Gods And Monsters

Chapter Fifty-five:

Hel awoke with a start, alone and disoriented. Her head felt heavy and sore, her shoulder was bruised, and her vision was hazy. She dragged herself off the cement floor, propping up on one elbow to analyse her surroundings.

Her gaze came into focus, only to discover that Spike had vanished.

Jolted by fear for Spike's safety, she staggered to her feet, against the protests of her weakened body. Lightheaded and dizzy, she nearly overbalanced. Hel felt nauseated, as if she might vomit. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing deeply until the sensation subsided.

Her instincts screamed at her to chase after the bastards that took him, but her head advised her to be rational and formulate a proper strategy. She wondered what the intruders could possibly want from him.

Sighing, she raked her fingers through her hair. It was an anxious habit of hers.

Buffy came running down the basement stairs, with Xander in tow. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the empty iron shackles dangling against the wall. The three of them returned to the living room upstairs, where Willow was tending to Dawn and Anya with a First Aid kit.

The intruders had left a trail of destruction in the wake of their visit. Every single pane of the large, street-facing window was shattered, peppering the floor with shards of glass.

"They were so fast. And organised." Blurted Xander.

"They were after Spike all along." Hel spoke softly, wincing at the sharp pain that struck her temples as she sat down beside Dawn on the couch. Twisting her arm slightly, she inspected her tender elbow. A dark purple and wine-red blossom of broken blood vessels stained her skin.

"And we were just in the way." He added.

Buffy knelt beside the corpse that lay prone on the hardwood floor. It was bald and sallow-skinned, dressed from head-to-toe in all black robes.

"I know these guys. I fought them before." She began, studying the ceremonial symbols that were carved where his eyes should have been. "We aren't being haunted. This isn't some demon, it's all the same thing. Spike's ghosts, the people you guys saw, from beneath us; it's all the same thing. I know what we're up against. It's the First."

Hel joined her alongside the body, flattening the palms of both of her hands over his chest and closing her eyes. After a long pause, she opened her eyes, removing her hands. She stood. "This body is empty. No soul resides her."

Meanwhile, in the basement of Sunnydale High, trouble of the Apocalyptic variety was brewing.

Spike was strapped to a wheel-like construct of wooden beams by one of the intruders, a priest of the First otherwise known as a Harbinger. All four of Spike's limbs were pulled in opposite directions.

"You'll have to excuse the spectacle," Began the First, disguised to mirror Spike. The costume was completed by his black leather duster. "But I've always been a bit of a sucker for the old classics." He grinned wickedly, fondly eyeing Spike's predicament.

The Harbinger withdrew a large dagger. Pressing the wicked-sharp blade to the naked skin of Spike's chest, the priest drew a deep laceration into him.

Spike groaned from the excruciating pain of the hot blade. "Oh!"

"Oh, don't look at me that way. I wanted to do this more subtle-like. My Harbingers have a tendency to call attention to themselves."

Spike cried out as a second cut was carved into him. "Oh!"

The First leaned forward. "You're the one who couldn't hold his end of the bargain. You're the one who couldn't take care of what's-his-name. You're the one who had to make breakthroughs and learn something about himself."

A third incision was made. "Oh!"

"So now, fittingly, you're the one who gets to do the honours." The First crossed their arms over their chest. Their exterior morphed into the form of Buffy. "I have to admit, I'm glad it worked out this way. I was going to bleed Andrew, but," She sighed. "You look a lot better with your shirt off."

Another Harbinger cranked a wheel mechanism attached to the structure Spike was strapped to, hoisting him roughly ten feet above the ground. The symbols cut into his flesh bled steadily, dripping onto the exposed Seal of Danthazar directly below him.

"To be honest, I'm getting a little tired of subtle." The First remarked. "I think it's about time we brought some authority to our presence. Now, Spike; wanna see what a real vampire looks like?"

Spike's blood pooled in the grooves of the ritualistic alter, being absorbed. The seal began to glow, and, one by one, the pointed tips of the pentagram at its centre folded upward to form the four-side steeple of a pyramid. The remained sections followed suit.

Through the sacrificial letting of his blood, the Hellmouth was awakened.

Redirecting his glare from the First to the seal, Spike watched as the gaping black maw beneath him grew in size. From his position, he was incapable of preventing it.

The talon-like fingers of a withered, ashen hand emerged.

Out of the abyss came a creature, clawing up and into the basement. Clad in black leather, it stood and lifted its disfigured face to the ceiling. It was bald and gaunt, with extremely hollow cheeks. Its distinctly primitive features were similar to, but harsher than, those of a vampire. Its skin was a sickly, grey-tinged white.

Its pale, soulless eyes swept the room as it raised its hands into the air and uttered a low, menacing growl, gruesome fangs bared.