"No, no, no, everything's wrong!" Buffy cried into the empty kitchen. She had thought that she could handle Christmas dinner this year, but once again, she underestimated making a big meal for so many people. "Did you not learn from Thanksgiving?" Buffy asked herself, then grimaced, because she had just realized that she was talking to herself.
Dawn had asked if she had needed any help before she left to go to her friend's house, but Buffy had dismissed her with the wave of a mixing spoon.
Buffy glared at the growing pile of burnt gingerbread men stacked on the table. "20 minutes or until golden' my ass. Evil cookies," she had, sticking out her tongue at the cookies. "Why did this ever seem easy? Oh, yeah, because it was mom doing it, not me. That could explain things." She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and sat down in the chair, picking up one of the many cookbooks stacked on the table next to the deceased gingerbread men.
"Fruitcake? Not even gonna bother," she said, flipping the pages. "Nobody even eats them, anyway. If I wanted to give paperweights, I'd just go buy them at the mall, like a sensible person." She grumbled, and turned the pages, almost getting lost in all the cups and tablespoons and ounces.
She sighed, and put the book back on the pile. "That's it! Break time, right now. I have to get out of here before I scream and break all the dishes, or something equally drastic."
Ignoring the fact that she was yet again talking to herself, she huffed out of the kitchen, and yanked her jacket off the coat-rack on her way out the door. She had just enough self- control left to not slam the door in frustration. Locking it behind her, she started to contemplate how late Kentucky Fried Chicken stayed open on Christmas Eve, but then remembered that all the fast food places were probably closed by now.
"Damn," she muttered under her breath. She then started walking in an undecided direction, not caring where she ended up, as long as she didn't have to measure out butter and flour there.
Buffy was walking with her head down against the wind when she bumped into somebody. "Sorry," she muttered, not even looking up before starting to walk away.
"Bloody hell slayer. What are you doing out here? You oughta be home with the Nibblet and the Scoobies, decorating the tree or some other Christmas-y tradition." Spike was puzzled at the fact that Buffy was out so late, but not slaying.
"What I'm doing is none of your business, Spike. So just leave me alone!" Buffy realized that she had just screamed at Spike for no reason whatsoever. Yelling at Spike when he deserved it was fun, but she figured, it was the holidays, so he at least deserved an explanation for her sudden temper flare.
"Sorry Spike, it's just that Christmas dinner isn't going exactly as planned." She sighed, and started to leave again, but Spike grabbed her shoulder.
"What's the matter luv? The icing not the right color for Rudolph's nose or something?" It should have sounded teasing, but it came out caring instead.
"Nothing that easy." Buffy made a face to show him just how things had been going in the kitchen.
"That bad? Maybe I should come, try out a little of that cooking knowledge that I got from my non-vampire years."
"You cooked?" Buffy stared at him as if he had just told her that he had just been crowned Miss America. "On a stove? With ingredients and mixing and baking and everything?" She couldn't hold it in any longer, so she let out a big old giggle.
"Yes, I bloody well cooked. I was a great cook. Learned it when my mother got sick." He stopped before telling too much, before telling her he not only cooked, but also cleaned and took care of a household and raised his younger sister after his mother took ill.
"Oh," Buffy said, not knowing what else could be said after a statement like that was uttered. "Ok. You come back to my house, and we'll see if you can sort out the mess I made of the turkey, veggies, stuffing, pie and cookies."
"Fine. I'll show you just how good I am with that whisk. Then you'll be sorry you ever mocked Chef Spike." He smirked at her, then took off towards her house, Buffy right behind him.
"You can really cook?" Buffy asked, after they had taken off their jackets and went to the kitchen. She was still unsure of the whole 'Letting Spike cook' idea. Images of the stove on fire or everybody going to the hospital for food poisoning after dinner rushed through her head, and she couldn't quite shake them.
"Would I say I could cook if I couldn't? Now hand me the cookbooks and let's get started." Spike sat down at the table, and started leafing through the cookbook Buffy had given up on just a few minutes ago.
Buffy went over to the pile of gingerbread men, and brushed them all off into the trash. She really didn't need the reminder.
Looking over at where Spike was sitting, she told him "The recipes I were going to use all have sticky notes on 'em. The bird's in the fridge, all the ingredients are over on that counter," she pointed to the counter piled high with groceries, even though it was obvious what they were. "And dinner is supposed to be done by 8. It's 6 now, you should have plenty of time." She picked up the half-empty can of soda she had left on the table, and started towards the living room.
"Wait one bloody minute. You mean you're not help? Not a bit?" Spike looked at her angrily.
"You said you could cook. Well, cook." She smiled at her ingenious plan, and sauntered off to the living room, Spike staring at her as she left.
"Bloody hell. Just what I need, a bossy slayer making me her kitchen slave." He rolled his eyes, then got to work with the turkey.
A little over an hour later, Buffy was aroused from the couch by amazing smells coming from the kitchen. 'He really can cook, who knew' Buffy thought as she followed her nose to the kitchen, where Spike was just pulling his third batch of gingerbread men out of the oven.
"If you're gonna be in here, you might as well help, slayer," Spike said, turning to check the oven temperature.
"Ok, what is there to do?" At first, Buffy had just wanted to not do work, let Spike do it all, but now that she saw that he really could do it, she felt like helping out a bit.
"The gingerbread need faces, why don't you do that?" Spike looked over his shoulder for just a minute, but Buffy saw that he was sweaty and tired looking.
"You know what? How 'bout you go take a rest, and I'll man the kitchen for a few minutes. Sound good to you?" Buffy didn't know why she had offered; maybe it was the look in his eyes, a look of fatigue.
"Thought you'd never ask," Spike said before he took off the apron that he had found hanging on a hook, and took off for the living room as fast as his little vampire legs could carry him. "You need to baste the turkey, stir the vegetables and put the next batch of cookies in," he called as he left.
"Ok, I can do this. He did most of the hard work, I just hafta draw on the cookies." She sat down at the table after stirring the pan of green beans, and started working on the gingerbread men. She basted the turkey, put the next set of cookies in, and decorated ten more men.
Before Buffy even realized it, the turkey was golden and juicy looking, the cookies were done and decorated, the green beans were fully cooked, the pie was done and cooling, and the stuffing looked almost like something Martha Stuart would fix. The rolls had been put in at the last minute, so that they would be fresh for dinner. Buffy was just about to take them out of the oven, while Spike was setting the table, when the doorbell rang.
"Could you get that, Spike?" she yelled into the dining room.
"Sure luv," Spike called back.
Spike opened the door, and Willow burst in, followed by Tara, Giles, Xander, Anya, and Dawn. "Merry Christmas Buf..." Willow stopped when she saw who it was that had answered the door.
Buffy poked her head out of the kitchen, and smiled at all her friend as they took off their jackets. "Dinner's almost done. You can go set now, if you want."
"We brought food," Tara said quietly, not wanting to mention that they had all thought that they should bring some to help out. "Can you use any more?" She asked shyly.
"Food's always welcome. What did you guys bring?" Buffy replied, still poking her head out of the kitchen.
"Me and Tara made some bread, Giles brought a big thing of egg nog, and..." Willow was suddenly cut off by Anya.
"We made yams!" Anya said excitedly.
"It's only canned, but still..." Xander said, almost sheepishly.
"Good. Great! You guys go put your stuff on the table while I take these rolls out of the oven." Buffy turned around and pulled out the rolls with her oven mitts, and put them on the counter.
Buffy grabbed the turkey and started towards the dining room. As she passed by Spike, she told him to bring the rolls and the pie.
Buffy smiled as everybody complimented her on the amazing looking meal. Her comments of "Spike made most of it" were lost in the sea of "Buffy, this is amazing's." As she pulled her chair out to sit down, she noticed that Spike had left, and that there wasn't an empty place setting for him.
"I'll... I'll be back in a second." Buffy went to the door, and saw that Spike was already halfway down the block. She grabbed her jacket back off the coat-rack, and slammed the door after her in her rush to catch up to Spike.
"Why did you leave?" she asked before she had even caught up to him completely. "There's plenty of food, and I think there's even a package or two of blood in the back of the fridge."
"I don't think I'd be very welcome," Spike mumbled, and then tried to start walking back towards his crypt again. Buffy grabbed his arm. She looked up at him, a puzzled expression on her face.
"Why did you think that? You're always welcome." Buffy smiled at him to show that she meant every word of that.
"You don't hafta pity me slayer, just 'cause it's the holidays. Go back to your friends, and have a merry bloody Christmas," Spike almost yelled at Buffy, then started to jog away.
"What ever made you think that you weren't welcome?" Buffy yelled after him. "You're welcome with us any time. Dawn is crazy about, and Willow and Tara like you a lot, Giles and Xander like you, too. I even like you. Come back, have some food, have a nice Christmas for once. Please?" Buffy prayed that Spike would turn around, but he didn't. He just stopped and stood there.
"You like me? You sure act like you don't. Always playing 'Kick the Spike' and other fun games like that." He paused for a few seconds. "Gimme one reason why I should turn around and go back with you."
Buffy thought for just a few seconds before she looked over at him and said, "Because you'd be missed. That's the reason you should come back is because you'd be missed. We'd miss your sense of humor, all those insightful things you say, and how you always know what to do, even if it's not the nicest thing. We'd miss you. I'd miss you. So come back. It's just one dinner, you can do that. Right, Spike?"
Buffy looked so hopeful that Spike couldn't said no, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. "Bloody hell slayer, if I'd known you felt that way, I would've stayed. Let's go." He walked back to where she was, and held out an arm for her to hold. She took it and they started walking.
At the door, Spike leaned over and whispered in Buffy's ear, "You know, luv, next time you have something to tell me, don't wait so long. Like I shouldn't have took so long to tell you that I like you right back." He smirked, and hung his leather duster on the hook while Buffy just stood there and stared. Spike had already sat down at the table and had started on his dinner when Buffy walked in, looking almost a little dazed.
Willow stood up, and took her wineglass, and Tara gave the toast. "Merry Christmas everybody, and may many great things happen during this holiday season." They clinked glasses, and all sat back down again.
Buffy looked over at Spike, and mouthed "Many great things" to him. He nodded, and went back to his turkey. Many great things.