Title: Mythical Creatures

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 4: Superheroes

Note:

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying this little story (perhaps again, if you read it as a single chapter in the 2020 EC challenge). That Christmas Miracle might be creeping closer, sneaking up on Buffy.

Thanks always to Holi117 and Paganbaby - two wonderful friends and awesome writers - who beta'd this for me - before I fiddled. All mistakes are mine.

Buffy and Dawn were sitting on the floor untangling the strings of lights next to the tree as Spike schlepped the last dusty box marked 'XMAS' up from the basement. He set it down on the coffee table as the two girls babbled happily and 'Rockin' 'Round the Christmas Tree' blared from the stereo. There was a roaring fire playing on the telly, which Spike didn't quite understand. They had a perfectly good fireplace right there, and it wasn't like they didn't have half the sodding tree in the yard they could burn, but the Summers ladies seemed happy with the fake crackling and sparking, and lack of actual smoke or heat.

Spike brushed the dust off his jeans and t-shirt as he watched them trying to unsnarl the lights. He quickly decided they were buggering the strands up more rather than less, working at odds with each other, but he didn't bother pointing that out. No sense having all the Summers' girls brassed off at him. He backed off and leaned against the doorjamb between the living room and foyer to observe, feeling like one of those wildlife presenters who gets an uncommon glimpse into a previously unknown habit of a rare species.

David Attenborough flitted through Spike's head, 'Here we see the fearsome and deadly Slayer in her sanctuary with another member of her pack. Unlike the stubborn, bossy bitch we are so accustomed to encountering in the wild, she seems fun-loving, patient, and even gentle with her tribe.'

Buffy looked up and saw him watching them and her smile faltered, the unguarded sparkle in her eye turning to the stony granite she seemed to save just for him. The moment was over. The bitch was, as they say, back.

"Spike!" Dawn exclaimed happily, a sharp contrast to Buffy's glare. "Come help."

"I dunno if—" he began, seeing Buffy's expression harden even further. He started looking around for his duster. He should just go, leave the sisters to their plight.

Dawn dropped her end of the lights, jumped up and bopped over to him in time with the music, her enthusiasm filling the whole room like golden sunbeams. "C'mon! It's a Summers' tradition!"

"He's not a Summers," Buffy pointed out dourly, but Dawn ignored her, tugging on Spike's hand to pull him into the melee by the tree.

"You take my place and I'll get us some eggnog!" Dawn suggested brightly as Spike let her pull him over to Buffy.

"We don't have any eggnog," Buffy declared.

"Sure we do! Janice and I got some – we were experimenting with it over cereal instead of milk. It's okay with Cap'n Crunch, but not so much with Fruit Loops," Dawn explained. She gave Spike a meaningful look and shoved him the rest of the way up to Buffy before she headed for the kitchen.

Spike stood there a moment, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, trying to decide what to do.

"Well, you might as well make yourself useful since this is all your fault anyway," Buffy grumbled, lifting a wad of lights toward him.

"How do you figure that, Slayer?" he wondered, squatting down on his haunches as he took the tangle from her and began trying to find an end. "If you'd take them down and box them up properly, ya wouldn't have this mess."

"We do take them down 'properly'!" Buffy defended, looking up from her work to meet his eyes. "They're always perfectly neat when we put them in the box. I think there's a Christmas light demon who lives in the basement and uses them for his love nest all year long, getting them all wadded up by the time Christmas comes around again," she suggested.

Spike arched a brow at her.

"There could be," she continued with a pout.

"Could be a Leprechaun who pisses Irish whiskey, shits gold coins, and burps rainbows, too, but, oddly, I'm suspending belief 'til I see it," Spike retorted, shifting his position to sit down cross-legged on the floor across from her.

"Shut up," she grumbled. "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What'dya mean then?"

"The tree! You bought the stupid tree!" she explained, looking up at the green monster. Even cut off, it was huge. They'd misjudged the first time they'd cut it and the top had rubbed the ceiling when they set it up. There was still a wide, brownish-green skid-mark on the ceiling that they couldn't scrub off – it kinda looked like poo. That had meant taking the tree-beast down, hauling it back outside, and cutting it again. The only problem was that it had gotten wedged between the floor and the ceiling, and had required Slayer and vampire strength to yank it free. Somehow, in doing that, one of Joyce's antique vases had tumbled off a shelf and splintered into several distinctly un-vase-like pieces.

"Shit! Look what you did now!" Buffy had cursed accusingly as the tree flopped free.

"Me!? You're the one who said we'd cut enough off the sodding thing! Not my fault you're spatially challenged," Spike barked back.

"It would've been fine if you hadn't wedged it in place like some kind of tree wedger," Buffy contended. "Mom's gonna kill us!"

"Guys! Chill!" Dawn had insisted. "I can fix it! Don't you remember that urn I broke when I was eight? Mom never knew the difference once I'd glued it back together! You just get the tree cut down more and I'll take care of the vase."

In the end, Dawn had 'fixed' the vase, though Buffy made sure to slide it far to the back of the shelf behind some other knickknacks. They had eventually gotten the tree cut down enough, and finally set up in the corner of the living room.

As Buffy and Spike worked on the rat's nest of Christmas cheer, Dawn's voice broke into their conversation, singing along at the top of her lungs to 'Jingle Bell Rock' from the kitchen. They looked that way, pausing to listen. From the way the sound wavered, it was clear the girl was dancing as she opened cupboards and retrieved glasses.

Buffy looked back at Spike and he met her gaze. Her expression had softened, looking friendly, almost warm. "Thank you for buying the stupid tree. Dawn's… she really needed this, something to distract her from… life."

Spike's brows shot up. He hadn't expected that at all. Buffy thanked him?! Had he just been transported to some backwards-dimension where up was down and Slayers had some sodding gratitude? He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, not wanting to spook her. "Just Dawn needin' the distraction?" Spike wondered gently, glancing back up, daring to catch her eyes again.

His head tilted, studying her, his gaze softening into something that resembled actual concern. Which it couldn't be because evil soulless demon... right? Buffy shrugged and looked back down at the lights in her hand, unable to hold Spike's penetrating gaze. He always saw too much! "Maybe we both needed it," she admitted in a soft voice.

"Was yer mum's idea."

Buffy nodded and started working on the untangling process again, keeping her eyes down on her work. "I know, still … you didn't have to do it." She stopped then, and looked back up at him. "Why did you do it?"

It was Spike's turn to look down. He shrugged. "Told ya. She's a nice lady – treats me like …" He stopped and swallowed, then forced himself to look back up and meet the Slayer's eyes, but only stayed there for a moment before darting away again. "Like a man … not a monster."

Buffy's brows furrowed, watching him. He was uncomfortable, maybe even nervous. His hands were fiddling with the lights, but not actually untangling them. She was about to point out that he was a monster when Dawn bounced back into the room with a tray laden with cookies and eggnog.

"Aren't you guys done yet?" she demanded, trying to sound put-out. "I thought two superheroes working together would be faster than us mere mortals!"

'Superheroes? Plural?' Buffy thought. 'What the hell? Dawn thinks Spike is a 'superhero?'

"Yeah, well, just shows what you know, Nibblet," Spike shot back, sliding over to make room for her to put the tray on the floor and sit down with them. "Any brandy in that?" he wondered, reaching for one of the glasses.

Dawn rolled her eyes, sitting down in the spot he'd made for her. "Noooo … Mom's got some weird idea that kids shouldn't drink brandy. Crazy, right? Maybe you could talk to her about that."

Spike smirked. "Sorry, Platelet, never was much with thralls," he replied easily, passing the glass to Buffy who accepted it with a strange look, but a nod of thanks.

Buffy looked between them – her sister, the mystical Key, and Spike, the monster … superhero … man? Her brows furrowed in confusion. Why did they – Dawn and her mom – see him so differently? He was a monster – not a man, not a superhero. A vampire, an evil, soulless monster with a chip in his head… who bought them a Christmas tree, kept her mom entertained in the hospital, and was sitting here under the tree joking easily with her sister.

"Shoot! Well, I guess we'll just have to settle for the fun of diabetic comas," Dawn gushed, lifting her glass. "Cheers!" she toasted.

Buffy shook off her jumbled thoughts and laughed at Dawn's joke, lifting her glass. Spike took the last one from the tray and did the same. They all clinked together over the mish-mashed wad of lights on the floor between them.

"Cheers," Buffy and Spike echoed, their eyes meeting a moment before taking sips of the sweet, thick liquid.

"Be better with brandy," Spike asserted, setting the glass down beside him on the floor.

"Drunkenness probably wouldn't help us get these lights up," Buffy pointed out, doing the same with her glass before reaching for a cookie.

"Yeah, but enough would make it so we didn't bloody care."

Buffy found herself laughing at his joke along with Dawn as she took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie. Dawn looked happy, happier than she'd been in many days. Maybe, just this once, Buffy could play along with her sister's strange view of the vampire in their midst. It would be worth it to keep her sister's mind off everything that was happening with their mom. "Welcome to superhero-dom where the tackling of impossible tasks is completed without the aid of alcoholic beverages."

"Didn't know that 'fore I signed up. Can I turn my white hat back in?" Spike wondered as he began working on the lights again.

"Nope!" Dawn answered immediately, reaching for some of the strings. "You're stuck with us for life now."

Spike looked over at Buffy who had an unreadable look on her face. His brows drew together, and he tilted his head in question, trying to suss out what she was thinking.

Buffy shrugged one shoulder and looked down at their task. "You heard her – you're stuck. I guess you're one of us now. So, get to work and make yourself useful before I change my mind and stake you."

Spike snorted. "There's the Slayer I know and love," he teased. He froze, realizing what he'd said, clamping his teeth down on his bottom lip, but it was much too late, the words were out. He glanced up at Buffy through his lashes, not lifting his head. She had stopped working and was looking at him with a confused expression. "Love to hate, meant t' say … love to hate," Spike amended lamely, going back to fiddling with the knot of lights.

Buffy cleared her throat and did the same.

Dawn rolled her eyes. How could Buffy not see the hot hunk of vampire swooning all over her? Dawn would give her eye teeth – whatever they were – to have Spike look at her that way. But Spike would never see her as more than his little nibblet. He only had eyes for Buffy, and her sister was too stupid to even notice.

"Ha!" Dawn announced after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence. "I win!" she gloated, holding up her distinctly untangled strand of lights when the other two looked up at her. "Let's get this party started!" the girl exclaimed, jumping up to begin stringing them around the tree.

"I guess we aren't very good superheroes," Buffy joked, holding up her jumble of twisted wires.

"I blame it on the disturbing lack o' brandy," Spike excused.

End Note:

Thank you again for reading! I can't tell you how much it means to me!

More soon!