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Title: Again This Year
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy, Dawn, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Dawn's running late to Christmas dinner.
Word Count: 1,581
Written For: Ficlet Zone 70: Reverse Fandom: Frasier (Dinner at Eight), and the author's 12 Days of Christmas 2023, this one with a special nod to Spiked Luv (I seem to recall you liking my Spike+Dawn, although this one wasn't as much S+D as I'd intended it to be...)
Warnings: Future Fic, AU, Strongly Implied Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
They had agreed dinner would be at eight. That had been over a month ago. Spike muttered under his breath as Willow kept the spell going and Buffy tried her little sister's cell number again. The Nibblet was good about not answering her phone while she was driving, but she was also just as reliable when it came to letting them know if she was running late. They'd not gotten a call from her, and had yet to be able to raise an answer from her. Spike's patience was wearing thin. He'd been ready to kill something over a hour ago, but didn't know what to kill.
He glanced up, hearing screeching tires as a vehicle made a turn outside. But he'd raced to the door every time he'd heard such a commotion for the last couple of hours, even being chastised by his wife of twenty years for fretting so much. "She'll come when she comes," Buffy had said, but that had been almost two hours ago, and there was still no sign of the Nibblet.
"IT'S HER!" Andrew called, and then he squeaked. It wasn't a squeal or a girly scream as it would have once been, only a squeak at the very edge of his voice.
Spike took off running, Faith snatching the door open just as he blazed through it. She was behind him, but he wasn't taking the time to slow or question anything. He saw the issue immediately and pounced, jumping onto the hood of the onrushing car and then plowing straight into the Demonic Elf that had plastered itself onto Dawn's hood. The things weren't as uncommon as he'd like to think. As the world grew ever darker and fewer children had a need for the Elves, more and more of the things were turning rogue. Saint Nicholas had kept them in check once, but now there were far fewer reasons for Santa Claus, or any other Saint for that matter.
He didn't bother with questions, or any details other than the fact that the Elf had chosen his Nibblet to prey upon. She'd been volunteering late at the local children's hospital, and Spike was certain that was where she had picked up the beast. They tended to like to prey on the children that had once kept them employed, and especially upon any kind soul who helped the children. Spike wasted no time in tearing the Elf's head clean off of its shoulders and then kicked his head off of the top of Dawn's car.
He was still standing on top of the car, beheaded Elf in hand, when it finally came to a stop. He heard Faith tisking from where she stood on the snowy pavement. "Damn, man, you could've left me a piece. You know I've been bored lately."
So they had. But all he'd been able to think about was the danger in which Dawn had been. She'd stopped the car now, emerged, and was looking up at him. "You know, I am perfectly capable of slaying a Demon or two myself now."
"Then why didn't you?" he asked without missing a beat. Tossing the beheaded Elf aside, he leapt gracefully to the pavement beside her. His keen, blue eyes surveyed her for any sign of a scrap, but she was unmarked. There was even a healthy glow to her cheeks, proving that she'd enjoyed her evening helping the kids.
"You look good," he observed. "Are you sure you're -- "
"I'm fine," she assured him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. She buried her face into his black shirt, letting the familiar aromas of tobacco, blood, and leather wrap around her. They'd first become reassuring when they'd been on the run all those years ago after Buffy's death, and though it was over thirty years later, they were still reassuring. And Spike's body was as lean and muscular as it had always been. He'd been her protector ever since she was a little girl, and though she'd reminded him she could hold her own, she knew there was a reason why she hadn't stopped when the Elf had attacked. She'd wanted to know just how much he still cared for her. Clearly, she was as important to him as ever.
"And you were right behind him," she said, at length releasing Spike and looking to Faith. She looked as beautiful, wild, and strong as ever, although there was no more gray atop her head than silky, black curls.
The once-rogue Slayer smirked at her. "Of course, kid. You know we've got your back."
"That's why, after all this time, we're still a family."
Dawn looked up at the sound of her sister's voice. Standing there, looking at the old woman the Slayer had actually managed to become, she was suddenly struck by just how far they had all come. Buffy and Faith were actually hitting old age. She herself would be turning fifty soon. It was a wild notion, that they'd come through everything they had, all the Supernatural battles and more, and were still --
"Come on," Buffy's voice interjected smoothly into Dawn's reverie. She jerked her now-white head back toward the open door. "Will's been keeping the food hot for hours."
"Sorry. There was a wave of sickness at the hospital. It turned out to be magic-based -- "
"Duh," Faith cut in with a roll of her dark eyes. "I could've told you that one, Shortstop."
"I know, but I was able to handle it and stop the jealous Witch -- "
"Then why not the Elf?"
"I didn't know he was there until I was leaving the garage."
"You drove all that way with that thing on the hood of your car?" Andrew squeaked.
Dawn grinned. Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I was already late like it was -- "
"She's here now," Spike said calmly, the last one to step back into his home. He looked around at the gathered people and couldn't help feeling a warm glow inside his chest. His heart hadn't beaten for decades, but he'd never felt warmer or more loved in his mortal life. He reached out, took his wife's hand in his, and drew her underneath the mistletoe. He kissed her lips lightly. Even though they'd been together now for most of her life, it was not remiss on him that no one complained, or that they all looked happily on as they embraced.
"Come on," Buffy said, gently removing herself from his embrace and leading the way to the table. She did not release his hand. "I'm sure Will's ready for a break by now."
"I'm good," Willow said with a smile. She nodded to Dawn. "Hi, Dawnie. Merry Christmas. Elf attack, huh?"
"Yeah. They never learn." She shook her head, but didn't bother to hide her grin. "You made the sweet potatoes like Mom used to?"
"Just like," Buffy answered with a grin of her own, "and fresh pecans from Will's grove."
Spike pulled out Buffy's chair, waited for her to sit, and then slide her chair underneath the table. He set Dawn next to her, but then took the seat across from his wife with a furtive glance at the head of the table. It wasn't their first Christmas without Giles, or without others, but that was one position he'd never attempt to take.
"You know," Dawn spoke, as though she could still read his mind after all these years, "I know it's for Thanksgiving and everything, but I just want to say how thankful I am to be able to be here, with all of you guys, and celebrate another year."
A murmur of general agreement passed around the table. Faith shook her head. "Who would've thought we'd make it?"
"Not me," Andrew whispered. He grinned. "And not my hordes of fans."
"You do have hordes now, don't you?" Willow asked with a slight smirk.
He nodded. "Speaking of which, I still have to ask you about that spell you used to vanquish -- "
"I've told you. I'm not giving you the exact words. We don't need noobs dabbling in magick."
"You were a noob once," Xander gently pointed out, giving her a slight, playful kick underneath the table.
"Yes, but I had Miss Calendar to help and Giles -- " Everybody fell silent as Willow looked to the head of the table.
"I miss him too," Buffy was the first to admit.
"We all do, luv," Spike said, reaching out over the table and taking her hand in his. He nodded toward Dawn as he gingerly drew his thumb across the back of Buffy's hand. "But I want to second what the Nibblet said. I'm thankful for everyone here, and that we all made it."
"Did you ever doubt?" Buffy asked, looking soulfully into his dark blue eyes.
"That you'd win the day? Save the earth? Save all our asses? Never once. That you'd love me, choose me in the end? I never really dared hope," he spoke truthfully, "but I'm thankful you did." He leaned forward and kissed her head again, ignoring the teasing, barfing sound Faith was making.
"We've all been blessed not just this Winter's Solstice but for many, many years and hopefully many years yet to come." Everyone fell silent together as Willow began to bless the food. The veils would draw shut, and they would open again, and her friends and family would still be here. She glowed with quiet gratitude, as they all did.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy, Dawn, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Dawn's running late to Christmas dinner.
Word Count: 1,581
Written For: Ficlet Zone 70: Reverse Fandom: Frasier (Dinner at Eight), and the author's 12 Days of Christmas 2023, this one with a special nod to Spiked Luv (I seem to recall you liking my Spike+Dawn, although this one wasn't as much S+D as I'd intended it to be...)
Warnings: Future Fic, AU, Strongly Implied Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
They had agreed dinner would be at eight. That had been over a month ago. Spike muttered under his breath as Willow kept the spell going and Buffy tried her little sister's cell number again. The Nibblet was good about not answering her phone while she was driving, but she was also just as reliable when it came to letting them know if she was running late. They'd not gotten a call from her, and had yet to be able to raise an answer from her. Spike's patience was wearing thin. He'd been ready to kill something over a hour ago, but didn't know what to kill.
He glanced up, hearing screeching tires as a vehicle made a turn outside. But he'd raced to the door every time he'd heard such a commotion for the last couple of hours, even being chastised by his wife of twenty years for fretting so much. "She'll come when she comes," Buffy had said, but that had been almost two hours ago, and there was still no sign of the Nibblet.
"IT'S HER!" Andrew called, and then he squeaked. It wasn't a squeal or a girly scream as it would have once been, only a squeak at the very edge of his voice.
Spike took off running, Faith snatching the door open just as he blazed through it. She was behind him, but he wasn't taking the time to slow or question anything. He saw the issue immediately and pounced, jumping onto the hood of the onrushing car and then plowing straight into the Demonic Elf that had plastered itself onto Dawn's hood. The things weren't as uncommon as he'd like to think. As the world grew ever darker and fewer children had a need for the Elves, more and more of the things were turning rogue. Saint Nicholas had kept them in check once, but now there were far fewer reasons for Santa Claus, or any other Saint for that matter.
He didn't bother with questions, or any details other than the fact that the Elf had chosen his Nibblet to prey upon. She'd been volunteering late at the local children's hospital, and Spike was certain that was where she had picked up the beast. They tended to like to prey on the children that had once kept them employed, and especially upon any kind soul who helped the children. Spike wasted no time in tearing the Elf's head clean off of its shoulders and then kicked his head off of the top of Dawn's car.
He was still standing on top of the car, beheaded Elf in hand, when it finally came to a stop. He heard Faith tisking from where she stood on the snowy pavement. "Damn, man, you could've left me a piece. You know I've been bored lately."
So they had. But all he'd been able to think about was the danger in which Dawn had been. She'd stopped the car now, emerged, and was looking up at him. "You know, I am perfectly capable of slaying a Demon or two myself now."
"Then why didn't you?" he asked without missing a beat. Tossing the beheaded Elf aside, he leapt gracefully to the pavement beside her. His keen, blue eyes surveyed her for any sign of a scrap, but she was unmarked. There was even a healthy glow to her cheeks, proving that she'd enjoyed her evening helping the kids.
"You look good," he observed. "Are you sure you're -- "
"I'm fine," she assured him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. She buried her face into his black shirt, letting the familiar aromas of tobacco, blood, and leather wrap around her. They'd first become reassuring when they'd been on the run all those years ago after Buffy's death, and though it was over thirty years later, they were still reassuring. And Spike's body was as lean and muscular as it had always been. He'd been her protector ever since she was a little girl, and though she'd reminded him she could hold her own, she knew there was a reason why she hadn't stopped when the Elf had attacked. She'd wanted to know just how much he still cared for her. Clearly, she was as important to him as ever.
"And you were right behind him," she said, at length releasing Spike and looking to Faith. She looked as beautiful, wild, and strong as ever, although there was no more gray atop her head than silky, black curls.
The once-rogue Slayer smirked at her. "Of course, kid. You know we've got your back."
"That's why, after all this time, we're still a family."
Dawn looked up at the sound of her sister's voice. Standing there, looking at the old woman the Slayer had actually managed to become, she was suddenly struck by just how far they had all come. Buffy and Faith were actually hitting old age. She herself would be turning fifty soon. It was a wild notion, that they'd come through everything they had, all the Supernatural battles and more, and were still --
"Come on," Buffy's voice interjected smoothly into Dawn's reverie. She jerked her now-white head back toward the open door. "Will's been keeping the food hot for hours."
"Sorry. There was a wave of sickness at the hospital. It turned out to be magic-based -- "
"Duh," Faith cut in with a roll of her dark eyes. "I could've told you that one, Shortstop."
"I know, but I was able to handle it and stop the jealous Witch -- "
"Then why not the Elf?"
"I didn't know he was there until I was leaving the garage."
"You drove all that way with that thing on the hood of your car?" Andrew squeaked.
Dawn grinned. Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I was already late like it was -- "
"She's here now," Spike said calmly, the last one to step back into his home. He looked around at the gathered people and couldn't help feeling a warm glow inside his chest. His heart hadn't beaten for decades, but he'd never felt warmer or more loved in his mortal life. He reached out, took his wife's hand in his, and drew her underneath the mistletoe. He kissed her lips lightly. Even though they'd been together now for most of her life, it was not remiss on him that no one complained, or that they all looked happily on as they embraced.
"Come on," Buffy said, gently removing herself from his embrace and leading the way to the table. She did not release his hand. "I'm sure Will's ready for a break by now."
"I'm good," Willow said with a smile. She nodded to Dawn. "Hi, Dawnie. Merry Christmas. Elf attack, huh?"
"Yeah. They never learn." She shook her head, but didn't bother to hide her grin. "You made the sweet potatoes like Mom used to?"
"Just like," Buffy answered with a grin of her own, "and fresh pecans from Will's grove."
Spike pulled out Buffy's chair, waited for her to sit, and then slide her chair underneath the table. He set Dawn next to her, but then took the seat across from his wife with a furtive glance at the head of the table. It wasn't their first Christmas without Giles, or without others, but that was one position he'd never attempt to take.
"You know," Dawn spoke, as though she could still read his mind after all these years, "I know it's for Thanksgiving and everything, but I just want to say how thankful I am to be able to be here, with all of you guys, and celebrate another year."
A murmur of general agreement passed around the table. Faith shook her head. "Who would've thought we'd make it?"
"Not me," Andrew whispered. He grinned. "And not my hordes of fans."
"You do have hordes now, don't you?" Willow asked with a slight smirk.
He nodded. "Speaking of which, I still have to ask you about that spell you used to vanquish -- "
"I've told you. I'm not giving you the exact words. We don't need noobs dabbling in magick."
"You were a noob once," Xander gently pointed out, giving her a slight, playful kick underneath the table.
"Yes, but I had Miss Calendar to help and Giles -- " Everybody fell silent as Willow looked to the head of the table.
"I miss him too," Buffy was the first to admit.
"We all do, luv," Spike said, reaching out over the table and taking her hand in his. He nodded toward Dawn as he gingerly drew his thumb across the back of Buffy's hand. "But I want to second what the Nibblet said. I'm thankful for everyone here, and that we all made it."
"Did you ever doubt?" Buffy asked, looking soulfully into his dark blue eyes.
"That you'd win the day? Save the earth? Save all our asses? Never once. That you'd love me, choose me in the end? I never really dared hope," he spoke truthfully, "but I'm thankful you did." He leaned forward and kissed her head again, ignoring the teasing, barfing sound Faith was making.
"We've all been blessed not just this Winter's Solstice but for many, many years and hopefully many years yet to come." Everyone fell silent together as Willow began to bless the food. The veils would draw shut, and they would open again, and her friends and family would still be here. She glowed with quiet gratitude, as they all did.
The End
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