Title: Mythical Creatures
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 10: Mythical Creatures
Note:
This is it, everyone! I hope you've enjoyed this little romp, I know I have. I wish you all a Happy Holiday - whatever yours is - and hope that the New Year will bring us something better than 2020 provided!
Thank you all for reading, thanks to everyone who has stopped in and left a comment, and to all the lurkers who have quietly traveled along with me. I appreciate you all more than you can possibly know.
Thanks also to PaganBaby and Holi117 for their beta assistance, though I've fiddled so much it's hardly the same chapter they originally looked at, so, of course, all errors are mine. And hugs and smooches to Paganbaby for the lovely banner.
Spike had never had a better Christmas, not even when his father had gotten him is very own horse – a roan mare called Belle – when he was twelve.
He played Santa, hat and all, as Buffy had suggested, picking out the gifts from beneath the tree and handing them out to the three Summers ladies. There had been shrieks of joy from Dawn as all the items on her list were checked off, shocked amazement from Buffy when Spike's sense of style was deemed to be 'not horrible', and subdued, but genuine appreciation from Joyce.
Spike had been overwhelmed almost to the point of speechlessness to find gifts with his name on them under the tree. Spike and Joyce had gotten each other books – the same book, as it turned out – Anne Rice's, 'Interview with the Vampire.' Joyce suggested she exchange her copy for, 'The Vampire Lestat' and Spike agreed to continue their new tradition of poking fun at vampire literature with her. Dawn had gotten Spike a new novelty mug featuring a sexy, fanged female vampire mouth licking blood from her lips with the motto, 'One bite is never enough' stenciled on the side. Spike had gotten Dawn a new diary for the new year, the cover adorned with flower blossoms and colorful butterflies, which earned him a tight hug. No one seemed to notice that Spike and Buffy didn't exchange any gifts.
When the last present had been excitedly unwrapped and gushed over, the living room looked like Spike had thought it would. The whole place was festooned with the remnants of bright paper and ribbons covering the floor, with gifts strewn over chairs and perched on the tabletops. All their hard work – all the fastidious wrapping, meticulous taping, and painstaking matching of bows to paper – was annihilated, reduced to so much cheerful rubbish. It was bloody perfect and worth every papercut and muttered curse.
"Come on, Dawn, the least we can do is get the table set," Joyce suggested as she got up and headed for the dining room, her youngest daughter following dutifully behind, leaving Buffy and Spike alone.
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before they both said, "I'm sorry about—"
They both stopped talking, then began again together, "—the other night."
They stopped again, staring across the gaudy drifts of discarded wrappings at each other. Buffy held up her hand. "Let me talk," she requested, stepping through the detritus until she was within arm's reach of the uneasy-looking vampire.
Spike braced himself, reaching up and tugging the ridiculous Santa had from his head, dropping it onto a nearby chair. He'd been such a bloody prat! Couldn't be happy with kissing her, had to go and open his big sodding mouth and—
"I… got you something," Buffy began, cutting off his thoughts as she held a smallish, neatly wrapped box out to him.
"Didn't have to," he began automatically.
"I know. I wanted to," she said, extending it further until he took it.
Spike couldn't imagine what this could be, and he was a bit afraid to open it, but steeled his nerve and carefully began to remove the paper. Buffy folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes impatiently. For someone who wrapped gifts with utter abandon, his painstaking unwrapping style was unexpectedly annoying. She managed to not just grab the box from his hand and rip the paper off herself – barely. After Spike had put the still-neat, unripped foil-paper into the pocket of his khakis for safekeeping, he held the small box in his palm and pulled the lid off.
Buffy watched his confused expression as he lifted the ornament from the box by the string and let it dangle and twirl in front of his face. It was a lacquered gingerbread girl complete with a skirt, longish blonde hair, a stake in one hand, green eyes, and a grin on her red lips.
His brows were still furrowed when he looked up at Buffy. She shrugged. "I thought that your gingerbread vampire could use, you know, some company. I mean, if you think the vampire would like that… having a Slayer to hang around with, maybe… you know, go on dates with, maybe to the movies or… or dancing, or… or patrol with..." she babbled awkwardly.
Spike's confusion cleared, his lips curving into a relieved, ecstatic grin. "I reckon the vampire would be chuffed t' bits, havin' the Slayer to hang about with. Thought the vampire said as much not three nights ago."
"The vampire said a lot of things. The Slayer wasn't sure if she'd messed it up, though. Pretty sure fleeing from the scene wasn't the response he was looking for," Buffy suggested, dropping her gaze to the vibrant sea of wrapping paper on the floor.
"The vampire's come to expect rabbiting in the face o' his declarations," Spike admitted, ducking his head and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck shyly.
"What does that mean?" Buffy wondered, looking back up at him.
"Know how many women I've said those words to in my life?"
Buffy shook her head, watching him curiously, realizing she really didn't know that much about Spike's love life other than Drusilla.
"Four, including you. And three-quarters had about the same reaction as you did. The fourth was my mum, so, not sure that should go in the tally, if I'm honest, bringing it to a nice round three outta three. Think they call that battin' a thousand here in the Colonies."
Buffy's brows drew together. "Dru... ran?"
"Not literally." He sighed resignedly before going on, "Just shagged everything with a dick, starting with Angelus and ending with that sodding Chaos demon... and plenty more in between. The other was before Dru – chit named Cecily – ironically she was what drove me to Dru's fickle arms and harsh mercies."
"Oh. I'm... sorry. I... didn't know," Buffy offered sincerely. She gnawed her lip, dropping her eyes again, this time landing on Spike's boots. He'd polished them. She blinked, taken aback by that. She'd never seen his boots shiny before. More sides to Spike she'd never seen. Buffy shook herself and refocused.
"The Slayer..." She sighed and gathered her courage, forcing her gaze back to meet his. In for a penny, in for a pound cake. "I haven't had much luck with guys who say those words to me," she admitted. "It makes hearing them a little freaksome, especially when..."
Spike waited. Her green eyes shifted from determined to unsure, and her gaze dropped back to his gleaming boots.
"Especially when the gits don't mean it? Not like they should? When they don't see what a sodding miracle it is to be with you? Can't appreciate your strength or are blinded by your light? Can't see how magnificent you are? When they're too daft to know you're worth fighting for... worth any sacrifice?" Spike filled in softly, reaching a hand out to gently touch her chin, urging her eyes back up to his, before dropping his arm.
Buffy's eyes were emerald pools shining with moisture when she met his penetrating gaze. She gave him a wan smile as she wrapped her arms around her torso like a shield. "I guess that's one interpretation," she agreed with a small, sardonic smile. "But I was gonna say especially when I had just told you that if you walked away it would... well, it would hurt... a lot. You could hurt me."
Spike's gaze softened into compassion, his head tilting as he regarded her. "Goes both ways, pet. Never hurt you, Buffy – not on purpose, not for the world. Would go to the ends of the Earth for you, pet, if ya just give me a chance. But if you walked away, it'd hurt... a lot."
Buffy clamped her teeth down over a pensive smile at his echo of what she'd said. "I... I can't say it back. Not... not yet."
"Didn't except you to. Just asking for you to stay, give me... give us a fair shot," Spike allowed.
Buffy nodded, considering. "I've never been the one who walked away... maybe even when I should've," she reminded him.
"Well, that makes two of us then, doesn't it? Sounds like a matched-set t' me."
"Like those cute penguin salt and pepper shakers?"
Spike smiled, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, like that," he agreed. "Gotta wonder, though. Should the pepper penguin worry about the salt bolting again if he says something daft?"
Buffy shrugged again, her eyes darting away from his, wringing her hands nervously. "Is the pepper penguin planning on making with the daftness?"
Spike bobbed his head in a small shrug. "Wouldn't bet against it. It's another of his most endearing charms."
Buffy's mouth twisted in a sardonic smile, but then her expression grew serious again. "Did the vampire penguin mean what he said?" she wondered in a small voice, glancing back up at Spike, then away again.
"Think the Slayer knows the answer to that, or she wouldn't have scarpered."
"I wasn't running from you," Buffy assured him. "I was just... wigged. If you get to be daft sometimes, then I get to be wigged."
"That's fair, then. Long as you come back, let me know what I've done. Let me make it up to you."
Buffy let herself smile then, a relieved, hopeful expression that reached all the way to her eyes spread over her face. "What would the making up entail exactly?" she wondered coyly.
Spike's teeth closed over his lower lip and he took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. "Better at showin' than telling," he breathed, letting his rumbling voice trail off as he leaned in, giving Buffy plenty of time to pull back, but she didn't. The last inch that separated them closed with a sigh and moan of pleasure. They picked up as if no time had passed, their lips and tongues eager and willing, their bodies pressing together, seeking out the other, their hearts reaching out to embrace the mythical creature they'd been searching for, their perfect match.
Spike began walking backwards towards the tree in the back corner of the room, away from the two other Summers' who were scurrying between the dining room and kitchen. Buffy followed willingly, chasing his lips with hers, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him from escaping.
Buffy's heart felt light, hopeful for the first time in forever. Her mom was home and doing well, and Spike – this somehow new and improved, and multi-faceted Spike – loved her. Like, really loved her – the good the bad and the Slayer-y. She didn't have to hide anything from him – not that she'd ever been able to anyway. He could see her like no one else ever had, and loved her in spite of it. No, that wasn't it at all. Spike loved her because of it. He clearly wasn't afraid of her darkness or her light, her strength or her weaknesses or even her inappropriate responses to declarations of love. True, Dawn was still the Key and still in danger, but now Buffy had another warrior at her side – one nearly as strong as she was – to help keep her sister safe. Plus... kisses. Kisses of Spike. Melty, knee-shaking kisses of Spike.
Spike turned them, swapping positions, and pressed Buffy against the wall next to the tree. His senses were overwhelmed with the heat of her, the heady scent of her, the softness of her lips, and the eagerness of her moans. She'd believed him! Accepted his affections and was clearly not averse to returning them. Dancing, movies, dates, even patrolling with the Slayer were the things of dreams... wet dreams, if he was honest. And here she was, in his arms, returning his kisses, her hands holding him to her as fiercely as he held her. He was determined to not bollix this up... though, if he did, the making up could be a bit of all right.
Their hands had just begun sliding beneath the hems of shirts to find bare, quivering flesh when the dinner bell rang, literally. Dawn had found a handbell somewhere and was ringing it with gusto.
"Dinner!" Joyce announced from the dining room over the din of the clanging bell. "Come on you two."
Buffy and Spike jerked apart, both panting for breath, but there was no fleeing, no hiding. Their eyes met and held for a long, meaningful moment. Then laughter boiled up from deep inside both of them – joyous, unfettered laughter that mingled with the glittering lights of the tree, the kaleidoscope of shredded wrappings, and the aroma of the meal. It was, by far, the best Christmas either of them could remember.
"Shall we?" Spike asked, putting the gingerbread Slayer with his other loot and extending his elbow to Buffy like a proper escort.
"We shall," she agreed, grinning as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
Dawn began clanging the dinner bell again. Spike chuckled, glancing up at the ceiling as he and Buffy turned and headed to the table, her warm hand settled comfortably on his arm. Judging by all that ringing, a whole plethora of angels must have gotten their wings to make this Christmas miracle come true.
"By the way," Joyce began as Buffy and Spike came into the dining room. "Dawn said you might know how that stain got on the ceiling and my Qing cloisonné porcelain vase got broken."
Buffy and Spike's eyes met and they both answered at once. "Santa," Buffy offered, while Spike blamed it on, "St. Nick."
"Very clumsy," Buffy continued with a knowing nod.
"Was likely pissed ... too much brandied eggnog," Spike agreed.
Joyce's brows went up. "I thought Santa was a myth."
"Well, you were clearly myth-taken," Buffy joked. Twice in one year to use that line! This made her inordinately happy.
"Are a few mythical creatures still wandering about. Just gotta know where to look for 'em," Spike revealed, glancing over at Buffy who turned to meet his sparkling, blue eyes.
Buffy nodded, her own eyes gleaming. "There could be one be standing in front of you right now and you wouldn't even realize it unless you were really looking."
"Well, you'll let me know if you see one, won't you?" Joyce wondered, not sure to be worried or curiously excited as her eyes darted around, trying to spot one.
Buffy and Spike both smiled, their eyes glittering as their gazes met and held. "Will do."
The end.
END NOTE:
Be safe, stay healthy, keep the faith, and never stop believing in mythical creatures and miracles!
If you are unfamiliar with the ringing of bells signaling that an angel just earned their wings, then stop right now, go find the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", make some popcorn, curl up, and see what it's all about. Happy Christmas, everyone!