Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly presents,
A Mad-Hamlet Production

Prisms - Green

EMail: Mad-Hamlet@usa.net

Anything can be raised to an art form. Absolutely anything. Let's take for example..oh..the Art of Ignoring Someone. Being able to ignore someone or something about someone for a short period of time is easy. In fact the capability to do so is practically built in.

Ah..but if you want to ignore someone for a long time, say..years and years and additionally this is someone by all rights you should not be ignoring, that it is, in fact, someone you should be caring for. Why to maintain that sort of Ignorance takes..discipline, planning, will power and desire to succeed come hell or high water.

Like any other art form is can also be taught and I had learned it pretty damn well. My parents had taught the Art of Ignoring to me and now, having mastered it, I ignored them. Lying in my bed, in the basement not bothered in the slightest by the fight going on over my head. Just working on my latest bit of 'Art'.

But one cannot sacrifice everything for their work can they. No, particularly when someone is banging at the door leading to their hidey-hole. Which some people are. I clamber out of my bed, slip on my jeans and slowly climb the stairs. I can hear voices from the other side.

"…good is he anyway? Comedy relief? It's not like she wanted any of you, any of us to know what was going on."

Ah. Great, I get over an eight hour shift, listen to my parents relive the top ten prize fights of all time, and now, when I should be embracing moebius I get to suffer verbal abuse from a vamp.

"He has to know, he has a right to know."

That makes me pause. Right to know what?

"That is out an' out bullshit Watcher an' you bloody well know it. He has the right to know exactly what she want's him to know and not one bit more. Obviously she doesn't want anyone to know, I just came across the problem you think I want my life this complicated?"

"She needs help Spike, she has to come to grips with this and the best person to help her with that is the person who is almost family to her."

I open the door. "She's not almost family." I say. "Willow is family."

"Oh nice entrance Harris, two thumbs up for dramatic overtones." Spike backs his jibe by actually giving me two thumbs up.

"Happy Days ended years ago Spike. Deal with it." I say and brush past the impotent one and approach Giles. "Yo G-Man what's up. Much as I like to see you and we're all bonded an' everything I gotta say I question yer sense of…"

"Willow was raped, Xander." He says.

"What?"
"I said 'Willow was raped." Giles repeats.

"Actually you said 'Willow was raped, Xander.'" Spike adds.

And I throw up. Get my shoes too. Which really bothers me because they are nice shoes.
I can't suddenly remember why I've thrown up either, just that I was throwing up, had messed up my shoes, was angry because I had done that and…oh..that's right.

Throw up again. Don't nail my shoes this time though, which is good. Happy thoughts..lots of happy thoughts. Threw up, twice, didn't get my shoes this time. Good aim Xander. Let's throw a party.

Why?

Cause I didn't throw up on my shoes twice after hearing how my best friend was ra..ra…

Oh God.

Can't see..can't hear. Can feel though. Can feel LOTS. Loose thread in my shirt, small dry spot on the inside of my left pant leg, right behind the knee. Itched a lot at work. Bad dry spot. Gonna wash you right out of my pants. Acid burns in my throat..felt those..hurt… Can feel the moonbeams on my skin and the grass in my head. Hate..lots of that. There's a whole lot of hating going on and most of it, well, let's not by coy, all of it's spinning around in my guts. Got these big…fiery..well…yeah..fiery..ropey..ropes of hate. Burning and twisting..looping around ..choking me..and burning..and it's for everything and I wanna share it everything..and.. I can hear again.

"We don't have time for this."

Hard blow hits me, left side of the face..now THAT is burning. Ow.
I can see again…there's um…um..Spike, that's it, can see Spike holding his head. Muttering..must have forgotten about that chip. Silly vamp…chips are for kids! No, wait that's not funny.

And it's quiet.
And I'm back.
Maybe.

"Giles?" I hear my voice. Wow, my throat is sore, what the hell have I been doing, screaming for the last few minutes?

"Xander, are you alright? Can you hear me? You've been screaming for the last few minutes."

Typical.

"Yeah..yeah…" I manage to croak out. "I ..think I got a hearing problem."

"No," That's Spike talking now. Lord I hate that accent. "What you have is a denial problem. Willow..Red..the Witch…y'know who I'm talking about? Her? Yeah. Good. She was raped. Fact. Deal."

Giles is glaring now..at Spike of course, I haven't done anything to earn a full bore 'Gile Glare' since the first time I called him G-Man.

"Willow?" I'm muttering now. Glory be.

"Yes." Spike says.

"She..was…."

"You're doing good kid. Keep at it."

"Raped?"

"On second thought, maybe you do have a hearing problem. I could have ol' Ripper hear beat you about the head a bit. That's might clear up some bedsprings."

I stand up. Giles is backing away giving me a little breathing room..or swinging room.

"Spike."

"No..really? Where?" Always with the comeback.

"Dru's dead." I say.

"What?" Ah, that got his attention.

"She came by today. Selling Avon products. Knocked on my door, asked if I'd like to the latest in Summer fashions. Reamed her with a broomstick, felt good too."

"What?" Indeed, what..as in what the hell am I doing? Another snappy line, more witty banter. Is that all I'm good for? Is Spike right? Comedy relief?

I grin..I'm grinning a lot..I don't think I can stop.

"Actually I'm just kidding. As far as I know she's off galavanting with some denizen from below…like..someone from Kansas maybe. Just showing ya that I'm not the only one with hearing problems."

Shut up..shut up..this isn't the time but I can't stop because if I do stop I'm might start screaming again and never come back from it and that would be bad because right now, right now someone needs me.

Shake my head a few times..clear it up..few deep breaths..get the heart pumping…better.
"Ok.." I say. "Ok…what makes you think..no..what makes you know Willow was raped?"

Giles steps forward. "Spike here…"

"Phrase your words carefully 'Ripper'," Spike growls. "I don't care for another round of 'Dodge the Looney."

"Yes..of course." Giles starts over. "Spike was ..taking a walk..and, according to him, he saw Willow walking back to the campus. He claims that he could 'Smell the men on her'."

"Not just that 'Ripper', not just that at all. I could..for lack of a better term..smell her shame. And blood, was running down the inside of one of her legs. Not just blood either. Throw in that I could hear her trying not to cry, plus the tears in her clothing…well..as I said. Fact. Deal." He shrugs.

I really..really..am wishing I had something more to throw up.
I settle for getting angry.

"Who?" I demand.
Spike shrugs again. "Don't know that yet. But I got there scents locked in the skull and me 'Ripper' here are doing a little….hunting. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." Giles says. "It is."
And that's what gets my attention. Not Giles the quiet, informative, librarian..researcher, coach..father figure. But Ripper, and it is Ripper, the demon summoner, the fighter the..the…damn he said that scary. I can relate, I'm feeling pretty scary myself.

"And when we find them?"

Spike is smiling now, and it's not a nice smile at all.

"Hunters don't usually go to the trouble of buying their prey snack cakes and ice cream after tracking them down, I see no reason to break tradition. Do you Harris?"

He's smiling at me now. I'm smiling back.

"No Dead Boy." I say. "No reason at all."