San Francisco, California (Charmed)
Searching for HomeDisclaimer:
I own the idea only. Joss owns Buffy, the WB owns Charmed. No suing please!Summary:
Five places Spike made his home (inter-connected 500 word drabbles)Warning:
None that I know of. A/N 1:
This will be a multi-cross of five, 500-word drabbles. It's part of my new years resolution to write at least one 100 word drabble a day for 2011. As you can see, I'm getting started about a day early. *cheeky grin*San Francisco, California
Spike was in a rush. He'd moved to San Francisco following the battle in LA. His and Angel's Sanshu's had come as a surprise, partly because neither had really expected it (Angel was still trying to figure out how the Powers had gotten around him signing his away) and neither had thought it would be both
Rather than go to the New Council to beg forgiveness like Angel, Spike had chosen to strike out on his own. He had made only one exception to his self-imposed silence, having called Dawn to let her know he was alive (in more ways than one) and was setting himself up. She'd been thrilled and when no one came busting down his door, he figured she hadn't told anyone he'd called, something he was relieved by.
It would be much easier to get his human life set-up without a bunch of slayers, witches, and other supernatural entities coming round.
Thanks to Dawn (and he suspected Giles but he hadn't asked for confirmation on that from the Niblet—ignorance was bliss and all that), he'd gotten a new legal identity, a back story where he was from England by way of Sunnydale, born and raised with a British national who hadn't made it out of the crater. No biological siblings and his mother was long dead. He had a Bachelors in English and another in Creative Writing, with a minor in Philosophy.
He was working now on getting his Masters in English. He didn't want to teach high school and editing others works wasn't something he was keen on doing either, so he was back in school while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life.
Point was, Spike had been rushing around the tiny apartment when a column of sparkly lights lit up the corner of the living room. He'd froze, recognizing the teleport of a white-lighter and wondering if he'd become the target of a bunch of well-meaning witches.The Charmed Ones live in San Francisco. Crap.
“Hello, Spike,” the man said when he appeared. He held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I mean you no harm; I come with a message from the Powers and the Elders.”
“Why me?” he asked quickly, eyebrow cocked. “What makes me so special?”
The look the man shot him told him that was a very stupid question. He shrugged. The white-lighter rolled his eyes, mumbled something about someone being right, and then gave him a strained smile.
“You earned your humanity back, Spike, but your part isn't yet done,” he explained simply. “When you died in Sunnydale, sacrificed yourself, or tried to anyway, you officially became a Champion. That doesn't just go away.”
“But I'm human!” he insisted and the white-lighter chuckled.
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But whoever said that's all you were?”
“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “What else did those buggers stick in here?”