Title: All I Want For Christmas… (1/1)
Author: Jamie
Email: JamieA1869@cs.com
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Takes place in Season 6, but I'm taking a couple of liberties. I'm pretending that Spike and Buffy haven't had sex yet, or even all the kissing that's followed since "Once More, With Feeling."
Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Feedback: Please. This is my first and I have no idea what I'm doing
Distribution: None yet.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. and no harm was meant in writing this piece. Only the idea is mine.
Summary: Just a little exchange of Christmas gifts. Fluff piece.
Author's Note: Again, this is my first try at this and I was very nervous. I apologize if it's bad.
He stood outside her house, watching her window. Should he knock? Her bedroom went dark. She must be leaving for patrol. He took a last quick drag off his cigarette, stomped it out. He couldn't do this. He left the items on the porch and melted into the shadows before she could get outside.
Walking toward his crypt, he muttered angrily to himself. "What the bloody hell are you afraid of, you ponce? Real manly, that, leaving it on the stoop. What's she gonna think now? Playing at being nancy-boy Angelus, that's what." He kicked at a crumbling tombstone, missed, and fell backwards onto his butt. Swearing under his breath, he pushed himself to his feet and continued to his crypt.
He opened the door, glanced around at the barren atmosphere, turned on his heel and headed back out of the cemetery. He returned a few minutes later carrying a large box. He entered his crypt, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and dropped the box to the floor. Getting down on his haunches, he opened it up and grinned.
"No way that nancy-boy would do this."
▪ ▪ ▪
Buffy threw on her leather jacket as she began to open the front door. "Dawn! Patrol!" she called back up the stairs. "Remember—"
"I know, I know," Dawn replied, coming down the stairs in her pajamas. They were a short and top set, pink, with cartoon kitties. "Keep the door locked, don't invite anybody in the house, blah, blah, blah." She paused halfway down, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. "I'm not a baby."
"Yeah. Sorry. It's just—" Buffy threw up her hands helplessly, "habit. Be back later. Time to play with the creepy crawlies." She opened the door the rest of the way and stopped suddenly. "Huh?"
"What? What is it?" Dawn came the rest of the way down the stairs and joined Buffy in the doorway. They both looked down at the packages on the front step. "Where did those come from?"
Buffy shrugged. "Santa?"
"Anya said Santa doesn't bring presents. He just…um…guts kids, right?" Dawn asked, making a face.
"Uh, yeah. And the whole chimney thing. Which the front porch would be lacking." Buffy didn't take her eyes off of the two brightly colored packages. She approached cautiously.
"Um, Buffy?" Dawn stepped out onto the porch next to her sister.
"Yeah?" she asked distractedly.
"I don't think the bows will bite. No fangs."
Buffy looked at Dawn and they both laughed, relaxing. "I guess living on the Hellmouth takes its toll, huh?" Buffy said, dropping down to her knees in front of the presents. "You just start thinking surprise equals bad. But, well, how many times has that been true?"
Dawn joined Buffy on her knees and grabbed excitedly at the largest box. It was wrapped in shiny red paper with teddy bear Santas dancing around Christmas trees. There was a sparkly gold bow proudly displayed on the top next to a tag with her name on it in lavish script. It didn't say who it was from.
"Who do you think," Dawn said as she tore into the wrapping paper, "sent them?" Under the paper was a plain brown box. She paused, turning it over in her hands, looking for any clues. There was nothing. She looked up at Buffy, who hadn't picked up the other package.
Buffy sat watching her little sister, a smile on her face at her girlish excitement. "I don't know, Dawnie. Maybe one of the Scooby Gang?" She shrugged her shoulders again. "I just couldn't say. Open it," she encouraged.
Dawn opened the lid on the box and squealed. She pulled out a beautiful red leather jacket. It was the perfect for a fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year- old girl, simple and elegant. Dawn pulled it on over her pajamas and stood up to model. She spun one way and then the other, holding out her arms.
She looked down at Buffy. "What do you think?"
Buffy had a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's very nice. Who would—"
"Open yours!" Dawn cried, interrupting her.
Buffy pulled the smaller box into her lap. This one was wrapped in bright gold metallic paper with silver snowflakes all over it. The huge metallic silver bow glittered in the porch light. There was a tag that said, simply, "For Buffy." She didn't recognize the handwriting as belonging to any of her friends.
She fingered the big bow for a moment. Dawn wasn't that patient. "Hurry up!" she said, coming to sit down next to Buffy, proudly wearing her new jacket.
Buffy carefully pulled the tape at the ends of the package, not wanting to rip the beautiful paper. She ignored Dawn's impatience as she folded the paper into a neat square. Now she had a plain white box with no distinguishing marks on it. She opened the lid and smiled.
Inside was a stuffed pink pig. She pulled it out, saw the long eyelashes and pretty blue bow on the head and the note attached to its chest saying, "Mrs. Gordo." Buffy laughed. "Looks like Mr. Gordo got hitched!" she said, referring to her favorite childhood toy which could now be found resting on her bed upstairs.
"Wait," Dawn said. She reached into the box. "There's something else." She pulled out a long piece of wood, carved to a sharp point at one end.
Buffy took the stake from Dawn, turning it over in her hands. It was…beautiful. Not your typical quickly carved piece of wood. It was a lustrous white, perfectly smoothed. Someone had spent a long time carefully sharpening the point and whittling the beautiful design on the non-pointed end—a solar eclipse, with the moon partially covering the sun. Next to that was a small, elegant "B."
Buffy let out a small, "Oh."
Dawn took the stake back and touched the design, almost reverently. "Wow," she said. "That's so cool. Who do you think—"
"Listen, Dawnie, I have to patrol. You know, before it gets too late. Go inside and lock up. I'll be back soon." With that, she put Mrs. Gordo back in the box, grabbed the stake from Dawn and tucked it into the back of her jeans, under her jacket. She got to her feet and ran back inside and up to her room. She returned a minute later tucking something into her jacket and walked away without looking back, still carrying the box.
"Um, okay…" Dawn said softly to her sister's retreating back. What was that all about? she wondered to herself.
▪ ▪ ▪
About an hour later, after making a couple of quick stops, Buffy approached the crypt. The door was open and light spilled out into the graveyard. She narrowed her eyes. He really shouldn't leave the door open like that. Anybody could just—
She stopped in her tracks. What was that?
"Then one foggy Christmas Eve, th' Master came to say—Bloody hell!" he broke off.
She peeked around the corner into the crypt, not wanting him to know she was there yet. She had to smother a laugh at the sight that greeted her. She quickly put her hand over her mouth and pulled back around the corner where she laughed silently.
"Spikey with your fangs so deadly, won't you make me stop this medley," he continued with his song.
Buffy composed herself and glanced around the corner again. He sat on the floor near his sarcophagus surrounded by a huge pile of Christmas lights. He was trying to undo the knots, muttering to himself in between verses, frustrated. There was tinsel all over the place and a small Christmas tree on the floor near him. The star was crooked and made out of…gold and silver metallic wrapping paper.
"Then how the vamps all loved him, as they shouted out with glee, Spikey the Big Bad vampire, you'll go on a killing spree!" he finished proudly. He carefully studied the ball of wire in his hands and swore again.
Buffy stepped fully into the crypt, clapping her hands loudly. He dropped the ball to the floor and jumped quickly to his feet, brushing off his leather duster.
"Slayer!" he said accusingly, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Spike!" she mimicked, trying to sound stern. She was sure that she failed. How could she not?
"How—um, how long 'ave you been there, pet?"
Still, with the avoiding of the gaze, she thought. She wandered over to stand right in front of him, pushing at the ball of lights with her toe until he looked at her. "Well, since about three—or was it two?—bloody hells ago. I think." She looked at him innocently, hands behind her back.
"Oh. Well, about that. Um, just a little ditty I made up. Y'know, all those years ago. Lots of Christmases, you know." He realized he was starting to babble and shut up, running a hand through his bleached hair.
"Well, I can't say it brought the warm and fuzzies, but it was…interesting, at least. Who knew you were so creative, Spikey?" She bent down to mess with the knot, and for the first time he noticed that she'd had her hands full. She put down a familiar white box, followed by a small wrapped package.
"What you got there?" he asked, nudging the present softly with his boot. He didn't mention the other box. Figured she'd bring it up if she wanted to.
"Oh, nothing much. Just…" She got to her feet and faced him full on, meeting his eyes. There was something in them that he didn't recognize. She picked up the package and handed it to him. "Here. It's for you."
He looked at the small package in his hands. It was wrapped all in stark black, with a blood red bow and a tag that read "Big Bad." If he'd had breath, it would have caught in his throat.
"It's just something little, but…"
Spike pressed one finger against her lips to silence her. He unwrapped the package just as carefully as she had earlier, though he didn't know that. He was still struggling to process just what was going on. The paper dropped to the floor and he stared down at the item in his hands.
It was a beautiful silver frame, one of the heavy kinds. There were swirled etchings around all sides. At the top was a crescent moon. And captured behind the glass, her picture smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. He traced one finger over her cheek, smoothly running over the cool glass.
"I…" Buffy began. "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?" he whispered, still not looking up at her. He continued to trace over her features behind the glass.
Buffy bent down and picked up the white box. She took out Mrs. Gordo and clutched the stuffed pig to her for a moment before holding her out toward Spike. "How did you—I mean, did you—"
He finally looked up and she caught a suspicious glistening in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.
"I saw that a bit back, thought you might like it. And the Lil' Bit. Caught her looking at jackets in one of those girly mags she reads. D'you know she tried doin' one of those bloody tests on me? 'Is he boyfriend material' or some such tripe." He smiled at the thought, shaking his head.
Buffy pulled the stake from the back of her jeans. She held it in her hands, almost tenderly. "And this?" She rubbed her finger across the moon at the base.
"Oh, that. Nothin', really. Just…bored one day, that's all." But he wouldn't meet her eyes again.
"The one time day and night become one," she whispered softly.
He stared at her. "That's right." He looked down at the picture still clutched in his hands. "Thank you, pet. This is…perfect." He walked away to put the frame on top of the television. It's not like he had a bedside table or anything.
"Spike."
"Yeah, pet?" he said over his shoulder, still situating the frame so it sat just so.
"That was only part of your gift."
He stopped what he was doing and turned around, only to find her standing right in front of him, barely an inch separating them. He swallowed. "Uh, right. Where's the rest, then?" he said with what he hoped was his usual cocky grin.
"Here." And she just stood there, looking at him.
He furrowed his brow, confused. "Where?" he asked, looking around the crypt. Seeing no more packages, he looked into her eyes once again. What he saw there made his throat go dry. His heart would have gone double time if it still beat.
She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cool palm with her thumb. A shiver went up his spine and he moaned softly. "Buffy—"
It was her turn to place a finger over his lips. "Shh…don't you want the rest of your present?" She removed her finger and brushed a white-blond lock of hair off his forehead. "It's right here." She took one of his hands and placed it on her hip. "And here," she said, taking his other hand and putting it on her other hip. "And here." With that, she reached up to put her hands around his neck and brought his head down to hers for a long, tender kiss.
When he pulled back so that she could breath she smiled brightly at him. "Merry Christmas, Spike."
He reached out and brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Merry Christmas, Buffy."
And there was no more talking for a long time.
Author: Jamie
Email: JamieA1869@cs.com
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Takes place in Season 6, but I'm taking a couple of liberties. I'm pretending that Spike and Buffy haven't had sex yet, or even all the kissing that's followed since "Once More, With Feeling."
Pairings: Spike/Buffy
Feedback: Please. This is my first and I have no idea what I'm doing
Distribution: None yet.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. and no harm was meant in writing this piece. Only the idea is mine.
Summary: Just a little exchange of Christmas gifts. Fluff piece.
Author's Note: Again, this is my first try at this and I was very nervous. I apologize if it's bad.
He stood outside her house, watching her window. Should he knock? Her bedroom went dark. She must be leaving for patrol. He took a last quick drag off his cigarette, stomped it out. He couldn't do this. He left the items on the porch and melted into the shadows before she could get outside.
Walking toward his crypt, he muttered angrily to himself. "What the bloody hell are you afraid of, you ponce? Real manly, that, leaving it on the stoop. What's she gonna think now? Playing at being nancy-boy Angelus, that's what." He kicked at a crumbling tombstone, missed, and fell backwards onto his butt. Swearing under his breath, he pushed himself to his feet and continued to his crypt.
He opened the door, glanced around at the barren atmosphere, turned on his heel and headed back out of the cemetery. He returned a few minutes later carrying a large box. He entered his crypt, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and dropped the box to the floor. Getting down on his haunches, he opened it up and grinned.
"No way that nancy-boy would do this."
▪ ▪ ▪
Buffy threw on her leather jacket as she began to open the front door. "Dawn! Patrol!" she called back up the stairs. "Remember—"
"I know, I know," Dawn replied, coming down the stairs in her pajamas. They were a short and top set, pink, with cartoon kitties. "Keep the door locked, don't invite anybody in the house, blah, blah, blah." She paused halfway down, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. "I'm not a baby."
"Yeah. Sorry. It's just—" Buffy threw up her hands helplessly, "habit. Be back later. Time to play with the creepy crawlies." She opened the door the rest of the way and stopped suddenly. "Huh?"
"What? What is it?" Dawn came the rest of the way down the stairs and joined Buffy in the doorway. They both looked down at the packages on the front step. "Where did those come from?"
Buffy shrugged. "Santa?"
"Anya said Santa doesn't bring presents. He just…um…guts kids, right?" Dawn asked, making a face.
"Uh, yeah. And the whole chimney thing. Which the front porch would be lacking." Buffy didn't take her eyes off of the two brightly colored packages. She approached cautiously.
"Um, Buffy?" Dawn stepped out onto the porch next to her sister.
"Yeah?" she asked distractedly.
"I don't think the bows will bite. No fangs."
Buffy looked at Dawn and they both laughed, relaxing. "I guess living on the Hellmouth takes its toll, huh?" Buffy said, dropping down to her knees in front of the presents. "You just start thinking surprise equals bad. But, well, how many times has that been true?"
Dawn joined Buffy on her knees and grabbed excitedly at the largest box. It was wrapped in shiny red paper with teddy bear Santas dancing around Christmas trees. There was a sparkly gold bow proudly displayed on the top next to a tag with her name on it in lavish script. It didn't say who it was from.
"Who do you think," Dawn said as she tore into the wrapping paper, "sent them?" Under the paper was a plain brown box. She paused, turning it over in her hands, looking for any clues. There was nothing. She looked up at Buffy, who hadn't picked up the other package.
Buffy sat watching her little sister, a smile on her face at her girlish excitement. "I don't know, Dawnie. Maybe one of the Scooby Gang?" She shrugged her shoulders again. "I just couldn't say. Open it," she encouraged.
Dawn opened the lid on the box and squealed. She pulled out a beautiful red leather jacket. It was the perfect for a fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year- old girl, simple and elegant. Dawn pulled it on over her pajamas and stood up to model. She spun one way and then the other, holding out her arms.
She looked down at Buffy. "What do you think?"
Buffy had a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's very nice. Who would—"
"Open yours!" Dawn cried, interrupting her.
Buffy pulled the smaller box into her lap. This one was wrapped in bright gold metallic paper with silver snowflakes all over it. The huge metallic silver bow glittered in the porch light. There was a tag that said, simply, "For Buffy." She didn't recognize the handwriting as belonging to any of her friends.
She fingered the big bow for a moment. Dawn wasn't that patient. "Hurry up!" she said, coming to sit down next to Buffy, proudly wearing her new jacket.
Buffy carefully pulled the tape at the ends of the package, not wanting to rip the beautiful paper. She ignored Dawn's impatience as she folded the paper into a neat square. Now she had a plain white box with no distinguishing marks on it. She opened the lid and smiled.
Inside was a stuffed pink pig. She pulled it out, saw the long eyelashes and pretty blue bow on the head and the note attached to its chest saying, "Mrs. Gordo." Buffy laughed. "Looks like Mr. Gordo got hitched!" she said, referring to her favorite childhood toy which could now be found resting on her bed upstairs.
"Wait," Dawn said. She reached into the box. "There's something else." She pulled out a long piece of wood, carved to a sharp point at one end.
Buffy took the stake from Dawn, turning it over in her hands. It was…beautiful. Not your typical quickly carved piece of wood. It was a lustrous white, perfectly smoothed. Someone had spent a long time carefully sharpening the point and whittling the beautiful design on the non-pointed end—a solar eclipse, with the moon partially covering the sun. Next to that was a small, elegant "B."
Buffy let out a small, "Oh."
Dawn took the stake back and touched the design, almost reverently. "Wow," she said. "That's so cool. Who do you think—"
"Listen, Dawnie, I have to patrol. You know, before it gets too late. Go inside and lock up. I'll be back soon." With that, she put Mrs. Gordo back in the box, grabbed the stake from Dawn and tucked it into the back of her jeans, under her jacket. She got to her feet and ran back inside and up to her room. She returned a minute later tucking something into her jacket and walked away without looking back, still carrying the box.
"Um, okay…" Dawn said softly to her sister's retreating back. What was that all about? she wondered to herself.
▪ ▪ ▪
About an hour later, after making a couple of quick stops, Buffy approached the crypt. The door was open and light spilled out into the graveyard. She narrowed her eyes. He really shouldn't leave the door open like that. Anybody could just—
She stopped in her tracks. What was that?
"Then one foggy Christmas Eve, th' Master came to say—Bloody hell!" he broke off.
She peeked around the corner into the crypt, not wanting him to know she was there yet. She had to smother a laugh at the sight that greeted her. She quickly put her hand over her mouth and pulled back around the corner where she laughed silently.
"Spikey with your fangs so deadly, won't you make me stop this medley," he continued with his song.
Buffy composed herself and glanced around the corner again. He sat on the floor near his sarcophagus surrounded by a huge pile of Christmas lights. He was trying to undo the knots, muttering to himself in between verses, frustrated. There was tinsel all over the place and a small Christmas tree on the floor near him. The star was crooked and made out of…gold and silver metallic wrapping paper.
"Then how the vamps all loved him, as they shouted out with glee, Spikey the Big Bad vampire, you'll go on a killing spree!" he finished proudly. He carefully studied the ball of wire in his hands and swore again.
Buffy stepped fully into the crypt, clapping her hands loudly. He dropped the ball to the floor and jumped quickly to his feet, brushing off his leather duster.
"Slayer!" he said accusingly, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Spike!" she mimicked, trying to sound stern. She was sure that she failed. How could she not?
"How—um, how long 'ave you been there, pet?"
Still, with the avoiding of the gaze, she thought. She wandered over to stand right in front of him, pushing at the ball of lights with her toe until he looked at her. "Well, since about three—or was it two?—bloody hells ago. I think." She looked at him innocently, hands behind her back.
"Oh. Well, about that. Um, just a little ditty I made up. Y'know, all those years ago. Lots of Christmases, you know." He realized he was starting to babble and shut up, running a hand through his bleached hair.
"Well, I can't say it brought the warm and fuzzies, but it was…interesting, at least. Who knew you were so creative, Spikey?" She bent down to mess with the knot, and for the first time he noticed that she'd had her hands full. She put down a familiar white box, followed by a small wrapped package.
"What you got there?" he asked, nudging the present softly with his boot. He didn't mention the other box. Figured she'd bring it up if she wanted to.
"Oh, nothing much. Just…" She got to her feet and faced him full on, meeting his eyes. There was something in them that he didn't recognize. She picked up the package and handed it to him. "Here. It's for you."
He looked at the small package in his hands. It was wrapped all in stark black, with a blood red bow and a tag that read "Big Bad." If he'd had breath, it would have caught in his throat.
"It's just something little, but…"
Spike pressed one finger against her lips to silence her. He unwrapped the package just as carefully as she had earlier, though he didn't know that. He was still struggling to process just what was going on. The paper dropped to the floor and he stared down at the item in his hands.
It was a beautiful silver frame, one of the heavy kinds. There were swirled etchings around all sides. At the top was a crescent moon. And captured behind the glass, her picture smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. He traced one finger over her cheek, smoothly running over the cool glass.
"I…" Buffy began. "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?" he whispered, still not looking up at her. He continued to trace over her features behind the glass.
Buffy bent down and picked up the white box. She took out Mrs. Gordo and clutched the stuffed pig to her for a moment before holding her out toward Spike. "How did you—I mean, did you—"
He finally looked up and she caught a suspicious glistening in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.
"I saw that a bit back, thought you might like it. And the Lil' Bit. Caught her looking at jackets in one of those girly mags she reads. D'you know she tried doin' one of those bloody tests on me? 'Is he boyfriend material' or some such tripe." He smiled at the thought, shaking his head.
Buffy pulled the stake from the back of her jeans. She held it in her hands, almost tenderly. "And this?" She rubbed her finger across the moon at the base.
"Oh, that. Nothin', really. Just…bored one day, that's all." But he wouldn't meet her eyes again.
"The one time day and night become one," she whispered softly.
He stared at her. "That's right." He looked down at the picture still clutched in his hands. "Thank you, pet. This is…perfect." He walked away to put the frame on top of the television. It's not like he had a bedside table or anything.
"Spike."
"Yeah, pet?" he said over his shoulder, still situating the frame so it sat just so.
"That was only part of your gift."
He stopped what he was doing and turned around, only to find her standing right in front of him, barely an inch separating them. He swallowed. "Uh, right. Where's the rest, then?" he said with what he hoped was his usual cocky grin.
"Here." And she just stood there, looking at him.
He furrowed his brow, confused. "Where?" he asked, looking around the crypt. Seeing no more packages, he looked into her eyes once again. What he saw there made his throat go dry. His heart would have gone double time if it still beat.
She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cool palm with her thumb. A shiver went up his spine and he moaned softly. "Buffy—"
It was her turn to place a finger over his lips. "Shh…don't you want the rest of your present?" She removed her finger and brushed a white-blond lock of hair off his forehead. "It's right here." She took one of his hands and placed it on her hip. "And here," she said, taking his other hand and putting it on her other hip. "And here." With that, she reached up to put her hands around his neck and brought his head down to hers for a long, tender kiss.
When he pulled back so that she could breath she smiled brightly at him. "Merry Christmas, Spike."
He reached out and brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Merry Christmas, Buffy."
And there was no more talking for a long time.