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Spike (bloodislove) wrote in dunwichgame,

She seemed stunned and out of sorts. That meant whatever it had been had been heavy hitting, and rarely meant this part would go entirely evenly. Still, listening to the questions, Spike's hands raised opening and peacefully. He wasn't armed, even if they both knew neither of them had to be.

"Easy, Goldilocks. We're safe at the moment," he said calmly, softly. His eyes didtn't stop scanning as he carefully reached into a coat pocket pulled a clean white handkerchief.

"We're in a town called Dunwich. Long ways off from Sunnydale. Alternate reality-level stuff," he grunted next, resting on his knee and looking at her matter-of-factly. "I'm probably not whatever Spike you saw last. You don't seem like the last Buffy who was here. You're back to looking at me like I'm a ghost. So, Slayer, when did you last see me? What state was I in? I know enough about the future, I could help you work that out."

It was difficult to take breaths, to remain calm and cool when he could see, smell, and hear her pain. Still, in the face of her struggling, he did his best to exude security, if nothing else. She had nothing to fear from him, and he could stay alert for them both from the rest. His voice softened. "It's alright, Buffy. Catch your breath, and tell me how to help." He offered the handkerchief out to her, knowing both the danger and unable to stop fixating on the head wound that still oozed. He forced his gaze down. "Just tell me what you need, I'll see it done."