Gods And Monsters

Chapter Twenty-three:

Countless books of varying sizes, thicknesses, ages, and denominations were scattered across the round, oak table. With such minimal space available, they overlapped in tiers of paper, leather, parchment, and cloth. Gathered around the table were Buffy, Giles, Spike, and Hel.

A hefty, maroon leather-bound text clutched between both hands, Giles leafed through the pages one by one.

Hel folded her arms across her chest and turned to him, the glass vial in her grasp. "Any results?"

"Ah, yes, I have actually." He paused his skim-through to focus on a single passage in particular. "Eitr is a mythical substance mentioned in Norse Mythology, produced by Jormungandr, the Midgard serpent."

Removing his spectacles from the bridge of his nose, he began using the wrong woven fabric of his faded, olive-green jumper to wipe the lenses. "It is described as the origin of all living things. In fact," he replaced his glasses in front of his eyes, "the first giant Ymir was supposedly conceived from Eitr. It is also said to be very poisonous."

She nodded slowly, lowering herself onto a nearby chair. "I have heard legends, rumours of its existence. I did not believe such tales could possibly be true." Over and over again, she rotated the vial between both hands. "Not until now, that is."

Giles met her eyes. "It should be kept here, safe and secure, and away from those who would use it for harm." He advised her sternly.

Her head lowered as she watched the silver fluid swish around its vessel, she smirked to herself. Hel raised her head and rose to her feet, making her way around the table. She came to a halt directly in front of him.

Her eyes glinted darkly as they held his gaze. "I don't take orders from the likes of you."

Standing stock still, Buffy and Spike observed the tension between Giles and Hel, wary of intervening.

"How could you keep it safe?" Hel sniggered, shaking her head at him. "You mortals are all so fragile, so easily snapped in two. A weak imbecile such as yourself is hardly suited for such a task. I, myself, am a god." An arrogant smile curved her lips. "Therefore, I am far more capable than you, old man."

She turned her back on him dismissively and strode away, heading for the front entrance. The bell above jingled as the door swung open, then slammed with a bang of finality behind her.

Without thinking twice, Spike followed her out and left Giles and Buffy alone in the Magic Box.

It wasn't long before Hel entered the main streets of Sunnydale. Weaving through a network of interconnecting alleyways and exploring the intricate labyrinth of brick and concrete, she allowed her mind to wander as well.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted by an increasingly familiar voice.

"A tour of Sunnydale after dark really isn't the best idea, love." Spike warned, trailing behind her. "Someone as clever as yourself should know better than to be walking about town, alone, this time of night."

Exasperated, Hel sighed and paused, allowing him to catch up. "Please leave."

Upon reaching her, he smirked with roguish enthusiasm. "No."

She resumed her stroll. He fell into step with her easily, his pace and stride matching her own. However, after a moment or two, she came to an abrupt halt again, turning to him. "Why are you here?"

He frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean why am I-"

"What kind of game are you playing?"

Spike held his open hands out in a gesture of peace, palms facing her. "No games here. Just curious, is all."

"Curious?" She reiterated suspiciously.

"What you did back there, that was quite a show. You should have seen the look on old Rupert's face; absolutely priceless." He gushed.

The impatient glare Hel aimed at him was withering. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you leave me no choice."

His lips curled into an arrogant, sly pout of a smile. "Ooh, look at you." He taunted.

"Shut up, Spike."

He leaned in close enough for his leather duster to graze the hand hanging at her side. "Make me." Spike breathed.

"Do not tempt me." She warned. Continuing down the alleyway, she picked up her pace.

He rolled his eyes and followed her with a loud groan of frustration. "You don't have to get all shirty about it."

She frowned, but did not slow. "Shirty?"

Unexpectedly, a figure leapt out at her from the shadows behind a black dumpster and swung at her head. She ducked, his fist missing by mere seconds.

"Hold this." Hel tossed the vial of Eitr to Spike and he snatched it from the air.

Her reflexes were automatic as her hand instinctively outstretched for a weapon and closed around the handle of a discarded broom. She yanked it from the trash, raising her knee in one swift jerk against the narrow shaft. It splintered with a sharp crack of wood fibres fracturing.

The vampire began circling her, a predator mistaking her to be his prey.

She allowed her skeletal half to resurface, to reveal itself, and adjusted her defensive stance. Aiming a widely-arced kick, her foot connected with his temple. His head whipped to one side, then snapped back, his expression infuriated.

Spike considered coming to her aid, but decided against it. He knew she was capable of holding her own without any assistance from him.

The dance of life or death began with equal strikes of fist and foot from either side, but it did not stay that way. It wasn't long before the vampire grabbed a thick plank of wood and swung at her. The end whacked her upside the head with a thud.

Hel crumpled to the asphalt, the world spinning around her. He took advantage of her momentary lapse in strength and lifted her with ease. He lobbed her a distance of ten or so feet. Her side slammed against the ground, and she rolled, her back colliding with a brick wall. However, she wasn't beaten yet; oh no, she had hardly gotten started.

Chuckling, Hel got to her feet. "Is that the best you've got, bloodsucker?"

He snarled and lunged at her.

She struck him down with a single shot to his jaw, and the fracture of bone was audible. She was brutal, an absolute savage. Unafraid to slaughter anything or anyone who got in her way. She cut him down again and again like a weed, pummelling him against the pavement. Her technique was barbaric, but her strategy was brilliantly efficient.

Spike gaped in awe, as Hel slayed him with a well-timed stake to the heart and set the pile of dust ablaze with a snap of her fingers. The flames flickered for only a second or two, then were snuffed out when their fuel had been consumed.

Bringing those same two fingers to the corner of her mouth, she wiped away a trickle of blood there. "Love a good fight."