Chapter 7: When in Rome

The Roman colosseum was a breath-taking structure that, despite centuries of erosion, remained imposing in ancient grandeur. Or at least, so Spike though as he found himself briefly splayed across Titan's shoulders--enough time to admire the ancient world before he was thrown down, full throttle, into the arena dirt.

The cheer of the crowd woke him up. The soma did the rest, mostly saving him from his skull and spine turning into dust. The next thing he saw was Titan, flexing victoriously for the the audience. Of course, it was the flexing that had thrown Spike off his game to begin with. Had Gio not bounced his pecs hypnotically at the last second, Spike would have had this in the bag. Or so he thought.

Gio reached down to lift him up, nearly single-handed. "We are gracious winners in Italy," he said. Spike's heart melted. "Everyone, do a big yell for my little friend, Sailorboy Spike!"

The raucous Romans, emulating their ancestors, got to their feet in applause. Spike, sheepish, and a bit ego-bruised aside (everything else bruised too) put on a brave face and waved back. 

"Now you are my trophy" Gio laughed, picking Spike up like he weighed nothing, and slinging him over his shoulder. "Hahaha!"

"Hey," Spike giggled. "Where are you taking me, ya big, sexy lug?!"

The audience ate it up. A battle of the babyfaces was always a palette refresher. The hometown boy won, the foreigner was magnanimous in defeat, and the chemistry between them was remarkable. What wasn't there to love?

"Let the audience use the imagination," Gio said. He was a warm soul. Thank goodness he wasn't a heel, or Spike might found himself head first in the dirt again!

Back in the locker room, Gio quickly stripped off his gear. "Such a disappointment we cannot wrestle like they used to do here," he lamented. "Too much clothing."

Red-faced, Spike turned away--after sneaking a solid peek, anyways. "G-man, your muscles are what won you that match. If you and I had been naked, it would have gone a whole other way."

"What do you mean?" Gio said, innocently. Behind him, the eyes of his fellow peers nearly popped out of their sockets, getting a good look at the Titan's...titanic proportions.

Spike scratched the back of his neck. "Never mind, bud."

Gio was good at the actual spellbreaking component of the sport, but quite honestly terrible at everything else; a constant headache for Colt. Always the showman, the cowboy king had tried to inject some heat into Spike and Gio's upcoming bout. Spike was just happy to not be under the stress of chasing down dubious objects or fighting with with the supernatural, so he gladly put all of his scrappy, babyface energy into his promos. Colt billed the fight as a contest to see who was 'The Strongest Man in the World', pitting Spike's super strength against Gio's Earth-magick enhanced muscle power.

Spike, a natural, killed his spots with signature style: he was respectful, but cocky, and took every chance to flex his biceps and preen for the camera. "I hope all you cute Italian guys out there won't be too mad with me when I beat your boy!"

Gio, however was clueless in front of a camera. Though he was once a B-movie muscle man star, he had a script and could play a character, As a spellbreaker, he saw himself as...well, himself, despite Colt's insistence on 'coming up' with a character. The primitive jungle man gimmick was too ridiculous for him to do convincingly, and he didn't know how to 'act like a heroic god' for the camera (let alone look directly into one). Spike found himself in the hilarious awkward position of coaching his opponent on how the art of heat.

"But Spike! I do not want to be mean to you. We settle this fight like men, in the arena, not by saying bad words to each other!"

"No, Gio, it's okay--we both know we like each other, but the audience doesn't know that. You can call me a pipsqueek. I promise it won't hurt my feelings."

"But you are very strong! And too nice. I have seen you're fighting, and I would never be so arrogant to think I could just squash you! Even though I probably will..."

"Yes! More of that! Now, we just gotta' get it on camera..."

Now the struggle today was trying not to convince Gio to join him in the shower. Spike dried himself off, trying to ignore the chatter from the Italian muscle hunk spellbreakers behind him. 

"Ugh, I feel like I'm so out of place here," he sighed. He turned his back on them.

They gasped, eyes zeroing in on Spike's hindquarters. Making the sign of the goddess on their chests, the blushing men covered themselves up with towels and quickly left the room, nearly bumping into Gio (sadly, clothed now) as he walked in.

"Spike, Colt wants us to meet in the Villa Panfini to discuss..." he lowered his voice, "the secret matters."

The Chalices, Spike thought, grimly. He had enjoyed his little vacation away from hunting down artefacts and the stress that came with the operation. If he had thought spellbreaking would involve a part time reconnaissance gig with an international peace-keeping organization, he might have given this career a second thought.

Gio sighed, taking a seat on the bench as Spike put on his underwear. Gio was such a natural with nudity (Kengo's complete opposite) that Spike didn't even feel sexualized around him, which was an unusual comfort. 

"Well, big guy. Lots of cute guys here. Lots of cute girls too. I don't really hear you talk about romance. A sexy, giant guy like you...the men must throw themselves at ya!"

Gio blinked. "Of course they throw themselves at me. We are fighters. You ever get tope suicida'd by El Amante? But no. I am not good with the romance. I do not know when people like me, and I do not know what to say to them when they spell it out. People are hard to understand, outside a fight. That is why I like wrestling. It is an easier conversation."

Spike nodded. He knew Gio was atypical. "Nobody you have a crush on?"

Gio smiled. "Everyone have a crush on Spike, eh? But...to tell truth. Er...yes." He blushed. "I may not tell you now. Over drinks, maybe. Let me just say...I like other plant magi like me."

Spike cocked his head to the side, in thought, but before he could tabulate the information, Gio stood up and stretched.

"I tell you this, but keep it a secret. I am not sure I actually want to do the spellbreaking for much longer."

"What!? But buddy, you could be the next champion!"

"Mmm. But it is so much camera work and acting and socializing. Too much pressure. Joseph do it well because he is a man of the people. I just want to wrestle handsome men, and that be that. All of this work..." he made a hand gesture that Spike assumed meant 'meh' or 'over it'. "But my family thinks I will go back to the farm and make us a famous winery again. I do love wine and farming, true, but it is not what I want to do. But my nona..." he winced. "She tells me all the time I should stop spellbreaking before I get hurt."

"Oh, your grandma? Will I meet her while we're here?"

He swallowed. "I hope not. But...you will stay at my cousin's big apartment, with me. You have been very nice to me the last few weeks and I trust you the most while I am here. It is...strange to come home. Rome is not my city. I am country boy. Hahaha. Like Buck! But I need a...hmmm...I need someone to be like a shield for my family. Does that make sense?"

Spike laughed. "You want me to be the conversation buffer, huh, big guy?"

"Yes! You are very outgoing and talkative. You can protect me from my family." He bit his lip. "Except...nona. That, you must let me take care of. If she shows up." He looked at him, darkly. "And you will know when she does." 

Spike felt his spine turn to ice. He shivered, put on his 'nice, visiting-another-country clothes' (a polyester blazer and some tailored pants) and followed Gio back into the colosseum's modern annex. Spellbreakers mingled with each other backstage. Spike noted Italian fighters (who were mostly men) were more inclined to invite their groupies backstage, creating a chaotic mess of fawning women and hunky, hairy men. Spike thought Gio must be in heaven, but he looked distracted. Ever since he'd come back home, the jovial giant was more sullen. 

Even Spike, slow on the uptake, noticed a pattern here on the world tour. El Amante in Mexico. Cian in Ireland. Now, Gio in Italy. Returning to 'where it all began' was hardly a comfort to any of them. All of these guys had mixed feelings about their homes. Spike guessed he was probably the same, save for the lack of intimate ties to New York. He had no family. there. No lovers (well, no official lovers). He did, however, wonder how Varla and the old crew were doing. Buck had mentioned something about Varla, Spike's first manager, possibly showing up along the tournament. It might be good to see her again, he thought.

As Spike's mind wandered into the past, a dreamy perfume filled his nose, impactful enough that he immediately turned his head towards the source direction. He blinked. Was this magick or just a really good aroma? Standing a few ways away, a voluptuous woman in a dark dress and darker sunglasses smiled at him. Overcome with bashfulness, Spike broke eye contact. Pretty men made him bold. Pretty women, in the other hand, always made him nervous. 

"Oh, curse it all!"

Spike's attention was snatched by a small, boyish voice a few paces ahead of him. He looked over just in time to see a small boy with shaggy hair tumbled over his own feet. He landed with a thud on the stone floor, and the expensive camera around his neck followed. 

Behind him, larger spellbreakers pointed and laughed. "Nice landing, kid!"

"HEY!" Gio growled, stepping towards them. They all averted their eyes and fled. "Hey, Lucio! I thought I heard you. Still tripping over your own two feet, eh?"

The gentle giant helped the very small boy (dressed in expensive clothing, Spike thought) off the ground. The lad dusted off his knees, made sure his camera was still intact, before he looked up at Gio and gave the man a gap-toothed grin. "Thanks, Big Gio."

Spike was immediately charmed. "Oh, he's adorable!"

"Little Lucio," Gio said, making sure the boy was alright. "I'm glad you're safe. Hey, this is my friend, Spike. I'll introduce you."

The boy's eyes went starry. "Wowww...Sailorboy Spike! You're probably my favorite American spellbreaker! I mean, you aren't as good as Gio, but that's okay--nobody is!"

"Thanks," Spike said, striking his signature pose for his young fan. "I think?"

"Lucio is an enterprising photographer for spellbreaking," Gio explained. "His photos are actually really good! He is...what is the word...a prodigy."

Spike thought the little runt reminded himself of...well...himself. "Did you enjoy the match!"

"I did! You really gave it your all, Spike. Well, until Gio squashed you. But that's okay. As long as you aren't fighting him, you'll definitely win next time! Hey, if you don't mind, can I snap a photo of you two?"

I have a fan. Trying to hold back his emotions, Spike yanked Gio so hard over to him that the big guy nearly fell like his little friend. "Boy, would I! Come on, Gio. We gotta give this kid like seven of our coolest poses so he can show it off to his friends. Oh, and autographs! And we'll have Buck send him so merch too!"

After five minutes of photography, Lucio walked away a very happy fan. Spike no longer felt miserable over his defeat. "I love this, Gio! I could do this forever, really."

Gio bit his lip. "Er...sure. Yeah."

"Huh? Wasswrong?"

"Nothing." Gio smiled. "Lucio is a very nice boy. You are very good with fans and everything. I wish that I..." Gio trailed off. Thankfully, he put his large arm around Spike's neck and guide him out the door. "Come, little Spike. Time to show you la dolce vida."

*cue sexy accordion music*

---

Thanks to Gloria's ambiant mind magick, Spike was able to understand the local language. That didn't, however, help him with understanding the locals and their customs. The Italians spoke quickly and fiercely, with a mix of urgently needing to get somewhere fast, yet having absolutely nowhere to be. Old men watched construction crews (all roads may have led to Rome, but those roads were filled with potholes) and old women watched the street from their windows, like crows from their perches. Vespas zoomed past Spike as he followed Gio, whose pace was growing quicker and more nervous by the second.

"Gio, I thought you liked your family," Spike said as Gio punched the buttons on the intercom panel of a very nice apartment along the bustling Via dei Fori imperiali. "And also, wow, I didn't realize your family was seriously loaded. Kaching!"

The giant sighed. "It is my Aunt and Uncle. They worked with the government to get stolen antiques back during the war. The government bought them this apartment, and now my cousins moved in. It was all pretty shady, if you ask me. My family...they are nice. But they can be difficult."

"All families are," Spike said, cheerfully. "Well, so I hear. I wouldn't know, personally."

Gio smiled. "The GSA is your family, Spike. Many brothers and fathers."

"...More of an Alabama kind of family then, in my case..."

"Hmm. Well, I don't know much about the United States, but here, families are very loving and kind. Just..."

The intercom buzzed. "WHAT? WHAT? WHO THE HELL IS IT?"

Gio shoved his thumb on the speaker and growled. "Me, you fuckhaed. Now let me in."

Spike blinked. "Well...I definitely understand Italian now."

Gio winced as the door opened for them. "I forgot. Hey, do I sound like I make more sense, at least, with the mind glyph? I'm a pretty good study, but English was always tricky for me. Usually people think I'm slow on the uptake because I'm autistic, which is stupid of them. But it's even worse when they think I can't speak English."

Spike didn't want to insult Gio, but he did sound a lot more eloquent in his native tongue (translated into English inside Spike's brain). "Big guy, of all the studs in this fed, I promise that you always make the most sense."

At the top of the stairs, a peeled, painted door swung open revealing a weedier, scrawnier, clean shaven, and glasses sporting version of Gio. Spike was in shock!

The jittery man, the same age as his cousin, ushered them in as if Spike and Gio were seeking shelter from the plague. "In, in, come in. You." He pointed to Gio and made a rude gesture (or so Spike assumed) before brining Gio in for a tight hug. "Kisses. Kisses. Oh, you got bigger? I didn't think that was possible. You need to shave your beard, it's so scraggly. And who is this? Is this your boyfriend or your girlfriend?"

I am way out of my depth here. Spike grinned. "I'm Spike!"

"Come here, come here," Lorenzo said, kissing Spike's cheeks. "Good, very good, now get in, get in--TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES, WERE YOU RAISED IN A BARN! Do not answer that, cousin, I already know. You were. Nona would slap you up the side of the head so hard, your skull would land in San Marino. Now, the most important question...."

Lorenzo looked at Spike so hard in the eyes that Spike, who fought people for fun, suddenly felt very small.

"Did you eat?"

"No," Gio said, quick.

Lorenzo nodded. "Then you will help me." He ushered both men in towards a kitchen, which was half, welcoming chipped tile (garlic and cured meats hanging from the ceiling, of course, and half a mad scientist's laboratory. 

Spike identified the glass case of a soda shop joint, or ice cream parlor. Despite himself, his stomach growled. "Oh, sorry."

"NEVER APOLOGISE FOR HUNGER," Cousin Lorenzo shouted as he opened up the case, letting free a cool mist. He looked down into the case in the same way Spike had seen Dr. Frankenstein do to his monster in the old B movies. "Here we go. This...is my child. My life. My fate."

Spike gave Gio a sideways glance. "Is this...normal?"

"Yes," Gio said blankly. "This is just Cousin Lorenzo."

Using the daintiest plastic spoon Spike had ever seen, Lorenzo scooped up a small morsel of creamy, white gelato. "Here. Try this."

"Oh, thanks, but--"

"SPIKE!" Gio shouted, making him near jump out of his skin. He grabbed the boy and moved him into the kitchen. He spoke in a low, urgent whisper. "You NEVER refuse food here. Do you understand? Listen to Gio. Do everything I say and we will get through this. Okay? Eat everything offered to you. EVERYTHING. OR YOU WILL DIE."

Tears welled up in Spike's eyes. "Oh my Goddess, Italy is stressful."

"Good," Gio smiled. "Now...EAT THE GELATO."

"Yes, sir," Spike said, grabbing the spoon as if it was his life life and putting the dollop of frozen cream into his mouth. Gee, and I thought hot Italian men making me eat their cream would be more fun than this...

Gio nibbled on his. "So, this is your latest gelato?"

"Gio!" Lorenzo snapped as if he had just done something sacrilegious. He turned to his guest, with a maddened, red face. He looked like a mad wizard about to teach his apprentice the hidden magicks of the universe. "It is not JUST any gelato. You see, I am trying to get my gelato store off the ground. In order to do so, I need to be recognized by the Gelato Masters. And this...this creamy legend about to cross your pale, tasteless, American lips...is not just ANY flavor. It is the fior di latte--'the flower of the cream'--that which ALL gelato, is judged by. Simple in its essence, but complex in its flavor, the fior is like a good Italian wife. On the surface, she is humble and pure. Oh, but once you take her home, she charms and seduces your tongue with the rich wiles of a harlot. Do you taste the essence of it? Cream, churned from milk given to us by ancient cows bred in the hills of Tuscany since the time when Jove still made love in the shape of a swan. And those cows--who were rubbed with essential oils, I will have you know--were hand milked by virgins, under the light of the fullest moon. And then, ah, a dash of vanilla...procured from the markets of Madagascar. No treasure spared here. Men would kill for this, Spike, my precious little cannoli. Indeed, they have. You see...a gelato maker lives and dies by the fior di latte."

Spike nodded. "Yeah, it's...pretty good."

Lorenzo was crestfallen. He sunk to the ground. "GOOD? JUST GOOD!? Gio, I am ruined. Open the window, I throw myself--"

A knock at the door distracted Lorenzo, momentarily, from his self-destruction. "Hm?"

"I'll get it," Gio and Spike both said at the same time, pushing each other to get away from the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Spike got to the door first. "Buongiorno...?"

Posed with his arms folded, one leg up against the door frame, was another 'skinny' variant of Gio. This one, with a seductive five-o'clock shadow, slicked back hair, a toned build, and an expensive Armani suit. He blew Spike a kiss, throwing Spike off his feet and onto the floor.

"Ohhhh...." Spike moaned, cross-eyed. Only El Amante had the same effect.

"Cousin," the handsome man intoned, kissing Gio on both cheeks.

"Cousin Vincenzo," Gio said, with a sigh of relief. "Spike, this is my Cousin, Vinnie. He is a lot like you."

The charming Italian helped Spike off the ground, and then kissed his hand. Spike observed the expensive, gold watch hanging on his arm. Hell, Vincenzo even smelled expensive.

"Hello, and who are you, angel who peeled himself off the ceiling of a chapel and descended to Earth? Or is this a disguise of yours, blessed Eros, Son of Love, who has come to play cruel and mischievous tricks with my heart?"

"Ohhhh..." Spike melted like Lorenzo's amazing gelato. "You Italians have a way with words. Gio, has your cousin ever met Victor?" 

"Unless you want all of Rome to orgasm at once, and the Church to collapse, I suggest that meeting NEVER happen."

The handsome cousin's eyes went up from Spike towards the kitchen. "Why is Lorenzo crying and about to throw himself off the window."

"IGNORE ME AND MY FAILURE, COUSIN," Lorenzo shouted back, taking a long drag of a cigarette. "And I WASN'T doing anything so rash as that. I was taking a cigarette break and didn't want to smell up the kitchen. Speaking of which, did you eat?"

"Yes, about an hour ago."

"Okay, I'll make something." And just like that, Lorenzo was already head-deep in the fridge.

With greetings out of the way, Vincenzo straightened his suit and took a seat. "Dearest cousin, I did not actually come here to hit on your boyfriend--"

Gio's face reddened. He squeaked. "He is not my boyfriend--"

"I came here to talk to you about that little problem you spellbreakers are facing. Also, to make sure you are well. On the later, it appears you grew even taller since the last time. Or perhaps I have shrunk. Regardless, cousin, I think some wine is in order. Gio, I believe you know a good vintage?"

"Always," Gio said, reaching for the wine rack. "Lorenzo, you don't mind?"

"You insult my gelato and drink my wine? What else has changed. Use the Pinot Grigio, if you must. I don't care for the label."

Gio's family makes me tired, Spike thought, sitting at the table and trying to maintain a polite face. No wonder he's socially awkward. I would be too if I grew up here.

After sniffing and sipping the wine, Vincenzo got to business. "Spike, has Gio told you what I do?"

"Yeah, you're like an agent or manager for soccer?"

"In Italy, we say football, but I will forgive you because you an American and it cannot be helped. I do manage football, but I am also close with the spellbreaking leagues here in Italy. Compared to the US and Texas, they are very small, but it is easier to make...arrangements with them." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Gio dragged a frustrated hand across his own face. "Do not ask what that means, Spike."

Vincenzo snickered devilishly, as Lorenzo put a plate of ante pasta in front of him. 

"Is that gabagool?" Spike said, licking his lips.

Everyone else in the room groaned.

"What, is he Sicilian?" Vincenzo laughed. "Do you mean cappicolo? Geez, if I knew a Southerner was going to be here, I would have called for fumigation. My sweet little Botticelli angel, we pronounce all the vowels here in Rome. The dialects of Italy all formed around the tongue of the Tuscans during the unification. The Southerners, specifically those who fled to the United States, merely didn't get the memo. But I digress. Gio, as fate would have it, your old flame has offered us her help."

Spike, shovelling prosciutto into his mouth, turned to Gio. "Flame?" he asked, still chewing.

Gio pushed himself away from the table, and Spike thought he felt a the room tremble. "No. You do not mean..."

Knock knock knock

Spike looked to the door. "Wow, I didn't think knocking could sound so...flirtatious."

With a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, Vincenzo stood up and waltzed over towards the door. "That's her, probably."

"YOU INVITED HER HERE!?" Gio pulled his curly hair. "Lorenzo, open another window. I join you."

Suddenly, Spike zeroed in on a familiar aroma. Floral, bittersweet. Yes, this was the same scent from the colosseum! A feminine mist, to be sure (Spike knew the smell of men anywhere). Vincenzo opened the door. The woman who stood there, all curves and raven-hair, was like a living silhouette, a dangerous orchid. She could have walked from the set of a Fellini film. 

Her voice was low and smooth as polished leather. "Look at all these...handsome and pretty men." Her eyes landed on Spike.

Spike mirrored Vincenzo's devilish smile. He looked at Gio. "Oh, I get it. You dated a BADDIE."

Gio sighed. "The baddest. Spike, this is Francesca. Her spellbreaking name was...Belladonna. For her kiss is poison and she withers men's soul with her toxic touch."

Spike was obsessed. "Girl, same." He pulled a seat at the table for her.

"Fortunately," Gio said, embracing her, "I am immune."

"Such a liar," Belladonna purred. She kissed him on both cheeks. "My former rival. My former lover." She removed her gloves.

And then she slapped Gio across the cheek.

Lorenzo and Vincenzo both shot their arm out to Spike. "Italy," they reminded him.

"Woman," Gio growled. "You drag wickedness on your expensive high heels and pain on your painted lips! Hit me again. Harder."

So she did. And before long, Gio and Francesca were doing their best efforts at eating each's others faces.

"Oh, Gio," Francesca sighed. "My Titan."

"My goddess of the night. Corrupt me."

Awww it's just like me and Rage, Spike thought. Though, this was a bit more gratuitous. "Oh wow...uh...Lorenzo, Vincent? Should we leave?"

Vincenzo merely shrugged. "Francesca, did you eat?"

The woman tore herself off the giant, muscleman, pushing him away and readjusting her hair. "Yes."

"Okay," Vincenzo said, "I'll make more food."

Once Francesca was settled at the table, with another glass of wine in her hand, she motioned for Vincenzo to light her cigarette, placed delicately in her mouth. She pointed to Spike. "Sailorboy Spike. I admire your performance. You are very strong and charismatic. You are like the prettiest whore in the village."

Spike choked on his wine. "HEY!"

"In Italy, this is a compliment."

"Oh..."

"Mmm. I would enjoy stepping on you. But, priorities." The dark lady yawned. Gio, sitting across from her, resumed scowling and avoided her eye contact. "I shall make this brief. Recida Di Sangro is a duplicitous, snake of a woman, whose power and ambition knows no bounds. The bitch would cut her own grandmother just to get ahead! ...I love her. She funded my spellbreaking career early on and though I owe her a great debt, she crossed the line when she began supporting the Sons United." Francesca sighed, sorrowfully. "They killed my boyfriend, an anarchist."

This was enough to earn her some sympathy from her ex. Gio reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "Oh, Francesca, I am so sorry."

"No, it's okay; I was planning to do it myself. They robbed me of the privilege, and for that I would see them undone! And Recida kicked me to the curb when I told her I had no interest in helping her little alchemy freakshow. Without her patronage, I couldn't afford to keep up spellbreaking. So, I would see the bitch ROT." With this, Francesca banged her hand on the table, making everyone in the room jump.

"Also, she never gave me back the dress I leant her. What can I say? I am petty." Francesca reached into the folds of her ample cleavage and retrieved a small, rolled up piece of paper. She tossed it onto the table, and unfolded of its own accord. "Here. A map of the Palazzo Di Sangro, its entrances, and the locations of the vault and security system."

Spike and Gio leaned in. Neither of the two were equipped draftsman, or architects, but it certainly looked like a detailed floorplan.

The Sailorboy couldn't believe their luck. Tiger and John Henry are gonna be so proud! "Wow, just like that?"

Francesca stamped her cigarette out in a glass ashtray set in front of her. Somewhere outside, dogs were barking and people were yelling. "Just like that. There. Business concluded. Now, we can enjoy our evening."

By Spike's account, Gio didn't appear to be enjoying anything about this. Now that they had gotten the goods, it was probably for the best Spike make an excuse and retreat to their room for the night. Spike went to open his mouth, but the discordant sounds from the street had just intensified. Loud clangs and bangs accompanied a shout that Spike, his magickally enhanced brain trying to keep up with half-heard translations, processed as, "Oh no she has A SPOON!"

Eyes turned to the kitchen window, so at least Spike knew he wasn't hallucinating. "Hey, guys, what's that?"

Vincenzo, hovering over a pot of boiling water narrowed his eyes in confusion. They quickly widened into terror. "Oh...no."

Spike and Francesca were apparently the only two in the room who had no idea what was going on. Like dogs attuned to an earthquake minutes before it hits, the Di Toro boys stood on edge.

"Lorenzo," Gio shouted, "open the window again. We still have time to run!"

Now, Spike was genuinely afraid. "Guys, what is it? CAN WE FIGHT IT?"

The blood ran from Gio's face. "Spike. Choose your god and pray to them now. It's...her."

Now, recognition hit Francesca. She bolted up. "Oh no....I can't be here!"

"WHO IS IT!" Spike shouted.

Francesca's head turned towards him, slow, horror-movie like. "NONA."

As soon as she said that, the door threw itself open with a loud bang. A plume of dust and the scent of destruction rolled into the apartment. Squinting, Spike tried to make out the silhouette in the smog. He expected an eldritch horror. Instead, the person who hobbled out of the dust was none other than a tiny woman wearing a kerchief with a head covering. She looked impossibly ancient, her eyes hidden under folds and wrinkles.

In her hand was a long, wooden spoon.

"Do not move," Gio whispered to Spike. "Maybe she can't see us."

Suddenly, two orbs of red light shot out from the approximate location of Nona's eyes. The woman jumped into the air and SLAMMED her spoon down on the table. A moment passed, and then...a crack formed right down the middle.

Lorenzo was the first to speak up. With an exasperated sigh, he said, "But Nona, that is the fifth table you broke this year!"

The woman whipped her spoon towards him. "And it will be a sixth!" She marched forward, inspecting all the persons in the room. At last, she stood in front of Gio. "And the table not the only thing I'll break if my grandson gets hurt. YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Everyone: "Yes, Nona."

"Why isn't she translating completley?" Spike said to Gio outside the side of his mouth.

"I think she just might be that Italian that it...cancels it out?"

The atmosphere abruptly shifted. The terrifying woman smiled, full of yellowed teeth. "My sweet, precious GiGi."

Gio leaned down and wrapped his arms around the woman. "Nona. How I missed you!"

"I have put on the pasta," Lorenzo said to the woman.

"Ah, good grandsons." From Gio's embrace, she turned to Vincenzo. "Well, MOSTLY good." She let go, but not before holding Gio's face between her tiny hands (she still, somehow, retained her hold on the spoon). The coldness returned, as the woman glared in the direction of Francesca and Spike, their backs now against the wall.

"YOU! The pretty SLUT."

Francesca and Spike looked at each other. "Which one?"

Spike found himself staring down the barrel of the wooden spoon. "You. Blonde. Are you the boy who fight people in his underwear?"

"Er...yes?"

"Hmmm." She looked him up and down. "Much too skinny. Gio talk about you. He says you are nice." She smiled. "I can tell. A good heart."

With that, she punched Spike in the side of the arm. "Thanks!" he beamed. "And owww."

"BUT YOU!" Nona trained her spoon on Francesca. "You hurt my Gio and now your filthy claws dig into my sweet Vincenzo too!?" 

Both Vincenzo and Gio tried to intercede on her behalf. "Nona, please."

This woman is more powerful than any Spellbreaker! Spike feared taking her on in a fight.

After the tense moment had passed, everyone gathered around the (cracked) table to enjoy a helping of late night cacio e pepe. Lorenzo spooned some onto Spike's plate, explaining, "Despite what some may say, there is a place for American-Italian cuisine, provided it does not try to pass itself off as anything but! You see, Spike, real Italian food is actually very simple. I did hand-make the past, of course, because I am not a savage--however, the rest is Romano cheese and ground pepper."

Spike's taste buds were in Heaven. "It's like mac and cheese, but...better!"

Lorenzo winced. "Sure."

Food had somehow equalized everyone's emotions. Frencesca had moved on to canoodling with Vincenzo instead. Gio, remarkably comfortably with his grandmother, went on and on about his adventures (carefully excising the scary bits, Spike noticed). The old woman absorbed it like a proud, radiant sponge.

At last, she sighed. "GiGi. My poor, sweet, baby. You have seen so much of the world, but I am afraid for your safety and future. Come back to the farm where it is safe. If your mother and father in Heaven could only see their baby boy...brawling with near naked men in the pits instead of leading the humble life of a gardener!"

Vincenzo was quick to jump in. Spike could easily tell that he was the one to intercede on Gio's behalf when they had been growing up. "Nona, Gio wants to be a spellbreaker! He will be the champion!"

Gio gulped. "Vincenzo..."

"NO!" Nona shot back, making everyone in the room flinch. "He will come back and tend to the farm and lead the Di Toro vineyard to excellence. With his green touch, our grapes will be the envy of all Italy. The fascists will take one sip of our wine, weep, and lay down their swords." Nona wiped the corner of her eye with a loose piece of her headscarf. "Oh, what is to become of this country! It is happening again. Blood and tears will flood this blessed land of our ancestors."

Spike felt for her. He knew enough about the war (and what happened to his parents) that Italy suffered some of the worst of it. He wondered if he should interject.

Vincenzo got their first. Of everyone in the room, he was the bravest to challenge the old woman. "Nona, you must listen! I helped Gio become a spellbreaker and he will become the best spellbreaker that Italy--no--the WORLD has ever seen."

Now, Gio was truly uncomfortable. He tried for diplomacy. "Nona. Vincenzo. Please. I just wanted a peaceful, family dinner." 

"This is like all our family dinner's, though," Lorenzo said.

"Yes! And I was hoping it would be different." Gio's voice shook. Normally calm, collected, and quiet, this side of Gio was alien to Spike. He didn't like seeing him upset. It was like watching a giant, oversized pitbull whimper. 

Vincenzo and Nona went at it, shouting from either side of the table, gesticulating with hand motions Spike could only assume meant 'very aggressive'. At a certain point, Frencesca, without looking, handed Spike the entire wine bottle, and the sailor went about drinking it directly from the source.

It was not a shout, but a low rumble, quickly divulging into a full on tremor, that silence the room. Spike had felt it before. A trace of magick. "Gio!"

The Titant stood over all, one eye glowing orange, the other, green. "EVERYONE STOP!"

Short of the china tumbling off the shelves, the apartment stopped shaking. Everyone, Nona included, stared meekly at the giant.

His eyes resumed their normal, gentle, hazel liquidity. Embarrassed, and voice cracking, Gio pleaded with his family. "I do not want to be a farmer, Nona. And I do not want to be a champion, Vinnie. Everyone thinks just because I am strong and have a mind that works differently than most people, that I am some kind of...I don't know...god. 'Titan' is just a nickname. I am very mortal." He shrugged. "I am just Gio. I just want to be myself and do what I love. Why is that so hard to understand?"

Eyes turned downcast, to empty plates and empty wine glasses. Spike alone found his voice. "Gio. Buddy. It sounds like you have a lot of pressure. I think you have already made your family proud! But that doesn't matter...."

"SAYS WHO?" Nona quipped, violently.

"Eeep! What matters is that you do what you love and know that people support you." Spike looked at the others, even Nona. "I think your family understands that, yes?" I'm about to have my head split in two by a wooden spoon...

Nona stared death into everyone. Finally, she relented. "Well, rip my heart out and throw it into the Trevi Fountain why don't you! But...I suppose you must follow your own path. Nona can no longer protect you. Just...please be safe, my grandson."

Spike looked to Gio. "So, probably don't tell her about the hei-"

Gio clamped his giant hand over Spike's mouth. "Yes, Nona, thank you." Contented, he smiled, and resumed his seat. "I love you. I love my family. Now, dessert. I think, Lorenzo, we would like to try your fior de latte."

Lorenzo bot his lip; a wary eye on Nona. "Are...you sure?"

After a few minutes, everyone had a small bowl of white gelato in front of them. As Nona took a spoonful, her hand tremoring with age, Gio whispered to Spike. "I sense miracles in the air tonight, Spike."

Lorenzo leaned forward, with anticipation. "Well...?"

The old woman wore a neutral expression. "Hmmm..." Then she smiled. "A pinch of salt, and this is perfect."

Lorenzo promptly burst into tears of joy. "That's...the nicest thing you have ever said!"

Gio was relieved. "Spike, I should bring you to all family dinners. You are a good luck charm."

Finally, Vincenzo and Francesco stood up. "Francesca and I are going to hit the bars." Have fun storming the castle!"

Belladonna blew kissed at Gio with her eyelashes. "Ciao, Gio."

"She-Devil!" Nona hissed as they left the apartment.

With only the four of them left, Lorenzo began to clear plates. He stopped at Spike, stared him in the face, and then proclaimed to the room, "Ah, he is Italian."

Spike was confused. "No, I just like eating and sex. I actually don't really know what I am. I think my dad was Irish because of the last name..." He quickly nodded to Gio, "Don't tell Cian, I'll never hear the end of it. But as for my mom? Not sure. I just have one photo of her that the orphanage held onto, and it's not even a very good one." 

Nona touched Spike's head. He froze. "Hmmm...blonde hair, yes. But your father was a healer, you say? Bah. But healers are always pale with light hair."

"That's true," Spike added. "John Henry's wife, Sandra, has to dye her hair otherwise she's platinum. Oh, she'd kill me if she knew I said that."

Lorenzo pressed his finger to his chin. "Well, I still think he's Italian."

Maybe it was the family setting, or the topic at hand, but Spike felt weirdly introspective now. "I don't really know much about either of my parents, but...I know they passed on here in this country."

"Val D'Orcia," Gio said, softlt. "Same as mine. Do you want to go there and pay respects?"

"Not really. I am not good with sad things. I prefer not to think about it."

Shocking Spike most of all, it was Nona who placed her hand over his. "My beautiful child, if you do not face this grief, it will fester inside you, like a rot."

Spike felt a pang inside his heart. He would rather fight this woman than be sad in front of her.

She went on, tenderly. "Our family, Spike, has lost many good people to war, to disease, to accident. Though you are far from your home country, here you are not alone."

Spike's eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you. I never had a grandma I knew. So...that's nice."

She gave him a toothy smile. "I like you, Spike. You nice, simple boy."

Then, she punched him in the arm.

"Thanks," Spike said. "Owwww."

"She hit you if she like you," Gio added.

"And what does she do when she doesn't?"

"You don't wanna know..."

To Be Continued