Gods And Monsters

Chapter Eight:

Setting a mug down carefully on the stone tomb lid, Spike dropped in a teabag.

The sun was beginning to peak above the horizon, and it cast a golden, pinkish-orange glow which filtered through the small, grime-coated windows and warmed the cold crypt.

His ears picked up movement in the bedroom chamber below, then the sound of clambering up the ladder. He turned around just as Hel emerged. Her groggy gaze skimmed the space, and came to rest on him.

A little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Morning."

The baggy black PJ pants she wore were paired with an oversized, charcoal grey and black plaid cotton button-up, both given to her by him. Her dark hair was slightly messy, softly tousled ebony curls tumbling past the crest of her shoulders in gently spun waves and tapering off at her waist. She blinked, no where near alert enough to articulate yet.

He noticed a sleepy, childlike daze in her mismatched grey and green eyes upon their meeting with his; it was endearing, to be quite honest. Her innocence at that moment was rather adorable, although he would never admit such a thought aloud.

"What are you doing up?"

Arching her back and raising her arms above her head, she stretched her limbs to full extension. Then, she sighed, her stuff muscles now more relaxed. "Sleep eludes me."

Spike nodded understandingly. "Tea?" He offered.

First, she frowned. Then, her eyes widened at the sight of an electric kettle sitting on the tomb, beside a white mug.

"I thought vampires only drank blood."

"I'm still English. I may be a monster, but I'm not completely uncivilised." He replied, smirking playfully.

Retrieving a second, identical mug from atop the refrigerator, he added a teabag to it and shut off the bubbling kettle. Spike poured boiling water into both their mugs, filling them to roughly half an inch below the rim. Then, he returned the kettle to its previous spot.

"How do you take it?"

"One sugar is fine."

Stirring in one sugar, he left the spoon in the mug and handed Hel her tea, then leaned back against the tomb.

Cradling the hot mug between both hands, she brought it closer to her lips and softly blew at the hazy tendrils of rising steam. The tranquil surface of the steeping tea was disturbed by the consequent ripple effect.

Clearing her throat, she lowered it and hesitantly glanced up to meet his eyes. "Thank you for the trousers, and the shirt. You're too kind."

He shrugged. "I never wore it anyways. Besides," Spike smiled, "it suits you much better."

She liked that smile. It was a friendly smile, sincere, and it crinkled the corners of his bright eyes. Hel couldn't fathom why such a lovely smile was directed at her.

"You never did answer my question."

"Which was?" Spike asked, rising to his feet. He left his mug of tea on the tomb lid and took a few steps toward her. The gap separating them, which had been sufficiently wide, shrank to less than three feet. At full height, he was maybe two inches taller than her.

She lifted her chin and scrutinised him suspiciously. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you were lost, and alone, and I didn't see anyone else stepping up to the job." He explained simply.

"I can handle myself." She snapped, indignant at his suggestion otherwise.

"I never said you couldn't." He replied, a little taken aback by her unanticipated change in mood.

"I'm not lost." She retorted defensively, squaring her shoulders.

His brows were raised, and his eyes were locked onto hers, glinting mischievously. "Is that so?" Spike asked, voice deepening to become a little rougher. There was a formidable edge to his tone, and the intensity of his gaze unnerved her.

Hel felt the undeniable tension, a static charge between them. Her mind was racing, and the air was heavier.

Her throat constricted and her heart was thudding against her ribs, her stomach twisting into knots. The ability to form coherent speech had all but deserted her. Her hands trembled, her skin flushed with heat, and her mouth had gone dry. The effect his eyes alone had on her body was primal, instinctual. It both confounded and unsettled her.

His jaw tightened, the blood pumping hot and demanding throughout his body. The pressure building up inside him caused his heart to pound.

It was urgent, all-consuming. Highly unanticipated and inappropriate. He should have backed away, but he couldn't bring himself to. Every fibre of his being ached, pleaded for him to touch her. His nerve endings were on high alert.

Without warning, the crypt door swung wide open, and a shaft of daylight poured into the front room. The two of them immediately jumped apart.

Rupert Giles strode in, his gaze scoping out the space only a moment before landing upon her. His russet-brown, leather jacket was well worn by many years of use, as were his grey, knit jumper and charcoal trousers. His short, greying hair was a little mussed, and he appeared exhausted. By the looks of him, he hadn't slept much last night.

Giles stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening behind a pair of spectacles as he took in the sight of her. Her features were shockingly similar to the many likenesses he had seen in mythology and historical texts. "My god. It's true then."

Hel chose to return his stare, rather than look anywhere in Spike's general vicinity. Her pulse had hardly slowed, and her body still felt quite overheated.

Giles approached her and extended an open hand. A disbelieving, giddy smile broke across his face momentarily, but was quickly suppressed. He cleared his throat. "Rupert Giles."

She accepted his offer of proper introduction and shook his hand. "A pleasure." She replied dryly.

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you." He assured her politely, a dazed look in his eyes.

A faint, weakly-executed smile rose to her lips fleetingly. "I'm flattered."

"I have so many questions, and I haven't the faintest idea where to begin..." Trailing off, he continued to gaze at her with utter astonishment.

"I'd be glad to answer them, at your earliest convenience."

"I'm free right now." Giles suggested modestly.

"Now it is." She agreed. "Shall we?" Gesturing loosely in the direction of the door, she indicated for him to proceed first.

Giles nodded, starting for the main entrance.

Hel followed, but hesitated as she was closing the door and left it ajar. "Spike," She began, pausing.

He turned his head, eyeing her curiously. "Yeah?"

"You're not a monster." With the ghost of a tentative smile, she ducked out and shut the door behind her.