Disclaimer: I own nothing but an overactive imagination and several uneaten chocolate bars.

Well, here is the first chapter of a new fic, Unseen. I have no idea whatsoever where it's going, so bear with me please. If you have suggestions, hit me with 'em. I'd love to hear them :)

And I have 3 half written oneshots, I'll try to finish them soon. Soon being a relative term ;)

Jules unlocked her front door with a yawn that nearly knocked her off her feet. She was absolutely exhausted. Her shift was supposed to have ended 4 hours ago, but the call they were working on had lasted way past the end of shift, and as far as she was concerned, it was far too late to be anywhere but asleep in her bed. She stumbled haphazardly into her house, pushing the door shut behind her.

She made it all the way to the kitchen before her skin started crawling. She wasn't one to panic under normal circumstances, but she was sure that something was wrong. Jules reached automatically for the gun that wasn't at her hip before cursing under her breath and spinning around, trying to locate the source of her growing unease.

The first blow sent her to the floor. Jules saw tiny lights popping in the back of her head as she landed with a thud, face first on her new hardwood floors. Gasping, she rolled herself over and back onto her feet, trying to catch a glimpse of her attacker and defend herself at the same time.

The man was wearing a ski mask, hiding any useful information she could attain from his features. He was enormous, and in his left hand he held a wooden baseball bat. If he weighed an ounce, he weighed 300 pounds. But this wasn't 300 pounds of flab and stupidity, no. Standing at least 6'7", her assailant was 300 pounds of bulging muscle, speed, and agility. She doubted even Wordy or Ed could best him at hand to hand combat.

Scratch that—make that Wordy and Ed combined wouldn't be able to take him down. Lord help her.

Taking a defensive stance, Jules ignored her head's protests. She could feel the faint trickle of something sticky and warm, but she ignored it. She had more pressing concerns.

The man lunged at her, arms outstretched, and she leapt out of the way, swinging her fist at his head. She made solid contact, but she might as well have punched her refrigerator for all the good it did. Letting out a low chuckle, he twisted around and swung at her side with the bat. She tried desperately to twist out of the way, but he was too fast for her. The blow caught her in the side, and she was knocked to the ground again. Her attacker slammed down on top of her and the wind whooshed out of her lungs.

Jules could feel his fists and feet raining down all over her face, arms, neck, and body. She twisted and squirmed and kicked and flailed, but she couldn't free herself. She struggled valiantly, she swung her fists and feet around fiercely, but it was useless.

As his fists connected again and again with her head, her fading conscience told her she had lost this one. With one last heroic effort to free herself, Jules slammed her fist into his nose. She heard a satisfying crunch and a howl, but her pride was short-lived. When she tried to scramble away, the baseball bat that had been lying discarded on the floor was suddenly in the man's hands again. Considerably weakened, Jules didn't have the strength to avoid the blows to her ribs, and she was knocked to the ground for the third time. One more blow to the head, and she fell unconscious.

Her assailant bolted out the door, slamming the front door with a bang on his way out, leaving no traces of his presence except for a few drops of his blood on the floor.

Jules just lay there, unconscious, blood seeping slowly out of breaks in her skin, violently purple, yellow, and green bruises already forming on her exposed skin. She looked like a real mess, like she had thrown down a mountain, then brought back to the top and thrown down again for good measure.

As the light of dawn slowly filtered through the blinds, signifying morning, Jules' alarm went off, beeping obnoxiously. Slowly, she became aware of the things around her again. Cracking her eyes open painfully, she rolled onto her back gingerly and she lethargically pushed herself upright. Her entire body protested violently, but nothing seemed to be life-threatening.

She attempted to get to her feet, but that proved to be a mistake. The movement made her feel like a vice clamped around her head was being tightened. Gratefully returning into a seated position, Jules reached for the phone that lay beside her. It didn't look like she was going anywhere herself.

She pressed the speed dial one, and held it up to her ear. Less than two rings later, a voice asked, "Hello?"

When she spoke, her voice sounded feeble and shaky, even to her own ears. Hating everything about her situation, she groaned, "Sam? Can you drop by? I need a huge favour..."

TBC

Yes, I'm picking on Jules. In my defense, I've already picked on Spike and Sam, and to be honest, Jules is easy to pick on. Not to mention fun. There should be a category of FP fics called Jules whump, in my humble opinion. Everyone does it, I promise! :P

Reviews are love :)