Gods And Monsters

Chapter Fifty:

The floor was being completely uprooted, freshly risen vampires growling as they tore their way out of the earth.

Hel was surrounded by an encirclement of the undead, who were no doubt salivating at the thought of her blood. Punching him out of her way, she leapt to her feet. She delivered a blow to the vampire directly in front of her, spun around, and aimed a roundhouse kick at the one behind her.

The dance had begun, the synchronised battle between life and death. She swung and kicked and fought them off as best as she could, but it simply wasn't enough. There were too many of them, and only one of her. It wasn't long before two of them managed to grab her by her arms.

Hel resisted, of course; squirmed and jerked and thrashed about. But her efforts were in vain. Their grip was iron-clad, as solid as stone itself.

Wiping the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand, Spike rose to full height and sauntered up to her. His eyes raked up and down her body, dark with lust.

"Spike! No!" Gritting her teeth, she screwed her eyes tightly shut and continued to struggle.

Powerless to stop him, she felt the whisper of his breath on her bare neck as he leaned in close, heard the irregular pattern of his respiration in her ear. Her pulse throbbed in her eardrums. With each beat, her heart slammed against her ribs.

He drew back, eyeing her hungrily, then lowered his face towards the opposite side. He inhaled her heady scent, and it urged him on. Growling low in his throat, Spike bent his head further down.

Her eyes closed of their own volition as his mouth met a deep laceration on her shoulder. His gentle lips pressed against her hot skin and his tongue glided along the open wound, savouring her taste. His satisfied groan was muffled against the slender column of her neck.

The flavour of her blood was intoxicating, robust and sweet. It drove him mad. The effect it had on his body was akin to that of an electric shock. The barriers in his mind shattered, and memories came flooding in as if a dam had been broken. Jolted by the revelation, his mouth detached from her shoulder. Spike could see it all, like a film inside his head; every victim, every burial.

Gasping, he staggered a step away from her. "I remember." He breathed. His eyes suddenly blew wide open, his mouth gaping open in a perfect 'O', and he went reeling backwards in a panic.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hel broke free of her captors and snatched up the hilt of her claymore from the dirt floor. Then, one by one, she decapitated the remaining vampires.

Once they had been taken care of, she wiped off her blade on her jeans to remove the grime and turned to confront Spike. She found him curled up in a small gap behind the brick archway, with his back against an antique cabinet. Her heart sank and her chest tightened at the sight of him.

He refused to look at her. Pursing his lips and tightly clenching his jaw, he scooted out into the open and parted the lapels of his jacket to expose his chest. The flimsy fabric of his shirt was all that guarded his bare skin from her blade. Sniffling once, he lifted his chin but continued to stare at the cement.

"Do it fast, okay?" His voice cracked, as his eyes lifted to meet her own. He blinked up at her. A single tear fell from the outer corner of his left eye, rolling down his cheek. "He said you would do it."

"Who said?" Hel demanded.

He frowned, his Adam's apple bobbing his throat. "Me." He expression shifted, becoming puzzled. "It was me. I saw it. I was here the whole time, talkin' and singin'." He scrunched up his nose and turned his face away. "There was this song." He bowed his head and brought his hands to his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know!" He cried out in anguish, clutching his head. "Please, I don't remember. Don't make me remember." Abruptly, his hands dropped away and his head snapped in the opposite direction. "Make it so I forget again!" He pleaded angrily. "I did what you wanted!"

"There must be something here." She murmured, regarding him sympathetically.

With the tragic eyes of man who has lost all hope, he watched her sheath her sword inside the pocket of her black trench coat. "Oh, God. No, please, I need that," he begged pitifully. "I can't cry this soul out of me. It won't come. I've killed, and I can feel 'em. I can feel every one of 'em." He shielded his face from her view, ashamed.

She dropped into a crouch in front of him, propping her elbows on her knees. The hem of her long coat brushed the cement floor. "There's something playing with us. All of us," she concluded.

It all had to be connected. The apparition that appeared to her in the church. The trickster that attempted to persuade Willow into suicide. The poltergeist that nearly destroyed the Summer's residence. Perhaps they were all one in the same.

Raising his head, he frowned at her. "What is it? Why is it doin' this to me?"

"I don't know," Hel murmured.

"Will you... Help me?" He whispered, his breathing ragged. "Can you help me?"

Sighing, she cupped his cheek in her hand. His eyes slipped shut upon contact. "I have to try," she said gently.