Written for noel_of_spike. Five 100-word drabbles. Rated R for violence and squick in one of them (hey, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, December 27th, is pretty violent all round.)
Herod ordering the murder of all baby boys in Bethlehem under the age of two is described in the Bible and referenced in the traditional text Puer nobis nascitur.
As not everybody may be familiar with the traditions surrounding St Lucia's Day - this is a Swedish holiday celebration (December 13). The eldest daughter brings the family breakfast in bed, wearing a crown of lighted candles. It seemed like the sort of thing Dru would decide was a nifty idea. To the best of my knowledge, I wrote the verse Dru sings.
Dialogue in drabble #4 is taken from the s7 Buffy episode Bring On the Night.
For those alergic to reading about Spike with any other partner than Xander, please forgive me, but the wait is worth it.
Five Christmases Spike'll Never Forget
He stood by the holly-bedecked door of the ballroom, passed by chattering, laughing couples. Finally, the waltz drew to a close. She must leave her partner now? He looked in vain around the crowded floor.
Perhaps she sought quiet and cooler air. Or possibly some refreshment? He made for the drawing-room, with its punch bowl and laden tables. No sign of her.
Back to the front hallway. Her little fur wrap still hung on its hook.
A muffled giggle from the darkened parlour. He peered in, and his heart shattered at the sight of Cecily, passionately embracing Mr Worthington.
“William, my sweet, wake up! I’ve brought you breakfast in bed.”
He opened his eyes blearily. She stood by the edge of the four-poster, displaying an unconscious victim, and – .
“Dru! What the hell?!” He leapt out of bed, stark naked.
“Look, I’m Saint Lucia!” she caroled. “A ring of light, to break the night, and make it bend to our delight…”
“Dru, your damn hair’s on fire!” He looked around frantically. Grabbed her, shoved her headfirst into the cooled bath from the night before. She spluttered and clawed at him.
“William, you’ve ruined it!”
She sulked for days.
He listened in stunned silence as Angelus outlined his latest idea, grinning wolfishly. “And Herod sent forth and slew all the little boys in Jewry.”
Drusilla clapped her hands in delight. Even Darla widened her eyes in awed surprise. Nobody could beat Angelus for sheer inventive cruelty.
The night of December 26, they moved through the village soundlessly, gorging themselves on the tiny but oh-so-sweet morsels. Angels of death, touching lightly on the earth. He’d never had such a Christmas dinner.
Every boy under the age of two.
They turned one, just for fun, and left him in a manger.
Kidnap, torture, bleeding, pain – used to be all in a day’s work for Spike. Mind you, he’d usually been on the giving end. Getting punched repeatedly by a Neanderthal vamp, while not-Dru flirted badly with him, was not his idea of happy holidays.
Only the thought of her kept him going.
“What makes you think you will ever be any good at all in this world?” the First said.
“She does. Because she believes in me.”
She came for him, in the end. He’d thought it was yet another illusion. Then she smiled. Brighter than the Star of Bethlehem.
Xander had spent all afternoon setting up the tree. Balancing it, getting the lights strung just right, and carefully distributing stars and baubles and the Snoopy Christmas ornaments. He was now hanging icicles from the branches – one at a time.
Spike’s contribution had been to sprawl on the couch, drink blood-and-eggnog, and make occasional sarcastic comments. He wasn’t at his usual level of snark, though.
Not after that moment – startling but in retrospect so inevitable – when he’d paused in the doorway, and Xander, looking up at the mistletoe, had said Finally and kissed him until his toes curled.