Summary: Spike will do anything to spend time with Buffy, even crash her family's Christmas gathering. Set during Season 5, post-Into the Woods
Word Count: 400
A/N: Just a bit of Christmas fun for dontgetanyolder - Merry Christmas, sweetie!
“Put. It. Down.”
“Sod off. I nicked it so you’ll just have to learn to live with disappointment, Slayer.”
“I swear to god, Spike, if you don’t hand it over and get out, Mom’s gonna be cleaning up your ashes with the new dustbuster I got her for Christmas.”
“You got Mom a dustbuster?” Dawn exclaimed, skipping into the living room. “Wow, how lame. Oh, is Spike staying for Christmas? Cool.”
“No, he’s not staying.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Did it still count as an eye roll if her eyes were closed? Surely that meant she was being the mature one.
“Buffy, are you done decorating the tree?” Joyce called from the kitchen.
“Almost, Mom!” Buffy called back. “Spike, hand it over. Now.”
“Fine.” He pulled the ornament out from under his duster and slammed it down on the coffee table. “Here’s your sodding angel. Americans. You’re ruining a perfectly good tree. Any idiot knows St. Nick likes stars as tree toppers.”
“Well gee, Spike, I’d hate to be the one to burst your bubble but – wait, no, I’d love to be the one to do that. Santa Claus isn’t real, the Tooth Fairy is a myth and you look stupid with that sticky bow on your back.”
“Hey!” he yelped, reaching behind him to pull off the red ribbon bow stuck in between his shoulderblades.
“Nice one, Dawnie.”
Ribbon now crushed in his hand, Spike sneered, “For your information, Slayer, St. Nick isn’t a jolly old man in red velvet pajamas. He’s a demon with razor sharp chompers and a fondness for chimneys. Picture the shark from Jaws then double the amount of teeth. Are you getting a visual? Now the biscuits and milk keep him from eating the kiddies in their beddy byes and the shiny star on top of the tree repels St. Nicks. They scamper at the sight of ‘em. So unless you want to wake up to a little gremlin demon munching on your toes…”
More eye rolling. “Oh please, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
A muffled whimper, then Dawn’s hand shot up. “I vote we put the star on the tree! Mom! Please can we put the star on top of the tree?”
“Sure, sweetie. Buffy! Help your sister put the star on the tree.”
“I hate you,” Buffy grumbled at Spike.
He grinned. “Happy Christmas to you, too, love."