Title: A Veritable Ray of Sunshine

By: Chen

Feedback: That would be nice.

Disclaimer: All belong to ME's (Grr! Argh!), not me.

A/N: This is my version of what went on in Africa. Written before we actually saw it, I had only the 'goes to Africa and gets soul from demon' micro-spoiler to guide me. This follows 'Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition' in the series. Making it the sixth chapter in the It, Myself and I Series. Almost done folks.

Kelly – all our afternoons brainstorming keep me focused. Mezz – a BETA like you is a gift from the Powers. So thanks to the two of you and to the wonderful Kimi and Colleen, who read my bits and pieces and *still* encourage me to go on.

This one is for Chris, because she said please.

-x-

Tentatively at first, but gaining confidence as the lack of smoking and pain reassured him, Spike wandered out of the hut and into the sun.

This was just... neat, he thought to himself. No more unseemly blankets to cramp his style. No more running around with the smelly smoke trailing behind him when he needed to go out in the daytime. It had been a long time since he had been out in the sun. The last time he had met face on the hot eye of heaven was when he had the ring and... Buffy. Bugger it! He had to remember the Slayer even now when a whole world of possibilities and opportunities was spreading itself before him. Who was he kidding? He knew that as soon as he got back to the room he called his dump he would pack the few belongings he had with him and head straight to Sunnydale and back to her.

"Luv, I have something to tell you. Remember when you called me a soulless vampire? Haha. No longer one. As a matter of fact, I have two souls. Is that souled enough for you, pet?" Spike laughed, but stopped abruptly. His chest felt heavy with a too often felt emotion. He had failed her again and a soul, or two, would not be enough to erase that from her, or his, memory.

Well, things were different now, weren't they? He now had a bloody, wanking moral compass, didn't he? A voice in his head painfully reminded him the Demon said he had had one all along.

"William was always with you Spike. Being sired by Drusilla, herself being not your usual vampire, made you an unique specimen. William never left, he was just stifled by the demon and by your determination to get as far away as possible from your human side."

Another piece of news he had to come to grips with. He rolled it around his mind for a while and then stored it away. First things first, think about meanings and consequences later. He would have plenty of time to think on the trip back home. Home. The Hellmouth, Sunnydale... Buffy was home.

Spike made his way back to the village and felt his skin starting to sting. He had to keep in mind it wouldn't do to be careless. He may no longer burst into flames, but after a century without being exposed to the sun, he could still get a nasty sunburn.

He quickened his steps, taking a detour to the only place that sold half-decent fags. Standing on the shade outside the store, he tore the plastic open, took a fag out and lit it with the Zippo. Spike let out a content sigh after the first drag filled his lungs with smoke and the world started to resemble less a Dali painting and more the dusty, stinking and bug infested reality he was familiar with. He had a couple of packs of fags with him now, he had the money for the fare back home and he also had... A reflection?

The laughter startled the locals who went on about their business after stopping for a moment to shake their heads at the odd, blond mja*, who kept staring and pointing at the glass pane on the storefront, laughing as if possessed by spirits. On the other side of the dusty road though, one of the villagers seemed to have a pointed interest in the blond stranger.

He had seen the vampire walk into town in broad daylight with no protection at all. He now observed as it laughed at its reflection on the glass of the store's window. It was time to report back to headquarters and inform the Council how the situation had changed. The vampire now posed a serious and dangerous threat.

*The Swahili dictionary tells me that mja means: stranger, new-comer.

THE END