Gods And Monsters

Chapter Forty-four:

The following night, Hel awoke to a killer headache and an unsettled stomach. Sprawled out on her stomach, she groaned at the throbbing pain in her temples. She felt dreadful.

Rolling over onto her back, she glanced at the circular, analog bedside clock. The hands read nine o'clock. Hel remembered passing out not long after seven in the morning, and came to the realisation that she must have slept all day long.

Curling up into the fetal position, she noticed that she was alone. She frowned, staring at the empty space beside her and wondering where Spike went.

Her recollection of the night before was vague. She remembered goofing around, topics of conversation that included anything and everything, and dancing clumsily until they fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. A smile rose to her lips at the memory of their drunken shenanigans.

It took all of her strength to sit upright. Hel swung her legs over the edge of the cot, hauling herself to her feet. She padded out of the closet-sized room, across the apartment and into the kitchen. Much too weak to numb the pain herself, she located a bottle of ibuprofen. She filled a glass with water and took a mouthful. The pill slid down her throat with ease.

Retreating to bed, Hel buried herself under the pale blue sheets and drifted off.

Her sleep was staccato and restless, riddled with dreams. Although, it would be more accurate to classify them as nightmares. Many of the visions that haunted her subconscious were no more than wisps of sound and flashes of imagery, unavoidably forgotten.

But one mental picture in particular plagued her. The sight of Spike frozen in place, tethered to the spot by an invisible force of unknown origin. His skin was ablaze, tendrils of smoke arising from his body. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He smiled warmly at her, and she was struck by the tender devotion in his radiant blue eyes.

"Hel?" A familiar voice murmured in her ear, infiltrating her dream. A pair of large hands clasped her shoulders gently. "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead."

Her eyes snapped open. Her pulse thundered in her eardrums and her frantic heart hammered against her ribcage with such brute force Hel felt as if her chest would burst. Bleary-eyed, she blinked away the haze in her vision and Spike came into focus. She reeled backward in alarm and scrambled to sit up, thrown off guard by the closeness of his face.

He withdrew immediately, his palms facing her as he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

She cleared her throat, raking her fingers back through her hair. "It's fine."

His brow furrowed, and he extended a hand towards her. He brushed his fingertips lightly across her tear-stained cheeks. "Is something wrong?" Spike asked softly.

Realisation dawning, Hel increased the gap between them and hastily wiped her damp eyes. Her pulse quickened, and in the pit of her stomach formed an intense dislike for the sympathy with which he regarded her. Irritated by the pity she neither desired nor needed, she averted her eyes.

"I'm fine." Her reply was clipped, uttered with a sharp tongue and tight jaw.

"Right. Well..." Clearing his throat, he arose from his perch on the edge of the bed and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Do you think you'll be able to stomach some breakfast?"

"Definitely." She swung her legs over the side and promptly stood. "I'm starving."

Together, they made their way to the kitchen. She lounged against the countertop, while he rifled through cupboards in pursuit of something edible and pondered options aloud to her.

"Cereal... Oatmeal... Toast... Pop tarts... Granola..." Spike swung open the fridge door. "Fruit... Eggs... Bacon..." Tossing her a glance over his shoulder, he held up a carton of eggs in one hand and a package of bacon in the other. "What are you in the mood for?"

"How about a little bit of everything?"

He nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

They worked side by side; Hel washed and sliced fruit, while he scrambled a few eggs and fried up some bacon.

Of course, it wasn't long before the fooling around began. It was set into motion when she flicked water droplets at his face and Spike retaliated by pouncing at her, pushing her against the wall and tickling her until she begged for mercy. 

Eventually, a truce was settled upon and breakfast prepared.

Plopping down next to one another on the couch, plates balanced in their laps. A moment of comfortable silence fell between them as they both dug into their steaming-hot eggs and crispy bacon. Once their hunger had been satiated, he struck up a conversation.

"You wouldn't happen to have those handcuffs on you, would you?"

Nibbling on a strawberry, she raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry?"

"If I go mad again, you may need to restrain me." He explained.

"You look relatively sane to me."

"The truth is..." He swallowed nervously. "I'm afraid of myself. Afraid of what I might do, who I might hurt."

Tentatively, she patted his knee. "Tell you what: if you go insane and try to kill everyone, I'll stake you myself. How does that sound?"

A playful smirk touched his lips. "Think you can take me, do you?"

Hel beamed impishly. "Oh, definitely."

Leaning in closer, his cocky smile broadened. "I think we're going to need to test that theory, sooner or later."

She held his gaze steadily. "I agree."

Spike extended an open hand. "Confident enough to shake on it?"

Accepting his proposal, she took a strong grip of his hand and shook it firmly. Their agreement was sealed.

He released her hand and stood from his seat on the couch. "I'll be back before dawn." Snatching up his faded, black leather jacket and heading in the direction of the door, he threw it on over his long-sleeved, dark brown T-shirt.

"Where are you going?"

"Just out. I won't be long." Without another word, he swung open the door and stepped outside. There was a dull click as it shut behind him.