Have a Very Spuffy Christmas!

[Puppet]

I decided to write a collection of one-shots for the holiday and post one chapter a day. It's been going really well over on Elysian Fields and has been a great exercise for me, since I've never been very good at keeping my writings short and to the point 🙂

Well, I thought I'd share it with my friends on here, too, so we can all get into the Christmas spirit 😛

If I post two a day on here, I should be caught up by the time I post the final one, which will either be on the 24th or 25th, we'll see what happens.

December 1st
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She heard his boots knocking against the door-frame as he came in from the cold, having finished chopping some fresh wood for the living room fireplace. It was a good thing that the sun rarely peeked out in this part of the world as it was still in the middle of the day, a usually dangerous time for someone like him.

“Should be enough for the rest of the week,” he spoke, before stepping into view as he joined her in the kitchen.

Buffy looked up from the cutting board and offered him a small smile. “That’s good. Kyra gets cold feet so easily, she’ll probably sit right in front of the fire, on that weird fluffy rug they bought two years ago.”

His returning smile was just as awkwardly small but genuine. “Yeah, that kid’s got weird circulation, she’s almost colder than me.”

They laughed for a few, semi-awkward, seconds and then settled into a nice air of silence. Without even asking, Spike began to help her, grabbing another cutting board and some onions for the salad she was making. Standing across from one another, they occasionally glanced up at each other, smiling as they caught the other one staring.

It had been almost three months since Spike was brought back into Buffy’s life, after coming back from the dead and not telling her about it, years ago. He had reconnected with Dawn after they ran into each other just under a year ago and he had been spending time getting to know the Bit’s husband and two adorable little girls, Kyra and Samara. When the holidays came around, Dawn convinced Buffy to allow her to invite her ex to it.

Halloween had been awkward, especially when they both got drunk. Thanksgiving was better, but only because there were more people around. Black Friday had forced them out of the house to help Dawn take advantage of the deals while she was unable to leave her kids alone; Buffy still wondered why they couldn’t have just babysat instead, but she stopped complaining as soon as she and Spike actually got a good conversation going.

That was four days ago. Now they were at the cabin that had been in her brother-in-law’s family for years, preparing for the arrival of the family of four and a month of holiday cheer and more awkward encounters with one another. Hopefully, things would get easier as time went by.

Buffy remembered the last time the air between them had been thick with emotion and hesitation – during their last year in Sunnydale when they were fighting the First. Spike had only just returned from the brink of insanity and with his newly restored soul, he was never the same as he had been the last time she’d seen him. At the same time, things were too stressful and only growing worse, giving her no chance to sit down and just have a talk with him.

There were so many important things that they still hadn’t talked about, bathroom things.

She glanced over at his chopping board and couldn’t stop the snort that followed when she saw his… creation. He couldn’t hide his smirk at her reaction. “Is that the kind of stuff you do with my nieces?” She raised a brow at him in a challenge.

Spike chuckled, keeping his eyes on the table. “They should learn early, make ‘em used to it,” he teased. She knew this because the pinky of his left hand was twitching, a sign he was trying to keep from laughing.

Her friends would look at this moment and wonder why they had never been this silly around each other before, but that’s because they never saw them when it was just the two of them. She had learned a lot about him during those short, but heavy months, from the very bad, no good year. When she allowed her guard to fall, just a little bit, her reward was seeing the real Spike hiding beneath the swagger. The one who had adorable pinky tells and laughed freely and with his whole body.

Buffy reached over and grabbed his carrot carving, swallowing a laugh as she really looked at it. “This is so dirty, even for you.” Then she handed it back with a smirk plastered on her face.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Not like the girls will know what it is.” And yet, two seconds later he quickly tossed it in the boiling pot behind her and she knew that his vampire-hearing had caught the car coming down the lane.

She thought about the last few months she had spent getting to know him all over again. About the years they spent in Sunnydale, being every label to one another and a few they couldn’t spell. About the months she’d spent mourning his death before learning the truth. The years of anger and regret. She knew the truth now.

She saw it in the way his blue eyes brightened when he was around the girls. In the way he let himself go completely around the ones he trusted. She had seen it back then, too, but had been just enough of a coward to keep it to herself. To bury it down and let it fester. Not this time.

By the end of the month, she would tell him she loved him.

December 2nd
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The holiday music playing all around her was deafening, and she wondered how anybody could think with this constant racket; she was glad she didn’t work here, having to endure this all month long would be absolute hell. Right now Bing Crosby was crooning through the many speakers situated across the Sunnydale mall’s bright, white walls, and she was just thankful that it was a song she actually liked.

Buffy had always been a fan of getting her Christmas shopping done before the month of cheer ever began, which was why she had a whole bunch of presents bought and wrapped back home right now. So why was she here? Now? Because of all the trips to the mall she had taken throughout November, she had never found the perfect gift for a certain annoying vampire.

Annoying because he was so damn difficult to figure out.

She walked into a small antique store and began to browse while her thoughts went back to nine months ago when she and her mother had first moved to Sunnydale. Buffy had been so focused on ignoring her Calling and trying to be normal, that she had barely had time to breathe when the bleach-blond vampire had swept her feet right under her with revelation after revelation. There is a Hellmouth in town. I’m a vampire but I have a soul. There’s a prophecy predicting your death. That last one had thankfully been more than the writing on the page, as she’d personally found out a few months ago.

Spike was an enigma that she still hadn’t figured out how to solve. Not even with Willow’s help, and she was really smart.

Buffy sighed and walked out of the store and back into the mass of the mall. The next store on her list was just a few doors down, so she began to walk as her thoughts continued to turn the vampire over and over in her head.

He had waltzed right into their lives and become someone important to them all. He was the guy that Giles bounced ideas off of, which helped him research; especially if it was in other languages. They’d drink tea, and when the ‘kids’ left, switch to semi-expensive whiskey. He was the one that had finally managed to convince Willow to get over her Xander-crush and move on; she and Oz had now been dating for three months and she was still thanking the vampire whenever she saw him. He was the one who was there for Xander when he lost Jesse – and while she would never say that he replaced the best friend the boy’d had for years, he did carve out his own place in his heart. The two were often found laughing and teasing one another over a game of pool at the Bronze.

The next shop was one that made a lot of leather stuff – and not in a kinky way – and she walked in while the speakers played Mariah in the background. She didn’t know if he was into leather, she just knew that he wore a really cool coat that she had been looking for a partner for since they met. She was hoping either her mother or Giles would get it for her, for Christmas. Her fingers gently splayed over the differently colored leather fabric as she continued to think about the cursed vampire.

Nine months later and she still had no idea what he was to her. Or maybe the problem was that he was too many things; he was her friend, he was her patrol partner, he was her mentor when Giles wasn’t around, he was her confidant when things at home got too rough (her mother still didn’t know who she really was), and when she needed someone to be angry with, he was the one who purposely pissed her off so she wouldn’t ruin her relationships with the others.

He forgave very easily, she’d learned.

But the one label she wanted him to wear...well, she didn’t know how he felt about that. It was the whole point of trying to find the perfect present; she wanted to come right out and ask him. But, like, romantically. However, that didn’t mean lighting a bunch of candles and wearing red – no offense to Willow and her own plans for Oz this month – because that just wasn’t them. Well, except for the red, but it was usually him wearing that.

Spike and Buffy weren’t like others in her school, the relationships she saw the most, unfolding around her. For one thing, Spike wasn’t an awkward teenage boy. He was an experienced adult and over a hundred years old, thank you very much. Maybe he wasn’t even into labels at all; this was a dilemma she had also been thinking about for a while.

Would he find the word boyfriend to be too immature for him? Would he even want to hold her hand as they walked down main street? Sneak kisses in a dark movie theater and then pretend they saw it when their friends asked them afterward? Have awkward dinners with her mother where he’d try to explain why he was into a high school girl? What if he was happy with things as they were, hanging out in cemeteries and research parties in the library? She wanted more. Was that too much to ask?

All she needed was the perfect present...and the courage to actually come out and ask him these things.

 

[ILLYRIAN]

I am a bit perturbed by your comment Puppet, that we should all get into the Christmas spirit. I has long been identified (by me) that Father Christmas without his big red suit is just some overweight guy with a beard. And therefore the suit is the spirit of Christmas.
So if we all try to get in the Christmas spirit its gonna get awful tight in there when Father Christmas is wearing it.

P.S., nice writings!

 

[Puppet]

December 3rd​

Summary; After death, Joyce is granted one reprieve; one day out of the year, she gets to spend 24 hours watching over her daughters, through the glass of her favorite Christmas ornament.
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When Buffy was seven years old, she had very carefully decorated a small glass ornament for the Christmas tree. She had written her own name in glitter – misspelled as Bufy – and painted what she insisted was a cat on the other side. When her baby sister came along, babbling at her, the big girl had allowed her to dip her palm in paint and put her own mark on the same ornament.

From that moment on, it had always been Joyce’s favorite, and she proudly picked it out of the box each year and put it on the tree as the very last one; even after the angel or star was put on top. It was a tradition. Until the day she wasn’t here anymore and someone else had to decide what to do with it.

The first year without her, Joyce watched from a high vantage point as her daughters dragged their feet through the house, avoiding the decorated tree as much as they could. Though not quite as much as they avoided each other. She didn’t know what had happened there, but something had changed between them. Something big. Also, Buffy seemed to be working at the Doublemeat Palace, going off of the uniform she had come home in, in the morning.

The next year was, if possible, even worse; she didn’t even hang off of a tree. Dawn had taken the ornament out of the box and sat cross-legged on the cold, cement floor of the basement while she spoke to the inanimate object. She hadn’t spoken of specific events, instead talked about how painfully lonely she was. How everyone was special but her. How she was afraid to forgive someone who had really hurt her sister, but that she missed them – Joyce was pretty sure she was talking about Spike. This year, she never saw her eldest before she went back into the box.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed the next time she came out, but she was fairly sure it was at least a few years – which meant her girls hadn’t celebrated Christmas since that first year after she died; that made her very sad and melancholy. But at least she was back to hanging off of a tree and the vibe appeared a bit more jolly this time. Buffy and Dawn were even smiling as they sat on the couch in an unfamiliar apartment and drank egg-nog – this hopefully meant that Dawn was over twenty-one, now. When she heard the Italian newswoman on the TV, she changed it to eighteen.

This continued for a few years; Christmas in a tiny apartment that seemed to be somewhere in Italy. And it was always just the two of them. Sometimes strangers would drop by during the day to have a drink or two and exchange greetings, and the occasional present. But the event itself, the dinner, the egg-nog, the presents being unwrapped while Christmas movies played on the TV in the background, that was left for just those two.

Over the years, Joyce watched her girls grow up. Buffy regained the weight she had clearly lost after her mother died and at some point cut her hair and kept it short for several years. Dawn kept going upward until she was far taller than Buffy to ever be seen as a baby sister. Her own hair grew long and she kept up with highlighting it for a long time, too. But those were the only things that changed; it was only ever them for the holidays.

Until the day it wasn’t anymore.

Joyce had lost count on how many years had gone by, but one year the ornament came out and Buffy was no longer around; it was the first year without her since the second and last year in Sunnydale. Dawn seemed to have won the argument over who got the ornament when they stopped living together – Joyce refused to entertain the other, more depressing option – and it was now hanging from a different, bigger apartment. One also occupied by a man.

For the next three years, the man stayed the same, but the surroundings changed. They lived in an apartment for the first two years, then the third was obviously spent with his family, but Dawn had made sure to bring her beloved ornament. The fourth year was also new and seemed to be a house; Joyce wished she had eyes to cry when she saw her youngest daughter’s distended stomach.

The next year brought new changes once more and a face she didn’t realize she had missed. Dawn spent most of the day on the couch, holding her little miracle in her arms. Throughout the night, her invited family came to sit with her, from her husband – she could tell from the matching rings that they had taken that next step – to her sister who wanted to hold her little nephew, and then the vampire that she had made so many hot cocoas for back when she was alive.

As the years continued to pass, Spike continued to be a part of them, and Joyce felt like her entire, non-existent body took a big sigh of relief. Dawn had a loving husband and eventually three beautiful children, Buffy, though never the conventional type, had a man that loved her with more fire than most people were lucky enough to get, and Joyce got to see it all unfold.

She watched as Spike stole a kiss under the mistletoe when he thought no one was looking. She saw Buffy sit on Spike’s lap without fearing judgment from the others. She witnessed the sweet, if confusing, private presents they exchanged that confused all but the two of them. As the years passed, she saw the love between them and she wondered how she hadn't noticed it before. When she was alive.
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December 4th​

He lifted the last of the boxes over the railing and onto the floor of the 30-foot boat he called home these days. Brushing the dirt off his hands, he lifted a boot and prepared to head on board and back out on the seas. He wanted to get to his next location before the storm that was supposed to blow in, in just a few days. He had learned to trust the weather news more once he started seeing for himself just how accurate it often was.

Before he could pull himself up, the wind changed direction and brought with it an achingly familiar flavor that made his head and heart hurt. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, slowly put his foot back down, and then turned around, body stiff and jaw tight.

And there she stood. “Hi.” Her smile was genuine but unsure. She was wearing a pretty summer dress and her blonde hair was thrown up into a twist, held up by one of those fancy clips she had so many of back in her Sunnydale days.

Spike was stunned, to say the least. It had been ten years since they’d had any contact with one another, longer still since they’d seen one another, in that dark cavern in the middle of the collapsing Hellmouth. He had to admit, though, that the years had been very kind to her. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he might not have been able to tell that she was now in her mid-thirties; she carried it well.

Instead of answering, he just blinked and stayed where he was. She soon realized it, herself, and slowly approached him while she continued to speak. “I know this is...weird. And, y’know, sudden?” She swung her arms a few times and then played with her fingers, a nervous habit that he was all too familiar with. “I thought about calling first, but I wasn’t sure you had a phone.” She glanced at the boat and he understood what she meant.

He dug into his pocket and pulled it up, shaking it a bit in front of her eyes. “Got a cell.” He put it back in his jeans. “The tyke all but insisted it, and of course that meant Peaches went right out and bought me the most expensive one.” He rolled his eyes.

Her smile grew and her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Having had a chance to see for myself what Angel and Connor are like, I’m not surprised to hear that.”

Spike wanted to ask her. It was on the tip of his tongue but he was terrified of the answer. Her mentioning the ex wasn’t helping manners. In his head, he practiced what he’d say. He’d ask what she was doing here. Angel was the one who had shanshued, after all, shouldn’t she be in LA getting back together with him? He was single, Spike knew; Nina had broken things off after they’d spent three years with one another. He was sure Angel was still pining for his Slayer ex.

Not that different from himself, he thought bitterly.

But, of course, none of that mattered, because as always Buffy seemed to know exactly what was on his mind. She’d never read him as well as he did her, but she’d gotten better after he got his soul. “I heard about the shoe-shine thing and stopped by to congratulate him.” She took another step toward him. “I kinda had ulterior motives, though, and I think he saw right through me, immediately.”

“Oh?” he said, raising one dark, scarred brow at her.

Another step forward and a grin playing on her lips, she was now close enough to touch him. If she wanted to. “Yeah. I may have sought out Angel so he could tell me where to find you.”

He wanted to believe her, but there was one thing holding him back. “Why didn’t you ask the Bit?” He and Dawn had reconnected right around the time she graduated high school and moved to London to become a Watcher; he, too, had returned to the mother country around that same time.

Buffy rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Dawn is equally loyal to the two of us, but Angel is way more willing to do what I ask than you.”

He, of course, didn’t question her logic here, not one bit. He turned a bit, glancing at the boat and then back to her. “I have to get going soon.” His voice was soft – he wanted to stay and hear her out, but he was done putting his own life on hold to be her puppy dog. She had a choice to make.

Only, she had apparently already made it. From behind her she suddenly produced a small suitcase on wheels. “I was hoping you’d let me join you. Just for a little while, at least.” She smiled again. “Just until we can talk about some stuff.”

The row of colored lights he’d strung on it out of boredom suddenly didn’t look so silly. Neither did the plastic tree he’d been planning to decorate later in the month. It was supposed to be the loneliest holiday of the year, but only if you were all alone. With Buffy here, it may just be the first merry Christmas Spike had had in a long while.

 

[Puppet]

December 5th​

The spark of a fire burning nearby is what eventually woke her up. The bright orange was visible even before she opened her eyes and she didn’t have to wonder who had started it. Or why. There was an extra one of those holey blankets they had found lying on top of the one she had gone to sleep with; clearly, she had shown signs of being cold at some point in the past few hours.

Slowly, she rose to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and looking around to see what the small, empty living room looked like now. The semi-rotten fireplace to her left was going rather strong, considering. There was a small table on her other side that they had used to figure out how much food they had and how long it would last. As she looked it over, her stomach rumbled just a little bit.

Buffy’d had very little the day before, to save on it; there was no telling how long they’d be stuck in here.

“There are a few apples for breakfast,” the deep voice spoke and she found him sitting on the windowsill, trying to look through the white snow that covered it. “Found them near the backdoor, think someone took them off a tree outside and didn’t finish them all off.”

She gave him a grateful smile and crawled over to the table, checking out the three, semi-rotten fruits he’d gotten for her. The bad parts could be avoided and she’d still get a pretty decent meal out of it. Enough to save on the rest of the food for when dinner came around. “Thank you,” she said, once she was already halfway through the second apple.

Spike turned back to the window and tried to use his enhanced sight for something good, but the snow was too thick and his hearing told him it was still falling. If it kept it up for just one more day, they’d never get out of here in time to save the girl; she would starve by the time the snow melted completely. “Might need to try and hollow some of it out, make some sort of tunnel.”

He had spoken of this the day before – their second full day of being stuck in here – but they had decided not to risk it yet, just in case it made the roof too heavy and everything caved in; something they still feared might happen. The cabin they were stuck in was very small and hadn’t been used in years, which meant that almost half of the wood was completely rotted in places.

“Will you do it by the backdoor?” It was the furthest from the room she was in and therefore the safest option, she thought.

Clearly, he agreed. “Yeah, I will. Might need your help for a bit of it, but you can just keep to the other side of the room if you want.” He was frowning and, not for the first time, she wondered what he looked like when he wasn’t; he’d been frowning since they met.

She wasn’t sure why, but she’d heard him mumbling strange words under his breath, like ‘shite luck’ and ‘slayer’ and ‘bint’, but she wasn’t sure what any of them meant. Or why he wasn’t shivering in his few layers and leather coat. Or why he was offering to dig out a tunnel in the snow when he didn’t even have any gloves; she’d offered him hers, but he’d just snorted and shook his head, mumbling some more.

Buffy sat on the other end of the room from the backdoor and watched as Spike began to hollow out a tunnel big enough for them to crawl through. When she worried it would simply fall over them when they went through, he guaranteed her that, given enough time, it would freeze over in the form it was in and the tunnel would become hard as ice. As she had for almost three full days now, she’d chosen to trust him.

Spike, for his part, was trying to keep busy to avoid thoughts of just how hungry he was; it wasn’t as if his diet could be found in corners of the room. Unless he counted the girl, of course. When they had first gotten stuck here, he hadn’t thought too much of it, figuring he’d kill her when he got bored of her, but then she’d cut open her finger and he’d smelled exactly what she was; the Slayer.

Of all the girls to be trapped with, it had to be one of the Chosen chits that he liked seeking out. That he had sworn to himself that he would take down only in battle – which meant not killing her when she was defenseless and, considering how she looked at him, clearly had no clue what she was. She must’ve been brand new.

If she died, he’d help himself to her blood, but he wouldn’t help her get to that point, no matter how thirsty he got.

Deep down, in the parts of himself where William still lived, he could admit that he’d liked spending this time with her and that he would love nothing more than to return in six months to a years time when she was no doubt working with a Watcher and training to be the best that she could be; with her fire, she had the potential to be quite a Slayer, he thought. And he’d fought quite a bit in his time.

He really wanted to dance with this one. And that meant keeping her alive. For now.
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December 6th​

She dragged the corpse through the winter wonderland of her current home, checking behind them every few seconds just to make sure that no gooey blood was staining their path. It had been a hell of a kill and she was almost excited to write it down in her online journal and see the notes that Giles would write back in a few days. Being back on an active Hellmouth was a bit like being home – the closest to the feeling since Sunnydale fell.

After burying the last remaining member of the clan that had been bothering her and the other locals for a few months, she walked up to her front door and banged her snowy boots against the wooden sides of the cabin, before stepping inside. Years of living in California meant she hadn’t learned, until much later, that Slayers had natural defenses against the cold; she could walk around outside in a bikini during a snowstorm and only feel a small chill. Survival instinct, Giles had said. Lucky bastard, Xander had said.

Speaking of, she thought, gathering the mail that Martin had stopped by to drop off earlier – two Christmas cards among the bills and other stuff headed for the trash. She put them on the table, knowing who each was from based on the familiar handwriting on the envelopes, and stood over them, just staring for a little while. It wasn’t that she was afraid to read them, she had just lived in this little bubble here in the middle of nowhere for so long that it felt a bit like an intrusion to get letters from her past life.

But curiosity eventually won out and she ripped them open with her teeth.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the photo that accompanied the card from the Harris family – for once, that didn’t actually mean a pair of drunken, abusive parents and a poor boy who slept outside on Christmas night. Instead, it meant warmth and love, and four people who enjoyed each other’s company. Xander had married a woman that Buffy had never met – she had no history in the supernatural world, surprisingly enough (she wasn’t a demon, even more surprisingly) – but had heard plenty of wonderful things about. Together they’d had two children; DJ (Damon Jesse) was almost eight and his sister, Jocelyn, was five.

Buffy had never met the kids, either, and while a twinge of guilt followed that thought, it quickly passed. She had made her choices a long time ago and she didn’t really regret them. Much. What she knew was that if she had made a different one, she’d have a hell of a lot more regrets right now. Her life wasn’t too bad – she lived in a beautiful white paradise, surrounded by nice neighbors and other townspeople, and kept busy fighting the Hellmouth evil surrounding. So what if she didn’t have any real company or friendships or romance in her life? She didn’t need that to be complete.

Opening the next Christmas card, far more carefully and with far more trepidation, she silently wondered how her sister was doing. The last time she’d heard from Dawn, the girl – now a woman – had been newly engaged to some guy she’d met at the Watcher Academy she’d joined after college and had called her up to squeal the news. She had chattered Buffy’s ear off and it had almost felt like the good old days for a little while.

That had been three years ago.

Despite waiting for the first year to receive the wedding invitation or another excited phone call, none ever came. Eventually, she had just given up and accepted that her relationship with Dawn would never recover from the betrayals it had been hit with from both sides, those last few years in Sunnydale and the first few away from it. She sighed and pulled out the card, slowly turning it over to see the glossy photo she could feel under her fingertips.

The breath stole from her lips as she looked at it; all she could think was so this is what she’s up to now? It was a lovely Christmas scene, a decorated tree in the background, socks hung on the fireplace, absolute perfection. In the center stood a handsome man – who, thankfully, looked nothing like Giles or Wes when she first met them – in an ugly sweater, with his arms wrapped around a young woman who looked far more like their mother these days, than her sister.

And in her arms lay a tiny little thing.

When she turned the card over, there were only three, short sentences written on it and she furrowed her brow in confusion as she read each of them.

Her name is Elizabeth Joy and you are her godmother.

Go open your front door.

I’m sorry.

Knowing better than to argue with her baby sister, and feeling a bit warmer from that apology, she walked over to the door and wondered what she would find. The tears sprang easily from her eyes as she witnessed the miracle standing on the other side, the one she’d dreamed about for so long. She wanted to do so much but stood perfectly still instead.

He grinned at her, standing there in his ridiculous leather duster. “Merry Christmas, luv.”

 

[Puppet]

December 7th​

Set during Amends


The dirt fell over their shoulders as they stood against the hard wall, both breathing heavily. Buffy stared at the vampire beside her with a strange look, wondering why he was even breathing, to begin with, when he didn’t need to. It was one of those things she’d had to get used to when she and Angel had first started dating; that he never breathed. Sleeping on his silent chest the first few times had also been weird.

She should’ve known that Spike was different, of course. Whether that was a good or bad thing was yet to be revealed, but she imagined it had to be the latter – he was her enemy, after all.

That didn’t explain the past ten hours of them working together after agreeing to a second truce, but she wasn’t planning on telling anyone else about it anyway, so it’s not like anything else mattered. Not in the long run, at least.

“Think we shook ‘em?” he asked, getting his pack of smokes out and lighting one up.

She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe. But they’ll find us again, before long. We should keep moving.”

He nodded and together they pushed off the wall and made their way down the narrow, claustrophobic hallway of dirt. She had wanted to ask him, many times in the past several hours, just how far underground they were, but she didn’t really wish to know. She was fairly certain that being the Slayer was the only reason she hadn’t suffocated yet.

Both of them clutched tightly to their prizes – the reason they had risked everything to come here, the reason they had made a truce in the first place – as they kept quiet and moved slowly, listening for any sound that the ones they’d stolen from was getting near; there wasn’t exactly a lot of room to move, and therefore fight, in.

Many narrowed feet later, the quiet had finally gotten to the Slayer. “How much longer do you think there is?” she whispered, not even turning to look at her companion.

He raised his head and looked to be using his nose. “Air smells cleaner here, so I think we’re gettin’ closer to sea level again.” They had slowly been walking upwards without even realizing it.

She wanted to say something more; call him a pig, punch him in the nose, do something other than being nice like he had been since they began this mission. She understood that the end result was important to him, it was to her, too, but how he had managed to stay calm and collected throughout still boggled her mind. He was supposed to be impulsive, the Spike that had first burst onto the scene the previous year and turned all of their lives upside down.

This eerie stillness, of both body and mouth, was so unfamiliar to Buffy that she didn’t know what to do with it, except be quiet and non-confrontational herself. It felt so wrong. “How are we getting out?”

For his part, Spike was also trying very hard not to focus on the way they had acted toward one another in the past ten hours since he came to her for help and another truce. Being this close to the overpowering scent of Slayer and Buffy was messing with his head and when he opened his mouth to make some crude innuendo, what he found coming out instead was something calm and bordering on nice.

He wasn’t bloody nice.

They were both freaking out as they clutched their vials of magic potions and tried not to think about making it to the top, to fresh air and a world where they were still enemies and had loved ones they needed to get back to. That was the whole point of this mission, after all.

While searching for the location of the Gem of Amara – Spike had left that part out when he’d regaled the Slayer with his story – he had come across mysterious mentions of something called a terrible curse; which was why it had taken him so long to realize exactly what it was. What would someone, who is perfectly happy being a vampire, consider a curse? Something that an anomaly like Peaches would consider a blessing?

A potion that would turn a vampire human again.

Buffy wanted a boyfriend she could have sex with, one she could grow old with and have babies with. Spike wanted a girlfriend who couldn’t accidentally walk into the sunlight during one of her bad trips, a girlfriend who could grow and change and maybe get actual therapy. A girlfriend who could love him back.

They broke through the final dirt wall and found, thankfully, that the moon was out and bright in the sky as they moved through the trees, clutching their savior’s potion in their hands. They didn’t talk about what had happened on their journey to find it. They didn’t talk about the kiss they had shared. They didn’t talk about the doubt they were both feeling at the choices they were making.

But things would certainly change when Buffy realized what Angel had been up to while she was gone…

December 8th​

Buffy brushed a soft hand down the fabric of her dress, trying to make sure it sat right and that there were no wrinkles to be seen in the silky green. At least, she hoped it was green; Willow had promised that it was the exact same shade as her own hazel eyes.

Nine months. Thirteen days. And around nine hours. That’s how long it had been, since the day everything changed. The day Buffy’s life changed so drastically that it almost reminded her of being fifteen years old and an old man came and told her she was meant for greater things. It didn’t help the eerie feeling of deja vu that it came almost exactly ten years since that day.

Did you know that Skeletor demons bled acid? No? Well, they hadn’t known that, either. Maybe if Giles had still been around Buffy wouldn’t have lost her eyesight. Probably for good, as nothing had changed, not even nine months later when her Slayer healing should’ve kicked in and fixed the issue.

It was Buffy’s first Christmas without her sight. She couldn’t see the beautifully decorated tree, adorned with home-made ornaments from her and Dawn’s childhood, nor the angel-topper that her mother had bought so many years ago. She couldn’t (attempt to) make the cinnamon cookies that she worked on every year since she was eleven and had almost burned down their LA kitchen. She couldn’t look outside and marvel at the lack of snow on this side of the world and country.

Buffy had learned just why this month was so depressing for so many people, but she knew that the ones around her wouldn’t let her own spirits get her down. So, with hope in her heart, she had woken up and followed the instructions that Willow had left her in a note of Braille, a language she was slowly getting the hang of.

It had said to get dressed and come downstairs and now it was time to follow the second part of those instructions, taking in a deep breath and letting it out through her nose as she rose from her makeup table and moved over to her bedroom door. She no longer needed to touch everything around her, having gotten used to the inside of her own home. She quickly found the stairs and took them almost as fast as when she’d had all of her senses.

Buffy was amazed to find that she didn’t need her sight to feel the Christmas spirit all around her. She could smell the pine needles on the tree in the living room and hear the sparks flying from the burning wood in the fireplace. She could smell cookies resting on a tray in the kitchen and, when she reached out to keep from falling, she felt the decorations under her fingertips. She smelled cinnamon and eggnog and candy canes and beneath those, the familiar scents of her makeshift family.

Vanilla and a light sprinkle of almonds. She had joked over the past year that her sister smelled like cookies, but it had never been truer than now, as she stood in the kitchen, taking sweets out of the oven and decorating the ones that had cooled enough. Buffy couldn’t see her, but she still felt like she knew exactly what the scene before her looked like.

Strawberry and mint. The redhead was putting the finishing touches on the decorations in the living room, standing on a ladder by the sounds of the creaking and the humming that came from just above her normal height. She had come so far since Tara’s death and Buffy finally felt like she was moving on; it was the first Christmas since her loss that she seemed truly in the holiday spirit.

Whiskey, smoke, and leather. He sat on the bench on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and tapping his fingers against the wooden seat beneath him. It was a sign of comfort, of how much he felt at home here these days, that he wasn’t lurking around on the back porch, but felt right showing himself to the neighbors under the lights that shone when you moved. He was mostly still, more so than she ever thought him capable of.

She took the seat beside him, bombarded with memories of all the times she and her mother had curled up here, at any hour of the day. Sometimes Dawn would sit in one of their laps, too, but mostly it was just the two of them. She had missed the presence of her loving mother more this year than any other since the first year they lost her, but she knew that Joyce would be proud of how well she had handled herself without her.

Instead of pushing everyone away – also know as ‘the norm’ – she had pulled them closer and allowed their presence to support her through her darkest times. The ones at the house right now were also the ones who lived here year-round, but they were not the only ones that were here for her. There were more coming later, for dinner and laughter and joy.

No one called anyone else names – Spike and his loving remarks didn’t count – and no one judged anyone else for not being what was considered normal, or human. It was the kind of acceptance that she had never thought was possible, and certainly not from the people she called friends.

The kind of acceptance that came from the light that shone in her new darkness.


Author's Note; the 'Skeletor' demon is an ode to Buffy always pronouncing the names wrong, like Kissing Toast 😀

The scent I gave Dawn is the same as my favorite shampoo and it really does make my whole shower smell like cookies, even though it says that the scent is almonds 🙂

 

[Puppet]

December 9th​

It was like something out of the old testament; a man, his very pregnant wife, and no shelter to be found anywhere within reach. The snow was coming down in clouds of white and it was near-impossible to see two feet in front of your face, let alone where you were going. He gripped her hand tightly, glove against glove, and prayed to whatever deity would listen to him for a miracle – even if his daughter was the only one to survive, that would be enough.

With his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on his continuous string of identical prayers, he didn’t notice that there was someone approaching them until he heard the small gasp coming from his wife’s dry lips. As he blinked his eyes open, he heard a throat clearing and then immediately wondered if he had passed out and was dreaming – this couldn’t possibly be real, right?

The man wasn’t wearing a winter coat, just an ankle-length black leather duster and heavy boots, covering a pair of jeans and a t-shirt underneath. All he could think was that the poor man must be freezing to death, but he didn’t seem at all bothered by the snow that fluttered all around him, nearly the same color as his bright, clearly colored, hair.

“I can get you somewhere safe. Or safer than out here, least.” He said, his voice low and his accent not from around here.

He could feel her clamoring close to his back, breath cold on his neck as she whispered that they had no choice but to trust the stranger; their other alternative was freezing to death like statues in the middle of nowhere.

With trepidation in his every bone, he slowly began to follow the other man – he’d say he was somewhere around their own age, actually, perhaps a bit younger – never letting go of his wife’s hand, for even a second.

It was impossible to tell what the structure was from the outside, it was completely covered in white; it might as well have been a small hill if he had just stumbled over it on his own. But one step inside showed him the reality – a barn. The scent of hay was heavy and he wrinkled his nose but didn’t say a word of complaint. It was warm in here, far more than he would’ve expected.

“Oh, Hank!” Joyce ran to the fire that was burning in a corner and he realized that the stranger had been holed up here before finding them, too.

He suddenly found himself quite unsure of what to say, somewhere between continued caution or gushing his appreciation to the other man. “I can’t thank you enough.”

But he didn’t want to hear it, apparently. “’S no bother, mate. Can’t let the lil’ one suffer ‘fore it even has a chance,” his words were kind and yet cryptic.

Hank didn’t push.

All three of them took a seat on some hay bales around the carefully lit fire and the awkwardness only lasted for a few minutes, before introductions were made and they began to share small talk. His name was Spike – he admitted later that it was really William – and he was just traveling through the area to get to his girlfriend who was waiting for him in New York City.

Likewise, Hank and Joyce happily shared that they were in the area to visit the man’s brother and his family before they returned to California right before Christmas. They had been checking out the surrounding parks and lakes, wanting some time and space to themselves, but had gotten lost just a half-hour before the snow had begun to fall.

“When are you due?” he asked, after a few hours of calm camaraderie.

Joyce gently rubbed her distended belly with a small smile on her face. “Valentine’s Day.” She giggled a little and then, just in case he didn’t know, clarified. “February 14. So, just over two months from now.”

Hank watched as his wife and the stranger found a million different things to talk about, from the pregnancy over the past few months, to the most recent episodes of some soap show that he’d never seen himself, to Christmases of the past; Joyce was very interested in Spike’s stories of a white, snowy London.

Through it all, he simply watched them in silence. The man – and he wasn’t entirely sure he was a man – struck him as odd, with his strange clothing, his cool skin, and the fact that he never ate, even when they did, having found some stuff in another corner of the barn that was edible. Deep down, Hank knew that Spike was something more, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to care one bit.

The bleach-blond stranger had saved his family and he would forever be in his debt for it. Even if he never saw the man again, he would surely never forget him.

Little did he know that he really would never see him again. But his wife would.

And so would his daughter.

December 10th​

“I don’t think you really think things through,” she said, partly teasing him as they pushed their way through the thick, white snow.

He snorted and silently cursed his inability to light up a fag in this weather. “What, this is news to you?” He raised a brow when she looked over at him.

Her smile was small and she reached over to punch him in the arm. “One of these days...” she tilted her head to the side. “I was gonna say ‘it’ll get you into trouble’ but it always does. Instead, I’ll say that one of these days, the trouble will be too big for you to dig your way out.”

Spike just shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s never too big for you to get me out. I’ll just have faith in that, then.”

His trust in her made her feel warm and she hurried to change the subject before things got too awkward between them. “Where do you think we are?” It was a question she found herself asking a lot, ever since they’d started finding evil by Willow just teleporting them into a hot-spot, at random.

Again, he shrugged; it took an awful lot to worry him, she knew. “From the cold, I’d say somewhere arctic, but there is a lot to pick from, pet.” He reached out to grab her hand, squeezing it in comfort before he dropped it again. “Far from home, though.”

“The States or Scotland?”

He smiled at her. “Both.”

Since the fall of Sunnydale, Buffy and her group had lived across the ocean, but the US would always be her number one home. She knew that all of Spike’s traveling over the century-plus he’d been a vampire had left him feeling very similarly about the two very different parts of the world.

“Are you sensing or smelling anything?” Her Slayer self was on point, but there were just some things that vampires were better at.

He paused for a moment and it took only two seconds for her to get even colder, once she was standing still. “’S too cold to smell anything, but I think I might be pickin’ up somethin’...in that direction.” He pointed a long, pale finger out into the whiteness and she tried, and failed, to follow it with her eyes.

“What is it?” Her voice had turned into that darker, more serious version that her friends called her ‘Slayer-mode’.

Slowly they began to move again, pulling out weapons and whispering to one another. “Can’t make out the bloody sounds, luv, but there’s definitely somethin’ happenin’ not far from here.”

The wind seemed to pick up right when the mission was getting to the serious parts, but they pushed through, even when Buffy’s cheeks began to shake and her teeth chattered. When her eyes leaked and the water turned to ice on her skin. Spike wished he had the body heat to compensate for her situation, but there was nothing for him to offer but words of encouragement and promise that, if it got really bad, they had a back-up plan for getting Willow to zap them right back home, where a fire was no doubt burning in one end of the room.

When a building seemed to show up out of nowhere, bursting out of the white all around them, both fighters paused, staring up at the behemoth and wondering what was hiding inside it.

Buffy could hear it now, too, though like Spike she didn’t know exactly what it was that she was hearing. Strange sounds, like a humming, combined with occasional bouts of a strange banging sound, that wasn’t remotely timed to any sort of beat. Her brows furrowed and she shared a quick glance with her vampire sidekick before the grip on their weapons tightened and they kicked down the door nearest them.

She felt like a statue, not breathing, not blinking, trying desperately to wrap her mind around what she was looking at. “Is this what I think it is?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth, even while knowing that he wasn’t the only one who could hear her.

“Don’t look at me,” he replied, “I don’t think things through, ‘member?”

The Slayer would’ve rolled her eyes at this point, but she still couldn’t move, staring everywhere; to the right, to the left, up above and in the back. But no matter where she looked or how many times she looked, the sight never changed. And then she finally blinked. And it remained the same.

Heavy boots came trampling down a staircase nearby and, while she would’ve thought it impossible, her eyes widened even more.

The elves in the workshop were one thing, but...Santa?

 

[Puppet]

Based on a challenge, details below

December 11th​

Some people talked in their sleep, but Spike had come to learn that his Slayer did something else, instead; she reached. It wasn’t every night and he only noticed it on the rare times that he came in late or was unable to sleep due to residual hauntings from his victims. Her arm would stretch out and, sometimes, her fingers would flex as if they were trying to hold on to something.

When he finally sat her down and discussed it, worried that there was something in her subconscious that she wasn’t dealing with in her waking hours, Buffy had seemed very confused; she’d had no idea what may be the underlying issue. So the vampire spoke to his best second-choice; the sister.

Dawn had, as always since she turned seventeen, some great insight. “Everything went away when Sunnydale fell. But, like, physically. Mom’s grave, the house, our personal belongings. Because we hadn’t planned the school bus escape, no one packed anything before we went into the fight.”

She thought that Buffy might be reaching out for reminders of her home; for their mother, for the blanket she used to sleep with on warmer days, for the plushies that had been with her since she was a small child, and so on. She had clapped him on the back and wished him good luck before they’d left the cafe and parted ways.

He approached his girlfriend with this theory – not mentioning where it came from, as sisters could get very particular about each others advice – and while she agreed that it sounded believable, she didn’t feel like there was anything they could do about it, shrugging as she moved on with what she had been doing at the time.

Spike wasn’t a quitter, though, and his next stop was the redhead that proudly held a psychology degree and knew the Slayer in a way that only a good girlfriend could. “If Dawn is right, and I think she might be, then what Buffy needs is reminders. If her subconscious knows that there are things in her room she could reach for, then she should stop reaching for them in her sleep.” She had pointed at him, then, her resolve face in place. “It’s not a sure winner, mister, so if it doesn’t work I don’t wanna hear any bottle-in-face empty threats from you!”

After that, nothing had happened for a while; they had all gotten swamped, some near-apocalypses had popped up a few places around the world, and Spike had been invited on a scouting trip by Xander. They’d spent nearly two months in the darkest parts of the Middle East, along with Connor and Oz. By the time he came back to their apartment, she was out on a mission of her own.

Christmas was nearing when he finally returned to his dilemma and he decided to join the two together by finding a gift that would remind her of home – the happier times on the Hellmouth, of course. But that meant finding a moment, a full day even, where he had the time and where she wasn’t with him, which was difficult; if they were both in the same country at the same time, they were usually casually attached at the hip.

“I need you to get her out of the bloody house!” He called Dawn in to help. Again. It was just over a week before Christmas and he still hadn’t found what he was looking for. He had gotten her other presents, but this was the most important one.

The next day, Whirlwind Dawn blew through the front door while they were eating breakfast and commanded Buffy to come with her for some super secret special mission – no doubt playing on Buffy’s natural sense of curiosity and desire for people around her not to keep things from her. They were gone before he could wash out their plates and put them in the dishwasher.

Confident that the sisters would be gone until just before dinner – unless Buffy messaged him that they were going to a restaurant before she came home, which wouldn’t surprise him – he got himself ready and headed out for the nearest mall, which wasn’t too big but should have something useful. He hoped.

Although he wasn’t overly proud of his past actions – while soulless – when it came to Buffy, the stalking may actually come in handy now, as he knew the interior of her Sunnydale bedroom fairly well, not to mention the stuff he’d stolen for his ‘shrine’.

He sighed at the memory as he moved down the bright halls of the busy shopping mall.

In the pocket of his jeans, his phone vibrated with a message. He wasn’t really that surprised that she came up with an answer without even knowing there was a question. “Bloody genius,” he said, typing something similar in the message. Faith’s random text, which she sent whenever she had a random thought to share, was to tell him about a new shop she had found that sold vintage stuff from more recent years, like the 90s that she grew up in. A shop that he had passed five minutes ago in this very mall but had ignored because he wasn’t familiar with the name.

He quickly returned, walked inside, and within minutes only found exactly what he was looking for. It was fluffy and pink and a different gender than the last one given the bow on its left ear – he dubbed her Mrs. Gordo.

Authors Note

The Challenge by killjoy
This is just a sappy Spike does good challenge idea I had.

Spike can be in trouble with Buffy and this is his way to get out of the doghouse....or it could be a birthday/Christmas gift.....or a just because gift.

But Spike finds a very close replica of Mr Gordo somewhere (store/online) and gets it for Buffy seeing how she lost the original in the collapse of Sunnydale.

All human...sort of 🙂

December 12th​

There were magnets under your skin.

That was how you knew that you were one of the 30% that had a soulmate; when you were born, the doctors would put you in a machine and test the levels of natural magnetism in your blood. It was usually confined to one area of your body and completely invisible from the outside.

When you met your truest mate, your one and only, for the first time, the two parts of you that were magnetized would link up and stick you together, telling you what the situation was. It happened rarely enough that people with magnetic blood didn’t always find that other someone and married one of the other 70% instead, but when two magnets met, it always made for a truly happy and everlasting bond and relationship.

It was also genetic. Buffy had grown up on stories of her parents and how romantic their magnetic meeting was, even though Joyce had been married to a man named Hank at the time and her father, Rupert, was only visiting from England. At least their story was suitable for children, unlike Xander and Cordelia...let’s just say, Xander was unfortunate enough to have his magnetism in a rather private area of his body.

Buffy’s special blood was located in her left elbow. She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t feel it. It never stuck on to anything else. But she went through life knowing it was there. She had a rather positive outlook on soulmates, given how happy her parents still were, but when she turned twenty-five, she decided to stop waiting and start dating like a normal, non-magnetic person, would. Shortly after, she met Riley.

“I’m going past Shaker’s on my way back, do you want me to pick you up a white hot chocolate?” She grabbed the keys and stood in the doorway, looking back at her handsome boyfriend on the couch, tuned in to some sports game playing on the flat-screen.

“Sounds good, babe, have fun.” She was certain he hadn’t actually heard what she’d said, but she just rolled her eyes and left the house.

Though raised in California, Buffy had gone back to Iowa with Riley when his job had required it; by then, they had been together for over a year and were serious enough to make a decision that big. Her father had not liked it, but he’d also never been a big fan of her boyfriend so she took it in stride. It helped that her mother was supportive, just wanting to see her eldest child happy.

Living in Huxley took some getting used to and this was her first Christmas here – it was strange to walk outdoors and see all the white snow that was everywhere around her, but it was nothing compared to the cold. She’d had to buy an entire winter wardrobe as she had never owned clothing that warm before, but it was worth it. Riley’s hometown was beautiful, any time of the year really.

Moving had come with many other changes, as well, and not just because she had lost contact with the people that had been like her family back in Los Angeles. She had sacrificed her close relationship with her sister – who hated Riley with a passion and saw Buffy moving as a betrayal – and now only saw her parents a handful of times a year; she wasn’t even spending this Christmas with them, choosing instead to stay and be with Riley and his family in Huxley.

Forcing the dreary thoughts of her sacrifices out of her head, she parked in front of the busy mall and prepared herself for the mass of people that would be everywhere inside. She had never been very good at buying her presents before the shops got claustrophobic, but this year she needed to get them in time to send them back to California, some of them at least.

Was a part of her hoping to get back into her sister’s good graces by coming up with great gifts? Maybe.

It was standing in line to pay for the expensive gaming computer Dawn had wanted for almost a year now, that it happened. She almost dropped the heavy package in her arms when her left elbow was pulled away from her body by an outside force, attaching itself to the skin of someone else.

All thoughts of Riley disappeared from her mind as she looked up into the bright blue eyes of her soulmate. It was a bit awkward, of course, since her sharp elbow was jammed into his extremely sharp, right cheekbone, but he seemed to take it in stride, smirking at her as his eyes danced with laughter.

On any other day, she would’ve glared at him and claimed that it wasn’t funny, but right now all she could do was laugh with him, stepping out of the line and putting the package by her feet as they continued staring at one another. Nothing else was important right now. Nothing else needed to happen.

Later they would exchange names and private information. She would break up with Riley – in her head they already had – and move out, to wherever this man wanted to go. They would get married and she would be as happy as her mother had been since her magnet met her father’s. She would finally have everything she’d ever wanted.

 

[Puppet]

December 13th​

Buffy was bored.

It was Sunday and she was working the counter, taking on extra shifts so she could pay for the Christmas presents she was getting this year. She’d had to tell her friends that she wasn’t on gifts with them and only get for her mother and sister, otherwise, she wouldn’t have enough money and would stress out unnecessarily. That simply wouldn’t do.

“I’m going on a delivery,” her boss – the manager of the store – told her, glaring at her to not mess up while he was gone as he vanished through the back door.

She straightened up and looked around the shop – it was currently empty of customers but that was to be expected when they were located in a strip mall out of most people’s way and it was lunchtime so most shoppers were filling up before going back out into the melee. Buffy tapped her fingernails on the counter and waited for something to happen.

She regretted her stray thought immediately, when the giant window leading outside burst into a thousand pieces, and two beings fell through. One was almost eight feel tall – she knew because the store’s ceiling only went that far up – and the other was a leather-clad stranger with brightly bleached hair that anyone else would’ve assumed was a normal human.

Buffy wasn’t anyone – she was the Slayer. And the stranger was a vampire.

She rolled her eyes, suddenly not so bored anymore as she trampled around the battling morons and got her hand on a piece of broken wood to use against whichever one she got to first. “That wasn’t very nice,” she muttered, knowing that when the manager returned she’d be out of a job.

The vampire clearly heard her quiet whisper, however, and replied with thick sarcasm. “Sorry, luv, this bloke hasn’t got any bloody manners. Think he’ll pay for the repairs?” He was grinning when a meaty fist caught him off guard and he flew through the swinging door of the changing rooms.

Buffy snorted and took over, kicking the demon’s shin hard enough to send it to its knees, and therefore bring its chest closer to where she could reach it. Unfortunately, she hadn’t expected it to actually know anything about fighting – demons this size usually relied on brute strength alone – and so when it turned the momentum into a roundhouse kick, she reconsidered her cockiness as she, too, flew across the room.

She lay there, in the broken door of the changing room, staring up at the ceiling and wondering who was going to hire her after this. Damn the Council for refusing to give her a paycheck for saving the goddamn world several times a year. The lights above dimmed as another head got in the way and the vampire grinned down at her. “Heard there was a Slayer out this way, but I didn’t expect to find her my first day in town.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and reached up to push him away, sending him flying back in the direction of the demon. Serves him right for being more annoying than Dawn on her worst day.

Well, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration – her sister had set some pretty unbeatable records once she reached her terrible teens.

“Little help would be nice, Slayer!” The vampire cried out and she pushed herself up on her elbows to see him being shaken like a rag-doll. It would’ve made her giggle if she hadn’t known who she was dealing with.

She stood up, brushed herself off, and got back into things. Although she and Angel had broken up long ago, they had remained friends, and he’d told her many stories – particularly when she got him drunk – about his Grandchilde. Spike. The Slayer of Slayers. Cocky bastard who wore his last Slayer kill’s leather duster and bleached his hair. Combined with the knowledge that he was visiting Angel for the holidays and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

Unfortunately, this meant she couldn’t stake him. Damn.

“You ruined everything, y’know that?” She glared at him as she stabbed the demon in the back with her jagged piece of broken wood. “Thanks to you, I can’t get my family any Christmas presents now!” She didn’t expect him to feel guilt – he didn’t have a soul, after all – but she still felt like she needed to say the words out loud. Get him to understand that his presence was only begrudgingly accepted in her eyes.

The demon fell to the ground, dead. “Could always help you nick somethin’.” He said with a shrug, pocketing his own weapon as she threw hers away.

As the manager stepped gingerly through the broken glass window and started hyperventilating over the mess, Buffy and Spike left the same way, bickering back and forth about the wrongness of stealing and also the wrongness of not having gifts to give her family and then that turned into discussing the wrongness of Buffy butchering the English language.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

December 14th​

It was going to be yet another sparse Christmas Eve, Buffy thought, as she walked around the house that was decorated for just two people – her and her fiance, Spike. She stared down at the piece of sparkle on her finger and couldn’t help but smile; it wasn’t the Christmas she wanted most, but at least she was spending it with the one she wanted to spend it with the most, out of everyone else in the world. That had to count for something, right?

They hadn’t lived in this house for a full year, yet, which made this their first Christmas here, but moving out of an apartment and into an actual, decently sized, home for the first time since Sunnydale...she wanted to fill it with people like her mother always used to before she passed away. If not her aunts and uncles, then it was her friends and Watcher; it was never just her, her mom, and Dawn. And now, it would only be her and Spike.

The doorbell rang and Buffy frowned – she wasn’t expecting anyone and the vampire had his own key.

“Merry Christmas, Buffy!” The familiar voice cried and the Slayer stood shock-still in her foyer.

She blinked a few times, staring at the woman with arms full of presents. “Aunt Lolly?” She marched into the house and was quickly followed by her son, and Buffy’s cousin, Ethan. He had gotten a lot taller since the last time she saw him and Buffy reminded herself that he was now an adult, at twenty-one years old.

Before she could close the front door and inquire her aunt about what she was doing here, a cab pulled up to the curb in front of her house and her aunt Arlene and her big family started pouring out, carrying presents and some luggage. Buffy’s eyes were wide and she silently let them hug her and enter her home. Before long, the coats were off and the cups full of coffee or egg-nog, while they all sat around the fireplace on the couches and chairs.

Buffy remained standing in the foyer, wondering just what was happening. She hadn’t seen her mother’s sisters in so long – not since they spent Thanksgiving with them the year she was in her senior year of high school. The year after, Joyce had gone for a visit without Buffy, and the one after was when her mother had been sick and Dawn had been hunted by Glory, and then...well, then she died and there was never any reason to go and be reminded of what she and her sister had lost.

Before her bad thoughts could get her down, there was a rapping on the door and she turned to open it, wondering who it would be now.

“Buffster!” She didn’t think her eyes could get any wider but was now proven wrong. “Merry Christmas!” Xander wrapped her up in a tight hug and she blinked her tears away, looking over his shoulder at her very pregnant baby sister, smiling at her with her own tears falling down her cheeks.

She hadn’t thought she’d see them until the new year; Dawn wasn’t supposed to fly at this many months along and she hadn’t wanted to ask them to drive the nearly two days it would take to get here from their own home – they must’ve done it even without her input, though. “What’s going on here?”

Pulling away from her best male friend, she was quickly grabbed into another hug by her sister, who spoke directly into her ear. “What do you think, sweetie? Who would go to such great lengths to give you everything you never said out loud that you wanted?” They pulled apart and her eyes sparkled as she continued to smile at her big sister.

Buffy’s own smile grew as she realized whom Dawn was referring to. It was just like Spike to do something like this, he was all about the big gestures and she had absolutely no reason to complain about it, not this time. Not when he had, as her sister said, anticipated what she needed most without even having to ask.

As she walked into the living room, watching Arlene and Lolly fawning over a pregnant Dawn and shaking hands with Xander, she leaned against the doorjamb and thought about how close to perfect it was. She thought about how only one person was missing – two if she counted Spike, but he would show up later, she knew – and that it was already the best Christmas without that person. There were some miracles that even a vampire couldn’t pull off.

Or so she thought, until a bright light sparked in the room behind her family and suddenly there, in the middle of the room, stood one pale vampire and one redheaded witch.

“Willow!” Buffy cried out, rushing over to hug her, feeling the warmth seconds later of Xander joining them. They hadn’t seen their witchy friend in so long and hadn’t even been sure she was still alive, after all this time.

Her fiance truly was a miracle worker.

The snow began to fall outside and Lolly got behind the standing piano while everyone sang carols and lit the candles on the decorated tree. The fireplace was warm, the drinks plenty and the sound of wrapping paper crinkling as it was ripped off its packaging, while Buffy stood in the background, Spike’s arms around her, his mouth by her ear.

“Merry Christmas, luv.” She smiled – it truly was the merriest of them all.

 

[Puppet]

December 15th​

The Desoto Fireflite parked carefully against the curb and the engine soon quieted as the cold seeped into the leather seats beyond the doors. Spike got out of the driver's seat and walked around the front, to the passenger door that was being opened. He got there just in time to catch the wobbly blonde as she fell half out of the opening.

“Spike!” She said, voice loud and shrill. Then, she giggled. “You caught me! I’ve never jumped out of a moving car before!”

He rolled his eyes; as adorable as a drunk Buffy was, it was not quite as cute when he was completely sober, himself. Someone had to be the responsible one to drive them home – and he never thought that would be him, of all beings. “Come on, luv, let’s get you inside. Gotta get up early tomorrow, ‘member?”

Her brows furrowed and she looked to be thinking very hard about something, as he stood her up and locked the car behind them. “Is Santa picking us up? Did we promise to help him hand out presents?” She sounded very put out and Spike tried very hard not to laugh at how serious she looked.

He wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and started walking her down the path to the house. Slowly. “No, luv, you promised the Bit you’d go to church with her. While I stay back and get started on the cooking.” He poked her side a few times as he reminded her of the plans she’d made earlier that day.

Buffy turned her head and stared intently at Spike, before reaching up a finger to poke him in his cheek. “You’re not allowed in church, Spike; you might die.” She sounded very terrified of the idea.

If he hadn’t gotten so used to what she was like when she was pissed, he might have been touched by her concern. “’Preciate it, kitten. Promise I won’t join you girls. Got lots of cookies to make, yeah? For when the kiddies come in a few days?” He didn’t know why he was reminding her of things she’d never remember in the morning anyway.

They finally made it to the front door and Spike knew the easiest part was over; he sighed in preparation and unlocked and pushed open the door. Buffy quickly escaped his hold as they walked in and she looked around at all the decorations and Christmas things everywhere.

“Wow,” she said in a whisper, green eyes sparkling as her body swayed and almost fell over a few times before regaining her balance. “Did you sneak me into the Taj Mahal? You’re such a sweet boyfriend.” And now the tears came.

Spike rolled his eyes; why did his Slayer have to be such an emotional drunk. Ever since the first time they’d gotten drunk together, back in Sunnydale after she’d come back from heaven, she had been this way. At least she wasn’t chasing away any kittens this time.

He walked up to her, after hanging up his coat, and helped her out of hers. When that was hung up, too, he wrapped his arms around her, partly to steady her. “This is our home, luv. Harris’ kiddies helped you make it all pretty, earlier this month.” She had cried that day, too, which was a sign that Dawn had over-poured the egg-nog.

Spike turned her around and walked her over to the basement door, where their bedroom was located. She seemed to gain a small sense of lucidity as they walked down the steps. “That was a fun party, Spike. We should host it next year.” She reached out to gently pat his cheek.

He grinned and nodded. “That might be fun, pet. At least then you won’t be too far from your bed.” They made it to the bottom of the stairs and were now only two feet from the comfort they sought.

With his help, Buffy was undressed and then redressed in her nightwear, but Spike decided to skip tricky things such as brushing teeth and hair, not wanting to complicate things even more than they already were. He sat her on the bed and then went through his own routine, expecting her to have climbed under the covers when he turned back around.

Once more, he rolled his eyes, watching her sitting where he’d left her, staring at him with a very familiar and hungry look in her dark green eyes. “No, luv.”

Then out came the pout. “Why not?” Her eyes grew big and she stared at him from under her lashes.

He growled. “Don’t bloody try to manipulate me, kitten, that’s not fair! I’m not startin’ anything with you when you’re this sauced.”

She reached out a hand and grabbed tight onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him to her. Her pout went out further and she took her other hand and laid it on the bare skin of his stomach. “Why not?” she repeated.

Spike grabbed her hand, pushed it away, and bent down to look her directly in the eyes, wanting to make sure she understood just how serious he was. They stood like that for a while, until Buffy repeated her question. “Why not?”

“Cause last time you bloody fell asleep halfway through!"

December 16th​

“Like that movie, The Holiday?” Dawn had asked when Buffy announced her house-switching plans for the third week of December. “Will you be back in time for Christmas?”

Now she was here, in another country, in a beautiful, small cottage that perfectly matched her mood. She was looking forward to being on her own, for once – these days she almost had to hide in closets to get away from all the people, the Watchers, the mini-Slayers, and, of course, her makeshift family. She even shared a bedroom with her Wiccan bestie and it was just too much sometimes.

This place was quiet. Still. No heavy feet running around. No girls screaming for a mediator because they can’t decide who gets the last cookie in the jar. No hum of a generator to keep all of them warm at the same time. There would be sounds of voices; Giles lecturing the girls on running in the halls, Andrew and Xander arguing about something nerdy, Kennedy trying to sound better than everyone else by constantly mentioning her demon-lore expertise.

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d end up inside her head one of these days…

She hadn’t told Dawn, but it was actually that movie, the one with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz, that had inspired her to go looking for something similar. But instead of switching with a total stranger online – she wasn’t that desperate – she had found a Slayer with a sister who wanted to come to visit for a week, who also happened to live far away in a small cottage; it was the perfect solution.

Currently, Buffy was walking through the snowy forest that surrounded her vacation home. She had packed herself well away in layers and scarves and two pairs of gloves, knowing that her natural Californian system didn’t deal well with the extreme cold. She didn’t want to freeze to death, nor did she wish to spend the next two days sick when she had finally gotten some time to herself.

She was going to read a book or two. Sit around the fire and just busy herself with her thoughts. Catch up on some of those shows that Xander and Willow were always talking about during their downtime. Take walks around the property. Maybe go into town and see what they had to offer.

By her second day, she was bored to death.

“I’m not a reader, why did I forget that?” She said, tossing the book across the room. “I can’t watch more than two episodes of the same show in a row,” she said, throwing the remote down. “It’s too cold to go for another walk and the roads into town are closed.” She cursed and threw herself into the couch cushions. “Ugh!”

There was a knock on the door and she remembered the letter that her fellow Slayer’s sister had left for her when she arrived. She would be expecting a neighbor to drop by at some point, to pick up some packages that he had hidden here so his kids wouldn’t find them and ruin the surprise. She tried to call out but found herself stumbling over the blankets around her legs.

She was in a heap on the ground, when a head popped into view, upside down and with a pair of very familiar blue eyes staring down at her. “Slayer?”

Buffy sat up so fast that she hit his head with her own. “Spike!” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so...shrill.

Standing up, she finally got a good look at him, and it...wasn’t what she expected. Was he wearing one of those ugly sweaters? She wasn’t sure why she was sticking to that detail when what she should be wondering about was how he was here right now, when last she knew he’d been burning to a crisp down in the Hellmouth caverns.

Her wide eyes blinked a few times while he rubbed the back of his neck in clear embarrassment. “It’s a long story, pet.”

For a moment, she almost worried if she’d said any of her thoughts aloud, but like always it was just because he read her so damn well. “You...you’re the neighbor?” The one with kids, she thought to herself.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, unable to look directly at her as his eyes flew all around the room. “Live just down the road. Well, this time of year. Have another one in a warmer climate.” His laugh was strange and Buffy realized she’d never heard one from him that wasn’t full of sarcasm or, you know, evil.

She wanted to ask. She wanted to know how he was here. How long. Why he hadn’t told her. But no words would come out. At least, not the ones she wanted. “The sun is out.” She felt like an idiot, but the words made sense. And then she realized, with a gasp. “How?”

His cheeks filled with blood, flushing, a nervous habit he’d never had as a vampire. “’Nother long story. One with a prophecy in it, sure you’re used to those by now.”

“I guess I should make some coffee.” He was going to tell her all of his long stories. And then they’d see...what came next… They had been through too much to let this get in the way of even just a friendship. Right?
---------------------------------------------------
Author's Note; For this story, my background for Spike is that he was awarded the Shanshu after the events of Not Fade Away and he tried to move on as a human, even finding a woman and starting a family. But when that woman was murdered by old enemies from his vampire life, he realized he couldn't run away from who he was, so he found a nice balance between being a single dad and being a silent partner for Angel's newest investigations agency.

 

[Puppet]

December 17th​

Setting; After Hush, before Doomed, but in a world where there was more time in between those two episodes.


“A scream? That’s how you did it?” He snorted and rolled his eyes.

She smirked while glaring at him. “It wasn’t my choice to have it be such a lame finish, I don’t make the rules, y’know.”

Spike ducked his head around the corner and saw a demon walking past the next opening over, before ducking back into the small alcove of dirt where he and the Slayer were hiding. “Still, pretty bloody embarrassing for the blokes. They had a good start, takin’ everyone’s voices and all that.”

It was Buffy’s turn to roll her eyes. “You would think that.”

He shrugged. “Can’t help it if you get shrill sometimes, luv.” He braced himself for evidence of that to come.

“I do not!” she said, refusing to admit just how shrill that came out. She hit his shoulder and glared at the back of his head since he was still refusing to look at her.

They were stuck here, in the caves to the north – the opposite side of town to where the soldiers had taken over, thankfully – hiding from demons. This was how low she had sunk; the Slayer, hiding from what she should be fighting. But even she had to admit when Spike was right, there were too many of them to take on even if they worked together, battling back to back as they a few times in the past.

Ten more minutes of silence passed before one of them brought up another new subject – neither were very good at keeping quiet for long, put the two of them together and it was like fire-ants. “I found one of the soldiers.”

Spike finally turned his head to give her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Yeah? They put a chip in your head, too?”

Buffy almost rolled her eyes before she noted the glimmer of real fear in his blue depths. “Uh...no, no. I found out that one of the guys from school is, y’know, one of them?” She worried now, choosing not to give Spike a name. She still wasn’t sure what to think of Riley, after all, and certainly didn’t want to get him killed. She was sure that Spike would find a way if he really wanted to; he was imaginative like that.

He pursed his lips and then shook his head, turning back away from her. “You’ll be keeping an eye out, then?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her and resolved not to tell him about the part where she’d also told Riley about what she was. Not that he had known what the hell a Slayer is – and he calls himself a demon hunter – but given enough time and determination, she was sure that would be over fast.

They didn’t talk anymore and a few minutes later, Spike decided that the time for waiting was over and they crashed into the next room, happy to see that there were only a small handful of beasts left inside. The fight was over so quickly that it almost felt anticlimactic to have been crouched in hiding for several hours.

They were standing by the mouth of the cave, Spike lighting up a cigarette while Buffy tried to think of something snarky to say before she ran away from the camaraderie she was feeling. She didn’t like owing anything to her mortal enemy and it was unfortunately not the first time she felt this way toward the bleach blond.

The vampire had been uncharacteristically quiet on their journey back into the outside world and it was only now, as he spoke, that she realized why. “You gonna throw you and yours in with those army tossers?”

He was worried she’d join forces with the men that crippled him and she almost winced as she realized that it wasn’t far off base from what she’d been considering. “I guess I don’t know.” She wanted to hear their mission statement first.

Spike snorted and tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with the steel-toe of his boot while he replied. “People like that? Only out to get more power, pet. You be careful.” He lifted his head to stare at her and she thought she hadn’t seen him this serious since he was trying to actively kill her, back in her junior year. “Don’t let them under your skirts. Once they know all your secrets...” He left it hanging right there.

Buffy was obviously planning to be careful, but Spike’s words left her reconsidering even that part and regretting her decision to tell Riley the truth before even discussing it with her Watcher or best friend. “I swear.” She said and she meant it.

He nodded once and then set out to wherever he was hanging out these days; might be Xander’s, might be Giles’, might be somewhere new, she couldn’t keep up. She watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore and then she stayed standing right there for a few minutes longer.

Life was complicated sometimes, wasn’t it? This time last year she’d been rushing like the dogs of Hell were after her to get to a hillside and convince a vampire not to kill himself. Now, she was dealing with another vampire trying, for some reason, to convince her to be careful when dealing with a bunch of humans.

The world had, officially, frozen over.

December 18th

To my dearest friend,

As the holiday grows nearer, I find myself missing you more than ever before. I think of the special times we shared in the past and I regret not having any new memories to add to the rest. I hear songs that make me think of you and the smell of cinnamon reminds me of you baking in the kitchen on Christmas morning.

This December isn’t like the ones that came before, but I have finally decided that that’s not a bad thing – different can be good, too.

If I were to walk to the window right now and peer outside, I would find bright white falling from the sky – Toto and I are definitely not in California any longer.

I think you’d love it here, even if, like me, you grew up somewhere snow was rare. Perhaps that’s why you’d love it; perhaps that’s why I love it. But I picture you going to the frozen-over lakes with me, to go ice-skating. In the old-fashioned kitchen, I see you attempting my mother’s hot chocolate recipe, complete with marshmallows. At night, when I sleep, I swear I hear your soft footsteps on the stairs outside my bedroom door.

Yes, you’d fit right in here. Just as everyone else did.

Dawn is flourishing over here in the old country; she’s studying to be a Watcher, of all things. She’s got a real good grasp on the dead languages and Giles thinks she’ll be one of the best. I’m just happy she found something she’s passionate about...something she chose. It’s one of the few downsides of being Chosen.

Giles is now the Head of Council, but I don’t think it agrees very much with him. He keeps apologizing every time he has to make a really tough decision. As glad as I am that he won’t be another Quentin Travers, someone has to make these choices, and if it isn’t him, it’ll be someone else. Someone worse. I hope he’ll find some peace with it soon.

It’s strange, the way the world is now. I live in a big mansion house and my roommates are other Slayers. It was easier when there was just one more; when it just me and Kendra, or me and Faith. But now...I don’t even know everyone’s names. There are thousands of them, all over the world.

I worry sometimes if I made the right choice. If it was even my choice to make.

There is one bright spot amongst the doubt and insecurities, one that I know that you, of all people, would smile at. You wouldn’t judge, you wouldn’t question me, you would just be happy that I was happy – Spike is back. Back to life. Back in my life. Back in my heart...not that he ever left, if I’m being honest with myself. Which is something I’m trying very hard to be these days.

It’s a fresh start, right? Those are important. You let go of the pain of the past – you don’t forget, but you forgive and you move on. You tried to do that, too, didn’t you?

Like so many things in my life, it came back to my vampire ex. Another secret that Angel was keeping from me. It took me a while to forgive Spike for stooping to that same level; he was supposed to be better than that. To know me better than Angel, know that I would want to know that he was back, regardless of how much it might complicate my new, normal existence. Eventually, though, we talked through it.

We had gotten pretty good at actually communicating that last year in Sunnydale. His soul had a lot to do with it, but it was also a two-way street – after the disaster that was the ‘incident’, I had to confess to myself that part of the issue was also my own resistance to actually talk to him. No wonder there were so many mixed signals between us, back then.

Enough about the past, though. One of the decisions we’ve made is to not dwell on what came before and instead focus on what’s ahead of us.

Xander is happy for me. Did that revelation make you smile? I bet it did. If you’d been here, though, you wouldn’t be so surprised. He’s come such a long way from the jealous boy I first met in Sunnydale. He’s grown so much. And, as much as it pains me to say, his own loss definitely made a big difference, too. He was the only one, immediately after the Hellmouth fell, who allowed me to grieve. He didn’t try to tell me that I wasn’t allowed to mourn a demon. He understood.

But he’s not the one you’re curious about. I know. If you really can’t look down from heaven – and I don’t remember that from my own time there – then I know you wish to know. Know how she’s doing.

You’d be proud of Willow, too. It was touch and go for a while and you would’ve hated Kennedy, but now...she smiles far more than she frowns. She researches every spell, from minor to major, before attempting it. And while she misses you, she’s dating a very nice woman. I hope that helps give you peace of mind.

Merry Christmas, Tara.​

 

[Puppet]

Setting; Post-Chosen.

Summary; We enter the closed quarters of Santa Claus' office on the Northpole to find him dealing with two specific letters sent to him.

December 19th​

He made a humming sound with his throat as he sat behind his desk and held a letter in either hand. The door opened softly and in walked his wife, carrying a tray of hot chocolate in the classic two cups that they always used at this time of year.

“What’s got you in such a funk, darling?” She came over and began to pour, peering over her glasses to surreptitiously glance at him.

Santa huffed and leaned forward. “I’ve got two separate letters here, my love. I don’t think I need to open them to know what they say.”

She leaned over the desk and looked at the return addresses on each of the envelopes. “Another one from the Key?” She thought Dawn was such a sweet girl – she’d never gotten coal, not even in the false memories.

“Hmm,” he replied, gesturing to the other one. “This comes from that lovely Winifred that works with that vampire. Can you guess what they’ll say?”

Mrs. Claus giggled like a schoolgirl. “Do you not agree that the Slayer and the vampire make an adorable couple?” She set down the cup of hot chocolate in front of him and popped in a few marshmallows. “Most of the elves are betting on them, with a few betting on the one with that dastard curse attached.”

“You’re as bad as the elves with your gossip, dear. You know I have to stay neutral on matters of the heart.”

She raised a brow at him. “You are allowed your opinion, darling, even if you don’t let it interfere with your work.” She grabbed the letter from Dawn. “Now, let’s open these, just in case our guesses are wrong.”

Sure enough, the letters said the same thing; Dawn wished for her sister to gain peace of mind when it came to the loss of Spike and the grief that was still enveloping the blonde woman. Fred wished something similar for a newly-recorporealized Spike, for him to have happiness and balance in his life and to make amends for his choices regarding the Slayer.

“How do you wish to proceed, Mr. Claus?” She put down her letter and took a seat across from him, sipping at her own hot cocoa.

Santa leaned back in his big chair and rested his folded hands in his lap, mulling over his wife’s question. This wasn’t the first letter from or about one of the champions of this world. He’d been getting them for years, ever since Buffy Summers was a young Slayer – in fact, his very first one had been a sixteen-year-old Alexander Harris, who didn’t even believe in Santa anymore, asking to give his friend a break.

It had been granted in small ways; even if she didn’t know it, Buffy was at her happiest in the little moments, in-between the big ones.

This, however, felt as though it might be the most important letter he answered since that first one all those years ago. Love wasn’t usually something he got mixed up with, he was fine leaving that with his winged cousin, but they had asked him directly.

Decision made, he leaned forward once more. “Go get me Elijah,” he said, picking up the phone on his desk before Mrs. Claus had even left the room and dialing the first of many numbers.

Magic only went so far, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty, too.

And so it went, that on the night of Christmas Eve, a disgruntled vampire on a mission for his Grandsire got stuck in a small airport that was snowed it. At the same time, a tired Slayer on her way home from a mission for her mentor-father-figure-boss was accidentally re-routed to the wrong place; a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere that was snowed in.

Dawn remembered that story that Anya used to tell, but as she watched her sister and the lost vampire, sharing a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve, she found herself believing for the first time since she was a child. Smile on her face, she looked out the window of her Rome apartment and saw one of the stars in the sky shining brighter than the rest.

At the same time, across the world, Winifred Burkle was staring at the same star with a smile on her own face. She had just received the Christmas card that Dawn had sent her, complete with a photo of the happy family of three, and she didn’t even care that Angel had seen it and was currently ranting and throwing things behind her.

She turned around and saw that Wesley had stood himself below a small bit of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

Dawn turned from the window and was surprised to see that Xander had made it all the way from Cairo.

Santa closed the book on his yearly list and put it with the rest on the shelf, ready to start a new one in the following year. Yes, all the good boys and girls were rewarded; even the ones that didn’t ask anything for themselves.

December 20th​

“Almost got it,” he said, his voice rough as he stood precariously on the tall ladder, head gone from her view.

She grimaced and stood ready to catch him if he fell. “It’s really not that big of a deal, dad. It can wait, honestly.”

Hank stayed quiet for a few moments and then his head came out of the attic opening with a big smile on his face. “Got it!” He handed Buffy the box.

It was covered in dust and dirt and a spider crawled quickly away from her fingers, dropping to the ground and vanishing into the living room. The Slayer shrugged and carried the brown box into the kitchen, where she set it on the island table and stared at her mother’s handwriting, declaring it ‘Holiday Memories’.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” She looked up at her stepmother, Brenda, who offered her a kind smile.

After Sunnydale fell, she and Dawn had reconnected with their father, Hank, who was back from Mexico and living in San Diego full time. He was engaged – now married – to a kind woman closer to his own age, who worked with the same firm as him; they had met when he transferred from Los Angeles. Buffy and Dawn both liked her a lot – more importantly, they liked their father better now that he was with her.

“Just feeling a little...y’know.” She let out a deep breath and grabbed the letter opener she had grabbed from the office earlier today. “Where’s Dawn?” She suddenly realized that her sister may want to be here for this.

It was Hank who had reminded her that he still had some of her mother’s things from when they were married, things he had never gotten around to splitting with her after the divorce because it was in attics or basements or even one storage unit in downtown Santa Barbara. Toys from the girls’ childhood, either that they’d made or that they had gotten for presents. With the holidays coming to an end soon, Buffy wanted to go through it.

Once it was determined that Dawn was out and that Buffy wasn’t going to wait for her return to open it, Brenda squeezed her shoulder in support and then left her alone with her thoughts, and the box. Still holding the letter opener, she carved into the flimsy tape and folded the flaps back. The first item made her smile, but that was as far as she made it, as the backdoor opened and she heard boots knocking against the wooden porch.

She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s not snowing, so I’m not sure I wanna know what you’re doing.” She stepped away from the box and looked at the vampire that stood in the doorway.

Spike smiled, that soft one that he reserved for her or Dawn. “Why don’t we just leave it there, then, luv. Whaddya got there?”

She let him change the subject with a small sigh and felt his presence as a security blanket at her back as she returned to the box. “Something of my mom’s. Dad got it down from the attic for me.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle and lay his chin on her shoulder. “Want to be by yourself?”

Buffy smiled at his thoughtfulness, patting his hands on her stomach. “That’s okay. I can be alone with you.” They both smiled at the memory those words brought forth.

Pushing at the flaps again, she reached in and brought out a small, long-legged puppet that was clearly meant to be an elf. Buffy giggled as she lovingly touched the fabric of its ears. “Mom got this for us when Dawn broke our other one. She was just learning to talk and she named it Ruff. Mom was convinced she was trying to say Buffy but only got halfway there.”

He could hear the mixture of both tears and happiness in her voice and he squeezed her just a bit tighter to him. He watched as she pulled out a few more things, telling a story about each item that made her emotions flow right out of her in a way they never had back in Sunnyhell. He thanked whatever power didn’t hate him for his past, for letting the Slayer become more open with herself and others in her life.

Halfway through the box, Buffy found a letter with only one word written on the envelope; Santa. The S was written in mirror and each letter was a different color, and she smiled, recognizing her own childish handwriting when she saw it.

Hank drew Spike into the living room with promises of alcohol-spiked egg-nog and conversations, leaving Buffy by herself as she carefully opened the letter she had written to Santa when she was just ten years old. She couldn’t remember her wishes but she wondered if she’d gotten them.

It was short and to the point and she soon put it back in the box with a smile, turning around to lean in the doorway of the living room, watching her family – Dawn had now returned from what was probably her last-minute shopping spree for presents. She looked at her loved ones and knew that the wishes had all come true; ten-year-old her had only wanted three things – to love and be loved in return, to be happy in the small moments, and to never be afraid to tell the people around her how she felt. It had been a long road, but she was finally there.

Author's Note; I made young Buffy's wishes very uncommon for a ten-year-old as a small hint toward her parents' rough marriage.

 

[Puppet]

December 21st​

Setting; Technically this is set in the world I created in one of my oldest stories Sidekick Syndrome, but you don't have to have read it to get this short one. The basics are; Buffy is a regular girl who grew up in Sunnydale and was best friends with Xander and Jesse, and Willow is the Slayer who moves there in '97.


Buffy rolled her eyes as she put the next ornament – this one shiny red with small snowflakes on it in gold – on the tree and ignored the squabbling going on behind her. She glanced to her side and shared an identical look and thought with her best friend; men.

Human, vampire, or demon, they were all the same.

The sound of a whistle rang out and Buffy flinched, knowing it would’ve been much worse for her boyfriend. “Guys, knock it off. Go get the water boiling for the hot chocolate, instead!” Cordelia gave them her famous glare and off they were.

The blonde laughed a hearty, warm sound, and stepped down off the ladder. “Okay, Queen C, what’s next on today’s agenda?”

It was December 21st and Christmas Eve was just around the corner. Since it was Buffy and Spike’s turn to host the festivities this year, the foursome of friends was spending the day finishing the decorations and had, early this morning, bought the tree that now stood gorgeous in the middle of the living room on Revello Drive 1630.

“Let’s see,” the brunette replied, stepping down her own mini-ladder and joining Buffy on the cream couch a few feet away. “Some of these jobs will be for the boys, but there is still some stuff left for us.” If there was one thing that hadn’t changed from high school, it was how good Cordelia was at bossing everyone around; Buffy thought it was hilarious.

“What about shopping? I still have some presents to buy.” She was lighting the candles on the sofa table and missed the look on her friend’s face.

“What?” It was nearly as shrill as the whistle had been. “Buffy, what the hell? How can you not be done with your Christmas shopping by now?”

They argued good-naturedly for a few minutes before the men returned and set down a tray of hot chocolate – Joyce Summers recipe – and joined their girlfriends on the soft cushions. Spike laid a kiss on Buffy’s forehead, while Xander squeezed Cordelia around the middle as they shared a smaller love-seat.

“What’s all the arguing about?” Xander looked from one woman to the other, ever the mediator between his childhood best friend and girlfriend of several years. “This is the holiday of cheer – c’mon, guys, weren’t you both cheerleaders back in school?”

Spike rolled his eyes while his girl giggled. “That was bloody lame, even for you, Harris.” Then he turned to Buffy. “If it’s me you’re havin’ a hard time buyin’ for, y’know I don’t need anythin’ but you, luv.”

“That’s sweet,” she replied, putting a hand on his jean-clad thigh. “But yours have been wrapped and hidden for a while now. No, it’s Dawn that’s giving me problems.”

Cordelia nodded very slowly, her dark eyes serious. “Right? It’s just too...weird. I mean, I care about the girl, don’t get me wrong, but...”

Xander sighed. “She’s not real. Yeah, that one’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Buffy couldn’t agree more. “I remember meeting her, that first time Xand and me went to Giles and Will’s place, but at the same time, that’s not what happened. No offense to her, but how does that not creep you out?” She shivered, thinking of the adorable, redheaded teenager that followed them all around like a starstruck puppy dog.

They talked a bit more about a subject they didn’t dare touch when the Slayer, Willow Rosenberg, was around – she was, understandably, very protective of her fake, inserted baby sister. It had only been a few weeks since the secret was spilled and they all learned what it was that Glory was looking for; Buffy still hadn’t fully forgiven Willow for the deceit, since it was her boyfriend who was out there, fighting a threat without knowing the whole story.

As if sensing where her mind had gone, Spike moved them closer on the couch and rested his cheek on the top of her head. They both sat in silence, listening to the familiar sound of Xander and Cordelia discussing something; they weren’t paying attention to the words, just the gentle hum. Both couples had been together since their junior years in high school and were completely comfortable around one another.

Buffy had worried at first, that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her first Christmas without her mother – Joyce was on a single’s cruise with her sister, Lolly – but she should’ve known that her friends and boyfriend wouldn’t let her mope around the house, missing the only family she had left.

As day turned into night, and hot chocolate turned into Chinese take-out, the conversations covered every subject they could think of, from Angel and Doyle’s adventures in LA, to Oz’s last postcard from Tibet.

They never did go shopping that day.

December 22nd​

She could hear the familiar sound of a fire burning away in a stone hearth as she passed through the portal and into the small room. It looked like a living room, but different; it was very cluttered, there was no television or radio and there were what looked like rugs hung on the walls. Despite the strangeness, it felt very warm.

Buffy watched the portal zip out of existence and then she got to work, leaving the small home and shivering against the cold chill of the outside; London at winter wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, so to speak. But she supposed that, for lots of reasons, London at winter in the 1800s was probably even worse.

With her mind on nothing but the mission, knowing there wasn’t a lot of time if she wanted to be back in time to jump the portal going home, she rushed down the semi-familiar streets of the city she had lived in for half a decade, now. She had come to appreciate what the English had to offer, but still sometimes missed California – particularly during this time of year. She had never quite gotten used to the cold.

She slipped past a fence meant to keep people out and ran across a bridge that covered a frozen lake, ignored the strange looks that came her way as she kept her narrow focus and determination, not wanting to get stuck here. Because of how little time she’d have in the past, they hadn’t bothered to dress her accordingly, hence the eyeballs trained on her.

Forty minutes after she first arrived in this time, she came to the designated spot and pulled the small stone out of her pocket, throwing it in the river and chanting the proper phrase under her breath. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her reddish-brown winter coat and waited for the sign that it was working. She didn’t hear someone come up behind her until they spoke.

“Fancy meeting you here, luv.” Despite the words, his voice was clearly nervous and shaking.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she slowly turned around, fully expecting to meet some brown-haired vampire wearing old-fashioned clothes and wanting to eat her. Instead, she was met with the version she knew so very, very well. “Spike?” Her voice came out a bit higher than usual, not that either of them realized.

They stood quite still for a while, just staring at one another, breathing each other in. Neither saw the bright lights that came up from the water behind them, the sign that the spell was working. They didn’t care. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, they were standing right there, seeing and hearing and smelling one another. Even if that last one was a bit creepy from Buffy’s perspective.

Ten years. That’s how long it had been since the last time they saw each other. Physically. Spoke to one another. And that had been inside of a cavernous Hellmouth that was falling down around both of their ears. Spike had died. Buffy had grieved. Life had gone on.

Nine years. That’s how long it had been since Buffy found out that Spike had come back from the dead...and never told her. Never contacted her. Never even sent her a goddamn letter or a freaking postcard. She was hurt. She was prideful. She never contacted him, either.

Life went on from there. Eventually Buffy moved from Rome to London, taking on the job of training the baby-Slayers that came through the new academy Giles had had built a few years earlier when they first split up across the world. Spike survived the battle that a petulant Angel had begun and moved on to other places in the US, playing the part of the traveling rogue demon hunter that Wesley had once been, too.

They had thought of one another often but rarely spoken of each other out loud, especially not with other people around. Not even when Xander had tried to get Buffy to talk about their shared loss. Not when Spike had run into Oz, who was surprised enough that the vampire was now a good guy that he almost made an actual expression. It was easy to just let everyone think that they had moved on from the other and was living in the now, instead of the past.

Well, now they were physically in the past and there was no longer any denying it.

“On a mission for the Council,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “You?”

His lips twitched but she didn’t know if it was because of a frown or a smile. “Hired by a clan of demons who wanted to set some things right. Shoulda done my research, looks like.”

As midnight came around and the snow began to fall, they walked side by side to the nearest pub and, ignoring the strange looks they were once again dealt, they took a booth and ordered some drinks. Through it all, they were quiet and unable to look away from one another for any longer than two seconds.

Willow wondered what had gone wrong when the portal opened the second time and no Slayer came through it. She would work hard for over three months, killing herself trying to find the answer. But she stopped when her arduous research brought her to a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Pratt taken in 1903 – Buffy had never looked happier, she thought.

 

[Puppet]

December 23rd​

It was going to be very simple. Buffy would put on the sexy black, shimmery number that she had found while shopping in New York with Willow and Kennedy. Her hair would be softly curled and her lips a bright red that would really make her emerald eyes sparkle. She would walk into the party and catch his eye and the rest of the room would disappear as they walked toward one another.

He would take her in his arms and they would dance like they had the night of her senior prom. She’d lay her head on his tall shoulder and she would forget all about their pasts apart – she would be happy again.

What she wasn’t expecting, was to walk into the party to find Angel already dancing with a petite blonde wearing a tight dress. Apparently, her name was Nina and they had been dating for several months now and would she like to stay and get to know them, watch them be all couple-y while swallowing down her desire to ask why he can date her, but they couldn’t make things work all those years ago.

Instead, Buffy does what Buffy does so very well; she runs. Making up excuses, she heads away from the glamorous Wolfram & Hart Christmas party, dodging a well-dressed green demon trying to hand her some champagne, and goes down an empty hall. She bursts into a random office and tries to breathe while feeling all of her well-laid plans fall apart.

She hadn’t expected Angel to be happy without her – it was Riley and Mrs. Perfect all over again.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” He stepped out of the shadows as he had the night they first met, but the difference was in how well she knew this version.

Wiping at her face, she laughed without any humor whatsoever. “I’m not in the mood right now, why don’t you come back later.” She turned her back, walking over to the windows, and looked out over the lit-up night view of her birth home.

It was only because Spike knew her so well, that he wasn’t offended or hurt; he knew exactly what it meant. Walking up behind her, he gently put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’m not the First, luv.”

Buffy swung around, forcing the vampire to jump back to avoid her luscious blonde hair getting in his face, and her green eyes were wide and shocked and teary. “How?” was all she asked, her voice cracking and her heart full of hope. “Y’know what, I don’t even care right now.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the scent that clung to his leather duster like the second skin it was.

It took him a few extra seconds before he reciprocated with his own arms wrapped around her, but he didn’t feel like he could be blamed for the delayed reaction. Seeing her for the first time since he’d given his life so she could live hers was bittersweet since she was clearly there to see Peaches and was upset when she learned that he was taken. Was it too much to ask for her to still be pining after him? It hadn’t even been a year since his death.

When they stepped away from one another, he wasn’t expecting the slap across his face – perhaps he should have been. At least his nose was still intact. “What was that for?”

Buffy offered him an incredulous glare. “What was it for? Maybe for you being an idiot who, oh, I don’t know, forgot to tell me that he was back from the dead? For hanging out around the one person you hate most in this world, rather than come be with me?” She clenched her fists to keep from hitting him again, she was done with that kind of awful behavior. “For thinking, for even one second, that I would be here trying to get back with Angel if I had known I had a better choice!”

Spike didn’t often feel this kind of bone-deep shock. He couldn’t even say anything. He didn’t have one of the snarky comebacks that he’d never run out of in the past. All he could do was stare at her and pray that she wasn’t going to disappear. That he wasn’t going to wake up back in his shithole of an apartment and find that this was all just a horrible dream that he didn’t wish to come out of.

Sensing what he was feeling, Buffy let go of her anger – for the moment, at least – and took the few steps that brought her back inside his space. “You are going to tell me everything. How. When. Why. What’s happened since the when. All of it. But not right now.” She reached down and grabbed his hand, laying her other one on the outside of his coat. “Right now, what you’re gonna do, is take me out to that party and dance with me. Every slow song, you will dance with me.”

It was a mixture of a smile and a smirk that he offered her in return, grasping her hand tightly as he began to back them both out of the office and into the hallway beyond. “What did I tell you, luv?”

Buffy grinned and rolled her eyes. “All we’ve ever done is dance.”

“Bloody right.”


Authors Note; The final chapter will be up tomorrow, around noon my time, which for some of you will still be the 23rd. Just a heads up 🙂

 

[Puppet]

December 24th​

Buffy glanced at the clock over the TV. “It’s past midnight,” she whispered to the man sitting beside her.

He smiled and leaned in to whisper back. “Merry Christmas, luv.” Then he squeezed her hand.

They were sitting on the second-to-last step of their home’s main staircase, surrounded only by darkness but for the twinkling lights on the tree in the living room. Their thighs were the only things touching besides their hands as they waited for the inevitable.

The Slayer had barely paid attention – beyond smiling and shaking her head – that Christmas long ago when Anya had first mentioned what the real Santa was like. That there even was a real Santa was enough to make her head spin, let alone the fact that he apparently disemboweled children. It was three years later, living in Scotland, that the topic had been raised once more, by some of the more curious and younger baby-Slayers.

But it wasn’t until now that it was even an issue.

Buffy and Spike had received a couple of miracles in the past few years, with two surprise pregnancies almost back-to-back. Now, however, their little blonde girls were at the age where they wanted to leave out cookies and milk for the jolly man in red and they weren’t ready to ruin the magic for them just yet. But they weren’t going to allow them to be in danger, either.

So they sat here, waiting for the arrival of the mysterious Mr. Kringle. Soon they would know which version was true, Anya’s or the rest of the world. They had tried to do research in preparation but nothing could be found, not even in the old Council’s giant vault of books and scrolls. They had bled Spike’s demon contacts dry – metaphorically speaking – but no one was gabbing.

Buffy moved her hand just enough to intertwine her fingers with her husband’s. “Xander said he’d call, right?”

“Yeah, but he could’ve fallen back asleep. We don’t know what part of the world the bastard would start with, anyway.” He leaned forward and rested the elbow of his free arm on his thigh.

They heard a noise from above and paused, neither of them breathing, listening for any sign that their daughters were going to wake up. The last thing they needed was to come downstairs and find one of their parents in the middle of decapitating Santa Claus. They were already going to need lots of therapy as it was, raised by a Slayer and a vampire.

Of course, that wouldn’t be as unusual in a couple of decades, considering how many of the baby-Slayers had fallen in love with soulless vampires; turned out Spike’s heel-face turn wasn’t quite as unique as he and Buffy had thought back in the day. They were both fairly happy about that though, as it also gave the vampire some friends that understood the journey he had been on, back in Sunnydale.

A noise from the living room interrupted whatever the quiet pair had each been thinking about and they rose to a standing position, leaning in to see what was happening inside the space beyond the hall. The sound definitely came from the spot they were expecting it to and they slowly entered to find some kind of thing coming through the sooty fireplace.

“Oi!” Spike said, keeping the volume of his voice too low to carry upstairs, but still loud enough to make his point. “What are you doing here, mate?”

The creature turned around and Buffy stared into the dark, empty holes where the eyes should be – there was nothing about it that screamed Santa; except for the red cloak it wore. It let out a screech when it realized it had been spotted and threw its sack toward the two intruders. Only when it hit her, did Buffy realize – with horror – that it held the freshly killed bodies of children from around the world.

“Oh, god,” she exclaimed, the mother in her taking control of her body in a moment when she needed to give the Slayer the reins.

Thankfully, Spike was more capable and wasn’t ceding control to the father inside, rushing the creature that was trying to get away and jumping on its back. It was taller than it had looked from the other side of the room, but thinner at the same time; inhumanly thin. The skin was sticky and a mottled black and red, although Spike realized that the red could possibly be from its earlier victims.

From the corner of his eye he saw Buffy come up behind it, a look on her face that almost frightened him, and he knew this night would be a trauma for their own therapist to deal with later. The Slayer overtook the mother and soon the devilish creature also known as the real Santa Claus fell to the ground, wheezing its final, haggard breath.

When Annie and Joy got up the next morning, they would find cookies with bites in them, a half-empty glass of milk, and a pristine living room. They would never know of the body buried in the backyard. Ever.

The End - Merry Christmas!​