Gods And Monsters

Chapter Sixteen:

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING! Thoughts of suicide. Be warned.

Squinting her eyes against the onslaught of blinding sunlight, Hel awoke to a cool morning breeze that drifted lazily in through the window screen and swayed the gauzy white curtains.

She was sprawled out along the couch, lying down on her stomach. The dove-grey comforter Buffy supplied her with entangled her legs, and the side of her face was buried into the softness of a flattened pillow. Sighing, she rolled over and arched her back.

A noise of satisfaction escaped her mouth as the stiff disks of her spine cracked.
Relaxing against the sofa cushions, she was characteristically reluctant to get up.

Unexpectedly struck by the urge to pee, Hel threw off the plush down comforter and dragged herself to her feet. She took the stairs two at a time, heading for the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.

After relieving herself, she washed her hands thoroughly in the sink. Her own reflection in the vanity cupboard mirror above the sink gave her pause.

She loathed what she saw there. Her blood boiled with self-loathing.

The cold detachment in her lifeless eyes and the dark circles around them. Hel looked like death. Felt like it too.

Light glinted in her peripheral vision, and she glanced down to her left. A pink shaving razor sat on the ledge of the square porcelain sink bowl. Immediately, the thought of how easy it would be to remove the blades occurred to her.

She reached for the razor handle and held it up to the artificial light.

How simple it would be to press a blade to the soft, vulnerable skin of her wrists. How quickly she could end her insufferable, lonely life. No one would miss her, no one would even care...

She was startled by a sudden knock at the door, and the razor fell from her grip. It made a dull sound of impact when the plastic struck the tile floor. Flushed and unkempt, Hel yanked the bathroom door open only wide enough for her body to fit in between, and stared expectantly at Spike.

His hand was raised in preparation for another round of knocking. "Is this a bad time?" He asked, forehead creased by the rise of his dark eyebrows.

"No." She replied hastily, and lifted a hand to rake trembling fingers back through the tangles of her black hair. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, she calmed visibly. "No, of course not."

"Are you sure?" He attempted to peek around her, but she deliberately side-stepped to block his view into the bathroom.

"Positive." She said firmly.

His frown deepened, but he made no comment regarding her suspicious behaviour.

Hel huffed an impatient sigh. "Is there something you wanted, Spike?"

"Um... Uh, yeah. Yes, there was." Spike swallowed, appearing nervous. "I was just about to cook up some breakfast, and well, I was wondering if you were coming downstairs anytime soon."

"I expect so. I'll only be a moment."

"Great." He pressed his lips together in a forced, meek smile. An uncomfortable pause stretched out far too long for her liking before he finally turned and left.

Spotting a black hair tie on the corner of the sink, she snatched it up and slipped it onto her wrist. She bent over at the waist, combing her unruly hair together with her fingers. Haphazardly gathering the tresses in her left hand, she smoothed them back from her face. Hel straightened and used her right hand to secure her hair in a high ponytail.

Her bangs fell loosely across her forehead, grazing her dark eyebrows. With one last look in the mirror to assess her appearance, she pivoted and headed downstairs.

Spike waited for her in the kitchen. He stood by the stovetop, cooking an omelette in the frying pan. Glancing over at her fleetingly, he took in her baggy black sweat pants, plain white T-shirt, and thick, dark grey socks. Her hair was kept out of her face in a quick ponytail.

Just as she was taking a seat on one of the island stools, he switched off the gas burner beneath it and slid the omelette onto a mustard-yellow plate.

He turned around, setting the plate down in front of her.

She picked up the fork already set out on the counter for her and cut into the steaming egg. Lifting it to her lips, Hel blew on the morsel to cool it down a bit before popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes briefly in appreciation of the sublime texture and flavour. It was absolutely delicious.

Diced up red pepper, green onion, and broccoli florets were cooked into the beaten egg. Melted mozzarella cheese was folded inside.

As she savoured the hot meal, a slice of browned bread popped up with a ding from the toaster. Spike snatched the toast and placed it on a small plate of his own, smothering it with strawberry jam. He picked it up, taking a large bite.

"I thought vampires only consumed blood?" She inquired, curious.

He finished chewing and swallowing before he answered. "Yes and no." He replied cryptically. "Blood is all I need in order to survive, but I do miss the taste of certain foods sometimes." Spike bit into his toast a second time.

"Such as?"

"Well, when I was human, pudding was my absolute favourite."

Her brow furrowed. "Pudding?"

"Dessert." He clarified.

"Ah, I see." Hel nodded, and resumed eating.

"So... This 'Thor' bloke..." He began tentatively, "He isn't the actual 'God of Thunder' Thor, is he?"

"I'm afraid so." She sighed, exasperated by the mere mention of him.

"Oh."

"Indeed." She said simply.

When she finished her omelette, she brought her empty plate over to the sink, along with her fork.

Feeling spent, Spike grabbed his old, blanket from the island stool and left Hel alone at Buffy's, making his way to the cemetery in which his crypt was located.

"Home sweet home." He muttered, flinging the door shut behind him with a loud thud.