Gods And Monsters

Chapter Sixty-eight:

Less than an hour before sunrise, everyone returned to the Summers' residence after a very successful night of Slayer training. The Potentials filed into the living room, chattering excitedly about their triumph over the vampire, while Spike and Hel headed to the basement to get some shut-eye.

At around nine P.M. the following night, Hel awoke and ventured upstairs for a drink. Pouring herself a tall glass of cold water, she took a long gulp.

"You thought you were all special." Xander's voice drifted in from the next room.

Intrigued, she lingered to eavesdrop.

"Miss Sunnydale two-thousand three." He continued. "And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause. You gave her your power."

"The power wasn't mine." Came Dawn's reply. 

"They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie. To be the one who isn't chosen. To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realises because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special. You're extraordinary." There was a scraping of chair legs against the hardwood flooring as, presumably, he stood up.

Hel abruptly turned around to avoid being noticed, and followed the narrow corridor to the front foyer. Rounding the corner, she ascended the stairs, deep in thought.

Entering the bathroom, she shut the door behind her and drew herself a bath. She dipped her fingers into the water to test the temperature, then stripped. Hel sank into the bathtub with a relieved sigh. Content to soak, she took her time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin squeaky-clean. The heat soothed her joints and loosened the tension in her body.

There was a knock at the door.

"It's unlocked." She called out.

The knob twisted, and the door slowly swung open. Cautiously, Spike lingered on the threshold.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Well? Are you coming in or not?"

"Only if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

"I dunno." He shut the door and leaned his back against it. "Do you know what I just realised?"

"What?"

"After all this time, I don't even know your birthday."

"I was born on the tenth day of Thorri —or mid-January to mid-February, in the terms of your calendar—  in the year twelve-hundred and eighth-two."

His eyes widened. "Bloody Hell, you're ancient."

Hel gave him a dark, menacing smile. "Sometimes, you make me want to punch in you in your perfect face."

Straightening, he took a step in her direction and folded his arms across his chest. A smirk crept onto his lips. "Did you just call me attractive?"

She rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Tipping her head back against the tiled wall and reclining further, she closed her eyes.

"Are you immortal?"

"Pretty much."

"I'm not even two-hundred yet, and you're approaching eight-hundred." He mused aloud. "What's it like? Living for so long?"