Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. The one that I could own is merely an
inspiration of something else.
Author's Note: As part of my service to you I will do my best to make this entertaining
and as well written as I can. I work on this to make the most of my writing skills which I
have found REALLY need improving. I will need your help and input on making myself
a better writer for you. Thank you in advance.
This takes place after "Smashed" since that was the last episode I saw.
Blessed: Chapter One—Cast in Moonlight
If 'should haves' and 'if onlys' were baskets of kittens, Spike would be the richest demon
in all of Sunnydale. He should not have started hitting her. He should not have enjoyed
being able to. If only he'd found a better way to tell her there was something wrong with
her. If only he hadn't told her at all. In the end he had her where he wanted her. In the
end her body was his. In this case though, he thought wryly, the end did not justify the
means.
The smell of her lingered with him, in his clothes, in his very skin but yet something
seemed sour. They had argued. He expected that. He could count on the fingers of one
hand the times they'd been together and they hadn't fought. Something about their
arguing always made her feel better, like disagreeing with him made her that much more
right. This feeling didn't come from that. The arguing was normal.
Spike thought that he would be happy. He'd gotten what he'd always wanted but he
couldn't shake the feeling that he had been wanting the wrong thing. He had been
chasing her body only to find that he craved her heart. In capturing that elusive prize he
had failed miserably.
He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head as he made his way through the cemetery.
His whole body language conveyed the shame in his thoughts. He had messed things up
badly. He saw his mistakes now and all of those missed opportunities he had to show her
how much he cared for her. Why did these realizations always happen after the fact?
Why couldn't he see the right thing to do when he needed to do it? Perhaps he'd been an
evil bastard for so long he just didn't know how to stop. He had spent more than a
century cultivating his personality into the perfect model of the vampire he wanted to be.
Now all of this perfection was working against him. He loved Buffy. He just didn't
know how to do it right so that she would love him back.
He stopped suddenly as he realized where his feet had dragged him. Less than twenty
feet ahead of his path laid Buffy's grave. All manner of morose and self defeating
thoughts usually ran through his mind when he found himself here but not tonight.
Tonight something ripped his mind from his usual pattern.
Buffy's grave had a visitor.
A young woman stood there, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight breaking through the
trees. Even though her back was to him, Spike knew he had not met her before. She was
small, shorter and more slight than Buffy. Her long chestnut hair had been pulled away
from her face with two strands that had been twisted into braids. She wore a long cloak
that shimmered in the light but didn't seem to have a distinct color. She could have been
a ghost as she stood there motionless and without a sound.
She looked decidedly out of place. Young women didn't visit graves after dark unless
they were slayers. Spike considered informing her of that when he realized that he
wasn't the only vampire to have noticed her presence. A dark haired man who seemed
fond of mullets peered out from behind a large oak near the girl.
Spike considered letting him have her. It would serve her right being stupid enough to
lay herself out on a serving platter as she did. He turned to leave the scene but stopped.
Something about her hair, her cloak and her smallness reached out to him. Stupidity was
a good enough reason to die but luckily for her, curiosity got the better of him. He
wanted to know why she was there. He wanted to see her face.
Mullet-boy was not a vampire who believed in subtlety. He sprang out from behind his
tree at the woman. He bared his teeth like a rabid dog and lunged at her throat. She
turned to face him and stepped back to avoid his attack. She moved in a flowing
shimmer of cloak that almost could not be seen.
Spike grabbed the other vampire by his ample supply of hair and threw him back towards
the tree. Before he could recover and attempt to defend himself, Spike managed to
plunge the jagged end of a fallen branch into his heart. His flesh burned instantly away to
ashes leaving virtually nothing to show for the vampire's existence.
Spike stood to face the young woman whose life he had just saved. To her credit she
hadn't screamed or cried as he had expected. She hadn't run away either and that
puzzled him. He opened his mouth to admonish her for her stupidity but as his eyes met
hers, his words lost their way.
Her face was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Her every feature seemed to reach a sharp
point. Cheekbones, eyes, chin, even her nose looked as if chiseled in stone. Her angular
eyes held no expression as she seemed to look right through him. As unusual as her face
appeared to him, what held his attention was the sword that she held before her.
"Oh, that's just great," he announced to the woman and the sword she held. He had
quickly found his voice when he realized that he stood at the sword's business end. He
really had the worst time figuring out what women really wanted.
Spike was just about to ask her in not very gentle words what she did want when without
warning she planted her foot in his chest. The force of her sudden kick shot him
backwards about ten feet. He landed on his back momentarily stunned. The ground
wasn't soft and his head missed a neighboring grave-marker by mere inches.
With effort he lifted his head and looked back at the woman. To his surprise he saw that
two new vampires had converged on the spot where he once stood. Though not sporting
mullets, these two seemed to be equally as fashion challenged as the one he'd already
dusted. Similar traits could mean similar vision. They were part of a gang but he
couldn't tell if they intended to attack him or her. The woman effectively held their
attention now as she had unceremoniously knocked Spike out of the picture.
He barely saw her raise her hand, just a hint as her cloak swirled around her, but the
result of her subtle motion was devastating. The vampires transformed to screaming piles
of dust as her sword severed both of their heads in one stroke.
Spike would have been astounded at this feat if he hadn't been saddled with more
pressing matters. Quite literally. A female vampire had tumbled over the tombstone by
his head to land astride his chest. Before he could react, she pinned his arms down
beneath the arches of her impossibly tall high-heeled shoes.
He kicked and squirmed ferociously but nothing would dislodge her. She flashed him a
toothy grin as she plunged a stake into his chest.
"Whoops," she said softly. The stake had missed his heart by less than an inch. She
meant to do that, Spike mused. She wanted him to suffer before she killed him. Spots
spilled before his eyes as the pain blinded him. He waited for her to say more but her
taunts never came. He felt the weight of her body leave him and all that remained of her
was the scent of her ashes in the air.
Spike attempted to stifle a pained cry as he felt the stake being pulled out from his chest.
He failed and a small yelp issued from his closed mouth. Immediately he could feel the
wound closing and the healing beginning. The pain was still at a level of unbelievable.
He wasn't ready to move. He hoped that he wouldn't have to.
"Open your eyes, William," she said to him in a soft whisper.
Before that moment Spike hadn't realized that he had closed them. As she requested he
opened his eyes and saw her face hovering over him. The woman in the shimmering
cloak seemed more mysterious than ever before. Her voice possessed an exotic accent
that he couldn't place but the sound of it warmed him in a way that he couldn't explain.
She examined his wound closely with the gentle touch of her probing fingers. He
expected her poking to hurt but instead the pain began to ebb away. "You are quite lucky
you are so despised. If she had not taken the time to torture you I would not have been
able to save you."
"Lucky me," Spike spat out.
Her face came close to his. For the first time Spike caught her scent, a trace of flowers
whose names had been forgotten. A sudden realization caused a chill to pass through
him. Something about her seemed unreal. He could see her and hear her and he could
smell her but somehow she didn't really seem to be there. Like a phantom. Or a
memory.
Her eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you alright, William?" she asked.
Spike nodded. With a gentle pull she brought him to his feet. "You should take care.
These assailants were meant for you. You should head for the safety of friends and take
stock of your enemies."
Spike looked down to inspect the damage done to his shirt. His body mended more
easily than his clothes. "That's going to be a long list," he remarked dryly. The number
of those wishing him good and properly staked had risen considerably since he had taken
the side of the Slayer. Friends were in short supply.
He looked up from his shirt only to find the strange woman had disappeared. No answers
for him tonight only more questions and countless more doubts. He gathered his coat
around him to ward off a chill in the air that wasn't there and walked back to the path he
had left minutes ago.
He could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost, but not quite. Something
had happened and Spike was a witness to many things he couldn't explain.
He had no safety of friends to run to. The Magic Box would just have to do.
TBC
In Chapter 2, we will see what has Spike so unnerved. This meeting will alarm them all
but only Anya understands the true danger…
Be patient with me. I promise I will post chapter two. I just want to make sure it is good.
inspiration of something else.
Author's Note: As part of my service to you I will do my best to make this entertaining
and as well written as I can. I work on this to make the most of my writing skills which I
have found REALLY need improving. I will need your help and input on making myself
a better writer for you. Thank you in advance.
This takes place after "Smashed" since that was the last episode I saw.
Blessed: Chapter One—Cast in Moonlight
If 'should haves' and 'if onlys' were baskets of kittens, Spike would be the richest demon
in all of Sunnydale. He should not have started hitting her. He should not have enjoyed
being able to. If only he'd found a better way to tell her there was something wrong with
her. If only he hadn't told her at all. In the end he had her where he wanted her. In the
end her body was his. In this case though, he thought wryly, the end did not justify the
means.
The smell of her lingered with him, in his clothes, in his very skin but yet something
seemed sour. They had argued. He expected that. He could count on the fingers of one
hand the times they'd been together and they hadn't fought. Something about their
arguing always made her feel better, like disagreeing with him made her that much more
right. This feeling didn't come from that. The arguing was normal.
Spike thought that he would be happy. He'd gotten what he'd always wanted but he
couldn't shake the feeling that he had been wanting the wrong thing. He had been
chasing her body only to find that he craved her heart. In capturing that elusive prize he
had failed miserably.
He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head as he made his way through the cemetery.
His whole body language conveyed the shame in his thoughts. He had messed things up
badly. He saw his mistakes now and all of those missed opportunities he had to show her
how much he cared for her. Why did these realizations always happen after the fact?
Why couldn't he see the right thing to do when he needed to do it? Perhaps he'd been an
evil bastard for so long he just didn't know how to stop. He had spent more than a
century cultivating his personality into the perfect model of the vampire he wanted to be.
Now all of this perfection was working against him. He loved Buffy. He just didn't
know how to do it right so that she would love him back.
He stopped suddenly as he realized where his feet had dragged him. Less than twenty
feet ahead of his path laid Buffy's grave. All manner of morose and self defeating
thoughts usually ran through his mind when he found himself here but not tonight.
Tonight something ripped his mind from his usual pattern.
Buffy's grave had a visitor.
A young woman stood there, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight breaking through the
trees. Even though her back was to him, Spike knew he had not met her before. She was
small, shorter and more slight than Buffy. Her long chestnut hair had been pulled away
from her face with two strands that had been twisted into braids. She wore a long cloak
that shimmered in the light but didn't seem to have a distinct color. She could have been
a ghost as she stood there motionless and without a sound.
She looked decidedly out of place. Young women didn't visit graves after dark unless
they were slayers. Spike considered informing her of that when he realized that he
wasn't the only vampire to have noticed her presence. A dark haired man who seemed
fond of mullets peered out from behind a large oak near the girl.
Spike considered letting him have her. It would serve her right being stupid enough to
lay herself out on a serving platter as she did. He turned to leave the scene but stopped.
Something about her hair, her cloak and her smallness reached out to him. Stupidity was
a good enough reason to die but luckily for her, curiosity got the better of him. He
wanted to know why she was there. He wanted to see her face.
Mullet-boy was not a vampire who believed in subtlety. He sprang out from behind his
tree at the woman. He bared his teeth like a rabid dog and lunged at her throat. She
turned to face him and stepped back to avoid his attack. She moved in a flowing
shimmer of cloak that almost could not be seen.
Spike grabbed the other vampire by his ample supply of hair and threw him back towards
the tree. Before he could recover and attempt to defend himself, Spike managed to
plunge the jagged end of a fallen branch into his heart. His flesh burned instantly away to
ashes leaving virtually nothing to show for the vampire's existence.
Spike stood to face the young woman whose life he had just saved. To her credit she
hadn't screamed or cried as he had expected. She hadn't run away either and that
puzzled him. He opened his mouth to admonish her for her stupidity but as his eyes met
hers, his words lost their way.
Her face was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Her every feature seemed to reach a sharp
point. Cheekbones, eyes, chin, even her nose looked as if chiseled in stone. Her angular
eyes held no expression as she seemed to look right through him. As unusual as her face
appeared to him, what held his attention was the sword that she held before her.
"Oh, that's just great," he announced to the woman and the sword she held. He had
quickly found his voice when he realized that he stood at the sword's business end. He
really had the worst time figuring out what women really wanted.
Spike was just about to ask her in not very gentle words what she did want when without
warning she planted her foot in his chest. The force of her sudden kick shot him
backwards about ten feet. He landed on his back momentarily stunned. The ground
wasn't soft and his head missed a neighboring grave-marker by mere inches.
With effort he lifted his head and looked back at the woman. To his surprise he saw that
two new vampires had converged on the spot where he once stood. Though not sporting
mullets, these two seemed to be equally as fashion challenged as the one he'd already
dusted. Similar traits could mean similar vision. They were part of a gang but he
couldn't tell if they intended to attack him or her. The woman effectively held their
attention now as she had unceremoniously knocked Spike out of the picture.
He barely saw her raise her hand, just a hint as her cloak swirled around her, but the
result of her subtle motion was devastating. The vampires transformed to screaming piles
of dust as her sword severed both of their heads in one stroke.
Spike would have been astounded at this feat if he hadn't been saddled with more
pressing matters. Quite literally. A female vampire had tumbled over the tombstone by
his head to land astride his chest. Before he could react, she pinned his arms down
beneath the arches of her impossibly tall high-heeled shoes.
He kicked and squirmed ferociously but nothing would dislodge her. She flashed him a
toothy grin as she plunged a stake into his chest.
"Whoops," she said softly. The stake had missed his heart by less than an inch. She
meant to do that, Spike mused. She wanted him to suffer before she killed him. Spots
spilled before his eyes as the pain blinded him. He waited for her to say more but her
taunts never came. He felt the weight of her body leave him and all that remained of her
was the scent of her ashes in the air.
Spike attempted to stifle a pained cry as he felt the stake being pulled out from his chest.
He failed and a small yelp issued from his closed mouth. Immediately he could feel the
wound closing and the healing beginning. The pain was still at a level of unbelievable.
He wasn't ready to move. He hoped that he wouldn't have to.
"Open your eyes, William," she said to him in a soft whisper.
Before that moment Spike hadn't realized that he had closed them. As she requested he
opened his eyes and saw her face hovering over him. The woman in the shimmering
cloak seemed more mysterious than ever before. Her voice possessed an exotic accent
that he couldn't place but the sound of it warmed him in a way that he couldn't explain.
She examined his wound closely with the gentle touch of her probing fingers. He
expected her poking to hurt but instead the pain began to ebb away. "You are quite lucky
you are so despised. If she had not taken the time to torture you I would not have been
able to save you."
"Lucky me," Spike spat out.
Her face came close to his. For the first time Spike caught her scent, a trace of flowers
whose names had been forgotten. A sudden realization caused a chill to pass through
him. Something about her seemed unreal. He could see her and hear her and he could
smell her but somehow she didn't really seem to be there. Like a phantom. Or a
memory.
Her eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you alright, William?" she asked.
Spike nodded. With a gentle pull she brought him to his feet. "You should take care.
These assailants were meant for you. You should head for the safety of friends and take
stock of your enemies."
Spike looked down to inspect the damage done to his shirt. His body mended more
easily than his clothes. "That's going to be a long list," he remarked dryly. The number
of those wishing him good and properly staked had risen considerably since he had taken
the side of the Slayer. Friends were in short supply.
He looked up from his shirt only to find the strange woman had disappeared. No answers
for him tonight only more questions and countless more doubts. He gathered his coat
around him to ward off a chill in the air that wasn't there and walked back to the path he
had left minutes ago.
He could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost, but not quite. Something
had happened and Spike was a witness to many things he couldn't explain.
He had no safety of friends to run to. The Magic Box would just have to do.
TBC
In Chapter 2, we will see what has Spike so unnerved. This meeting will alarm them all
but only Anya understands the true danger…
Be patient with me. I promise I will post chapter two. I just want to make sure it is good.