Operation Christmas (1/2)
Title: Operation Christmas (1/2)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss.
Summary: Set after “Wrecked” in Season Six. Spike always keeps his promises, especially to Summers women. (Mostly Spike and Dawn with hints of Spike/Buffy)
Author’s Note: This is part one. Part two will be posted on the free days! I’m still writing it but am determined that it will be done. This is unbetaed, so please forgive typos!
Dedication: For amoonchilde and eyesthatslay. . . Merry Christmas! And a special thank you to sueworld2003 for organizing the community! This was fun...
Operation Christmas
“Buffy, I’ll be fine.”
“You should come with me.”
Buffy and Dawn are standing in the kitchen, and hands on her hips, Buffy is watching her little sister as she flits around.
With her free arm, Dawn reaches in the cabinet and gathers up two coffee mugs with her one hand to prove just how fine she’ll be. “But Janice is coming over for hot chocolate and studying. We won’t be able to concentrate at the Magic Box. Plus, if you’re worried that I need company, she’ll be here. And Willow will be with you guys, so no need to worry about her doing something like taking me out and breaking my arm.”
“That’s it. You’ve convinced me.” The mirth in Buffy’s tone overlays how exhausted and sad Dawn knows she is underneath. Dawn just wishes she knew why.
“Seriously.” Dawn really really want some alone time. Buffy has been way too hover-y since she has a cast and a broken bone. Dawn moves to the pantry and brings out the hot chocolate mix, snagging the edge of the bag of marshmallows with her pinky and ring finger.
“Let me talk with Janice,” Buffy insists.
Dawn gives her a look that says, “Really?”
Buffy sighs and slips a stake up her sleeve. Then, she kisses her sister on the cheek. “Okay, fine.”
“Yay!” Dawn does a short little dance of joy.
“But if you need anything. . . anything at all, call the Magic Box. Don’t try to solve any mysteries on your own. After all, it’s not Tuesday.” Buffy opens the back door.
Dawn nods. Tuesday is Christmas, and today is Saturday, but she doesn’t think her big sister realizes that. “Got it. No Scooby-Doo’ing.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too!” Dawn tries not to sound overly eager for her sister to go away.
As soon as the door shuts, Dawn’s dance of joy becomes a whirling, high energy jig all around the kitchen island. She grins as she manages to rip open the bag of marshmallows, popping two of the tiny bits of sweetness in her mouth. Then, a little out of breath, she sashays over to the phone and dials the number for her favorite pizza place. It may be a bad day to get into trouble, but it’s never a bad day for pepperoni.
* * *
Spike hears the rumble of thunder and sticks his hand out of the doorway of his crypt. Only a few droplets hit his palm, and the breeze feels colder, signaling an impending cold front. The sky is darker than usual because of the impending storm, but so far, only sprinkles, so he’s determined. He made a promise last summer, and he’s kept his promises since he was human. That’s a long time to keep promises, and he has no intention of starting a new trend. He is, after all, a creature of habit. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather duster, he emerges from his crypt and heads toward the Summers house.
* * *
Spike is unsure who might be home, so he climbs the tree to the Nibblet’s window. He spies her sitting on the floor of her room, counting money. He frowns, deciding this is an odd activity for her to be doing. Balancing on the thickest tree branch, he gently raps on the raindrop dotted glass.
Dawn’s head jerks up, and her expression is one of alarm, but when she recognizes Spike, she pushes herself up and awkwardly shoves open the window with one hand.
“What’re you doing here?” Dawn tries not to sound annoyed. After all, this is Spike. She can never be too annoyed with him.
“Coming by to see you. Or is that allowed anymore?” He’s more amused than anything else.
She smiles. “I’m counting money.”
“I can see that, Bit, but why?”
“For pizza. I’m starving.”
“Don’t know how you lot survive on that stuff.”
“Thought you liked pizza. You ate enough of it with me last summer.”
Spike shrugs. “Was keeping you company.”
A light wind pushes past Spike into the Dawn’s bedroom, and goose bumps race over her arm. “It’s getting cold. Come in and hurry.”
Spike gracefully eases his way into the warmer room. “Your sis or Red home?”
Dawn unsuccessfully tugs on the metal window frame. “N-nope.”
Spike nudges her aside and easily shuts the glass. “Good.”
“Good? Willow, I get because well. . .” She holds up her broken arm in a “no duh” gesture. “But don’t you want to see Buffy?”
“Well, yeah. But not tonight. I’m here to see you.” Spike picks up the money off the floor and counts it.
“Me? What for? I’m fine!” Dawn slumps on her bed. “Actually, I was hoping for some time alone.”
Spike pulls a wad of crumpled money out of his pocket and fishes out a five-dollar bill, adding it to Dawn’s pizza money. “Well, it’s almost Christmas, and I made you a promise.”
Dawn takes the proffered money. “What promise? And thank you!” She lifts up the stack with a smile. She has enough to even leave a tip now.
Spike isn’t surprised that she doesn’t remember. He made the promise one of the nights she was upset about losing Buffy and was worrying about all the things that she would miss about her sister in the upcoming year. . . all the anniversaries that are so painful when you lose a loved one. “I promised you that I’d help you set up the house for Christmas.”
Excitement lights Dawn’s eyes. “Really?”
Spike smiles. “Yeah, pet. It’s almost Christmas, isn’t it? And let me guess, Buffy hasn’t gotten a tree yet.”
“No! I don’t even think she’s remembered it’s on Tuesday!” Dawn bounces. “Are we going to go pick out a tree?”
“Of course!” Why else would he have walked all the way over here?
Dawn emits a little squeal of delight. . . something that makes Spike’s heart melt, not that he would ever tell anyone. “After the pizza gets here.”
“After the pizza gets here,” he affirms.
Dawn throws her arms around his mid-section, and Spike awkwardly pats her shoulder as she continues bouncing a little. “Yay!”
* * *
After the pizza arrives and is consumed and the leftovers are safely tucked away in the crowded refrigerator, Spike and Dawn head to the front porch. The air temperature has significantly dropped, and the lightning and thunder are still trading spaces, but the rain remains only a light drizzle.
“You have to wear it,” Spike insists, thrusting the bit of plastic at Dawn.
“But I don’t want to.” Dawn crosses her arms, trying to out-stubborn the vampire. Little does she know, he has years of practice at winning this game.
“We’re not going anywhere until you put it on.”
“But I’ll look so stupid.”
Spike clenches his jaw. What is it about teenaged girls and appearances? “Looking stupid is better than ruining your cast and having to go back to the ER for a new one.” Spike doesn’t want to explain that to Buffy either.
“Yeah, you say that only ‘cause you don’t have to wear it over a heavy coat. I’m going to look ginormous like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. What if I run into someone I know?”
“Anyone you know is safely at home tucked in bed on a night like this.” He pauses. “Or they should be if they don’t want to get eaten or worse.”
Dawn juts out her chin. “Fine.” She snatches the poncho, and Spike helps her pull it over her head. “Hate being dressed like I’m four.”
Spike remembers being helpless in the wheelchair with Drusilla looking after him and thrusting puppies in his face. “I don’t blame you.”
Dawn glares at him from beneath her plastic hood and says in her most grumpy voice, “Let’s go.” She stomps down the front steps and heads down the sidewalk. “And we’re not solving any mysteries!”
With no idea what she’s talking about, Spike grins. “All right then. No mysteries.”
The closest Christmas tree lot is in the parking lot of the grocery store two miles away, and somehow Spike and Dawn make it without experiencing a deluge from the sky and without Dawn freezing to death. For once, she is grateful for California winters. On the other hand, Spike wishes that he still had his car. A car would make Christmas tree hauling much easier.
A huge tent is set up, and Dawn sees evergreen branches sticking haphazardly out of from behind the tarp. She can even smell the distinctive scent of pine, and this warms her more than any combination of coat and plastic. Spike is amused when a little skip finds its way into her gait.
Spike spies a man sitting on a stool leaning against one of the tent poles. “Well, pet, looks like they’re still open.”
“Looks like. Unlike the grocery store.” Dawn was vaguely wishing the store would be open so she could take advantage of the heat, but now that the trees are a reality, she doesn’t care.
They almost reach the tent’s entrance when Spike holds out a hand in front of Dawn. “Hold on.”
Dawn doesn’t question her vampire companion. Over the summer, she learned how his voice sounds, and right now, he’s serious and worried. She halts as Spike slowly approaches the Christmas tree salesman.
Spike reaches out and touches his warm shoulder, and the man’s body tilts, his head lolling to one side. Dawn’s eyes grow round as she takes in the teeth marks and the fresh blood rolling in streaks down the man’s neck.
Spike props the man back up, feeling for a pulse and finding none. His senses on high alert, he peers into what he now realizes is an unusual darkness in the cluster of trees. Holding his hand up toward Dawn to signal her to stay, he plunges into the tent.
Dawn hovers on the outside next to the dead body, and when straining to see doesn’t do anything, she trains her ears on the inside of the tent. A loud scuffling and the sounds of punches being thrown fills her ears, and she commands her heart to slow down so that her heart beat isn’t thundering in her ears. She’s hoping that Spike is managing the situation because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he isn’t.
She suddenly remembers that she’s a Summers girl and shouldn’t be unprepared, but she didn’t bring a stake like Buffy’s always nagging her to do. She decides she better improvise and spies a thick branch snaking out from under one side of the tent. Hurrying over, she uses her foot to crunch down on the branch. She has to repeat the motion a few times before the wood breaks free from the tree.
Picking up the wood with her good hand, she smiles at it, feels guilty, and turns to the owner. “Sorry for breaking your tree.”
A cool, strong arm circles her waist, and alarmed, she screams and tries to swing her makeshift stake in vain. The jacket and poncho really are hindering her movements.
“Pet. Calm down!” growls a familiar voice. “Stop it before you stake me!”
“Oh.” She immediately drops the branch. “Spike!”
He lets her go, and she stumbles a bit on the concrete. “You really should pay more attention to your surroundings. Buffy should be working with you on that now that you’re older. I snuck up on you with ease.”
“I was improvising.” Dawn shoves long hair that’s escaped around her hood back in place. “See. . . a stake.”
“Good one,” Spike acknowledges. “You just have to pay attention to the rest of what’s going on around you when you do the improvising.”
“Did you get him?”
Spike crosses his arms. “Her. And yes. She’s good and staked. Now you get to pick out a tree.”
“What about the owner?”
“Not much we can do now. Someone will find him in the morning. No use getting ourselves involved in something that would only bring us more trouble.”
Dawn thinks about this for a moment. He’s right. She doesn’t like it, but he is. “Can we at least move him inside out of the weather?”
Spike sighs. “Sure, pet.”
“And leave money for the tree?”
“Why should we leave perfectly good money for. . .”
Dawn raises both eyebrows at him and tries but fails to cross her arms. “You *were* going to pay for the tree, right?”
The cash in Spike’s pocket is allotted for the tree for Buffy and Dawn, but he really could use the money for other things if the owner’s dead. The look on Dawn’s face makes him hesitate. “Fine. We’ll leave it.”
“Good. He might have a family who could use it.”
“Or whoever finds him will pocket it.”
Her eyes flash with resolve. “Well, we can say we tried, and I’m going to count the money.”
Spike rolls his eyes. “Just pick out a tree.” He strides over and flicks the lights back on inside the tent.
“Any tree?” Her voice trails behind her and is full of wonder as she enters the throng of Christmas trees.
“Hey. Don’t blame me when you have to look at the price tags.” Spike bends to haul the man into the shelter.
True to her word, Dawn chooses a tree based on the amount of money in Spike’s pocket minus a twenty that she slaps back into his palm. “For blood.”
“Gee, thanks, Bit.”
“A vamp’s gotta eat, right?” She turns back to her chosen evergreen. “I love this one. It’s just tall enough for the living room and for us to reach all the branches for decorating, and it’s nice and full of needles.”
“Let’s get her home.”
Dawn beams at him, and as she does, the bottom finally drops. Rain pours down around them, emitting a loud sound as the water hits the plastic of the tent.
Spike groans. He and the tree are going to get soaked.
Now it’s Dawn’s turn to sigh. “Sure am glad I decided to wear that poncho.”
* * *
TBC...
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss.
Summary: Set after “Wrecked” in Season Six. Spike always keeps his promises, especially to Summers women. (Mostly Spike and Dawn with hints of Spike/Buffy)
Author’s Note: This is part one. Part two will be posted on the free days! I’m still writing it but am determined that it will be done. This is unbetaed, so please forgive typos!
Dedication: For amoonchilde and eyesthatslay. . . Merry Christmas! And a special thank you to sueworld2003 for organizing the community! This was fun...
Operation Christmas
“Buffy, I’ll be fine.”
“You should come with me.”
Buffy and Dawn are standing in the kitchen, and hands on her hips, Buffy is watching her little sister as she flits around.
With her free arm, Dawn reaches in the cabinet and gathers up two coffee mugs with her one hand to prove just how fine she’ll be. “But Janice is coming over for hot chocolate and studying. We won’t be able to concentrate at the Magic Box. Plus, if you’re worried that I need company, she’ll be here. And Willow will be with you guys, so no need to worry about her doing something like taking me out and breaking my arm.”
“That’s it. You’ve convinced me.” The mirth in Buffy’s tone overlays how exhausted and sad Dawn knows she is underneath. Dawn just wishes she knew why.
“Seriously.” Dawn really really want some alone time. Buffy has been way too hover-y since she has a cast and a broken bone. Dawn moves to the pantry and brings out the hot chocolate mix, snagging the edge of the bag of marshmallows with her pinky and ring finger.
“Let me talk with Janice,” Buffy insists.
Dawn gives her a look that says, “Really?”
Buffy sighs and slips a stake up her sleeve. Then, she kisses her sister on the cheek. “Okay, fine.”
“Yay!” Dawn does a short little dance of joy.
“But if you need anything. . . anything at all, call the Magic Box. Don’t try to solve any mysteries on your own. After all, it’s not Tuesday.” Buffy opens the back door.
Dawn nods. Tuesday is Christmas, and today is Saturday, but she doesn’t think her big sister realizes that. “Got it. No Scooby-Doo’ing.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too!” Dawn tries not to sound overly eager for her sister to go away.
As soon as the door shuts, Dawn’s dance of joy becomes a whirling, high energy jig all around the kitchen island. She grins as she manages to rip open the bag of marshmallows, popping two of the tiny bits of sweetness in her mouth. Then, a little out of breath, she sashays over to the phone and dials the number for her favorite pizza place. It may be a bad day to get into trouble, but it’s never a bad day for pepperoni.
* * *
Spike hears the rumble of thunder and sticks his hand out of the doorway of his crypt. Only a few droplets hit his palm, and the breeze feels colder, signaling an impending cold front. The sky is darker than usual because of the impending storm, but so far, only sprinkles, so he’s determined. He made a promise last summer, and he’s kept his promises since he was human. That’s a long time to keep promises, and he has no intention of starting a new trend. He is, after all, a creature of habit. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather duster, he emerges from his crypt and heads toward the Summers house.
* * *
Spike is unsure who might be home, so he climbs the tree to the Nibblet’s window. He spies her sitting on the floor of her room, counting money. He frowns, deciding this is an odd activity for her to be doing. Balancing on the thickest tree branch, he gently raps on the raindrop dotted glass.
Dawn’s head jerks up, and her expression is one of alarm, but when she recognizes Spike, she pushes herself up and awkwardly shoves open the window with one hand.
“What’re you doing here?” Dawn tries not to sound annoyed. After all, this is Spike. She can never be too annoyed with him.
“Coming by to see you. Or is that allowed anymore?” He’s more amused than anything else.
She smiles. “I’m counting money.”
“I can see that, Bit, but why?”
“For pizza. I’m starving.”
“Don’t know how you lot survive on that stuff.”
“Thought you liked pizza. You ate enough of it with me last summer.”
Spike shrugs. “Was keeping you company.”
A light wind pushes past Spike into the Dawn’s bedroom, and goose bumps race over her arm. “It’s getting cold. Come in and hurry.”
Spike gracefully eases his way into the warmer room. “Your sis or Red home?”
Dawn unsuccessfully tugs on the metal window frame. “N-nope.”
Spike nudges her aside and easily shuts the glass. “Good.”
“Good? Willow, I get because well. . .” She holds up her broken arm in a “no duh” gesture. “But don’t you want to see Buffy?”
“Well, yeah. But not tonight. I’m here to see you.” Spike picks up the money off the floor and counts it.
“Me? What for? I’m fine!” Dawn slumps on her bed. “Actually, I was hoping for some time alone.”
Spike pulls a wad of crumpled money out of his pocket and fishes out a five-dollar bill, adding it to Dawn’s pizza money. “Well, it’s almost Christmas, and I made you a promise.”
Dawn takes the proffered money. “What promise? And thank you!” She lifts up the stack with a smile. She has enough to even leave a tip now.
Spike isn’t surprised that she doesn’t remember. He made the promise one of the nights she was upset about losing Buffy and was worrying about all the things that she would miss about her sister in the upcoming year. . . all the anniversaries that are so painful when you lose a loved one. “I promised you that I’d help you set up the house for Christmas.”
Excitement lights Dawn’s eyes. “Really?”
Spike smiles. “Yeah, pet. It’s almost Christmas, isn’t it? And let me guess, Buffy hasn’t gotten a tree yet.”
“No! I don’t even think she’s remembered it’s on Tuesday!” Dawn bounces. “Are we going to go pick out a tree?”
“Of course!” Why else would he have walked all the way over here?
Dawn emits a little squeal of delight. . . something that makes Spike’s heart melt, not that he would ever tell anyone. “After the pizza gets here.”
“After the pizza gets here,” he affirms.
Dawn throws her arms around his mid-section, and Spike awkwardly pats her shoulder as she continues bouncing a little. “Yay!”
* * *
After the pizza arrives and is consumed and the leftovers are safely tucked away in the crowded refrigerator, Spike and Dawn head to the front porch. The air temperature has significantly dropped, and the lightning and thunder are still trading spaces, but the rain remains only a light drizzle.
“You have to wear it,” Spike insists, thrusting the bit of plastic at Dawn.
“But I don’t want to.” Dawn crosses her arms, trying to out-stubborn the vampire. Little does she know, he has years of practice at winning this game.
“We’re not going anywhere until you put it on.”
“But I’ll look so stupid.”
Spike clenches his jaw. What is it about teenaged girls and appearances? “Looking stupid is better than ruining your cast and having to go back to the ER for a new one.” Spike doesn’t want to explain that to Buffy either.
“Yeah, you say that only ‘cause you don’t have to wear it over a heavy coat. I’m going to look ginormous like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. What if I run into someone I know?”
“Anyone you know is safely at home tucked in bed on a night like this.” He pauses. “Or they should be if they don’t want to get eaten or worse.”
Dawn juts out her chin. “Fine.” She snatches the poncho, and Spike helps her pull it over her head. “Hate being dressed like I’m four.”
Spike remembers being helpless in the wheelchair with Drusilla looking after him and thrusting puppies in his face. “I don’t blame you.”
Dawn glares at him from beneath her plastic hood and says in her most grumpy voice, “Let’s go.” She stomps down the front steps and heads down the sidewalk. “And we’re not solving any mysteries!”
With no idea what she’s talking about, Spike grins. “All right then. No mysteries.”
The closest Christmas tree lot is in the parking lot of the grocery store two miles away, and somehow Spike and Dawn make it without experiencing a deluge from the sky and without Dawn freezing to death. For once, she is grateful for California winters. On the other hand, Spike wishes that he still had his car. A car would make Christmas tree hauling much easier.
A huge tent is set up, and Dawn sees evergreen branches sticking haphazardly out of from behind the tarp. She can even smell the distinctive scent of pine, and this warms her more than any combination of coat and plastic. Spike is amused when a little skip finds its way into her gait.
Spike spies a man sitting on a stool leaning against one of the tent poles. “Well, pet, looks like they’re still open.”
“Looks like. Unlike the grocery store.” Dawn was vaguely wishing the store would be open so she could take advantage of the heat, but now that the trees are a reality, she doesn’t care.
They almost reach the tent’s entrance when Spike holds out a hand in front of Dawn. “Hold on.”
Dawn doesn’t question her vampire companion. Over the summer, she learned how his voice sounds, and right now, he’s serious and worried. She halts as Spike slowly approaches the Christmas tree salesman.
Spike reaches out and touches his warm shoulder, and the man’s body tilts, his head lolling to one side. Dawn’s eyes grow round as she takes in the teeth marks and the fresh blood rolling in streaks down the man’s neck.
Spike props the man back up, feeling for a pulse and finding none. His senses on high alert, he peers into what he now realizes is an unusual darkness in the cluster of trees. Holding his hand up toward Dawn to signal her to stay, he plunges into the tent.
Dawn hovers on the outside next to the dead body, and when straining to see doesn’t do anything, she trains her ears on the inside of the tent. A loud scuffling and the sounds of punches being thrown fills her ears, and she commands her heart to slow down so that her heart beat isn’t thundering in her ears. She’s hoping that Spike is managing the situation because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he isn’t.
She suddenly remembers that she’s a Summers girl and shouldn’t be unprepared, but she didn’t bring a stake like Buffy’s always nagging her to do. She decides she better improvise and spies a thick branch snaking out from under one side of the tent. Hurrying over, she uses her foot to crunch down on the branch. She has to repeat the motion a few times before the wood breaks free from the tree.
Picking up the wood with her good hand, she smiles at it, feels guilty, and turns to the owner. “Sorry for breaking your tree.”
A cool, strong arm circles her waist, and alarmed, she screams and tries to swing her makeshift stake in vain. The jacket and poncho really are hindering her movements.
“Pet. Calm down!” growls a familiar voice. “Stop it before you stake me!”
“Oh.” She immediately drops the branch. “Spike!”
He lets her go, and she stumbles a bit on the concrete. “You really should pay more attention to your surroundings. Buffy should be working with you on that now that you’re older. I snuck up on you with ease.”
“I was improvising.” Dawn shoves long hair that’s escaped around her hood back in place. “See. . . a stake.”
“Good one,” Spike acknowledges. “You just have to pay attention to the rest of what’s going on around you when you do the improvising.”
“Did you get him?”
Spike crosses his arms. “Her. And yes. She’s good and staked. Now you get to pick out a tree.”
“What about the owner?”
“Not much we can do now. Someone will find him in the morning. No use getting ourselves involved in something that would only bring us more trouble.”
Dawn thinks about this for a moment. He’s right. She doesn’t like it, but he is. “Can we at least move him inside out of the weather?”
Spike sighs. “Sure, pet.”
“And leave money for the tree?”
“Why should we leave perfectly good money for. . .”
Dawn raises both eyebrows at him and tries but fails to cross her arms. “You *were* going to pay for the tree, right?”
The cash in Spike’s pocket is allotted for the tree for Buffy and Dawn, but he really could use the money for other things if the owner’s dead. The look on Dawn’s face makes him hesitate. “Fine. We’ll leave it.”
“Good. He might have a family who could use it.”
“Or whoever finds him will pocket it.”
Her eyes flash with resolve. “Well, we can say we tried, and I’m going to count the money.”
Spike rolls his eyes. “Just pick out a tree.” He strides over and flicks the lights back on inside the tent.
“Any tree?” Her voice trails behind her and is full of wonder as she enters the throng of Christmas trees.
“Hey. Don’t blame me when you have to look at the price tags.” Spike bends to haul the man into the shelter.
True to her word, Dawn chooses a tree based on the amount of money in Spike’s pocket minus a twenty that she slaps back into his palm. “For blood.”
“Gee, thanks, Bit.”
“A vamp’s gotta eat, right?” She turns back to her chosen evergreen. “I love this one. It’s just tall enough for the living room and for us to reach all the branches for decorating, and it’s nice and full of needles.”
“Let’s get her home.”
Dawn beams at him, and as she does, the bottom finally drops. Rain pours down around them, emitting a loud sound as the water hits the plastic of the tent.
Spike groans. He and the tree are going to get soaked.
Now it’s Dawn’s turn to sigh. “Sure am glad I decided to wear that poncho.”
* * *
TBC...