Author's Chapter Notes:
A new story! YAY! I feel like it's been forever since I uploaded anything. So here you go, guys. A Christmas-themed fic where Spike and Buffy hate each other's guts. You know you like it. ;) It's set post-S4, so everything that's happened up to that point in canon applies. However, this pretty much veers straight into the 'made-up' category right away.

A massive thank you goes to All4Spike for being the best beta and the most precious human being ever.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 1

Oh. My. God.

“Mom!” This was not happening. If there was one thing Buffy couldn’t handle, this was it. Demons twice her size? Sure, she’d rip their heads off with her bare hands, blindfolded and with a twisted ankle. Apocalypse? Point her in the right direction and she’d come out on top. But this? This was even worse than finding a glamorous, yet slayer-friendly pair of shoes—on sale too—only to realise they had run out of her size.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this.”

Buffy was torn between laughing hysterically like a raging lunatic or bursting into tears. There was nothing to say. Christmas was ruined. It was as simple as that.

“Difficult?” she shrieked in a voice that probably made dogs within a twenty mile radius flinch. “I’m so totally with the reason! You’re the one that’s un. Mom—”

“No, Buffy,” her mom interrupted, nonplussed by Buffy’s distress.

Well, that was just completely unacceptable.

“I thought you would be more mature, have a little compassion. Haven’t I raised you better than this?”

Oh great, the ‘I’m disappointed in you’ tone accompanied with a saddened shake of her mom’s head. A guaranteed way to make Buffy feel like vile goo stuck on the bottom of a shoe.

“But it’s supposed to be just us. I was looking forward to having you all to myself,” Buffy tried, hoping it would pluck on her mom’s heartstrings. The sincerity was nice and all, but it was the sticking out of her lower lip in the lightest pout that would surely push the advantage into Buffy’s corner. Surely her mom would change her—

“My decision is final. Spike is spending Christmas with us.”

--mind.

With that, her mom walked out of the kitchen, effectively ending the argument and leaving Buffy standing there feeling as though someone had run over her favourite pet. Then backed up and ran over it again.

“Oh, shit.”

*******

A week later on December 23rd, Buffy was perched on her bed, painting her toenails candy pink with one hand, the other holding the phone as she relayed her misfortune to Willow’s sympathetic ear.

“So, when is he coming over?” Willow asked.

Buffy capped the nail polish bottle and wiggled her toes. “Ugh, today. I can’t believe Mom is letting an evil vampire stay at our house.”

“Unless you count the whole scowling, being mean thing, he’s not really all that evil anymore.”

“Willow! You’re supposed to be on my side,” Buffy said sullenly and propped a pillow against the wrought iron headboard before leaning back. “Besides, just because he has that chip, it doesn’t mean he’s not evil. He just can’t do anything about it right now.”

“I’m just saying… I mean, I’m still not over the bottle-in-my-face-thing, but I guess he’s not as evil as he used to be.”

“Oh no. You’ve turned into a pod person! Should I be worried?”

Buffy could feel Willow roll her eyes all the way through the landline. That was real friendship right there.

“Shush,” Willow said. “I mean… Well, you know how Miss Kitty Fantastico went missing.”

“Yeah?” What did that have to do with anything?

“Spike overheard and then brought Tara a new one.”

Buffy frowned. “What was Spike doing with a kitten?” Her eyes widened. “I bet he was about to eat the poor thing.”

“Unless he snuggles his food first,” Willow said. “Or I suppose some vampires do… if they are really into snuggling. So it would be like playing with your food, which, kinda disturbing—”

“Willow? Tangent? You’re about to go off on it,” Buffy said, amused.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” There was a deep breath as Willow regained her composure and got back to the point. “I was at Tara’s and we were just about to leave and I opened the door and poof! There was Spike snuggling the kitten, b-but then he noticed us and got all snarky and swaggery and pushed the kitten into Tara’s arms. There was a pet carrier at his feet too, so I think he meant to leave it there and do the vampire thing when they disappear and stuff.”

Stupid Spike and stupid kittens. She still wasn’t convinced there hadn’t been any ulterior motive. “Maybe the kitten is evil! It’s like one of those sleeper agents. You’ll say the wrong word and boom! The kitten will rip your throat out.”

There was an uncertain silence on the other end. The kind where Willow obviously thought Buffy had eaten a bagful of magic mushrooms.

“A secret agent kitten?” Willow sounded dubious. “It’s been very cute so far. I think it was nice of Spike even if he got all grrr and made with the big exit.”

“You’re supposed to join the bash Spike fest, Wills, not make him look like a vampire version of Mother Theresa.”

She could almost see her friend shrug. “He curses too much to be a nun.”

Buffy giggled against her will then abruptly choked it back. That sound had not just come out of her mouth in relation to any comment about Spike. Derisive snickering was absolutely fine but heartfelt amusement was where she drew the line. A swift change of topic was in order. “So, how’s the Tara thing going?”

Willow let out a squeal that almost rendered Buffy deaf then proceeded to go on about the magnificence that was her witchy girlfriend. It made Buffy smile despite her ringing ear. It was nice to see her friend find happiness, especially after the Oz debacle a few months back.

With the slam of the front door, her fuzzy mood turned a corner right into aggravated-PTB-please-give-me-strength territory. “I think it’s here.”

“It?”

“The peroxide pest. I just heard the front door close.”

“Be nice.”

“You sound like my mom.” Buffy gnawed on her bottom lip as she checked her still not-quite-dry toenails. “Do you think I could get away with staying permanently in my room throughout Christmas? Or at least for now? My toenails will get ruined and everyone knows having pretty toenails is important.”

Just then her mother decided to yell for her to come down to ‘greet their guest’.

“You can do this,” Willow said in her resolve voice, making Buffy feel marginally better.

“Yes, yes I can. I’m the Slayer. I can totally do this.” She inhaled deeply then let out a cleansing exhale. “I’ll just ignore him. I can make it through the holidays without staking him, which would make my mom ground me for life even though I’m practically an adult.”

“Yup, no killing the Spike shaped people for Buffy.”

Buffy nodded even though Willow couldn’t see her, said goodbye and got to her feet with her chin up.

She would not let him get under her skin.

*******

Ah, there she was, spitting fire with her eyes, her spine ramrod stiff, making him wonder just how far up her arse that stick reached . And look at those tiny baggy shorts, revealing far more than they hid. God, she was hideous. With her sun charred skin and too round eyes, the nasty bump in her nose and stupid bouncy Valley girl hair.

“Buffy, can you show Spike the room he’ll be staying in?” Joyce ordered rather than asked and he could sense a brewing argument between the two females.

“Oh, you mean our sunroof?” The Slayer looked at him, fluttering those thick dark eyelashes that he wanted to rip out one by one. “It’s very picturesque when the sun comes up. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the brief view.”

“Buffy,” Joyce jumped in, mouth taut in reprimand. Spike would have given the Slayer a brilliant retort but he sensed that Joyce was tired, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded politely.

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. I appreciate it.” And he did, to his utmost discomfort. Joyce was a lot like his mum and had properly nestled within his heart. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how such a posh lady could have popped out the gum-chewing, dim-witted brat.

For some reason, Buffy’s heartbeat picked up in speed and he noted with glee that his refusal to give in to their usual banter routine was making her all kinds of itchy. Well, well. Wriggling under her skin was going to be so much fun.

With a bright grin, he appraised the house and said, “You have the most lovely house, Joyce.”

“Oh, let me show you my art room.”

“You’ve got an art room?” Finally, he could have an adult conversation with someone other than a stuffy watcher hell bent on hiding the good scotch. The fact that the Slayer’s hands clenched into fists when he followed her mum up the stairs was just the icing on the cake.

*******

Buffy sat sullenly on the couch in the living room with her legs tucked under her butt, flipping through the channels as she mocked Spike under her breath in a frighteningly bad British accent. “Oh, I would love to see your art, Joyce. I love the house, Joyce. I like to drape frilly French lace over my nakedness and…” She dropped the accent. “Okay, Buffy, you’re officially losing it.” She grimaced and shut the TV off.

What to do? What to do? She’d already followed Spike and Mom on the impromptu house tour like a lost puppy, all the while casting an evil glare at Spike’s back.

Not that it had ended too well.

“Did you want something, honey?” her mother had asked when she’d finally noticed Buffy’s stalking tendencies.

“I’m making sure he’s not up to something evil.”

Joyce had given her a confused look, so Buffy had elaborated. “I’m not going to leave you alone with him!” Had everyone lost their mind? Spike was a vampire. One that had tried to kill her numerous times. And she was supposed to play nice and pretend they were the bestest buds? No way, Jose.

“As if I’d hurt Joyce,” Spike had scoffed, pointing to his head. “Chip, remember? And even if I didn’t have it, I still wouldn’t.” That last part had been said almost too quietly for Buffy to catch, but she had. And unlike her mother, she hadn’t fallen for his act.

“Really, Buffy. There’s no need to follow us around. Especially if you’re going to have that attitude.”

Spike’s scarred eyebrow had quirked up, clearly mocking her. She had snapped, and what normal person wouldn’t?

After she’d reacquainted Spike’s face with her right hook, Joyce had given her a long embarrassing speech about manners and ladylike behaviour, every word wrought with disappointment. All the while she could see Spike’s eyes glint with glee as he’d overdramatically cupped his bleeding nose.

The big faker.

It’s not like he didn’t have vampire healing. The swelling was probably gone already!
So now she’d been banished to the living room as if she was public enemy number one while her mother fussed over Blood Breath upstairs.

Her phone rang and Buffy’s mood slightly picked up when she spotted Willow’s ID on the screen. At least she’d had someone to rant to.

*******

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Slayer. Would you shut your gob already? Any more sickly sweet talk about Captain Cardboard and I’m going to hurl.”

She twisted around from her spot on the couch to gape at him with her phone hanging limply in her hand. “What did you just say to me?”

Spike arched his scarred eyebrow, as cool as a cucumber even with the purple bruise adorning his nose. Which—now that she thought of it—was a really stupid thing to say. Why cucumber? Couldn’t a pepper be cool too?

“What, you hard of hearing now? Got glitter stuffed in your ears?”

Willow’s questioning voice carried to Buffy’s ears and with a hurried apology, she ended the call before pinning Spike with her best threatening glare. “Oh, I’ll stuff glitter in your… somewhere glitter has no business being stuffed!”

Spike leaned against the doorjamb separating the living room from the foyer in that maddeningly casual way and she wished that for once, he’d topple back right on his scrawny ass.

“Oh, I’m all aquiver now. Seems to me that the insult queen can’t even say the words out loud.” His lips stretched into a smirk and she just knew he was doing that to spur on her rage. And she was very enraged. Definitely about two seconds away from staking him where the sun didn’t shine. “So, how does it feel?” he asked.

“What?” she hissed past her clenched teeth.

“To have that stick up your arse, of course. Is that where you’re hiding your stakes? Could have sworn you always whip them out of nowher—”

“You’re about to find out yourself if you don’t shut up. Right. Now.”

“Gonna hit me again, Slayer? Not sure mum would like that.” He sneered, thumbs hooked through his belt loops.

“Okay, first of all, don’t call her ‘mum’. And… What the hell is going with you and my mother anyway? Since when are you all buddy buddy? You better not be having something icky going on.” The visual of naked aerobics between her mother and Spike wheedled into her brain and for a second she feared she’d actually heave. “Oh. Ewww. Now I’ll have to scrub my brain clean.”

“Not much to scrub away anyway,” he muttered and shouldered off the doorjamb. “And grow up, would you? Not all of us jump into bed with everyone who’s being nice, Slayer.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The corner of his lips tilted into a condescending smirk. With a shrug, he headed off to the kitchen and yelled over his shoulder, “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

The Parker thing was so not her fault. How was she supposed to know he was just a big sleaze?

She picked up the remote and hurled it after Spike’s retreating form, grinning in satisfaction when she saw —and heard— it impact with his back. His resulting curses were music to her ears.

TBC


Chapter End Notes:
Not to be cheesy or anything, but if this made you smile at least once then I'm happy. A review would make my day! :) Or if you really liked it, you can thank me with sexual favours. I'm not picky.



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