Gods And Monsters

Chapter Forty-nine:

The very next night, Hel awoke, yet again, to Spike sneaking out of his room. However, she maintained the pretence of slumber and patiently waited to open her eyes after he was gone.

Spike sauntered through the living room, heading in the direction of the door.

Alerted to his intentions, Xander sprung up from his seat on the couch and hastened after him to block the exit. "No, no, no!" He held up the index finger of each hand in front of him for emphasis. "You're not goin' out."

Spike sighed. "I have to go."

"Buffy was very clear about the not leaving of you."

"I know what the Slayer told you. It's not true. Let me go, and I'll find a way to prove it."

"Okay, I'm gonna list the reasons that won't happen. One—"

Without warning, Spike's fist shot forward. It collided with the centre of Xander's face and the force of the blow knocked him flat onto his back on the floor. Spike's chip punished him for the violent action and delivered a shock of searing pain. He cried out, pressing a hand to his temple. "Ow!"

Recovering relatively quickly, he strode past an unconscious Xander and straight out the front door.

Dragging herself upright and out of bed, Hel retrieved her belt from the floor. She wove the strip of black leather into the loops of her black skinny jeans and cinched the buckle, then shoved on her black leather boots. Padding into the living room, she gave Xander a cursory glance as she passed by him.

His nasal bone appeared to have been broken, garnet blood oozing from both nostrils, and he was on the phone, presumably notifying Buffy of Spike's disappearance.

Speed-walking to the end of the hall, Hel opted for the quicker route rather than taking the elevator. She hurried down the steps two at a time, reaching the ground level within a matter of minutes.

She caught a glimpse of Spike's retreating back just as she stepped into the parking lot. She trailed behind him for quite a while, tip-toeing on the fragile line of close enough to not lose sight and far back enough to remain unnoticed. When he arrived at The Bronze, the one and only night club in Sunnydale, she hung back. Hel loitered in the shadows outside, unseen, and waited.

After what felt like an eternity, Spike emerged. He set off at a deliberate pace in another direction, as if he knew exactly where he needed to be. She followed from a careful distance.

This second journey was much shorter. Less than five minutes passed before he rounded the street corner onto Hoffman Terrace and headed up the driveway of a medium-sized, brick house. It was subtly gothic in architectural design, with peaked, shingled roofs.

She paused at the end of the driveway, until Spike disappeared inside. She didn't bother to read the house number on her way to the threshold. Uttering a simple incantation under breath to unlock the solid oak front door, Hel cautiously entered. She strode silently through the dark house, locating the basement door almost immediately. It was already ajar.

She swung it open, grateful that the hinges weren't rusty, and quietly descended the wood planks of the steep, basic staircase. Once at the bottom, she stepped onto concrete and ventured no further.

Spike stood in the centre of the basement. The dirt floor beneath the soles of his boots had been firmly packed down, quite recently.

He spun around, startled by her presence.

Hel unsheathed her claymore as a precaution, gripping tightly onto the hilt.

He swallowed. "I've been remembering, it's the girl. I walked her home. The one you saw." His eyes skirted away from her. "And the one before that. And I think I killed her. And I think I— I think I killed the lady who lived here. And— And there might be others."

Her expression remained neutral, her voice deadpan when she spoke. "Show me."

He inhaled deeply, venturing a few strides closer to the far end of the basement. "I— I think I buried them here."

She followed him. "Why?"

Spike faced her. "Well, I don't know, do I? I don't even know how. I shouldn't be able—" He broke off mid-sentence and turned to look behind him, as if distracted by something near the stairs.

"What? What is it? Spike!" She shouted, in the effort to reclaim his diverted attention.

His head whipped back around with a snarl, and the face that greeted her was entirely unfamiliar. His contorted features were ridged, his brow deeply creased, eyes bright yellow and teeth sharpened into points. The transformation took her aback.

Hel wielded her sword, but he knocked it from her hand. It was sent flying and she heard the shattering of glass as it smashed a bottle into tiny shards. Resorting to hand-to-hand combat, she swung her fist at his cheekbone. He was knocked backwards, twisting at the waist and slamming face-forward into the brick archway.

"What are you doing?" She shouted at him.

His hand closed around a rather large piece of glass. Spike shot to his feet and lashed out at her.

Stumbling backward, Hel attempted to avoid the arc of his attack but her reaction wasn't early enough. She felt the glide of cold, razor-sharp glass slashing through skin, then a stinging in her right tricep. Ignoring the pain and the trickle of hot blood, she landed a swift kick in his gut.

She launched herself at him. Tossing him onto the floor, Hel pinned him down and sat astride him, straddling his waist. "Spike, listen to me. You don't want to do this."

He threw her off and she rolled a short distance. Before he could get to his feet, she struck him down with a single blow. Hel climbed atop him a second time and grabbed him by the collar of his dusty, black leather jacket. Struggling to hold him down, she glanced sideways. Hel rolled her eyes, cursing under her breath. "Bugger."