Hello, all you wonderful people who have come to see my story!
I know, it's weird of me to post something about Thanksgiving now, but the idea just came to me .
Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters belong to Joss and his group of brilliant evil t.v.-scientist, so, don't sue. Besides, what could you do with a whole, um . . .1 . . .2 . . 3 cents anyway?
Apologies if anyone thinks I stole ideas. I know this probably isn't most original (I'm too lazy for that), but it's all mine.
Setting: Not sure, maybe S5, but . . . Joyce is alive and healthy, Dawn is here, Riley is not, all the Scoobies are here and happy, and Spike has been chipped, but he is living alone, and he and Buffy can tolerate each other (and he's friends with Dawn). In other words, it's gonna be a happy, angst-less fic, so deal.
Oh, and assume that Spike has his DeSoto (not sure when he actually gets it, I haven't have the chance to see all the episodes yet)
Summary: Buffy's in the kitchen. Trying to cook. If that weren't bad enough, Spike comes along . . .
Just a fun pointless story to cheer everyone up (figured y'all would need that seeing that it's back to school).
Rating: PG. maybe some naughty words, but nothing bad.
Distribution: I'd be surprised, but if you want it, take it. Just tell me first.
Reviews: Leave one, leave two, leave flames, leave praise. Heck, I'm open to anything!
And on with the show . . .
That is the ugliest and evilest thing I have ever seen, she thought with dismay. I'd take an apocalypse over this any day. This is foul, and awful, and ugghh . . .
The being in question looked gray, mutated, and lumpy; it felt cold and slimy, and it smelled . . . no, wait . . . she didn't want to think about that.
The thought of coming in close contact with it made her feel nauseous, but she sighed bravely and, stretching out her hand, she prepared herself for the inevitable . . .
Buffy groaned as she retracted her hands and glowered at the frozen turkey that currently inhabited her freezer. Aaahhhh! She mentally screamed. Mom must have wanted to punish me for something when she decided to go on a business trip and leaving me to cook Thanksgiving dinner.
With another exaggerated groan, Buffy squeezed her eyes half shut, and, once again, reached slowly into the freezer to take out the turkey. Holding it at arms-length with the tips of her fingers, she rushed to deposit it onto the counter as fast as she could. But, apparently, she wasn't fast enough. All of a sudden, the elusive turkey somehow slipped out of her hands, and shot up into the air.
Buffy watched with wide-eyed horror, as the much-hated poultry seemed to sail over the island counter in slow motion, and towards the back door. Flying with enough accuracy and speed to make any of it's live relatives proud, the turkey continued towards it's target when suddenly, the door flew open, and in rushed Spike with a smoldering blanket over his head. Relieved to have made it into the house without being dusted, the vampire threw off the cover, and turned around . . . just in time to catch the frozen turkey that was aimed at his head.
Shocked into silence by being assailed by poultry, Spike stood as still as a statue, jaw dropped in surprise.
If Buffy had taken the time to look, she would've found the image of the former Big Bad, holding a turkey with his mouth gaping open to be funny. But she was too relieved by the saving of her dinner, and had already become preoccupied once she realized that the turkey was safe.
Bustling around the kitchen, Buffy began to search for more ingredients needed to make her meal. "Put that on the counter, will you, Spike?" she commanded absently.
Abruptly, Buffy stopped her search mid-step to consider what she just said. She turned around slowly. "Spike, what the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
By this time the vampire had recovered sufficiently enough to have set the turkey down and collect himself. "'Ey! Is tha' anyway to greet someone who jus' saved your flying chicken 'ere, Slayer?" he demanded indignantly.
Buffy continued to glare at him, unmoved by his complaint.
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Bit tol' me to come," he stated simply. "She said that 'ere was som'thin' 'portant that the lot of ya needed help with, so I promised her I'd be 'ere."
Buffy continued to stare at him, the information just given to her being too much for her to comprehend right now.
After of few moments, Spike broke the silence by continuing, "So . . . what great evil needs ta be fought off now, pet?"
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Buffy replied slowly, "No, no demon-y kinds of evil. Wait, I'm gonna . . . get Dawn."
With that, she walked to the staircase and, in a loud yell that made Spike wince, called up to her sister, "DAWN!" (this was followed immediately by the unmistakable thump of something landing hard on the floor) "COME DOWN HERE, RIGHT NOW!"
Moments later, the young teenager stumbled down the stairs, one had firmly gripping the hand rail to keep from falling over, and the other rubbing tiredly at her eyes. "Buffy," she whined, walking into the kitchen. "why'd you wake me up so early? You made me fall out of bed."
"Dawn, it's past 11," Buffy said, exasperated.
"It's a holiday. Anytime before 12 is early on a holiday," retorted Dawn.
"Ah-em," Spike cleared his throat, catching the attention of both Summers girls. "Hate ta interrupt this sisterly argument, but can an'one please explain ta me what the bloody heck I'm doin' here?"
Both vampire and Slayer turned to stare expectantly at the teenager.
"Oh. 's that why you called me down, Buff?" Turning to the vampire, Dawn said, "Spike, Buffy needs you help." Once again facing both of them, she continued, "and if that's all, I'm going back to bed."
The girl turned to go back to the stairs, but Spike stopped her.
"Whoa, wait a minute, Nibblet," she said. "What d'you mean she needs my help?"
"Buff, you're cooking Thanksgiving dinner today, right?" Dawn asked.
"Yeaahh," Buffy said slowly. "So?"
"So, you, plus kitchen with all the sharp knives, hot stoves, and flammable things equals one great, big ka-boomy. So, someone's gotta help you, and since everyone else is probably busy, I asked Spike," Dawn explained.
"Hey! Have a little faith, will you?" Buffy said, upset. "I can cook! And I know how to handle a knife!"
At the same time Spike exclaimed, "I bloody well do have a unlife, Bit. I have things I have ta do, and unlike your older sis here, I'm not in denial, and I know I can't cook for bloody beans!"
Dawn waited both of them out, and when it seemed like they going to stay quiet, she said, "Buffy, the only time that you've ever used a knife is when you needed to kill some demon thingy. Besides, what can you cook --"
"I can make plenty of things!" Buffy interrupted, sputtering indignantly.
"Like what?" Dawn shot back with a raised eyebrow.
"Well – well —I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I can . . ." she trailed off, trying to remember the last time she was in she kitchen making something.
"Spike," Dawn addressed him, "you're a vampire! All you do in the daytime is sit in your crypt and watch soap operas. I know that for a fact! Don't think I haven't seen you!"
"Hey!" protested the vampire.
Buffy snickered, discretely covering her mouth with her hand.
"And," the teenager went on, "you can cook. You made me scrambled eggs and French toast once, remember?"
"Yeah," Spike muttered reluctantly.
"Buffy, mom expects you to cook dinner for everyone tonight, and since you can't do that by yourself, Spike's gonna help you – ah, no excuses!" Dawn said as both were beginning to open their mouths to complain again.
"So, the two of you, play nice together and don't kill each other. I want a couple more hours of sleep." With that, Dawn turned and headed back up the stairs.
There was silence in the house as the enemies regarded each other.
Then: "Y'know, sometimes, I think the Bit's older and wiser than all of us."
Buffy snorted. "Everyone would be smarter than you, Spike. But hey, she right, I do need help with the cooking. So, come on."
"Hold on, Slayer. You just insulted me, and you still think I'm gon' ta help you?" Spike expected to see her beg, but instead, Buffy lower lip slid out in a pout, and he felt his resolve weakening.
"Please," she said. "At least do it for Dawnie. Think of how disappointed she'll be when --"
"Alright," Spike snapped. "Bloody 'ell, Slayer. It only a meal, not soddin' Christmas."
He continued to grumble under his breath while Buffy smiled.
"Great!" she said enthusiastically. "Now, come on!" She grabbed her purse and prepared to go out.
"Where're we goin', pet?" Spike asked with growing dread. "I thought we were cookin' 'ere."
"We are, but I don't have any ingredients except for the turkey and that needs to be defrosted anyways," Buffy answered. "So we're going to the supermarket."
"Bloody 'ell," Spike cursed under his breath as he threw the much abused blanket over his head once again.
"We can take your car," Buffy continued, unaware of the vampire's discomfort.
Spike threw the back door open, and made a mad dash for the shade of the trees, desperately trying to make his way to the sewer system and then to his car unharmed.
Buffy followed at a slightly slower pace, thinking wryly that today was going to be interesting, at the least . . .
TBC
Like . . . hate? Go ahead and press that wonderful little button in that corner. Come on, you know you want to. . .
Sorry for mistakes. If there are any, please point them out. And, are my people out of character?
'Til next time!
le faye