Gods And Monsters

Chapter Four:

Deafening, stagnant silence congested the air. Hel fidgeted, restlessly folding her arms across her abdomen and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Turn the light on."

Obeying her request without hesitation, Spike turned and crossed the room, switching on the lamp nearest to where she stood.

The extraordinary, spectral characteristics of her cadaverous left-half seemed to simply vanish as the darkness was banished from her skin. She was motionless, as her skeletal features transformed to mimic the human attributes that were mirrored on the right side of her body.

Hel was visibly relieved, an intangible weight lifted from her shoulders as if the exposure of her true form took a physical toll on her.

He ventured no more than one step forward. This time, she did not retreat.

"What's your name?" He asked gently, recovering his ability to articulate.

Shocked by the absence of fear with which he inquisitively regarded her, she blinked. "Hel." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "My name is Hel."

His dark eyebrows shot up, intrigued. Another step closer, and still she did not recoil. "Hel?"

She fixed him with an intimidating stare, daring him to provide her with extra incentive to forgo mercy. "Problem?"

A glint of fascination lit up his granite-blue eyes, as Spike dared to advance yet again, two paces further this third time. Considerably less space now rested between them. If he was bold enough, he could extend a hand and touch her. "Not at all. It's a very... interesting name."

She took the full, supple curvature of her lower lip between her front teeth nervously, but stood her ground. Hel refused to be intimidated by a mere mortal man. "What shall I call you?"

"The name's Spike." He almost held out his hand for her to shake, but immediately decided against it.

"Is that your real name?" She sounded sceptical.

"Yes," he replied defensively, forehead crinkled by the elevation of his defiant eyebrows.

She beheld him with a mixture of genuine interest and playful disdain. "How odd."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a charmingly lopsided half-smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

At that, she almost smiled. Almost. "Do with it what you will. It makes little difference to me."

Spike's mischievous, charismatic crook of a smile grew. "Now then, how about that card game?"

Hel arched one eyebrow. "Surely you can't be serious?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Are you always like this?" She asked derisively.

"Like what?"

"Ridiculous."

Feigning offence, he pressed the palm of his hand flat to his chest. "Ridiculous? You wound me." He winked at her.

She only rolled her eyes in response.

His expression shifted to something akin to concern. "I imagine you'd like to rest? That was quite the fall you had."

Hel nodded in confirmation, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Alright, well, you can have the bed then." He gestured indirectly to the opening which led downstairs. "I'm just going out for a bit, I'll be back before morning."

With another small nod, she turned and headed for the bedroom on the lower level.

Spike waited until she was gone, until her ebony head disappeared from sight, then pivoted and strode towards the front room. Reaching for the black leather duster draped over the sage-green armchair, he shrugged it on.

His hand enclosed the handle, opening the hefty crypt door with a swift yank. A cool, crisp autumn breeze greeted him as he stepped out into the night air, caressing his face and rustling the folds of his long coat.

While Spike was making his way to the apartment of Rupert Giles, Hel was curling up in a cocoon of soft sheets.

She stretched her stiff, sore legs, yawning. Rolling her tense shoulders, she tilted her head from one side to the other and heard a satisfying succession of clicks as her spine cracked. Her lower back was aching, her eyes strained by sheer exhaustion. Rolling onto her stomach, she tucked one arm beneath the fluffy pillow and rested her cheek against the hand laid atop it.

Hel fully extended one leg and only slightly bent the other, shifting about restlessly under the covers until she was comfortable. She sighed, her eyes drooping shut, and struggled to clear her hectic mind.

She was emotionally spent, frustrated by her isolation on Midgard. Her head was run ragged by thoughts of home and schemes of returning to her rightful reign. There was nothing Hel desired more than to leave this meagre realm behind; and yet, she could not be certain she would granted a warm welcome.