Awakening
The villagers were shocked to see him. Many had walked into the cave. He was the first to walk out.
He seemed stunned, confused. The village leader led him into a grass hut and gestured to the pallet on the floor. He lay his battered body down without a word.
For two days he lay in silence, overwhelmed by the pain and burden. On the third day, a dark hand pushed a bowl though the curtain forming the door. He sniffed at it. Blood. Took a sip. Human. He reached back through the curtain and poured the blood on the ground.
On the four day they left another bowl of blood. Some kind of animal. He drank it down.
They left another on the fifth day.
On the sixth day, he decided. Whatever he had been, whatever he had become, he couldn’t spend eternity lying on this mat. The world was waiting. She was waiting. He pushed open the flap of curtain and looked up into the night. He had never seen anything more glorious than the pattern of lights in the black sky.
He stepped out into the darkness. A woman walked by. Smiled at him. He felt compelled to smile back. The village leader walked over and clasped a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t understand the language, but he did the sentiment. The man was welcoming him. He felt like some sort of celebrity.
A little boy walked over and looked up at him. He looked down into the wide black eyes. The child was fascinated. He reached up a tiny hand and Spike crouched down. The boy touched the vampire’s cheek and looked back down at his own fingers. He seemed confused.
“No, it doesn’t rub off. Guess I’m the whitest bloke you’ve ever seen, eh little one?” He reached down to the child and picked him up. He’d never really seen it before. Children were beautiful. He looked out at the crowd that was forming. People were beautiful.
Maybe, just maybe, he would be all right.