As always Ms. Myers owns it all. I just elaborate a bit in my drunkenness. This One Shot was written for the FANDOM AGAINST DOMESTIC VIOLENCE fundraiser. DV is something that has touched my life and that I have fought to come back from. So I had to participate in this. A/N at the end to explain just a few things. This story deals with the emotions and certain acts of domestic violence that may be uncomfortable to some readers. This story carries a MATURE rating. That said enjoy!

Bezwarunkowa miłość

As many times as I had performed this task, this miracle, this act of salvation and saving, I never got used to it. I was frightened and excited, fearing that we would be discovered and thrilled all at the same time. These feelings are the only reason I can keep doing this. The only way that I successfully complete each one of my missions, was because of the emotions, mine as well as theirs.

Since my birth into this life I had been cursed and I had been blessed with the gifts of an empath. I know, I had no idea what it meant either when I had first heard the term. The Oxford Dictionary defines EMPATH as: "noun, (chiefly in science fiction) a person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual." It may not sound all that bad when you first read the definition, but stop and think about what this means for me, break it down a bit.

Chiefly in science fiction: That, right there, tells you I am out of "the norm". I am a vampire for fucks sake. I am that science fiction creature that you dream about and then pray doesn't really exist...well we do. And if that were not enough, I have this fucked up "power" or "sixth sense" if you will. So I am an out cast where ever I might end up. This leads into "with the paranormal ability", this is debatable. I wouldn't quite consider myself "paranormal", I reserve that for ghosts and spirits. And yes those exist as well. Again...I am sorry for bursting your bubble. I still feel that my kind are more "science fiction" than "paranormal".

That aside, as the definition states, I have the ability to read the mental state of any one around me. Human, animal, super natural, paranormal, you name it I can feel it, feel it all, every tiny bit of it.

Does that make a bit more sense now?

Think about it this way: I am in a movie theater, surrounded by about 70 people. I am not just watching the movie, I am feeling every single emotion from every single person in the theater. Every single feeling and emotion that every one of those 70+ people were feeling is slamming into me at various speeds of oncoming traffic.

Is it making more sense now?

Do you understand why this is a curse to me?

Now that you understand why it is a curse, you need to understand why it is a blessing as well. Not only can I sense, I feel, and I absorb others feelings and emotions, I am able to control them as well. I can make them feel what I wish them to feel. That's right I am able to command them to feel the emotion that I wish for them to feel. Whether or not this part of my ability is a blessing or a curse has been greatly debated among my family and others of our kinds. Maybe that is part of why I began doing what I do? I realized that using my gift, my curse, my ability should be used for the good of all not just the good of me. Ya, ya, I was a selfish asshole. Could you blame me? I was young, handsome, talented, in more ways than you will ever know, the world was my oyster...ahhh the good ol' days. But I was a good boy now. Alice made sure of that. She was truly my angel, my saving grace. I will be forever grateful for this incredible woman who saved me from a life of negativity and self loathing.

OK, enough of that. I had a job to do and thinking about Alice would just side track me from the mission at hand. I looked in the backseat of the car at the small boy that was sleeping there. Even in the dark I could tell that he was in deep sleep, his breathing was rhythmic and I could see his eyes dart back and forth under his heavy lids, showing signs of deep, REM sleep. I looked in the rear view mirror his mother was no where near as deep or as relaxed as her son. I felt so many emotions rolling off her in waves, they changed by the second.

I tuned into her to get a better handle on what she was going through. I did this often on these missions. I am not sure why I tortured myself this way? I guess in a way it helped me remember that this is real, that what I was doing was worth something. It reminded me that I had good inside my soul. Hell, it reminded me that I had a soul. I don't give a shit what Edward thought. I shook my head to clear it once again.

I continued to drive down this deserted road, keeping my senses open, reaching out to taste and feel who might be out there. So far it was just us. I heard the boy stir in the back seat. I could tell that he was not awake though, the cadence of his breathing changed but not to a rhythm of wakefulness. A rustle of fabric and creak of the leather seat let me know that he was repositioning himself. I had been so focused on what might be out there, that I had not been taking in the feelings of the humans in the car with me, the family that I was saving. I watched in the rear view mirror as he moved closer to his mother. He moved nearer to her so that he could cuddle to her chest, all the while she anticipated every move and even in her sleep adjusted to each change. She softly put her arm around him to embrace him and bring him closer to her. It was at that exact moment that I was slammed with such an overwhelming sense of unconditional love, that I almost swerved off the road.

The bond between this woman and her child was absolutely breathtaking to me. A bond between a mother and a child was one of the strongest and most unbreakable that I ever feel with humans. Strongest next to hate and that fact amazes me to this day, as I am sure it will for eternity. I watched as her son settled into her chest, like a baby chick does for warmth and protection. I felt the cadence of his breath and the beat of his heart slow back into the measured rhythm of deep sleep. Though the boy fell back into REM sleep the waves of love and ties of their bond did not diminish. As the child settled, I reached out to touch the mother's emotions.

She was awake, yet quiet and as motionless as a human could be. The women were usually quite fragile emotionally at this point in the mission, so I reached out cautiously. I had to do this metaphysically, not physically or verbally. I needed to see where there were at so that I could help them in ways that only an empath could. I guess this would be the perfect point in my rambling to explain exactly what my "mission" was or is. I should explain who I am and why I do this.

I have been called many names, strigoi, cold one, el chupacabra, nightstalker, El Diablo, immortal , vampyr, you may know some of these names, others you may not. All the names, no matter the language, meant one thing, I was a vampire, I drank blood to survive. This fact is disturbing to many.

Wait just a moment before you judge. Many may wonder why I am in a dark car with tinted windows and bullet proof glass, on a deserted road, in the middle of the night with humans. I have often wondered myself. I do not drink human blood, I detest the thought of killing humans for the nourishment of my body, now. There was a time when I did not care as I do know, a time when I knew no other way. But I have escaped that life, I found another way the day I met my Alice in that cafe so many years ago. I was reborn that day because of her love and foresight. She saw me coming and she continues to tease me that I kept her waiting long enough. One of the inside jokes in our relationship that very few understand. I would have it no other way.

Again, I have veered off topic with thoughts of Alice. In my old life I felt helpless against the power of my blood lust. I always wished there was another way and now that I had found that other way I felt I must give back to man kind for all that I had done. For all the death, for all the fear, for all the evil I had done. And that is why I do what I do now. I no longer inflict fear and death, I rescue those who suffer from fear and the threat of death from their partners. I rescued mother's, sisters, brother's, sons, daughters, anyone who needs out of a threatening situation.

My name is Jasper Whitlock, I am a vampire and I rescue woman and their children from situations of abuse and domestic violence. I knew that I had to do something as penance for what I was, for what I had done, for how I had lived my life for so many years. With my gifts as an empath, someone who could both taste and dish out emotions and feelings, I was able to help sooth those in agony. My physical prowess as a vampire was also a great gift in escape and rescue situations. My superior strength, vision, hearing and mental abilities allowed me access to places and people that not many others had. I now used my gifts to save humans instead of using them as toys or food.

My mother taught me from a very young age that a wife, a sister, an aunt, a woman, was someone to cherish, respect and to learn from. My mother brought me up to be a perfect southern gentlemen. She taught me to be everything that my father was not. She and my sister were a large part of what inspired me to begin rescuing woman from their abusers. My father was an abuser, and there was no on to rescue us. Therefore, I made it my mission to rescue others in the same situation. It helped me to feel that I had a soul inside this dead body of mine. I felt sometimes as if my dead heart beat with the families that I rescued. I craved to give back and do good and this was how I did it. So now you know, who I am, what I am and why I do what I do.

I settled back into the long drive. The mother was still awake and still motionless, I was surprised at how still she was. Normally humans had trouble sitting that still. I let my abilities lick just the edge of her emotions. I had to be sensitive about this, she was fragile. I sent just the slightest bit of calm her way, it startled her.

"Sorry ma'am", I whispered. "I just want to help you how I can."

"It's alright, it just startled me is all." she stated in a monotone voice.

I felt her physical body relax, just a bit, but her emotions were still very tense. I reached out ever so gently to feel what I could feel. It was very much a mix of many emotions. I felt fear, obviously, relief, shame, guilt, apprehension, self doubt, confidence and more. The emotions were usually all over the map.

I understood the fear. I asked those that were strong enough to talk and those that were aware enough to know that there was something different about me. My current passenger was one of those. Over all the emotions that she was feeling was almost a bubble of numb nothingness, like a shield that I had to push through to get to what she was really feeling.

"Do you need anything?" I queried.

"No," she responded.

The fear I knew, the fear I understood. I had watched as her husband had chased after my car as we left, with an ax the size of my leg. I knew why she felt the fear. If he found her he would surely kill her. I felt an anger within in him that reached a level so alarming that I was almost afraid for myself for a moment. I didn't dare even ask or imagine some of the abuse she had suffered or the things her son may have seen. I understood the fear. Had she not felt fear I would have questioned my intervention in her life.

I felt shame.

"May I ask you a question ma'am? Only if you feel up to talking," I gently asked.

"Sure," she answered in her monotone voice. It was as if her whole being was wrapped in that bubble of numbness. I realized this was her coping mechanism. This is how she would hold everything she felt inside so that it would not spill over. This was how she maintained "normal" in her daily life. This was how she shielded the world from what was really happening in her home.

"Why do you feel shame? You should be proud of your bravery this evening. You made an incredibly difficult choice by leaving tonight, one that you should be proud of, not ashamed." I feared that my confusion leaked through and when she answered I knew that it had.

"I am not ashamed of the choice I made to leave. I am, however, ashamed that I did not make the choice earlier. I am ashamed that I did not have the courage to leave and provide a better life for myself and my son sooner. I am shameful for allowing myself to be treated like I was nothing. My son did not deserve that kind of life and I knew that, yet I stayed and I stayed for many years. For that I feel shame. I allowed my husband to do things to me that no woman, no human, for that matter, should ever have to experience. I did it because I loved him and because it made him happy and when he was happy I thought he was a good man. But I realize finally that 'sometimes' is just not good enough. I should have realized this years ago. But I didn't, I am ashamed of that." She fell into silent contemplation of what she had said, as did I.

"I understand that. I hope that in time that you feel less of that shame and use that to build strength," I input. "I feel more, does that bother you?"

"No. I knew that you had something special in you, I would not have asked for your help otherwise. I felt you reach out to me just now. I don't mind. He never cared much what I felt. And I never wanted others to know what I felt," she mused.

I fell just briefly, her shield weaken just the tiniest bit. The corner of my mouth twitched just ever so slightly. I pushed the smile down but could not help feel grateful that she was beginning to trust me a bit more.

"What else do you feel in me? I want to know, I think, for some odd reason that I need to know so that I can explain," she startled me with this question. "You don't mind talking with me about this I hope. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I don't mind at all. I would like to help in more than just a physical manner. If I can help in more than just your escape I would like that," I kindly let her know. "I am confused about something I feel. I feel much self doubt deep inside you, yet I feel a very strong wave of pride and self confidence. They are very conflicting emotions and I am curious to know..." I trailed off to let her finish.

She inhaled deeply and held her breath as she thought. Had her mind contained wheels and cogs I would have heard them turning, however, her mind did not, but I could tell by the look of deliberation upon her face that she was thinking deeply about something.

"It is hard to say where the feelings of self doubt come from. My self esteem has never been that great, better at sometimes than others, but never where I knew it should be. I think back to my childhood and being teased at school for my big nose, and into adulthood for being 'silly', or being a 'dreamer'. He never supported that. He called me unrealistic and childish. Maybe my self doubt helped set me into the relationship with him in the first place. I know that it helped me to ignore the red flags that I should have noticed in the beginning. Things that I should have known were not good and would lead to the abusive behavior, but I just.."

"Like what? What were the red flags?" I interrupted. "Sorry, I should have let you finished."

She almost giggled, almost. I heard the little bit of laughter bubble up in her throat but it was cut off by instinct or politeness. I imagine it was out of habit.

"It's alright. It's hard to say when I first saw them. I remember him telling me one day, early on in our relationship, that I should not wear a certain pair of jeans because they made me look 'a bit thick" as he put it. I was confused as I hardly weighed 100 pounds. None the less, I changed, and asked him if the pants I had selected looked better and he said they did. I look back now and realize that was just the beginning.

I remember once he corrected my posture at a party, my grammar, and he was wrong in his correction, but I said nothing. The worst one I remember was at a friend's home. It was another couple and they began getting a bit frisky with each other right next to us and I was quite uncomfortable with it. I said that I needed to leave. After much argument we left. He was so angry with me on the drive home. He told me that I was childish because I was not comfortable with what had happened. He told me that we all could have had fun. I didn't understand until later what he wanted. He forced me to have sex with him that night. I should have known that night. I think that I did know, I just ignored it. I don't know why I stayed but I wanted to please him. This only created more self doubt in me, that doubt grew and grew through out our relationship.

One day something just snapped in me. I had had enough. I stood up to him that night and I suffered the consequences of that choice, but I knew it was the right choice. I knew it was right because it felt good. It felt very good to stand up to him for what I knew deep down in me, was right. It was that night that my pride began to grow. I began to feel self worth and confidence. While my son was at school I would sneak off to the library to meet with a womans group for support. That is where I learned about you. I met a woman who I will forever be grateful for. Even if I never see her again, she brought me to you and you have saved us. And for that I am thankful."

I saw in the rear view mirror that she was smiling as she finished her sentence. These were moments when I felt very thankful for what I did. These moments let me know that, regardless of what my brother Edward thought, I had a soul. That I had a good soul and that I did good things for this world. Her bubble eased up just a little bit more as the corner of my mouth twitched again into a smile.

We rode in silence for a while longer. She starred out the window and watched as the landscape blurred by. I continued to speed down the even surface of the deserted road toward the safe house. The sun was beginning to glow on the horizon, giving hint that dawn was near. Only a few more miles to the safe house and we could all rest. Although I did not physically need sleep, my rescue missions often exhausted me mentally. I could tell by the slump of the woman's shoulders that she was in need of some rest as well.

"Dawn is coming. We will have to be off the road soon. I have a safe house that we will reach soon. You can rest and have something to eat there," I let her know.

"Is there somewhere I could get fresh clothes and a shower?" she inquired.

"Yes, all of that will be there for you," I advised.

"Thank you. Thank you for all of this. So many times I thought of leaving, but I knew he would always find us. You have ways, and strengths and abilities that I would never have access to. I think the fear was too overwhelming to do this on my own. So thank you Mr. Newton. My son and I will be forever grateful," she whispered quietly.

No, I never gave my real name. Not so much for them, but for the safety of myself and my family. I could not let my name get around and possibly back to others of our kind. Not all of our kind lived the way we did, and not all of our kind were as tolerant of humans as my own family was.

"Where does the apprehension come from Miss?" I asked.

"I thought I hid that one well, but apparently not well enough. I imagine that it grows from the self doubt, like and off shoot of a vine maybe. I am thinking about what we will do next. Where will my son and I go? How will I support us? Where will we live? Where will he go to school? Will he make friends? Will he recover from this? Will he hate me? What if I can do this? What if he resents me for staying so long? What if he wants to go back to his father? What if I can't do this?" she agonized.

I sent a light ripple of self-confidence her way, with just a little bit of a nudge behind it to breech her shield. I felt her shield relax and almost fade away.

"OH! That startled me," she blurted out.

I instantly pulled back, as not to offend her.

"No, please don't do that, the emotion was soothing," she pleaded.

I did as she asked and sent the ripple back her way and again felt her relax, just that little bit.

"Is that alright? I don't mean to offend, nor do I want to artificially medicate you. That would not help you. However, I can not sit and feel you suffer this way. You are a woman of strength and worth and you will survive. I know this," I declared.

"How do you know this? How do you know that we will survive?" she begged me.

"I will tell you why. When you woke up when your son repositioned him self so that he was protected by you. Do you remember that?" I asked her gently.

"Yes, it was about an hour ago. He sleeps deep and longer if I let he snuggle against my chest," she admitted.

"Yes, I know. I could tell by the cadence of his breathing and the rhythm of his heart. When he moved closer to you, at that very moment I was blasted by a wave of such powerful and incredible sense of unconditional love that I almost swerved off the road. I don't swerve off roads unless I mean to. And I never mean to," I let her know that in no uncertain terms.

"And how exactly does that tell you that we will make it? That I can handle this task at hand? HOW DO YOU KNOW?" she raised her voice to me.

"Don't you know? Your love for your son, he feeds off of it. His love for you, you feed off of it. You both gather incredibly powerful strength from the love you feel for each other. This love is unconditional and unbreakable. There is nothing that will break this love! It is impenetrable! And this love, this beautiful and pure unconditional love that you have for your son and that he has for you is why you will survive. It will drive you in ways you never knew it could. It will drive you to do and to accomplish things, tasks, jobs, that you have never even thought possible before. You love will drive you to succeed. I have felt that love. I am the only other individual in this world who has felt how strong that love is and it is amazing. And it is because of having that knowledge having felt the bezwarunkowa miłość between the two of you that I know you will succeed. You will prevail, I have no doubts of this." I stared at her through the rear view mirror as I finished my sermon.

She was quit, she did not answer me or respond. I watched as the salty liquid of her tears spilled over the rim of her tired eyes. It was still hard for me to deal with humans when they cried. However, she did something very strange. Instead of waves of pain, I felt relief and excitement run over me in bursts. I saw that with her tears she wore a smile and I realized that I wore one as well. My dead heart swelled with pride as she healed, even though it was just that tiny little step in the healing process, I was there, I helped her, I helped her because I was who I was, because of my gifts.

My smile grew even wider as I turned onto a small unmarked road that lead into the woods. I heard the gravel crunch under the tires as we drove through the woods to the safe house. I was being washed over by a sense of accomplishment and pure happiness. I looked in the rear view mirror and she had fallen asleep. I pulled in front of the cabin and turned off the engine. I quietly exited the car and opened the back door, I gently cradled the mother in my arms and pulled the young boy on top of her, another advantage of my inhuman strength. I walked toward the small cabin, as I stepped up to the front porch I felt the woman move, just a bit.

"Thank you, thank you for everything," she told me.

"You are welcome ma'am," I answered in that sweet southern drawl of mine.

A/N So there you have it. This is my first FF story that I have completed and put out to the public. Let me know what you think, honestly but kindly.

I am a survivor of domestic violence. The emotions and the situations that the female character spoke of are just a MINISCUAL amount of what I suffered. I didn't have Jasper Whitlock to save me, but I have and an incredible family who did and I am forever thankful for that. Every single day I am thankful that we escaped.

Bezwarunkowa miłość means unconditional love in Polish. It is a family thing. I am polish, yes, I have heard all the jokes, from my mother's side of the family and I take pride in that heritage. My maternal grandmother, who has since passed, was one of my biggest supporters when I left my abuser.

Jasper uses fake names and yes, his name in this O/S was Mr. Newton, Mr. Mike Newton.

I had no beta for this story and I was the one who proof read, please forgive me!

Feel free to email me with questions or comments.

Thanks all,

Muffy LaRue (R.M.)