Gods And Monsters

Chapter Fifty-two:

Seated on a wooden, dining room chair in the middle of Buffy's bedroom, Spike remained stock still while Hel knelt on the floor beside him.

"Sorry about this." She apologised, securing his forearms, one at a time, to the oak arms with rope. "We can't take any chances."

"Don't."

She glanced up to discover him gazing down at her.

"Make it tighter. Your knots'll give. I get free, someone's gonna die." He warned grimly.

Lowering her head, she tightened the knots binding him. The job complete, Hel stood.

He flinched, as if the inner battle for dominion over his mind caused him physical pain. He fidgeted in his seat, his breathing harsh and irregular.

"Can I do something?" She asked gently.

"I think you should just go—" He advised, grinding the words out from between clenched teeth. His eyes rolled back as his head snapped to one side, facing away from her, and his features began to contort. They morphed into the visage of the demon within him. The monster clawed itself to the surface and took him over.

With a snarl, he whipped back around and began thrashing about in his chair. His arms tugged at their restraints. His lips curled back, bearing the razor-sharp points of his teeth. His eyes flashed yellow.

Without hesitation, she spun around and strode briskly from the room. The door clicked shut behind her. She headed downstairs to notify Buffy of the situation, and Willow volunteered to procure blood from the local butcher. Willow returned with a terrified Andrew in tow, but Hel paid him no mind, her focus devoted to the task of getting Spike the blood he needed.

Taking the steps two at a time, she ascended to the second floor and headed into Buffy's bedroom.

Spike had calmed only marginally, his flexed arms pulling their rope bondage taut. His demonic, ferocious features were unchanged. Upon her entrance, he snarled.

"Hungry, are we?" She placed three of the blood baggies on the bedside table and brought one with her as she approached him.

His narrowed, yellow eyes were trained on her every movement. The savage yearning and primal lust with which he eyed the her was unnerving.

Her expression neutral, Hel came to a halt less than a foot away from him. Cautiously, she dangled the pouch in front of his nose. He tipped his head back, and she lowered it slightly to be within his reach. Ensnaring the bottom of the baggie in his mouth, Spike punctured the plastic with his teeth.

She regarded him curiously as he drank deeply, gulping down mouthfuls of blood. Ruby tears trickled from the corners of his lips as he devoured life's essential nectar.

The pouch was drained dry within seconds. Hel gave a tug and he relinquished it willingly.

The demon had been sated, and vanished from view as the facial features that were most familiar to her returned.

"Better?"

Spike nodded, looking ashamed of himself.

"Good." She sat on the foot of the bed and gracefully crossed her legs in one fluid motion.

"I don't remember anything."

"You were experiencing withdrawal."

"No, not that. I don't remember... What I did." He sighed, struggling to form the words, and averted his eyes.

"Nothing?"

"It's all flashes here and there. It's like I'm watching someone else. Do it. Kill people. I've been losing time for a while now. Waking up in strange places."

"When did your chip stop working?"

"Wasn't aware that it had, you know. Not until now."

"And the losing time? How long has that been going on?"

He tilted his head back momentarily and sighed. "Things have been wonky for me ever since I got back, ever since..."

"Your soul was returned to you."

He nodded in confirmation. "Figured that's what it was like. Been so long since I had one."

"How did you do it?"

At long last, Spike met her eyes and held her gaze steadily. "Saw a man about a girl."

She glanced down briefly, the intensity of his stare making it difficult for her to maintain eye contact. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

"I went to seek a legend out. Travelled to the other side of the world and made a deal with a demon."

She lifted her head. "Just like that?" Hel asked, sceptical.

"No, not just like that." Spike retorted firmly. "There was a price. There were trials. Torture. Pain and suffering."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do that to yourself?"

His steel-blue eyes were piercing, their intensity pinning her in place. "You know why."

She averted her gaze, self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Don't look at me like that."

He glanced off to the left, sighing with resignation. "Soul's not all about moonbeams and penny whistles, luv. It's about self-loathing. I get it. Had to travel 'round the world, but I understand it now. I understand the violence."

She met his gaze. "Violence? William the Bloody now has insight into violence?"

He shook his head. "Not the same. As bad as I was, as evil and wretched as I was, I never truly hated myself back then. Not like I do now."

Swallowing the lump of unspoken words in her throat, she silently stood and left the room. Hel headed straight for the kitchen, under the orders of her grumbling stomach.

After a thorough search of the cupboards, she eventually settled for toasting a couple slices of whole wheat bread. She sliced up a banana while waiting. Once they popped up, she smothered both pieces of toast in peanut butter and divided up the banana between them. She hoisted herself up onto the countertop, her plate in her lap, happily munching on her toast.

Just as Hel was raising a glass of water to her lips, the facade of Angrboda materialised before her.

Hel's eyes hardened and her expression turned cold. "Don't you have something better to do?" She asked sharply. She hopped off the counter, glancing down at the floor briefly. Upon lifting her gaze, she was struck by the sight of a face from her past.

The imposter beheld her curiously through his crystal-clear blue eyes, head tilted to one side.

"Thomas?" She breathed faintly.

A tentative smile played on his lips. "Hello, Helena."