Title: A Passing Shadow: Book II: Trick of the Light: Chapter 6
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R-WARNING: This chapter contains potentially disturbing imagery.
Disclaimer, etc.: please see previous chapters
Regret's a funny thing, in'nit?
There's a few things in my unlife I wish I hadn't done-top of the list bein' that little foray into cattle prods an' bondage that played out in my crypt last winter. That an' the 'bot, o' course-not my finest hours, and I'm man enough to admit it. But then again, if it'd turned out differently-if the Slayer'd been a bit less resistant to the whole concept...
Then there's the sins of omission--wishin' I'd been more quick or clever when it counted, but you've heard all that, too, I reckon.
All o' those will fade with time, I expect, especially since I wouldn't be here if I hadn't gone there, if you know what I mean.
But there's a couple of things that've stuck with me from back in the day-back when me an' the Scourge of Europe were livin' high and havin' ourselves a time. You need to understand, I was a newborn then. Did stuff with no good reason other than 'I can' or 'I want to'. After gettin' the metaphorical shit kicked outta me all my life as that pussy William, I was ready to raise Satan himself if the pay-off was sweet enough.
O' course, Drusilla was mad as any inmate at Bedlam, even then, so you can hardly hold her accountable-well, you can, but it ain't fair. That's a sore spot. Best we leave it alone.
Whether Angelus or Darla had any excuse for their misbehavior-well, I don't rightly know. Didn't ask questions at the time, just figured the torture and mayhem was part of the game, 'though I never got any thrill from hearin' some poor chit shriekin' her head off whilst Angelus chewed her up. The blood stayed warm an' sweet a fair time after they were dead or unconscious, so I didn't see much point in inflicting extra pain. Unless, of course, there was some personal grudge... William the Bloody, an' all that. I can sorta forgive myself the rest. I'm a predator, after all. Does a tiger go lookin' for redemption? How 'bout a grizzly or a hawk?
But there was this one night...
It was comin' down sleet, and the sidewalks were all ice, and dirty water fixin' t'be ice. The swells were all tucked up warm an' safe-nothin' stirring at all, save for what they nowadays call the 'homeless'. Back then we called 'em street scum. Rarely made a good meal. Now don't come over all PC on me-d'ya wanna hear the story or not?
Anyway, I was on a mission: bring home supper for m'lord and ladies. As the newest turned-must've been ten years at that point-I got all the dirty work, includin' hunting in foul weather.
So I came upon a little chit all bundled up in an alleyway. Couldn't've been more'n eighteen, an' likely younger-though not as young as the Lil' Bit, or so I like to tell myself.
She was expectin'-had a huge, great belly that barely fit inside her skirts. And I thought-two for the price of one.
I know, all right? Bloody hell, I started off talkin' 'bout regret, dinn't I?
I remember tryin' to rationalize it a bit-tellin' myself she an' her brat would likely freeze or starve anyway, and we could at least make it quick for 'em. So I sidled up to her an' offered her a meal an' a warm place to sleep. She must've been right desperate, 'cause she took me up on it in the blink of an eye.
So I took her home. Lemme tell ya, I was the popular lad *that* night. Thought for a moment the Snow Bitch might even crack a smile in my direction.
But what happened after...
There was some talk of keepin' her 'round 'til she delivered her little git. That was Dru's idea-I think she wanted to have the baby as a pet. Not that the Dynamic Duo would've allowed that, but they were fixin' to send me back out to fetch somethin' else, an' I was complainin' 'bout the weather. Now I wish I'd just shut me gob and gone. 'Cause then they changed their minds.
Darla was sittin' with the girl by the fire, feedin' her broth from a china cup. To see it, you'd think she was the madonna herself, all concerned an' full of the milk of human kindness, instead of the blood of the stable boy she'd had for tea.
Don't know what was in the broth-must've been somethin' Drusilla concocted, some herb an' fairy dust to make her sleep. Or maybe it was just laudanum. Don't matter now, didn't matter then. In half an' hour, she was out cold, an' they commenced to cuttin'.
Would it help if I told you they used a sharp knife to make it quick? Would it matter if I said the girl never knew...never woke up 'til the very end, when the baby was already dead? If I said she didn't understand, was too groggy from the drug an' nearly dead herself from the blood loss...would you believe it?
No?
There's no foolin' you, is there, ducks?
'Bout all I can say for myself is that when it came my turn to feed, I couldn't quite manage it. They snickered at me, the three of 'em, whilst they took turns with the brat. And then when she lifted her head, askin' after her baby, Darla showed it to her. Or what was left of it.
That's when I took myself away, off to my room in the attic. 'Cause the poor chit looked straight at me, you know. Over the little carcass, straight into my eyes, and I felt branded by it. I've never had an entirely peaceful day's rest since... she always comes back to me, usually just as I'm driftin' off, to remind me that I'm a fiend. To help me recollect why I'll always be beneath the Slayer's notice, however much she thinks she wants to shag me.
So. Regrets. Yeah, I've had a few.
But enough with the reminiscin', right? You're not here to listen to me talk about all that bollocks, you're here to find out what happened, an' I'm here to tell it, so...
Those distractions I mentioned? They're right 'round the bend, but first I was treated to a visit by Monkey Boy an' his bint the followin' afternoon. An' speakin' of her, ever wonder how it is that a used-to-be demon with over a millennium of torture and destruction and death under her belt gets a free pass with the Slayer an' her mates? Just 'cause she sucked up a soul somewhere along the way. Guess that makes all the difference, don't it? Damned if I know why.
"Love the new decor, Spike. Not exactly Pottery Barn, but a definite improvement over the whole 'trashed by deranged ex-girlfriend' thing you had going on." Smug prat. Like to show him what 'deranged' really means. Some day, I swear it on the Niblet's eyes...
"What d'you want, Harris?"
"What, no 'welcome to my humble abode, pull up a rotting corpse and make yourself at home'? Gee, Spike, where's the love?"
Then Greedy Girl pipes up, "Come on, Xander, I've got to get back. I left Tara in charge and you know how she is. She'll give the store away to the first loser with a pathetic story about a love-spell-gone-wrong."
"Right. This is the deal, Spike: Giles has a fifty bucks with your name on it if you'll come help us research tonight, and then patrol with Buffy later." He stood there lookin' at me like he'd just offered me the keys to the bloody kingdom.
I was gob-smacked. I hadn't taken money from that lot in nearly a year, an' I was right insulted. Didn't let on, though, 'cause after all, a little dosh can only be a good thing, an' a bloke does need to eat.
"Yeah, all right, tell him I'll be there. But as for patrollin'...are you sure the Slayer...I mean, did she say--"
"Actually, Giles didn't let her say much of anything. But she's not happy. What'd you do to her, anyway?"
"Me? Nothin'. Nothin' at all." Truer words I'd never spoken.
When they toddled off to do whatever it is they do when they're not annoyin' me, I settled down for a late afternoon nap, 'cause I had a feelin' it was likely t'be a long night.
tbc
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R-WARNING: This chapter contains potentially disturbing imagery.
Disclaimer, etc.: please see previous chapters
Regret's a funny thing, in'nit?
There's a few things in my unlife I wish I hadn't done-top of the list bein' that little foray into cattle prods an' bondage that played out in my crypt last winter. That an' the 'bot, o' course-not my finest hours, and I'm man enough to admit it. But then again, if it'd turned out differently-if the Slayer'd been a bit less resistant to the whole concept...
Then there's the sins of omission--wishin' I'd been more quick or clever when it counted, but you've heard all that, too, I reckon.
All o' those will fade with time, I expect, especially since I wouldn't be here if I hadn't gone there, if you know what I mean.
But there's a couple of things that've stuck with me from back in the day-back when me an' the Scourge of Europe were livin' high and havin' ourselves a time. You need to understand, I was a newborn then. Did stuff with no good reason other than 'I can' or 'I want to'. After gettin' the metaphorical shit kicked outta me all my life as that pussy William, I was ready to raise Satan himself if the pay-off was sweet enough.
O' course, Drusilla was mad as any inmate at Bedlam, even then, so you can hardly hold her accountable-well, you can, but it ain't fair. That's a sore spot. Best we leave it alone.
Whether Angelus or Darla had any excuse for their misbehavior-well, I don't rightly know. Didn't ask questions at the time, just figured the torture and mayhem was part of the game, 'though I never got any thrill from hearin' some poor chit shriekin' her head off whilst Angelus chewed her up. The blood stayed warm an' sweet a fair time after they were dead or unconscious, so I didn't see much point in inflicting extra pain. Unless, of course, there was some personal grudge... William the Bloody, an' all that. I can sorta forgive myself the rest. I'm a predator, after all. Does a tiger go lookin' for redemption? How 'bout a grizzly or a hawk?
But there was this one night...
It was comin' down sleet, and the sidewalks were all ice, and dirty water fixin' t'be ice. The swells were all tucked up warm an' safe-nothin' stirring at all, save for what they nowadays call the 'homeless'. Back then we called 'em street scum. Rarely made a good meal. Now don't come over all PC on me-d'ya wanna hear the story or not?
Anyway, I was on a mission: bring home supper for m'lord and ladies. As the newest turned-must've been ten years at that point-I got all the dirty work, includin' hunting in foul weather.
So I came upon a little chit all bundled up in an alleyway. Couldn't've been more'n eighteen, an' likely younger-though not as young as the Lil' Bit, or so I like to tell myself.
She was expectin'-had a huge, great belly that barely fit inside her skirts. And I thought-two for the price of one.
I know, all right? Bloody hell, I started off talkin' 'bout regret, dinn't I?
I remember tryin' to rationalize it a bit-tellin' myself she an' her brat would likely freeze or starve anyway, and we could at least make it quick for 'em. So I sidled up to her an' offered her a meal an' a warm place to sleep. She must've been right desperate, 'cause she took me up on it in the blink of an eye.
So I took her home. Lemme tell ya, I was the popular lad *that* night. Thought for a moment the Snow Bitch might even crack a smile in my direction.
But what happened after...
There was some talk of keepin' her 'round 'til she delivered her little git. That was Dru's idea-I think she wanted to have the baby as a pet. Not that the Dynamic Duo would've allowed that, but they were fixin' to send me back out to fetch somethin' else, an' I was complainin' 'bout the weather. Now I wish I'd just shut me gob and gone. 'Cause then they changed their minds.
Darla was sittin' with the girl by the fire, feedin' her broth from a china cup. To see it, you'd think she was the madonna herself, all concerned an' full of the milk of human kindness, instead of the blood of the stable boy she'd had for tea.
Don't know what was in the broth-must've been somethin' Drusilla concocted, some herb an' fairy dust to make her sleep. Or maybe it was just laudanum. Don't matter now, didn't matter then. In half an' hour, she was out cold, an' they commenced to cuttin'.
Would it help if I told you they used a sharp knife to make it quick? Would it matter if I said the girl never knew...never woke up 'til the very end, when the baby was already dead? If I said she didn't understand, was too groggy from the drug an' nearly dead herself from the blood loss...would you believe it?
No?
There's no foolin' you, is there, ducks?
'Bout all I can say for myself is that when it came my turn to feed, I couldn't quite manage it. They snickered at me, the three of 'em, whilst they took turns with the brat. And then when she lifted her head, askin' after her baby, Darla showed it to her. Or what was left of it.
That's when I took myself away, off to my room in the attic. 'Cause the poor chit looked straight at me, you know. Over the little carcass, straight into my eyes, and I felt branded by it. I've never had an entirely peaceful day's rest since... she always comes back to me, usually just as I'm driftin' off, to remind me that I'm a fiend. To help me recollect why I'll always be beneath the Slayer's notice, however much she thinks she wants to shag me.
So. Regrets. Yeah, I've had a few.
But enough with the reminiscin', right? You're not here to listen to me talk about all that bollocks, you're here to find out what happened, an' I'm here to tell it, so...
Those distractions I mentioned? They're right 'round the bend, but first I was treated to a visit by Monkey Boy an' his bint the followin' afternoon. An' speakin' of her, ever wonder how it is that a used-to-be demon with over a millennium of torture and destruction and death under her belt gets a free pass with the Slayer an' her mates? Just 'cause she sucked up a soul somewhere along the way. Guess that makes all the difference, don't it? Damned if I know why.
"Love the new decor, Spike. Not exactly Pottery Barn, but a definite improvement over the whole 'trashed by deranged ex-girlfriend' thing you had going on." Smug prat. Like to show him what 'deranged' really means. Some day, I swear it on the Niblet's eyes...
"What d'you want, Harris?"
"What, no 'welcome to my humble abode, pull up a rotting corpse and make yourself at home'? Gee, Spike, where's the love?"
Then Greedy Girl pipes up, "Come on, Xander, I've got to get back. I left Tara in charge and you know how she is. She'll give the store away to the first loser with a pathetic story about a love-spell-gone-wrong."
"Right. This is the deal, Spike: Giles has a fifty bucks with your name on it if you'll come help us research tonight, and then patrol with Buffy later." He stood there lookin' at me like he'd just offered me the keys to the bloody kingdom.
I was gob-smacked. I hadn't taken money from that lot in nearly a year, an' I was right insulted. Didn't let on, though, 'cause after all, a little dosh can only be a good thing, an' a bloke does need to eat.
"Yeah, all right, tell him I'll be there. But as for patrollin'...are you sure the Slayer...I mean, did she say--"
"Actually, Giles didn't let her say much of anything. But she's not happy. What'd you do to her, anyway?"
"Me? Nothin'. Nothin' at all." Truer words I'd never spoken.
When they toddled off to do whatever it is they do when they're not annoyin' me, I settled down for a late afternoon nap, 'cause I had a feelin' it was likely t'be a long night.
tbc