- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt, 1)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 2)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 3)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 4)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 5)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 6)
- fic I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus (Pt 7-epilogue)
And what Spuffy day would be complete without complete schmoop?
Title: I Saw Buffy Killing Santa Claus Pt 2
Summary: Spike gets dragged into the spirit of the holidays kicking and screaming, but is Santa all he seems? A bit of a comedic piece of fluff.
Setting: Season 5, Two days after “Listening to Fear” aired. That was the episode where Joyce was in the hospital and Ben summoned the Queller demon to deal with all the crazy people Glory was creating.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, ME, WB, Fox are the sole owners of all involved with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Thanks to Joss he allows us to play in his sandbox. I derive no compensation for these flights of fancy. The story concept is my “creation” as is all dialogue not in any original story script.
Spike had shown up early on Thanksgiving morning, having promised the Bit he’d be there to watch the soddin’ parade with her. Dawn had been afraid that Spike would back out and not show up at all since the Scoobies had never been very nice to their hired muscle on social occasions. So she had been the odd human haunting Spike’s crypt for the entire week before the event, forcing him to promise over and over that he would show.
“’Cause I totally need you there,” she’d begged. “I love the gang, but they all treat me like a kid. If you’re there, we can be all bratty together and drive them nuts.” Dawn’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of having a partner in crime.
So he’d arrived just as the first marching band was mangling “Livin’ La Vida Loca”. They sat and ate the nutritionally void breakfast of popcorn and soda Dawn had insisted was also a Summers tradition. They companionably watched as cartoon balloons and overfluffed floats passed by in far off New York City.
“What is it with these high school band directors that they have to look at the lame top 40 and ruin already bad songs by convertin’ ‘em into fodder for a marching band?” Spike looked truly mystified by the musical phenomenon.
At the end of the parade, which was actually one long shopping reminder from the famed department store to encourage excessive holiday spending, came the traditional beginning of the Christmas shopping season. The red clad (probably drunk)_ fake Santa called out his equally false, “Ho! Ho! Hos” and “Merry Christmas!”, while scruffy, phony elves pelted kids with bits of hard candy.
Afterward, those same darling delinquents would be pelting mom and dad with small fists and temper tantrums, whining about the lists of desires their acquisitive selves felt they deserved from the fat bastard this year. “Ah, the holidays,” Spike groused.
Back in the day, parents were ready to practically pay vamps to feed off the little annoying buggers with their “I want this” and “I have to have that” wails before a week had passed. Good times that!
It was due to that certain older yet equally acquisitive child and her pelting fists of demands that Spike was currently trudging through the sewers of Sunnydale to a mall packed with more emotion-fueled blood than a vamp should be near without a good bloodletting. It was that other tradition, not so much of the pleasant variety: Christmas shopping.
Dawn had not been shy about what she was hoping for in her stocking this year and Buffy’s budget just was not going to stretch far enough, not with the clan mother up to her ears in medical bills. Time for Spike to prove himself yet again to the Slayer of his heart. No nicking anything either. Slayer’d make the Bit return every item if she suspected theft. Nope, cold hard cash and lines of less than happy shoppers were the order of the day. Spike fought the urge to cry.
He’d gotten a decent price from the pawnbroker for a few items and was properly prepared for the payment; he just wasn’t ready for the actual picking out process.
He decided to pass his own personal favorite store, Hot Topic, and move on to his other familiar haunt, Tower Records. Carefully avoiding the Punk and Heavy Metal sections as well as the eyes of clerks who knew him, Spike sidled up to the section with the latest offerings from the boy bands his Bit loved so well. He would have to try to be sure to pick a checkout person that was seasonal help and not likely to remember him in the future or his entire mystique was about to be blown with these purchases.
Spike had tried his hardest to educate the Niblet to what constituted good music, music of the ages. She had tolerated the Ramones, but he would never forget the skeptical look she had given him when she first heard the Sex Pistols. No, instead Spike had been treated to the Bit rhapsodizing over Justin, Howie, Lance, JC, AJ, Nick and other interchangeable servers of tripe and hair gel, glorified dancers that passed themselves off as singers.
Armed with a selection of Backstreet Boys, O-Town and N’Sync wastes of plastic, Spike headed for the checkout. Then he headed back and added discs from Britney Spears and Faith Hill as well, thinking Buffy would likely enjoy them. “At least the Hill bird can actually sing,” Spike consoled himself. He had already picked up the latest from Matchbox 20 and Red Hot Chili Peppers for himself. It wasn’t the same as the classic goodness of the Clash or even Green Day and Rancid, but some of their tunes held up. Spike was, after all, well rounded.
Having managed to avoid any clerk that knew him on sight, Spike quickly headed for the next stop on his list: the cosmetics counter and an assortment of paints and polishes for his girls.
He dropped by the Suncoast video store and picked out a couple of classic films for Mrs. Summers to make sure her stocking had a little something in it as well. “Poor mite will be recuperatin’ likely and nothing helps pass the time like a good flick on the telly,” he thought.
He was dreading the last stop on his shopping spree– the electronic toy store to hunt down and procure the season’s “most wanted”. It was Dawn’s most wanted as well and Spike was determined to fulfill her wishes, even if he had to eat the other shoppers to get one! A headache from the carnage would pale before the hurt look on his Niblet’s face to not receive the one gift she had none too subtly hinted that her entire happiness depended upon receiving.
“Oh, Spike, isn’t that the CUTEST thing ever?” They had seen the blasted TV news bit on the year’s hottest trends and it had been love at first sight for the girl.
“Mom and Buffy say we can’t have a real pet because no one is home enough to take care of it.
Look at that Poo-Chi, Spike! It’s a lot like a real puppy even if it can’t walk like that other robot dog.
Awwww, look at the eyes, Spike, they’re just like yours! You can see all its emotions by its eyes, just like you!”
“My eyes don’t change shapes, Bit. You see my eyes go all heart shaped, you stake me, yeah? ‘Sides, it’s a bloody robot; it doesn’t HAVE emotions.” Spike had known it was a useless argument and that the bloody tin pet was going to find its way under the Summers tree come hell or high water.
“Giles says vampires don’t have real emotions either, but he’s wrong!” Dawn had pouted.
As Spike feared, the entire population of Sunnydale’s parent division was looking for the same item for their little cherubs. “Like tryin’ to find a spare human at a vamp convention,” Spike muttered in frustration. He spotted one of the metallic puppies that had been knocked under a table in the buying frenzy and sidled up to it, intending on nabbing it before any other shopper snapped to it. His glower managed to turn many a shopper from the area and he was able to snag the item without having to resort to anything that might set off his chip.
Spike sighed deeply in contentment. The annual nightmare he had avoided for over a century was over. All he’d have to do was get the bloody things wrapped and delivered in time for the festivities. He would have loved to buy a nice necklace or bracelet for the Slayer but knew instinctively that she would reject the gift, probably accompanied with a verbal stake for his efforts. No, the CDs would have to suffice.
Captain Cardboard would likely shower her with goodies and Buffy’d shower Riley with ……”No! Don’t even think about it, mate! Slayer’s bound to realize she can do better in time. Even if it never is me like she said, least it won’t be him. White Bread’s not her happily ever after and the silly bint knows it.”
Entry originally from http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/46773.html