Title: The Thanksgiving Nazi

Author: Jade Hunter

Disclaimer: None of the characters or properties of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Highlander belong to me.

Prompt: 035 - Turkeys.


The week before Thanksgiving, he'd heard the nickname being whispered throughout the house. Always in hushed tones, always five rooms away from her, because the person they were talking about had super hearing, super strength, and a not quite super (but still formidable) temper.

"Especially this time of year," Xander had informed him, nodding sagely. "Something about Thanksgiving...it changes her...warps her blood. Has since freshman year of college. For a long time, we thought it was a spell, but, no, it's just her. She becomes a cooking, cleaning, scolding machine who wants her peas un-frozen, her mashed potatoes without lumps, and her turkeys basted to perfection. She becomes...the Thanksgiving Nazi."

Named after a character on a TV show, he was told. Some girl had been a Christmas Nazi on some teen drama show on the WB, but he was never one for watching that kind of television, and so had no idea what they were talking about.

As Thanksgiving weekend drew closer, however, the changes her friends spoke of began to happen. First, she took over the kitchen from a highly disgruntled Andrew, who, although he complained loudly to everyone else, wisely kept his mouth shut and his eyes lowered in the Slayer's presence. Then, she handed out shopping assignments to everyone, including him, and he'd ended up having to shop for yams. Not canned, as he was later told in ringing tones, but fresh ones - that was the key. Everything had to be made from scratch, the freshest it could be, because this was Thanksgiving and she was the Thanksgiving Nazi.

With every passing day, she became more concerned with a perfect Thanksgiving and less concerned with...well, everything else. Anyone who dared to bother her with something not Thanksgiving related put themselves at risk for having their heads bitted off.

Even, as it turned out, him. Like a good boyfriend, he'd tried to distract her a few times, to get her to relax, but apparently, the Thanksgiving Nazi did not have a soft spot for boyfriends. All he'd earned was a, "Go away, or at least do something useful and peel those potatoes!"

Not a response he normally got from women when he set out to seduce them.

After that incident, Xander had come to him again, beer in hand as a consolation prize. "Others have tried before you, and we all have failed," the young man intoned solemnly. "Nothing can get her out of Thanksgiving Nazi mode, not even the promise of nookie, as you've just found out. All we can do is ride out the storm. Once Thanksgiving passes, she'll be back to normal."

All Methos could do was nod, and hope that it was true.


FIN.