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stygian (also Stygian) \STIJ-ee-uhn\, adjective:
1. Of or pertaining to the river Styx, the principal river of the underworld in Greek mythology; hence, hellish; infernal.
2. Dark and dismal.
Stygian is from Latin Stygius, from Greek Stygios, from Styx, Styg-, "Styx."
***
There were those who joked about descending into the stygian darkness, but any watcher with half a brain understood the need for the dim lighting in the Special Collections section. The handling of delicate objects such as ancient scrolls and artifacts was required of all students of the Watcher Academy, even those whose primary focus wasn't research or translation. Giles certainly required it of the members of Field Services and Spike -- despite the complaints of Harry and Mike -- backed him up.
To tell the truth, Spike enjoyed the time he spent in Special Collections, poring over some manuscript or fragments. Books had always been a balm to his soul, even when he didn't have one, and the days when he'd claimed not to have the languages he'd mastered while he lived were long gone. The curators here had been among the first to accept his presence, perfectly willing to overlook the fact he was a vampire in favor of what new insights his unique point of view might offer on some of the texts in their care -- once they'd been assured he wouldn't go for their necks the first time he felt peckish.
He'd had to call in a few favors in order to get Angel into the collection itself, but Spike was certain the answers they needed lay there and he knew he wouldn't be able to take the documents with him, not given their delicate condition. Angel had made a face at the gloves, but he'd followed Spike's lead for once and said nothing as they were escorted to the table reserved for researchers. The requested material was carefully laid out and they were left to their work once Spike had promised they'd call if they needed anything. "You're sure it's here?" Angel said, reaching for the volume nearest him.
"If the Council has it, it'll be here. Problem is, the source I'm remembering is one I saw in Heidelberg once -- and not only is that not convenient, I'm not even certain I'd be welcome there anymore."
"Too much damage the last time you were there?"
"Because I'm a Watcher, you nit. It's not a human archive."
Angel mumbled something that wasn't quite audible and went back to reading. They were quiet for a while, each poring over a text, looking for the words that would let them know they were on the right track. "Don't you find it a little, well, creepy being in the Council headquarters?" Angel asked at last.
"I'm here most days." Spike shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"But, they're Watchers; one of their jobs is to get rid of vampires."
"Not quite true. Their job is to send slayers out to get rid of vampires; the fact the current title holders have proved so long lived is causing all sorts of changes. I happen to be one of them."
Reaching the end of the volume in his hand, Angel closed it and put it aside, reaching for a fragment of a scroll contained within a transparent sleeve. "I don't understand that either. I mean, I know the soul makes you do crazy things -- been there and definitely done that -- but becoming a Watcher? Why?" He glanced at the scroll. "It's in German."
"Give it here. Giles convinced me it was a good idea; he's part of those changes too, getting the Council to do more than sit on its collective arse while others die for the cause."
"The fact you killed two slayers doesn't bother them?"
"Fewer than you might think; they seem to accept slayers dying as an inevitable fact of life. There are some though -- Nikki Wood's watcher still does work with Archives and it's never fun when we come face to face."
"Nikki Wood?"
"New York, 1977. I know you were in the city then. Was that the Barry Manilow phase or the rat phase?"
"Manilow. I…I didn't realize that was her name."
"Why should you? Us vampires, her slayer. One dies and another is chosen right up. They didn't matter to us then."
More silence. The scroll wasn't actually a scroll, but a fragment of a page of High Medieval German scribed in a script so perfect Spike would almost swear it couldn't have been done by hand. There wasn't anything on it that he needed, but the memory was jogged a little further and he stood up, sorting through the remaining material.
"Was it really because Giles convinced you it was a good cause -- or because you and Buffy broke up?"
Spike caught himself as his hands tightened around the volume he held. If he damaged any of this, he'd never set foot inside Special Collections again. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax and gently lay the book back on the table. "Have you decided to let Angelus out to play or are you just being an ass? Whichever it is, I don't want to talk about Buffy. That chapter of my life's over and no matter what you might think, I am capable of making decisions that don't somehow relate to her -- or to Dru for that matter. I happen to enjoy what I'm doing and I think it's a good thing. You atone in your way, I'll atone in mine."
Something must have hit a nerve because Angel shut up long enough for Spike to not only isolate the volumes from the period he was remembering, but to start perusing them as well. This time, he was lucky. "Okay, here's a rough translation -- I'm not trying for the imagery, just the basics. Two sons, lost and found, scions of the same house. There's choices made for good or evil and standing against the tide through death to life to death again. No, that's wrong. Through death to live again. That's the start of it, and then they start talking about the talisman thingy and what that's good for. It'll take a while to get this right, but I think I found it."
He grabbed one of the slips of tissue provided and placed it between the pages to mark his place. "It's going to take a few minutes to complete the paperwork, but we can move back up to my office, which is a hell of a lot more comfortable. I've got some books you might…what?"
Angel was looking very serious. "Maybe it's just me, but that sounds like a reference to the Shanshu prophecy."
Spike stared at Angel for a moment, then opened the book again and scanned down the page. Halfway down, he found the words sans schuhe. He knew what the literal meaning was, but surely it couldn't…
Damn. He knew it'd been too easy.