Disclaim to Fame: None, none, none.
Summary: Just a little Christmas ficlet involving Faith and her 'oh-so-sane' thoughts.
Pairing: No Romace, but the Faith, The Mayor, and the Buffy
S'pretty funny how in Sunnydale everyone's just so freakin' entertained by snow. Sure, it doesn't happen much in California, but, c'mon, it's just little frozen droplets of water falling from the sky. So what?
Though snow is probably the best thing about Christmas on my list, it ain't nothin' special. I always hated Christmas, holidays, the whole enchilada. It sucks. You might say it's cause of the not-so-fun childhood, but whatever.
I did, indeed, believe in that joke Santa Claus. Yea, that was for awhile, didn't last long though. I'd be a little shit all year long, then straighten up right at the end of December, just to see what happened. Yea, he came and went, but stopped comin' after I turned eight or so.
Needless to say, I see nothing fun or great at all about Christmas.
Besides, it's not like Christmas in Sunnydale is any greater than it was with dear ol' mom in Boston. B invited me over, but I'm almost positive it was her mother's idea, and that Joyce made Blondie sulk over to my neck o' the woods, sputter out somethin' about a X-mas party with the fam, then almost run back out of this stinkhole.
Oh well. S'not like I like her very much anyway…
It's been three hours… I'm friggin' trashed, and I'm still raising glasses to the tips of my lips. So, I guess this means Buffy's little party is over and I'm glad I had no fucking part in it!
They probably ate a dinner made by Joyce, roasted some chestnuts over an open fire, opened a few presents, then hit the hay. Sounds boring as hell and I'm glad I didn't go!
God dammit, Buffy Summers, you did it again!
Make me pretend like I don't want anything to do with your life, then throw it back in my face.
I tossed a twenty dollar bill at the bartender, grabbed the full bottle of Wild Turkey from behind the bar, then stumbled off my seat and outside into the open.
By the time I reached my apartment again, I assume I had drunk half of the bottle. I opened the door, pushed myself inside, then collapsed onto the bed, the bottle still clutched in my right hand.
A few other bottles littered the floor from a few previous nights, but it's not like I'd have guests anytime soon, so it didn't bother me for now.
I was just almost asleep. You know that feelin' when you are so close to sleep, you're just reachin' out to get there, almost touching the dream you are about to inhibit, and then disturbance comes?
Well, I bet you can guess what the hell I did when I heard a knock rapping against my door.
"Beat it!" I slurred through the door, waitin' for kind of response.
After a few minutes of waiting, I heard nothing else, and continued on into my dreamland. I regret not getting up that instant to answer the door.
The next afternoon, once I finished my up-chucking all the beer I'd had, gotten dressed and ran a brush through my hair, I stepped outside for a cigarette, nearly tripping over a large, perfectly wrapped package.
Placing my cigarette into the firm hold between my two lips, I peered around for a moment before slowly beginning to unwrap the package.
Peeling off the paper, then tossing it aside, I opened up the box, still in some thought that it would be a time bomb or somethin'.
Inside, to my surprise, was a long, jagged knife. There was an inscription on the bottom that I failed to notice. The tiny little detail, easily leading me to what could be an untimely death.
The first word in my mind was Buffy.
The tiny note at the bottom of the box though, read :
To my Firecracker, Love Always.