Gods And Monsters

Chapter Eighty-three:

Squatting down on the floor and resting his forearms on his knees, Spike's gaze flickered over to Hel. She was leaning against a nearby post, looking anywhere but at him. Everyone except Buffy, Hel, Giles, and the Principal had gone upstairs, and even the few spectators who remained kept their distance.

Spike glanced at Buffy. "Get these sodding things off me. I'm fine." He insisted, referring to the shackles that had yet to be removed from his wrists.

Arms crossed, Buffy held his gaze pointedly. "Don't you think you should take a little time, calm down?"

"I am calm." His focus shifted to Giles. "This stone of yours is–is out, right? Did its job, so I'm de-triggered, right?"

"Spike, what do you remember about the song?" Giles asked him solemnly.

Spike nodded once, averting his eyes. "Oh, yeah, the song. It's called, uh, 'Early One Morning'. Old folk ditty."

At this, Hel looked over. Their gazes locked. There was an unspoken question in her narrowed eyes, a silent suspicion. She knew there was more to it than that, she could hear the evasion and reluctance in his vague answer.

"What's it mean to you?" Principal Wood inquired coldly.

Spike met his stare, raising his dark eyebrows. "Mean? Nothing. It's just, uh, my mum. It was her favourite. She used to sing it to me..." He pressed his lips together, almost smirking. "When I was a baby."

"And?" Giles pressed him.

"No 'and'. That's it. Look, shouldn't you check on Dawnie? I clocked the niblet pretty fierce."

Hel frowned at Spike. He was lying.

"She'll be okay. She's tough." Buffy assured him.

Giles took a determined step forward. "Spike, listen to me. What is it about your mother?" He interrogated.

"I don't know. I got along fine with her. She was a nice lady."

"Well, there has to be more than that."

"Well, there bloody well isn't!" Spike shouted, his sudden outburst taking everyone off guard.

Buffy went to approach him, but Giles blocked her.

"What are you doing?" Giles asked her sharply.

"I'm going to unchain him."

"Buffy, just—"

"This is pointless, Giles." She whispered. "He doesn't know anything. Your prophylactic stone didn't work."

"Because he's not cooperating. This process takes time. He's blocking whatever's flooding his consciousness. And what he does— he's endangering us all."

"So the trigger's still working?" Principal Wood interjected.

"Much as ever." Giles replied, turning away in disgust.

While the three of them squabbled over whether or not Spike was too much of a threat to be set free, Hel strode over and crouched down in front of him. She wrapped her hands around his wrists, and with a click, the shackles unlocked.

Spike stared at her as his chains fell away and swung against the wall, unsure what to think or say.

Straightening, she extended her hand.

He accepted her offering and gently held her hand while he stood up.

Giles and Buffy spun around to see Hel leading Spike toward the stairs. Giles took a step forward, about to stop them, but Buffy held him back, allowing them to leave the basement.

His eyes cut to her. "Think about what you're doing."

"I have." She replied firmly.

As Spike and Hel entered the living room, he glanced sidelong at her. "Why did you do that?"

She came to an abrupt halt, facing him. "Because you don't deserve to be chained up like an animal."

"But after what I did..." Cautiously, he reached out and touched her sore shoulder. "I hurt you. What if—"

She cut him off mid-sentence. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself." Resuming her stride, she arrived at the couch and took a seat.

Hesitantly, he sat down beside her. Neither of them spoke for a few moment.

"My mother also used to sing to me as a child." Hel began, ending the stretch of silence. "They were ancient songs, passed down for from her ancestors. Legends of war and magic and faraway kingdoms, the triumph of good over evil, life and death, love conquering all obstacles. Fairytales, really." She turned her head, meeting his gaze. "I cherish those memories of her. You ought to do the same for your mother."

Spike bowed his head, staring at his lap. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because. I just— I can't, okay? I don't wanna talk about it." He replied curtly, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

She swallowed, nodding once, and lowered her eyes to the floor. "I shouldn't have pried." She was about to get up, but was stopped by his hand on her thigh.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk about it."

Hel could feel his eyes burning on her. Her eyes made contact with his, and the sincerity of his words was punctuated by the genuine remorse with which he regarded her.

"Apology accepted." She said softly.

He gave her a timid smile, which she returned.

She stood, his hand leaving her thigh. "I'm going to put on the kettle for tea. Can I get you anything?'

"I'm alright. Thanks though."

She nodded, then turned and strode from the room.

Filling the kettle with tap water, Hel set it down on the gas stovetop and cranked the dial to ignite the burner underneath. Now, all that was left to do was to wait.

Two long arms snaked around her waist, and a solid chest pressed against her back. His smooth hands slipping under her shirt to curl around her bare sides, Spike bent his head to rest his chin on her shoulder.

"Oh, um, hi." She stumbled over her words, caught off guard.

"Hello." He murmured, his soft breath tickling her ear. He held her close, kissing her neck affectionately and inhaling her lovely scent. Tropical, fruity shampoo, with notes of vanilla lingering on her skin.

Relaxing against him, she closed her eyes and savoured his embrace. His strong inclination towards physical contact would certainly take some getting used to. However, his displays of affection, although unfamiliar to her, were quite comforting. Her whole life had been spent feeling like an outsider. But here, with him, she felt like she belonged.