Title: Mythical Creatures

By: Passion4Spike

Date: December 2020

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: Joyce is stuck in the hospital with a hole in her skull – stupid brain tumor – and it's nearly Christmas. What's a mother to do other than turn to one peroxided vampire for help making the season shiny and bright for her daughters? A fun, snarky, fast-moving (as far as Buffy's attitude toward Spike goes) feel-good short story for the holidays.

Begins in Season 5 after Into the Woods but before Joyce is released from the hospital.

Notes: Thanks so much to Holi117 for her beta assistance, suggestions, and ever-needed positive feedback! Any mistakes are mine because of all the last-minute fiddling. Banner (which you can see on A03 or Elysian Fields) by Paganbaby.

Happy Holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy this light-hearted little fic! If you've read 2020's Exquisite Corpse Challenge story, this story was one chapter of it. I'm breaking it down into small, bite-sized chapters for posting here. It is complete and will be finished posting well before Christmas. Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1. Not-enough-ness

Buffy felt exhausted as she made her way through the hospital's bright, sterile hallways. She hated hospitals, too many bad things happened in them, things she was helpless to stop. The demons that prowled these halls weren't anything she could fight. All she could do was pray that the doctors knew what they were doing and her mom was all right, because Buffy wasn't sure she could take another punch to the gut anytime soon.

Buffy knocked softly on her mom's door and pushed lightly. The fake smile she'd plastered on her face fell into a scowl as it swung open.

"Ta ever so, Joyce," said Spike, and from the amusement in his eyes there could be no doubt: the evil vampire and her mother were sharing a private joke.

As if Buffy didn't have enough problems! "What the hell are you doing here?" the Slayer demanded, coming the rest of the way into the hospital room. Spike quickly shoved something into his jeans pocket as he stood up from the salmon-pink, faux-leather visitor's chair.

"Hello, Buffy," Spike greeted the Slayer in a slow, cautious tone as he turned to face her.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Buffy ground out angrily, stomping into the room like an Imperial Stormtrooper, glaring at him.

"Buffy!" Joyce admonished from next to the vamp. She was sitting up, propped against her pillows and the raised back of the hospital bed. A pinkish blanket that might've matched the chair a few hundred washings ago, covered her lower half. She was dressed in a loose-fitting, unflattering blue and white hospital gown, and a wide, white bandage wrapped completely around her head like a hideous headband. "Spike's been keeping me company – keeping me from losing my mind. And heaven knows, I can't afford to lose any more if it! He has so many wonderfully entertaining stories."

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering at the vampire. "Yeah, like how he killed his first Slayer or maybe the slaughter of an orphanage or two? Reliving the glory days?"

Spike's original civility vanished. He scowled at her and held up a book she hadn't seen in his right hand. "Was givin' her the inside scoop on your pal Dracula. Wasn't all blood and roses like Stoker says, ya know? He's a right wanker, still owes me…"

"Eleven pounds, so you've said," Buffy scoffed.

"What's your bleedin' problem, Slayer?" Spike challenged, slapping the book down on the table next to Joyce's bed and stalking toward the little blonde with the big chip on her shoulder.

"You. You hanging around with my mom. You hanging around with my sister. You! Pretty much you are my problem," Buffy asserted, standing her ground as the predator approached, prowling forward like a caged tiger, ready to spring.

"That so? Cos, I think you're blamin' the sodding messenger. Not my fault soldier boy did a runner," Spike shot back, his defensive ire growing. The vampire felt her annoyance turn to hurt in an instant, and he regretted the harsh words. Her crossed arms now looked like more of a bandage than a shield, as if she were just trying to hold everything in, keep herself from crumbling.

"Get out of here," Buffy rasped in a low voice, as she willed the pain back down into the darkness, away from the surface.

Spike clenched his jaw, making the muscles in his cheek twitch. He looked back at Joyce who nodded. There seemed to be some unspoken communication going on between the vampire and her mother, but Buffy had no idea what it might be, and honestly, was just too tired to try and figure it out. To her relief, Spike grabbed his duster from the back of the chair and headed for the door, swinging it on as he went, his heavy boots clomping loudly, echoing down the empty corridor.

Buffy sighed and looked worriedly at her mom, who was giving her a sympathetic look in return. "Are you okay, honey?" Joyce asked, reaching a hand out, inviting her daughter to sit next to her.

Buffy shook her head and stepped up to the bed, taking her mom's hand in both of hers. "I'm supposed to be asking you that."

"The doctors say I'm doing well. I'll be able to come home soon – definitely before Christmas."

Christmas. Buffy had completely forgotten that it was nearly Christmas, what with her mom's collapse and the 'shadow' on her brain and the operation and Riley's betrayal and ultimatum and … and 'doing a runner', as Spike so eloquently put it. Oh, and let's not forget finding out her sister was a mystical Key that, she, the Slayer, had to protect from an annoyingly strong woman with a bad perm.

Joyce slid over in the bed and Buffy sat down heavily. "I'm so sorry about Riley, honey," Joyce said, clasping her free hand over her daughter's. "But Spike's right, you can't take it out on the people around you."

"He isn't people, he's Spike."

"Buffy," Joyce admonished again in her best 'I've taught you better manners than that' voice.

The Slayer rolled her eyes. "What was he even doing here?"

"We're friends, Buffy. He's really quite thoughtful and smart and funny—"

"Spike?" Buffy barked incredulously. "He's a vampire … soulless and … and evil and …"

"Have you actually talked to him? I mean without being rude and just biting his head off? I think you might be surprised," her mom asserted gently. "He's visited every night I've been here …"

"Because you're a captive audience for his stupid stories," Buffy sulked, sounding like a sullen child.

"He brought me flowers…" Joyce continued, waving a hand at a small bouquet of wildflowers in one of those plastic, hospital-issued carafes on the table.

"Which he probably got off a grave."

"And some magazines…"

"Which he stole from the newsstand."

The elder Summers sighed. "Here, have a chocolate," she offered, motioning toward a box on the table next to the book Spike had been humorously dissecting all evening. "Chocolate makes everything better."

Buffy frowned at the fancy, yet dented, gold box. "It looks like it's been used as a battering ram. Where'd you get them?" she wondered, leaning over to consider the various shapes of chocolatey-goodness.

"Spike brought them," Joyce revealed, just as Buffy had bitten into a rich, chocolate-covered caramel one. The Slayer choked. Joyce patted her back until Buffy got her breath back.

"They could be poisoned," the Slayer pointed out, eyeing the candy suspiciously.

"For heaven's sake, Buffy, they're fine," Joyce assured her, giving her another disbelieving look.

Buffy pulled a face, but popped the second half of the caramel into her mouth. It really was good chocolate. She recognized the box. It came from one of the upscale confectioners in the mall – which meant Spike would've had a hard time stealing it, they were all behind glass. Unless they were out of date and he got it out of the dumpster … a distinct possibility.

"He's worried about you," Joyce said as Buffy considered having another piece. She didn't see any coffee grounds or brown, gooey lettuce on the box, which would've been a sure sign they'd been scavenged from the garbage.

"Yeah, worried I'll stake him," the Slayer asserted bitterly, still trying to decide about the candy. "Which he should be."

"No, he's worried about you, about how you're doing, how you're feeling, if you're okay."

Buffy looked up at her mom, her expression stony. "Well, Spike should've thought of that before he showed me—" She stopped, clamping her teeth together. Her mom didn't know about Riley's vamp whores, and she had no intention of telling her. It was mortifying enough that Spike knew – knew that Riley had left her bed to go there, knew that she wasn't enough for Riley. Knew that Riley had been paying vamps to bite him because she didn't satisfy him. Just like Spike knew she wasn't enough for Angel, probably with every gory detail of her not-enough-ness detailed for him by Angelus. He even knew about Parker. Spike knew she was never enough … never enough for anyone.

"He showed you what?" Joyce asked, eyeing her daughter curiously.

Buffy lost interest in the chocolate and instead gently laid down in the narrow bed, curling against her mother. She shook her head against her mom's shoulder and closed her eyes against the pain and the tears that threatened to spill. "Nothing. It's not important," she croaked out, willing her emotions back down in the depths of that river in Egypt where she liked to drown them. "I'm not really in the mood for Christmas this year. Can we just skip it?" she asked, changing the subject.

Joyce gave her a sad smile, stroking a comforting hand through her daughter's hair. "Don't worry about it, honey. Don't give it another thought."