Title: Mythical Creatures

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 5: Star

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.

It took some doing, but the less-massive-than-it-used-to-be tree was finally bedazzled in twinkling lights and sparkling strands of garland, which reflected the dancing colors of the tiny bulbs, adding to its cheerfulness. Everything went smoothly after they tamed the demon-tangled lights. They'd opened all the boxes and had them spread out in a semi-circle around the tree so they could add the decorations in the proper order. Spike hadn't realized there was a proper order, but Dawn had explained it all to him with the air of a brainiac tutoring a hopelessly lost jock on the intricacies, and joys, of calculus.

Spike stole glances at Buffy as Dawn went on about lights going on first, then the strands of garland, then the larger ornaments, then the box of ornaments marked, 'If you break these you will die', then the box of homemade ornaments. Buffy had a small smile on her lips, apparently enjoying watching Dawn lecture Spike in her eager, animated way. Buffy with a smile was preferable to the Buffy he normally dealt with, so Spike absorbed the lecture with as much gravity as it was delivered, just in case there was an exam later... and to keep the Slayer smiling.

However, Spike balked at the lesson when a string of fake popcorn was pulled out of one of the boxes to be added.

"What's wrong with actual popcorn?" he wondered, eying the plastic version disdainfully.

"What do you mean, 'actual popcorn'?" Dawn wondered, frowning.

Spike rolled his eyes. What were they teaching the tots these days? Certainly not the important things! "Ya take popcorn and string it with a needle and thread... add in some cranberries if ya like, for color. When ya toss the tree out, just leave it on for the birds and whatnot t' snack on. Helps 'em through the long winter months, yeah?"

Dawn's eyes went wide with excitement as she turned to Buffy. "Can we do that? Let's do that!"

Buffy rolled her eyes before turning to Spike. The smile was gone, Slayer death glare back in place. "We're in California. The birds don't need help through the 'long winter months.' We have perfectly good plastic popcorn already strung and everything! Some little plasticine elf worked their little fingers to the bone making it just for us."

"Plasticine elves don't have bones," Dawn pointed out sagely. "C'mon, Buffy, it'll be fun!" she insisted eagerly, bouncing on her toes. "I'll make the popcorn – you find the needles and thread," the girl ordered, before capering off toward the kitchen.

When Buffy sighed and her shoulders slumped in defeat, Spike turned away with a victorious grin. Stringing sodding popcorn would take ages! And that meant he wouldn't have to leave for ages. Sometimes his plans were bleeding brilliant.

-x-x-x-x-x-

As it turned out, Buffy couldn't find a needle or thread. The Summers house didn't seem to have any sewing supplies at all ... or so the Slayer said. So much for Spike's plan. Bugger. Still, the popcorn didn't go to waste, they snacked on it as they continued decorating the tree, stopping periodically, at Dawn's discretion, for popcorn catching contests. These entailed one person tossing a kernel to another; the receiver had to catch it in their mouths, not using their hands. Each time they caught one, they'd have to step back further and further until they missed. Spike usually won these, though Buffy was close on his heels. Dawn was abysmal at it, but she was laughing the whole time, so that was a bit of all right.

Even Buffy was laughing and jeering good naturedly when it was Spike's turn, trying to make him miss while Dawn tossed the kernels. When it was Buffy's turn to throw, she used Slayer strength, hurtling them at him as if they were stakes; not that he cut her any slack when their positions were reversed, of course. Soon there was as much popcorn on the floor as there was in their bellies, but it had served to lighten Buffy up considerably. A good competition always seemed to put her into a better mood. Spike even let her win a few rounds, just to make sure she stayed that way.

Eventually, the fake popcorn garland was festooned upon the tree, along with what felt like dozens of vintage glass ornaments that Spike assumed were from Joyce's childhood. They were down to the last couple of dusty boxes now, the current one held ornaments from Buffy and Dawn's early years.

"Dawn's first Christmas," Spike read off, handing a shiny pink ornament in the shape of a baby rattle to the girl. Dawn took it fondly, spent a moment straightening the bow around the handle, then hung it front and center about midway up the tree.

Buffy watched her sister as Spike continued to hand out ornaments from one of the boxes for them to place on the tree. The monks had certainly thought of everything. Buffy even remembered that Christmas. She could clearly recall going to the mall and helping her mom pick out the ornament then wait for it to be customized with Dawn's name. And yet she knew none of it actually happened. It was wig-worthy.

"Promenade Ice Chalet – Buffy Summers – 1990," Spike read off another ornament. This one was a pair of glittery silver ice skates which appeared to be dangling from their laces.

"Yeah, didn't ya know?" Dawn expounded. "Buffy was gonna be the next Dorothy Hamill."

Spike arched a brow at the Slayer and handed it over to her. Buffy rolled her eyes. "I was nine," she excused, hanging the skates off to the side and toward the back, out of view.

"Did you wear those little skirts that'd flare out when ya spin and show your knickers?" Spike wondered, smirking at her.

Another eye roll from Buffy. "Of course – I was nine," she repeated.

"Still got any of those skirts?"

"What part of 'I was nine' don't you understand?"

Spike's smirk grew more lecherous. "If I got ya one o' those skirts, do ya reckon I could get a proper demo of that move?"

"Just hand over the ornaments!" Buffy ordered, trying to reach past him into the box.

"Keep yer knickers on!" Spike groused, pushing her hand away. "You'll need 'em for that twirly thing…"

"You're just begging to get staked," Buffy warned, glaring at him, but he could tell it was more put-on than real, her good mood still hanging on.

"Sing me a new one, Slayer, you're wearing out the jukebox with that one," he replied, reaching in to pull out another ornament. "What the bloody hell is that?" he shrilled, his voice rising a few octaves, his eyes wide with horror, as he held up the next decoration.

It looked vaguely like a gingerbread man, but one arm was gone, the stump painted blood-red. Its eyes were bright yellow and looked deranged, and blood dripped from his mouth, which was open in a sinister smile and showed a set of white, jagged teeth inside.

"Buffy made it," Dawn explained dryly. "Here's mine," the girl continued, pulling out a very happy, un-bloody, untoothed gingerbread man from the box and holding it up.

Buffy grabbed the demonic ornament from Spike's hand. "I told mom I didn't want to make stupid decorations that year," the Slayer complained, frowning down at her creation. She couldn't remember if she'd actually made it or if this was another planted memory from the monks, which just made it that much creepier.

"Buffy was too old for making ornaments," Dawn mocked in a sing-song voice. "Mom made her."

Spike's brows came together as he watched Buffy. "How old were ya?" he wondered in a gentle voice.

"Fourteen," Buffy admitted, looking up at the vampire. "I… was having these dreams…" She shrugged and made to toss the ornament back into the box, but Spike caught it in midair.

"Before you were Called?" he clarified.

Buffy nodded again, her eyes shifting uncomfortably away from his. The dreams, she knew for a fact, were very real.

Spike took a good look at the ornament, then back up at Buffy. "It's a vampire, yeah?"

Buffy met his eyes and gave a jerky nod. "Yeah…" she admitted solemnly. "I didn't know it at the time, but… yeah, I think that's what it is... or maybe a dreaded Gingerbread Demon."

Spike gave her a skeptical look.

She shrugged. "Vampire," Buffy acquiesced. "Mom just thought I was being bratty, but it was all I could see... all I could think about. It felt like there were monsters everywhere."

"Must'a been hard … going through that, not knowing what was happening," Spike offered sincerely, feeling unaccountably sorry for the young girl that had created the demonic Christmas ornament. At the same time, he felt privileged to be given this small glimpse behind the Slayer-curtain, even if it didn't last long. Those glimpses were few and far between for him, and he treasured each one she deigned to share.

Buffy gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, well… that's the life of a superhero without brandy."

And the moment was over. Spike snorted and turned away from the Slayer. He pretended to put the Christmas vampire back in the box, but surreptitiously pocketed it. "Let's see, what else have we got, then…" he mused, reaching for another treasured ornament. "Last one… looks like the ever-popular clothes peg reindeer," he announced.

"Mine!" Dawn trilled, reaching for it with glee and giving it a front and center spot on the tree.

"Too bad she's so timid and insecure," Buffy teased, backing up to check out the overall effect before stepping back in to adjust a bit of garland and move an ornament to fill a blank spot.

"There's another box," Spike pointed out, moving the empty one away and grabbing the last box.

"The topper," Dawn explained, pulling the folded flaps of the box open as Spike held it. "Angel or star this year?" she asked, holding both up.

"Star," Buffy and Spike both replied in one voice.

Their eyes met. Spike was afraid he'd see anger or disdain in her expression – heaven forbid he speak ill of her perfect Angel, or even imply it – but Buffy seemed amused.

Spike gave her a sheepish grin. "Guess there are things we can agree on, then, eh, Slayer?"

"Must be some kind of Christmas miracle," Buffy suggested before turning to steady Dawn on the ladder as the girl placed the glittering star atop the tree.

Spike let his eyes slip over the Slayer's shapely figure when she turned away, appreciating the way her lithe body stretched and twisted while keeping her sister steady. A swath of golden skin peeked out along her waist where her shirt rode up when she lifted her arms. He yearned to feather his fingertips over her sun-kissed skin, to drown in the soft warmth of her, to feel her quiver as he trailed kisses from hipbone to hipbone. He knew that one miracle from Father Christmas was more than he had any right to, but he couldn't help but hope for more.

End Note:

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

More soon!