunkenly and it's an effort of will that makes him lift it again to look...whoever this is in the eye. he knows there's some sort of danger here, but he can't quite remember what it was. "Yeah I know 'er. Baker."

He hisses at the name, triumph mingled with distaste. His master won't like it. His master won't even be able to say it. But it's a name, and names have power. This is good, and he bares his fangs in a grin. "Oh, it's not really me who wants her," he says, "it's--" There's a flash of golden light as Sunshine rounds the corner into the alley, and the vampire turns his head toward the distraction.

She sees him looking at her (she hardly registers that there's another person in the alley, let alone one she knows), and one thought makes it through the static in her mind: just use your hands. Less mess. And then she plows into the Giggler, breaking his hold on Spike. Her muscles remember what her conscious mind has been trying to forget: as if drawn by a magnet, her left hand finds his chest, her fingers sinking into the hollow beneath his breastbone, and she pulls…

And his heart slides out of his chest to hit the pavement with a wet splat. Moments later, his body follows, crumpling to the ground with none of a vampire's boneless grace.

Sunshine stands in place, rigid with adrenaline, staring down the alley as if she's waiting for more. There are always more.

Edited 2014-02-23 19:27 (UTC)

Spike slumps to the ground when he's let go and, as he comes back to himself, watches the ensuing action from a worm's-eye view. He's barely recognized the blaze of light as Sunshine before her hand is plowing through the guy's chest. He scrambles back on instinct and in the next moment a heart drops down into the space he'd just vacated.

"What?" He takes a few moments to confirm for himself that, yes, Sunshine, the touchy baker girl, did in fact just rip a vampire's heart out of his chest. That's definitely not a skill she'd shared having before.

The vampire isn't dusting, which is strange, but he's not moving either, so Spike's counting him out for good. He pushes himself to his feet on slightly shaky legs and takes an extremely cautious step towards Sunshine. There's no way he wants her to give him the same treatment and she doesn't exactly look like she's a hundred percent at the moment. "That's one hell of a skill you got there, Sunshine."

It's just as well that he hangs back a bit, because the sound of his voice gives her a hell of a start. Sunshine whirls around, her bloody hand pulled back in readiness, wards and light-web blazing…

… Wait. Con? No. Spike.

Not New Arcadia. New York.

The light-web fades, leaving only the faint glow of her necklace-scar. Okay. This is okay, this is good, because if Spike's here and she's in New York, then the last thirty seconds can't have really happened. It was just some kind of weird flashback, some belated post-traumatic whatever, and it's embarrassing that Spike witnessed it but at least it didn't really happen.

But then she looks down and sees the body, and then she sees her hand, crimson to the wrist, and she staggers back into the rough brick wall with a little wordless cry.

Oh gods. Oh gods. No.

"Whoa there!" Spike rushes forward to steady her as she falls backward, but only succeeds in easing her impact into the brick wall. He's forgotten already that he was going to be cautious around her. His hands drop from her shoulders only to give her a little more breathing room, and he dips his head to see if she seems likely to pass out at any moment. She seems fine physically, but mentally is another question altogether. He's grateful for the rescue, but it seems to have come at some sort of price.

"Hey." He glances down to her hands. He doesn't have anything on him to clean off the blood, and he can't just leave her here. In this state, he wouldn't be surprised if she wandered into the street, and a dead body isn't the best of company in the best of times. Not exactly the best way to thank someone for saving your undead life. Better to bring her back with him. "Okay, love, we're going to get you cleaned up. Come on." He offers his arm expectantly. He'll carry her if he needs to, but that might scare her more at this point, so he'll try walking her up to his apartment first.

No no no no. She squeezes her eyes shut when Spike comes rushing forward, because he's a vampire and he knows what she can do and wouldn't this be a stellar opportunity for him to take her out before she can tear his heart out… not that she wants to do that. She doesn't want to do that ever again. But then he lets go of her, and she cracks her eyes open, and he just looks… concerned. For her? Why?

Maybe because she's hyperventilating in a carthaginian alleyway. And because he has no idea who she just… struck… for the second goddamn time, like it wasn't enough that she had to deal with Bo's gang once, now she gets to deal with them again, minus Con, and she can't do that. She really, really can't.

She shudders, and there's an answering glimmer from the golden latticework under her skin. But some of Spike's reassurance gets through (some distant part of her thinks: who knew Spike could be reassuring?), and she manages a shaky nod. "O… okay." She eyes his arm a bit dubiously - he should not trust her to touch him - but she steps away from the wall, her clean arm curled around herself and the… other one… held stiffly away from her body, as if it's not a part of her - not a part she wants, anyway.

Spike turns himself around so that he can tuck himself in front of the arm she's holding out. The great thing about a leather coat is it's super easy to clean blood off of. If she doesn't want to look at her bloody hand, blocking it with his body is the best he can do at the moment.

He uses the arm he places around her waist to steer her back towards the apartment building. "Oookay. Lets get out of the alley." Away from the dead body. Police are bound to show up at some point and it'd be best if they are gone by the time that happens. It occurs to him that dripping blood through the lobby toward the lifts is probably a bit suspicious, too, but there's no way that he's going to drag her up the stairwell hoping to avoid more people.

"This is not how I envisioned my night going, how 'bout you?" He doesn't really expect an answer.

Yes. Out of the alley. Good. He puts a steadying arm around her, her bloody hand at his back, and she has no idea if she should feel grateful for the support or appalled that she's getting blood on his coat (or even amused that they'd probably just look like a couple out for a stroll if she wasn't such a goddamn kali mess, but she doesn't trust amusement to refrain from turning into hysteria).

Something is digging into her ribs, and she realizes with a dull sense of surprise that she's still clutching her keys. She'd been about to go inside before--don't think about it. She focuses on the keys, instead, carefully unclenching her hand a little, feeling the way they stick to her, taking careful note of the soreness in her palm that her brain hasn't bothered to register until now. Her hand hurts. Her good hand hurts. Think about that, Sunshine, not about what's behind you.

Spike is talking again. He's asking her a question, and she does not know what to say. No? Of course not? She expects questions, because that is what comes next, but not anything so… open-ended.

Say something, Sunshine. Prove to me that you are a rational creature.

"… No," she says. She inhales sharply, the sort of breath that turns into a laugh, or a sob, and she makes herself stop and hold the breath for a few seconds before releasing it.

He's counting it as a good sign that she was able to say anything at all. He's not sure that a single syllable negation is actually an answer to his question, but that's what he's taking it as. "Well, good. I wasn't planning on being hypnotized, you weren't planning on ripping his heart out of his chest. I find that very reassuring."

He's talking in the hopes that it will give her something to focus on besides what's just happened, and to keep his own thoughts going in the post-hypnotic fuzz that he's still trying to shake from his mind. As they reach the doors to the apartment building, he lifts his spare arm to push the door open and maneuver them through. "You missed me kicking his arse before the whole hypnosis thing. I could have shaken him off." Not likely. "It was only a matter of time." Again, not likely.

Thank you so much for the reminder that she just ripped someone's heart out, Spike. Sunshine presses her lips together, then wrenches her focus back to the first half of that particular sentence. Spike was going under? She didn't think vampires could do that to each other. Or maybe they can't in her universe, but Spike was fair game because he's barely a vampire by her standards, anyway. (Better not say that aloud.)

It must not have taken too well, otherwise she doubts he'd be as lucid as he seems to be… but it's still hard to imagine it happening at all. Or remember it happening. Her memories of what transpired between hearing that goddamn giggle and… afterward… are too fuzzy. Or just too terrible to examine for details.

She blinks, brow furrowing, then looks up at him. "He put you under the dark?"

And hey, look, she got out a full sentence. And she's following what he's saying. Something that he's doing must be working. As they walk through the lobby, Spike makes an effort to keep people from seeing any blood. Hopefully they just look like a slightly tipsy couple making an early night of it instead of something more sinister.

"Under the dark?" The term throws him off and it takes him a few moments for him to connect the dots and realize what she's referring to. "If you mean the invasive stare-down into my brain he was giving me back there, yeah. He put me under."

He goes over the fight in his mind, trying to find for himself the moment when he'd lost control. He'd had his knife to the vampire's throat and then... His knife. He winces in realization. He really must be more absent-minded than he'd thought. "Shit. I forgot my knife." He doesn't make any move to head back to get it. He's never been arrested in this universe- his prints won't do any good to anyone. It is a good blade, but not worth walking into a crime scene and not worth leaving Sunshine here, alone and bloody. He sighs and keeps moving forward. "If the police haven't picked it up by tomorrow, I'll get it then."

Edited 2014-02-27 04:20 (UTC)

"Why?" She barely realizes she's said the word aloud. Suckers don't just put people under for kicks; it's a prelude to a meal. And while Spike isn't much of a vampire by her standards, she's pretty sure he's enough of one to be… unappetizing… to a vampire from her universe. If the Giggler wanted to kill him, he would have, so why bother with putting him under?

Her musing (fairly lucid musing, too - her brain seems to be juddering its way back to something close enough to normal for her to get by) is interrupted by Spike's missing knife announcement. She stiffens for a moment, thinking he's going to leave her to go fetch it. Instead, he keeps moving, and it's more of a relief than it should be. She could probably walk without his support at this point, but she'd… rather not. And she's just going to go ahead and add that to the list of things she's not thinking about.

"He wanted to get to you through me. Smelled you on me." Or something like that. How else would he have known that he knows Sunshine? Who knows what he could have picked up the scent from. Spike hasn't seen Sunshine outside of the Dreaming since that mess with the rabbits. That's a very long time to hold onto any scent, and they hadn't exactly been close enough for anything to linger anyway.

"Maybe he read my mind." If the guy had mind powers, that's probably the better explanation.

Oh, gods. She could correct him on which sense the vampire was using, but Other senses are weird enough that she couldn't offer much more than, 'well, no, it wasn't anything as straightforward and relatable as smell.' She could, but she's too busy shivering.

The thought of her old enemies coming back from the dead would not have occurred to her before it started happening. She's done plenty of worrying about the existing population of rift-displaced vampires (and the relative odds of them coming after her), but that's nothing compared to Bo's gang. Bo's kali rift-reanimated gang and their renewed mission to find her.

Who's next? His personal guard? Him? Her steps falter. No no no no no.

Edited 2014-02-27 16:41 (UTC)

In retrospect, a discussion about the guy she'd just killed was probably not the best of ideas. She's said in the past that she's not that much of a fighter- he believes her now, if this is how she reacts to a confrontation like that. Even if she can take out vampires pretty bloody impressively, being like this afterwards can't be any sort of fun.

When her steps falter, he grips her a little tighter, taking more of her weight. He's not going to ask if she's alright, but she very obviously isn't. "Halfway there." They're nearly to the lifts, now. It's really more like a third of the way to his place, but that doesn't sound anywhere near as encouraging.

Probably not, no. Not that she's really capable of thinking about much else, anyway.

Spike's grip on her tightens, and it's suddenly too much like being frog-marched across a roughly cleared patch of lawn. This is different - he is different - but not different enough. She jerks away instinctively with a stammered, "N-no… no." The word of the hour. Her shoulder hits the opposite wall, and she leans there for a moment, panting.

Then she gives him a guilty sidelong glance, because she's lucid enough to know he didn't really deserve that. But she just needs to… not be grabbed by any vampires right now. "Sorry. I… I can walk," she insists. It's true, too; adrenaline will do that for you. She demonstrates by pushing herself away from the wall and staggering with single-minded determination towards the elevators.

Spike frowns, not entirely sure what he'd done to have her bolt away from him like that. He keeps his distance as she leans against the wall. She must think that he's nearly as bad as the guy she just killed. Or that all vampires are the same. He wouldn't blame her for the thought, especially now, but that doesn't mean he's not a little hurt by the reaction. He'd like to think that he hasn't given her any reason to be scared of him.

As she pushes herself away from the wall, his instincts tell him to hold her up again, but he settles for walking close enough to her that he might be able to catch her if her legs decide to stop working. As they near the elevator doors, Spike shoves his hands in his jacket pockets to aid that effort. Above him, The Heart of Darkness pops into being above his head, followed quickly by Pride and Prejudice. He doesn't manage to catch either of them, and after they deflect off of his head and fall to the carpet, doesn't make an effort to pick them up. He has enough to worry about at the moment.

He huffs a sigh that's half worry, half frustration. "We don't have to go to my flat. If you-" are incredibly afraid of me for questionably valid reasons? Yeah, let's not say that. "I don't know where you live."

Sunshine flinches a little at the books' sudden appearance, wincing as they hit the floor. The part of her that isn't an anxious mess thinks: poor books. Whatever they are (and she's in no state to stop and examine the covers), they deserve better. Spike doesn't seem inclined to pick them up, and she feels a twinge of guilt just abandoning them in the hallway, but her only free hand is a horrible mess. Books don't deserve to get covered in blood, either.

But there's a question: where does she want to go (considering that 'her well-warded apartment in her well-warded universe' isn't an option)? She wants to be someplace familiar, and she doesn't want to be alone.

She also doesn't want to invite any vampires into her apartment tonight. She's not sure she even wants to be in her apartment, if any more of Bo's gang are out there right now, trying to sniff her out.

"No, I…" she gives her head a little shake. "Your place is safer." And then it occurs to her that maybe he's just trying to get rid of her, because why would he want to babysit some twitchy, shell-shocked baker who might tear his heart out at the slightest provocation, for all he knows? "Unless, I mean, you don't have to…" she trails off miserably, shoulders slumping.

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