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NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 1:


Spike O’Hara sat in the Belfast Pub, a nameless, almost joyless place, to him anyway. He had stopped in Belfast, temporarily that is, on his way home to his farm in Antrim County. His family were there, what was left of them; his sister Tara and younger brother, Liam, called Angel for some ridiculous reason. The O’Hara’s parents had passed away, years before and now it was only Tara, Angel and himself left to run the farm. After the let down that was the so called great Irish Rebellion that Spike had gotten mixed up in, he was a man without outside reason or purpose.

All’s that was left now, for Spike O’Hara anyway, was his siblings, their farm, which he technically owned, being the oldest, and this beer in his hand. That and the bitterness he felt, the anger and hate for the British Army, the Royals and England in general, even some for his own country. It was a a lot of hatred and resentment for someone to carry, but somebody had to, right?

“So,” Spike tried to start some kind of conversation with barkeep, just thrilled to be back in Northern Ireland, “what’s new around here, friend?” His voice was sarcastic, he realized that, but he’d been so immersed in the Fein and secrecy for well over a year, nearly two, that he wasn’t sure just how to converse, normally, with anyone. Not anymore. The barkeep smiled broadly, “welcome back, friend,” he greeted knowingly. “Wish it was a happier day for Erin, but…”

Spike smirked a bit, “yeah, that’s for sure, but that’s the way of it.” He shrugged, a little then scrunched his scarred left and right brow, “any entertainment about here?” Spike mumbled, almost embarrassed. “Entertainment?” the nameless keep asked with another smirk. “Been a while,” Spike chuckled, “you know what I mean, don’t act stupid, friend.” The barkeep grinned widely, “there’s a ‘place’ down the end of this block. Not too bad, not posh, of course, but it does the job.” Spike nodded in thanks, tossed the keep a pound and headed out the door to the ‘place’ at the end of the block.

Spike had gotten about half way to the end of the block when he spied a commotion on the other side of the street. It looked like some youngster, a female had been surrounded by four or so men, big ugly bastards by the look of them. Without a second thought to the pleasures at the end of the block, Spike set off for the other side of the street to ‘find out’ just what the hell was going on.

“Leave me be,” he heard a distinctly American voice, female, come from the center of the ring of men. “Come on, pretty,” one of the males urged the girl, “you’re a sight around here. Special, that is. Give us a little peek at the goods, we’ll play nice, honest.” This remark illicited a chorus of lusty laughs from the men and a near scream from the girl. “Back off boys,” Spike growled at the back of a particularly stupid looking bloke. A large, dark haired man turned to face Spike, his blue eyes narrowed into slits.

“None of your business, friend,” this jerk growled back at Spike. “We saw the lass first, take off.” Spike pondered the situation, carefully. ‘Well,’ he sighed to himself, ‘I could try and physically take on this cave man and his buddies, but I’d probably end up on my ass in less then five seconds. Or,’ he continued his silent reasoning, ‘I could get the girl out of this mess, my face, body and pride intact.’ He quickly opted for the latter option. “Well, friend,” Spike began evenly, lighting a smoke, “since this young lady is my sister, I do believe it is my business.”

Apparently, and very fortunately for Spike and the young female, some ‘chilvary’ still existed in Northern Ireland, most importantly, in Belfast. The big galoot who had stood up to Spike backed down immediately and motioned for his friends to move on down the street. “Sorry, friend,” cave man muttered with a shamed expression on his hung face, “thought the ‘lady’ was someone else.” With that, the huge man nodded at both Spike and the girl, then hied off down to join his friends.

The girl in question, who was the tiniest thing Spike had ever laid eyes on, finally turned around to face him. That was when he realized, Spike that is, that this was no mere girl, this was a woman, young yes, but a woman of about nineteen or so. ‘Fuck,’ Spike gasped, uncomfortably loud he felt, ‘she’s beautiful. Those green eyes, a man could get lost in them.’

“Thank you sir,” the little Goddess smiled at Spike, instantly mesmerizing him. “You’re, you are very welcome, lass,” he stammered back at her, unable to drag his gaze from hers. “My name is Elizabeth Summers, I am American, visiting my extended family, here in Belfast. And you are?” Spike blushed bright red and held out his left hand, quickly, “sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. “William O’Hara,” he continued, a little more self assured, “I mean, Spike O’Hara, that is.”



A/N: Short, sweet and to the point to set up the story. Okay, Spike is already mesmerized by Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers. I needed to get these two together, as soon as possible, to get the plot of the story going. Things will move very fast with Spuffy, in fact, too fast. Thanks for reading, please review and tell me if I’m even near target with the personalities or the historical facts. Luv, Spuf





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