Gods And Monsters

Chapter Ninety-three:

Spike and Hel returned to Slayer headquarters shortly after nightfall, sauntering into the living room. Upon their entrance, all eyes were on the pair of outcasts as the Potentials stared at them in silence. The house appeared to have been converted into an impromptu triage unit, the healthy girls tending to the wounded ones.

At the sound of footfall on the stairs behind them, Hel and Spike spun around.

Buffy stood at the foot of the steps, grasping a scythe. The curved blade was embellished by a gleaming coat of blood-red, and at the base of the animal skin-wrapped handle was a wooden stake. "You're back."

"Sorry I'm late. I didn't want to come." Hel sneered, starting towards the kitchen.

"Hel, wait." Buffy began, taking ahold of her arm. At the scathing glare Hel directed her way, Buffy released her grip. "Look, about last night, I'm shouldn't have—"

"How about we just pretend I give a shit and leave it at that?" Hel interrupted her curtly, eyebrows raised.

Buffy was taken aback, her green eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape. "I'm trying to apologise!"

"Don't bother." Hel replied dismissively, striding past her.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Spike's wicked blue eyes followed Hel out of the room, and his mouth curved into a sly, naughty little smirk as he checked out her behind. Once she was out of sight, he sauntered after her.

She turned to face him, unsuspecting of his intentions.

Before she had time enough to stop him, he scooped her up in one swift swoop and threw her over his shoulder.

Yelping in surprise, she immediately began to squirm and struggle against his grip. "Put me down! I order you to put me down this instant!"

He chuckled, grinning at her irritation. "Not gonna happen, luv."

Ignoring her protests, Spike carried her back through the kitchen, passing right by everyone else, and up the stairs. Then, and only then, did he finally put her down as requested. The second floor hallway was filled to capacity, teeming with Potentials.

Grabbing onto the leather lapels of his black duster, Hel spun him around and shoved him into the hallway closet. She pulled the door shut behind her.

The closet was incredibly tiny, leaving absolutely zero room for the preservation of personal space. There was long stretch of awkward silence, punctuated only by the combined sound of their breathing. Her heart was racing, slamming against her ribs. His mind was spinning, overflowing with questions. The complete absence of light only served to further increase the tension.

"We can't hide in this closet forever." He remarked, and although it was pitch black, she knew he was smirking.

Laughing breathily, she leaned back against the door. "Wanna bet?"

"I would never bet against you."

"That's very wise of you." Hel commended.

Suddenly, and without forewarning, she felt his lips on her own. She responded with a passion that caught him off guard, her arms encircling his neck and her fingers knotting in his short, platinum blond curls. Taking ahold of her waist, he kissed her with equal enthusiasm.