Gods And Monsters

Chapter Twelve:

"But I don't understand. Why couldn't Rose move over and make room for Jack? Or why didn't they simply take turns?" Hel remarked, frustrated by such an avoidable demise.

"Because Jack loved her too much. Besides, it's a tragedy, that's how it's supposed to end. All romantic and nonsensical." Spike explained, waving a hand dismissively.

"Oh. I see." She said flatly, lying, of course.

"No you don't." He replied, smiling good-naturedly at her.

"No, I don't." She admitted. "Sentiment?"

"Sentiment." He confirmed. "You truly know nothing of human nature, do you?"

"It's not really my area." She replied, a wry smile tugging at one corner of her lips.

Upon taking notice of a marking on her bare upper arm, his expression shifted, becoming intrigued. "What's that?"

Hel frowned. "What?"

He inched a bit nearer to her, head tilted to one side and gaze fixated on the tattoo that had been exposed by his button-up, black and grey plaid shirt slipping off her right shoulder. "That." Spike repeated pointedly.

A symbol resembling a slanted, uppercase "H" was imprinted on her lean tricep in black ink. The horizontal middle line was slanted up to the left, and the very ends of the vertical lines on either side were sharply angled as well. The upper tips jutted upward and the bottom ends pointed down. It was a simple rune, Nordic in origin.

He gingerly touched her arm with his fingertips, just below the tattoo, and she turned to face him, allowing him a closer look at it.

"It's a rune." He stated.

"Hagalaz. It symbolises chaos and destruction, forces beyond our control. It can also mean fate." She clarified simply.

He lifted his eyes to lock with hers. "Why are you here?"

"Does it matter?" She asked, reluctant to confide in him more than necessary. Trusting in others created vulnerability, and vulnerability led to weakness. Weakness was an automatic failure in her eyes.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why are you so secretive?" He demanded suspiciously.

"You can't answer my question with another question." Hel retorted, her patience waning.

Spike smirked, smug. "Just did, love."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

"What are you afraid to tell me?"

"I am not afraid." She snapped defensively.

"Then tell me." He challenged. His gunmetal-blue eyes shone provocatively.

Her mismatching grey and green eyes narrowed. His dark eyebrows rose to crinkle the pale skin of his forehead. A stare down had begun.

Approximately thirty seconds ticked by, the fusion of their gazes igniting tension. The short distance lying between them was charged. Fed up, she sighed and tore her eyes away.

Her body felt flushed, but to her relief no tell-tale rush of hot blood flushed her cheeks. "Fine." Hel repositioned herself to sit crosslegged, squared the crest of her shoulders, and inhaled deeply. "I was banished here. It wasn't by choice."

"Banished?" He stared at her incredulously. "What for?"

"I disobeyed the Allfather's wishes." She replied, deliberately avoiding the details.

"What in bleeding Hell is an 'Allfather'?" He asked, completely lost.

"Kind Odin, he rules over the nine realms." She answered.

"The nine realms?"

She glanced around the room for paper on which to illustrate her explanation, until an open notebook and pencil on the coffee table caught her eye.

Hel reached for them, picked them up, and placed the notebook in her lap. "The nine realms form the tree of the universe, Yggdrasil. Asgard is at the top of the tree, the realm of gods, the Aesir." Gripping the pencil in her left hand, she wrote "Asgard" in graceful cursive at the top of the blank lined paper.

Spike leaned in to watch intently.

"Vanaheim is the neighbouring realm, the realm of Vanir gods, related to the Aesir. Alfheim, the home of the Light Elves, orbits to their left. Under Aflheim is Nidavellir, the land of Dwarves."

After writing the realm titles in their aforementioned places and proximities to each other, she drew a small circle at their centre.

"We are here, on Midgard, at the heart of Yggdrasil. To the right of Midgard is Jotunheim, which is inhabited by Frost Giants. South of Jotunheim is Svartalheim, the realm of the Dark Elves. Muspelheim sits even lower, and is infamous for the Fire Giants and Demons it houses."

"And Helheim? Where is it in relation to the others?"

She swallowed. "Helheim lies below Nilfheim." Hel answered softly, her voice taking on a hollow note. She missed her home greatly.

He searched her expression.

She wore a mask which gave nothing away, but her eyes... Her eyes ached with longing.

"Why were you banished, Hel?" He prodded gently, gazing at her with sympathy and understanding. Spike, too, had known homesickness, many times in fact. Thoughts of his deceased mother haunted him; they remained just below the forefront of his mind, and always would.

"Odin wished for me to be wed, to a wealthy warrior of Asgard." Her tone was disdainful, laced heavy with contempt.

"What happened?"

"I refused."

Stony silence ensued. It constricted her throat and pressed like lead on her tongue.

He knew it was not a subject Hel wished to discuss just yet, and so he chose to divert their conversation.

Swallowing, he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

She was aware of his efforts to avoid sore spots, and smiled, because she appreciated the respect with which he treated her.

It was the first genuine, whole-heartedly warm smile he had ever seen her wear.

"We shall."

"Lovely."

He leapt to his feet, sauntered over to the television, and dropped to a low crouch in front of the DVD player. The next film, The Breakfast Club, was inserted, and Spike returned to the couch as the disc was loading.