Disclaimer: I own none, unfortunately. Bless Me Father is a product of DAAS (RIP, Edinburgh has never been the same!!)
Feedback: Is always appreciated.
Notes: Okay incredibly short and insane. I am insanely superstisious so #13 just had to be written quickly. And to everyone who has asked lately...no I'm not on drugs.
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Spike woke with a start, his arms tightening around the redhead soundly sleeping on his chest.
"Bloody hell," he swore, bringing one hand up to rub at his eyes, trying to erase the pictures that were still playing in his mind. Groaning he shifted and gently shook Willow. "Willow, love, wake up..."
She mumbled something and snuggled closer to his chest, absently dropping a kiss on his cool skin. Spike grimaced and muttered curses to himself. Closing his eyes he opened his mouth and let out a loud blood-curdling scream. Willow shot up off his chest, clutching the sheet to her body and looked around.
"What? What?" she asked still half asleep and confused. Spike stroked her hair and looked unconcerned.
"What, pet? Did something wake you up?" his face was the picture of innocence. Willow rubbed at the sleep in her eyes and nodded. Spike shrugged and pulled her back to his chest, his fingers catching her chin, making her look up at him. "I just had the weirdest dream..."
"What about?" asked Willow, her fingers drawing circles on his chest, she yawned and hope she hadn't been drooling.
"The most hideous, despicable thing imaginable," Spike shuddered against her warmth and pulled her closer. Willow frowned in concern, her hand stilling its movements. "I confessed my sins..."
***
Spike walked along the darkened streets, bottle clasped in his hand, following some sort of light. It wasn't a light, it was an easy feed. Two girls, one blonde, one brunette, giggling and walking arm in arm, dressed for clubbing, short skirts and even shorter tops. If Spike had anything to do with it they had an even shorter life expectancy. Grinning in anticipation he turned and threw the botte aside, as it fell to the side the glass shattered in an explosion of sound and light.
"What the fuck?" screamed Spike as he held up his arms to protect his eyes from the bright light. Carefully he lowered his arms as the light faded away into semi darkness. "What the fuck?"
He slowly turned around, taking in the pews, the religious motifs of the paintings and other decorations, as well as the bolted doors. Turning away from the doors he faced the long aisle, carpeted in red velvet and soft pale roses, and watched the figures of the two girls. Their short dresses had lengthened into the black habits of nuns and their heads were bowed as they walked. Beyond the girls was a raised altar with a huge wooden throne next to it. Gold glittered everywhere, from the gilt edged windows to the goblet that held the holy wine. Christ, bleeding and battered, hung from every available surface. Spike swung around again, looking at the various crucified statues, their mouths were moving. He could hear soft whispers, faint and indistinguishable words repeated again and again. The whispers became louder, clearer, one word repeated time and time again. Confess, confess, confess.
"NO," Spike screamed covering his ears and dropping to his knees.
"Shush now child, confess to me," a voice spoke calmly and quietly, causing Spike to look up and stare wide eyed in wonder. It was the Pope, or rather it was Pope Angel the first, brown eyes full of pity. "Confess your sins and save your soul."
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow. "I haven't got a soul you bloody wanker."
Angel shrugged. "Alright, confess and let me live vicariously through your sins..."
Spike thought about it for a moment and shrugged. Clearing his voice with a soft cough he was surprised to hear the church organ start up. Angel leant back in the throne and grinned, wriggling around in anticipation. Spike shook his head and steepled his hands together, in imitation of prayer, his face was the picture of pure innocence and then he started to sing.
Bless me Father, bless me Father for I have sinned.
It's been 126 years now in this skin I'm living in.
Forgive me, forgive me and I'll not let you down.
Like Prometheus in the morning I'm bound to come around.
Spike smirked and Angel leant forward, anxiously waiting to hear his sins.
I stole and I lied, I was cruel and mean and vicious,
Petty and pedantic, vulgar, uncouth and ruthless.
I hurt my little brother, I deceived my aged mother,
And I was called a lying bastard by my ever-loving father.
I've lied and I've cheated, been in brawls I never started,
Been known to fall in love easier than I've farted.
Spike paused for a moment and frowned. "You know farting isn't easy for a vampire. Blood really doesn't create a lot of gas..."
"Spike," Angel called, drawing the blonde's attention. "I don't give a shit, get on with it."
Spike shrugged and continued to sing.
And I've cursed my friends for my own ends,
But now it's time to make amends, so,
Bless me Father, bless me Father for I have sinned,
It's been 126 years and I remember every sin.
Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, my life's an open book,
And if you show me yours then I'll give you a quick look.
Spike stood up and moved to sit on Angel's lap, his arm slinging about his neck as he continued to confess. He gestured wildly as he continued to sing, agitating and taunting a very excited Angel.
There was Jenny in Kilkenny and Barbara in Barbados,
Helen in the back seat, Jill and Jean and both their neighbours.
Henrietta, so did I, Selina and Patrice,
A family of Quakers and their 15 year old niece.
A thousand other sordid other nights that I cannot recall,
But I never paid for sex once, well once, and that is all.
Spike jumped off his lap and knelt before him again. Grinning lasciviously he hiked the Pope's robes up over his knees to his waist and grasped his sire's knees, pulling them wide apart.
With this girl with thighs as white as milk that tasted just like honey,
And to own her for half an hour you'd only have to give her money.
Slowly Spike crawled up between his sires legs, rubbing his chest across Angel's rather bulky groin. As he continued singing he dragged himself up so that his lips were barely millimetres from Angel's.
Now you've lived your life of chastity and you must find it funny,
That I can call you Father- you can never call me sonny, so
Bless me Father, bless me Father for I have sinned,
It's been 126 years and I remember every sin.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry,
I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry.
Angel's tongue flicked out and Spike laughed pulling back and away, getting up and walking over to the altar. Two brothers were setting it up while the nuns he had been following were kneeling in front of it. Still Spike sung, helping the two nuns stand and then climbing up onto the altar.
In Amsterdam I shot a man - in Paris I got drunk.
In Brussels I went to Antwerp - in Paris I got drunk.
In Zimbabwe I kissed a dog - in Paris I got drunk.
In Paris I said WOAH!!
He suddenly recognised the nuns as they sat on the altar, their mouths firmly fixed to each other, hands pulling off the habits.
"Dru and..." he looked at the other nun in horror as Drusilla pushed her down onto the altar, fingers ripping at the habit and delving between the her stocking clad legs. "BUFFY?"
He turned away in disgust from the frantically dry humping couple, fixing his eyes on the brothers. It was Xander and Giles, who were staring slack jawed and in sheer horniness at the two now naked woman going for it on the altar. Their moans and groans accompanied Spike's singing as he walked back to his sire. Standing up on the arms of the throne he stared down at his drooling sire. As he sang he started to mime the various acts of his sins, merely inches from Angel's face.
Well, I caught a card shark cheating caved his head in with a spade.
He thought I was the king of fools, but I was just a knave.
I seduced his wife at his funeral, I had her on his grave,
So when he died I got a million bucks so I'm well laid.
I got Pluto pregnant, I felched Minnie Mouse,
Go fetch Mephistopheles, I'm more susceptible that Faust.
I've stuffed myself on life, satisfied each and every urge,
I don't regret a moment, I'll be damned more before I'm purged.
"So, my son, what have you learnt from your various sins?" asked Pope Angel, swallowing, his mouth merely inches from Spike's gyrating groin, his fingers digging into the wood of his throne. Spike pouted for a moment and turned to look at the writhing and groaning Dru and Buffy. Smirking he turned back to Angel and finished the song.
"Live for the moment, take your pleasures where you can, we're all dust and we'll be dust again," he jumped off the throne and walked over to the altar, slinging his arms around the still gawking Giles and Xander's necks. "So let's live, let's live, let's live, live, live, live, live until we die."
He snapped Giles neck, dropped him and turned to Xander, quickly draining the boy of his life force and pulling a face. Next he grabbed Buffy's hair and pulled her head from between Dru's legs, draining her before she could even protest. As he let the slayers lifeless body drop from his cold embrace he staked Dru.
Smirking manically he strode over to Angel and drove a stake deep into his chest. Just as he began to disappear in a cloud of dust Spike noticed something and stepped back, screaming in fear. "Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die."
***
"I have to agree with you Spike, that dream was bizarre. Freud would have a field day," mumbled Willow, her eyelashes tickling his chest as she slowly fell asleep. Beneath her Spike moved restlessly, still highly agitated and disturbed by the dream. "Angel was the Pope?"
"It gets worse..." Spike muttered, running his fingers through his hair. Holding Willow close he let out an unnecessary breath and swallowed hard. "He was wearing fishnet stockings with...with...Union Jack Doc Martins..."