The Christmas Tree Fairy
It's my posting day at noel_of_spike. I'm still very blocked, I'm afraid, so this is the best I could come up with, and I'm sure some of you are looking at the title and thinking, huh? So maybe I'd better fill in some background.
A long time ago, in a fandom far, far away, when the Buffy comics were no more than a mad glint in Joss Whedon's eye, there was a sudden enthusiasm for fanfics featuring Fairy Spike, by which I don't mean fics about a very camp Spike, but about Spike as a wee little fairy with wings. Some of us thought this was Hilarious, some of us Did Not Get the Joke and, because kerfuffles were an almost weekly occurence back then, there was a bit of a hoohah! I was in the Hilarious camp myself, and wrote some Fairy Spike fics of my own. They can be found here, and I suggest you read them first (which won't take long, as they're very short), as this latest offering is part of the series.
Setting: Inside at Christmas
Rating: R for some naughty words (Fairy Spike is not at all PC) and suggestions of slashy goings on (which applies to all the stories)
Pairings: None as such, but mentions of Fairy Vampire Spike/Fairy Vampire Angelus and Fairy Vampire Spike/Fairy Vampire Harmony
Banner: sueworld2003 a little NWS, but nothing graphic
The Christmas Tree Fairy
Fairy Vampire Spike wrinkled his nose. The overpowering smell of pine needles was making him want to sneeze. Not to mention he was bloody chilly in these stupid so-called clothes, and his left arm was aching.
Without moving his head, he cast a contemptuous glance at the stiff, naked figure dangling face down over a nearby branch. That'd teach the plastic bitch to go making fun of his cultural identity.
Below him, in the depths of the Christmas tree, he could hear frantic tinkling noises as the Colins - the minions of his grandsire and arch-nemesis, Fairy Vampire Angelus - searched for him amongst the hanging baubles.
"Ooh, candy!" he heard someone exclaim, sounding very like his erstwhile squeeze, Fairy Vampire Harmony. It hadn't taken her and the other Colins long to switch their allegiance when Angelus, backed by the evil law firm of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Cute Furry Thing With Big Floppy Ears, had staged his hostile takeover bid of Spike's Empire of Crime.
And now look at him, Spike thought, bitterly - alone and on the run, forced to hide Inside. It was just as well They had a cat, and that the cat was too stupid to realise it had picked up a hitchhiker on its way in through the catflap.
Of course, the same trick had worked for Angelus and his minions, and now the nasty old git was sitting on the mantelshelf, next to a Christmas card of a smug-looking robin with a sprig of mistletoe in its beak, directing the search.
As in - "Harmony," Angelus bellowed - and what was up with that? Not calling the minions Colin was a flagrant breach of time-hallowed fairy vampire tradition - "leave those candy canes alone and keep looking. No more excuses about the pine needles hiding his scent. He's here somewhere, I just know it."
"Yes, boss-y," Harmony mumbled, around a mouthful of candy. There were more rustlings as the minions climbed the tree, setting the branches shivering and the glass baubles tinkling merrily.
Spike froze as Angelus's gaze swept over him, but people see what they want to see, and it seemed that all Angelus saw on top of the Christmas tree was a fake fairy with a tinsel crown, wearing a stupid frilly white frock and holding up a wand with a poncy silver star on the end, that no self-respecting fairy vampire would be seen undead with.
Spike cursed the day it had come to this, but in the end, he'd had no choice. After spending the last six months licking Angelus's arse - literally, at times - and trying to get the better of the old git all sneaky-like, he'd had to accept that it wasn't working. Angelus still didn't trust him further than he could shag him, and he was sick to death of being Daddy's whipping boy (also literally). If he wanted to salvage his self-respect - not to mention his Empire of Crime - there was nothing left for it but to run like the clappers.
He would find a new Garden to take over, rebuild his big bad rep with more loyal, less stupid minions, and then Angelus and his puppet masters had better bloody well watch out.
For one thing, he would find a way to cram Angelus's soul back into him, or his name wasn't Bloody Annoying William. Angel was far preferable, even if he was a broody old git and ten times stupider than Angelus.
But for that to happen, he would have to escape from his current predicament, not to mention find somewhere warm to hole up for the winter, and with Angelus's beady eyes on him and the minions getting closer and closer, his chances didn't look good.
He might have to resign himself to spending the cold months chained arse-up in some smelly dungeon in the compost heap at the bottom of the Garden, and make another escape attempt in the spring.
A blast of cold air set Spike's fake fairy frock fluttering, threatening to expose his unmentionables, and he saw the cat - a sleek tabby with a self-satisfied expression - sidle around the door and into the room.
The cat wound itself around the legs of the coffee table, upon which They had left out mince pies and a glass of sherry for Santa that Spike had had his eye on for some time. Settling down on a blue silk cushion in front of the fireplace, it began to wash its paws. Spike couldn't help admiring its fangs. They were almost as sharp as his - and way bigger.
Angelus had seen the cat too. He was on his feet, making frantic shushing gestures towards the Christmas tree, where the minions were still crashing around through the branches like a herd of fairy vampire elephants.
Spike felt a surge of pure glee. The time for running and hiding was over. He began to jump up and down, setting the whole tree shaking, flapping his wings and waving his arms in the air.
"'Oi!" he shouted. "Here I am, you morons. Come and get me."
At the sound of his voice, a dozen fairy vampire minion heads poked out from the depths of the tree, all with varying degrees of puzzled stupidity on their faces.
Harmony's was among them. "Spikey!" she shrieked. "We've been looking for you all over." Then her mouth fell open in shock. "What are you wearing? That is, like, sooo last summer!"
"Be quiet, you idiots!" Angelus shouted, but it was too late. One of the minions yelled, "Get him!" and the chase was on.
Spike led them a merry dance up, down and around the tree, swinging from branch to branch by means of the dangling glass baubles, some of which fell off and smashed tinnily on the floor, sliding down candy canes and shinning his way up trails of tinsel - which bloody tickled in very uncomfortable places when all you were wearing was a stupid fake fairy dress - but gradually leading the braying pack of them lower and lower.
He glanced up a few times, to see Angelus hovering mid-way between the mantelshelf and the tree, his poncy self-important purple-gold wings flapping so hard they were almost invisible.
"Quiet!" Angelus yelled. "Qu-iet!" But the minions took no notice.
The cat, meanwhile, had stopped washing its paws. Its green eyes were fixed on Angelus, who - fortunately for him - was too high to reach, and it was slowly stalking closer to the tree, daintily avoiding the broken glass.
It was now or never. Spike slid his way down the lowest branch, the minions right behind him, and dangled his bare leg temptingly above the cat's head.
"He-ere, kitty, kitty", he called. "Tasty morsels for you."
"Nooo!" Angelus shouted, but it was too late.
As the minions burst out of the branches around Spike with cries of triumph, the cat leapt. Spike drew his leg back at the last minute, the cat caught the branch instead; the tree lurched, and then began a slow, stately descent towards the floor.
Spike went down with it, but unlike the minions, he was ready. Folding his wings tight, he crawled deeper into the pine-scented recesses of the fallen tree. Meanwhile, there was a joyful meow from the cat, followed by shrieks of terror and the sound of frantically fluttering wings. Poking his head above the intervening ocean of branches, Spike watched smugly as the cat devoured every fairy vampire that tried to fly out of the shelter of the tree, while all Angelus could do was hover above them and swear blue murder.
It was the best fun Spike had had in ages. Even so, he wasn't altogether sorry to see that Harmony had managed to sneak by the cat and get away. She might be stupid and treacherous but she had great knockers.
"You little…" Almost too late, Spike realised that Angelus had swooped down towards him, arm out to grab. Quickly, he ducked under the branch again, feeling the wafts of air from Angelus's frantically beating wings as he passed overhead.
"I'll get you for this, William," Angelus shouted. "See if I don't. And by the time I'm done with you, you won't sit down for a year. No - make that a decade. No - make it a century. And….and you look stupid in that dress!"
"Ah, where's your Christmas spirit, Grandad?" Spike yelled back, sniggering. He poked his head above the branches in time to see Angelus narrowly avoid becoming kitty kibble, and then fly off in the direction of the door muttering to himself, while Harmony fluttered along behind him, calling, "Wait for me, boss-y!"
Spike watched them out of sight. He watched the cat yawn, and lick its fangs clean of the remains of fairy vampire wings before going back to its cushion before the fire and settling down to sleep, purring loudly.
Then he heaved a sigh of relief. Now to retrieve his clothes and get the hell out of here, before They woke up and came downstairs to see what all the noise was about, or worse still Santa Claus turned up and drank all the sherry.
But as he unfurled his wings and prepared for take off, he had second thoughts. Why go anywhere when he'd found himself a cushy little number here? This Christmas Tree Fairy lark was a piece of piss and what's more it would see him through the worst of the winter in comfort, plus there was no way Angelus would risk his fat arse near the cat again.
Grinning to himself, Spike retrieved his tinsel crown from under the fallen tree and jammed it back on his head. Wand in hand, he flew over to the coffee table and took a long, belly-warming slurp out of Santa's glass of sherry.
"Merry sodding Christmas to me," he said.
A long time ago, in a fandom far, far away, when the Buffy comics were no more than a mad glint in Joss Whedon's eye, there was a sudden enthusiasm for fanfics featuring Fairy Spike, by which I don't mean fics about a very camp Spike, but about Spike as a wee little fairy with wings. Some of us thought this was Hilarious, some of us Did Not Get the Joke and, because kerfuffles were an almost weekly occurence back then, there was a bit of a hoohah! I was in the Hilarious camp myself, and wrote some Fairy Spike fics of my own. They can be found here, and I suggest you read them first (which won't take long, as they're very short), as this latest offering is part of the series.
Setting: Inside at Christmas
Rating: R for some naughty words (Fairy Spike is not at all PC) and suggestions of slashy goings on (which applies to all the stories)
Pairings: None as such, but mentions of Fairy Vampire Spike/Fairy Vampire Angelus and Fairy Vampire Spike/Fairy Vampire Harmony
Banner: sueworld2003 a little NWS, but nothing graphic
The Christmas Tree Fairy
Fairy Vampire Spike wrinkled his nose. The overpowering smell of pine needles was making him want to sneeze. Not to mention he was bloody chilly in these stupid so-called clothes, and his left arm was aching.
Without moving his head, he cast a contemptuous glance at the stiff, naked figure dangling face down over a nearby branch. That'd teach the plastic bitch to go making fun of his cultural identity.
Below him, in the depths of the Christmas tree, he could hear frantic tinkling noises as the Colins - the minions of his grandsire and arch-nemesis, Fairy Vampire Angelus - searched for him amongst the hanging baubles.
"Ooh, candy!" he heard someone exclaim, sounding very like his erstwhile squeeze, Fairy Vampire Harmony. It hadn't taken her and the other Colins long to switch their allegiance when Angelus, backed by the evil law firm of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Cute Furry Thing With Big Floppy Ears, had staged his hostile takeover bid of Spike's Empire of Crime.
And now look at him, Spike thought, bitterly - alone and on the run, forced to hide Inside. It was just as well They had a cat, and that the cat was too stupid to realise it had picked up a hitchhiker on its way in through the catflap.
Of course, the same trick had worked for Angelus and his minions, and now the nasty old git was sitting on the mantelshelf, next to a Christmas card of a smug-looking robin with a sprig of mistletoe in its beak, directing the search.
As in - "Harmony," Angelus bellowed - and what was up with that? Not calling the minions Colin was a flagrant breach of time-hallowed fairy vampire tradition - "leave those candy canes alone and keep looking. No more excuses about the pine needles hiding his scent. He's here somewhere, I just know it."
"Yes, boss-y," Harmony mumbled, around a mouthful of candy. There were more rustlings as the minions climbed the tree, setting the branches shivering and the glass baubles tinkling merrily.
Spike froze as Angelus's gaze swept over him, but people see what they want to see, and it seemed that all Angelus saw on top of the Christmas tree was a fake fairy with a tinsel crown, wearing a stupid frilly white frock and holding up a wand with a poncy silver star on the end, that no self-respecting fairy vampire would be seen undead with.
Spike cursed the day it had come to this, but in the end, he'd had no choice. After spending the last six months licking Angelus's arse - literally, at times - and trying to get the better of the old git all sneaky-like, he'd had to accept that it wasn't working. Angelus still didn't trust him further than he could shag him, and he was sick to death of being Daddy's whipping boy (also literally). If he wanted to salvage his self-respect - not to mention his Empire of Crime - there was nothing left for it but to run like the clappers.
He would find a new Garden to take over, rebuild his big bad rep with more loyal, less stupid minions, and then Angelus and his puppet masters had better bloody well watch out.
For one thing, he would find a way to cram Angelus's soul back into him, or his name wasn't Bloody Annoying William. Angel was far preferable, even if he was a broody old git and ten times stupider than Angelus.
But for that to happen, he would have to escape from his current predicament, not to mention find somewhere warm to hole up for the winter, and with Angelus's beady eyes on him and the minions getting closer and closer, his chances didn't look good.
He might have to resign himself to spending the cold months chained arse-up in some smelly dungeon in the compost heap at the bottom of the Garden, and make another escape attempt in the spring.
A blast of cold air set Spike's fake fairy frock fluttering, threatening to expose his unmentionables, and he saw the cat - a sleek tabby with a self-satisfied expression - sidle around the door and into the room.
The cat wound itself around the legs of the coffee table, upon which They had left out mince pies and a glass of sherry for Santa that Spike had had his eye on for some time. Settling down on a blue silk cushion in front of the fireplace, it began to wash its paws. Spike couldn't help admiring its fangs. They were almost as sharp as his - and way bigger.
Angelus had seen the cat too. He was on his feet, making frantic shushing gestures towards the Christmas tree, where the minions were still crashing around through the branches like a herd of fairy vampire elephants.
Spike felt a surge of pure glee. The time for running and hiding was over. He began to jump up and down, setting the whole tree shaking, flapping his wings and waving his arms in the air.
"'Oi!" he shouted. "Here I am, you morons. Come and get me."
At the sound of his voice, a dozen fairy vampire minion heads poked out from the depths of the tree, all with varying degrees of puzzled stupidity on their faces.
Harmony's was among them. "Spikey!" she shrieked. "We've been looking for you all over." Then her mouth fell open in shock. "What are you wearing? That is, like, sooo last summer!"
"Be quiet, you idiots!" Angelus shouted, but it was too late. One of the minions yelled, "Get him!" and the chase was on.
Spike led them a merry dance up, down and around the tree, swinging from branch to branch by means of the dangling glass baubles, some of which fell off and smashed tinnily on the floor, sliding down candy canes and shinning his way up trails of tinsel - which bloody tickled in very uncomfortable places when all you were wearing was a stupid fake fairy dress - but gradually leading the braying pack of them lower and lower.
He glanced up a few times, to see Angelus hovering mid-way between the mantelshelf and the tree, his poncy self-important purple-gold wings flapping so hard they were almost invisible.
"Quiet!" Angelus yelled. "Qu-iet!" But the minions took no notice.
The cat, meanwhile, had stopped washing its paws. Its green eyes were fixed on Angelus, who - fortunately for him - was too high to reach, and it was slowly stalking closer to the tree, daintily avoiding the broken glass.
It was now or never. Spike slid his way down the lowest branch, the minions right behind him, and dangled his bare leg temptingly above the cat's head.
"He-ere, kitty, kitty", he called. "Tasty morsels for you."
"Nooo!" Angelus shouted, but it was too late.
As the minions burst out of the branches around Spike with cries of triumph, the cat leapt. Spike drew his leg back at the last minute, the cat caught the branch instead; the tree lurched, and then began a slow, stately descent towards the floor.
Spike went down with it, but unlike the minions, he was ready. Folding his wings tight, he crawled deeper into the pine-scented recesses of the fallen tree. Meanwhile, there was a joyful meow from the cat, followed by shrieks of terror and the sound of frantically fluttering wings. Poking his head above the intervening ocean of branches, Spike watched smugly as the cat devoured every fairy vampire that tried to fly out of the shelter of the tree, while all Angelus could do was hover above them and swear blue murder.
It was the best fun Spike had had in ages. Even so, he wasn't altogether sorry to see that Harmony had managed to sneak by the cat and get away. She might be stupid and treacherous but she had great knockers.
"You little…" Almost too late, Spike realised that Angelus had swooped down towards him, arm out to grab. Quickly, he ducked under the branch again, feeling the wafts of air from Angelus's frantically beating wings as he passed overhead.
"I'll get you for this, William," Angelus shouted. "See if I don't. And by the time I'm done with you, you won't sit down for a year. No - make that a decade. No - make it a century. And….and you look stupid in that dress!"
"Ah, where's your Christmas spirit, Grandad?" Spike yelled back, sniggering. He poked his head above the branches in time to see Angelus narrowly avoid becoming kitty kibble, and then fly off in the direction of the door muttering to himself, while Harmony fluttered along behind him, calling, "Wait for me, boss-y!"
Spike watched them out of sight. He watched the cat yawn, and lick its fangs clean of the remains of fairy vampire wings before going back to its cushion before the fire and settling down to sleep, purring loudly.
Then he heaved a sigh of relief. Now to retrieve his clothes and get the hell out of here, before They woke up and came downstairs to see what all the noise was about, or worse still Santa Claus turned up and drank all the sherry.
But as he unfurled his wings and prepared for take off, he had second thoughts. Why go anywhere when he'd found himself a cushy little number here? This Christmas Tree Fairy lark was a piece of piss and what's more it would see him through the worst of the winter in comfort, plus there was no way Angelus would risk his fat arse near the cat again.
Grinning to himself, Spike retrieved his tinsel crown from under the fallen tree and jammed it back on his head. Wand in hand, he flew over to the coffee table and took a long, belly-warming slurp out of Santa's glass of sherry.
"Merry sodding Christmas to me," he said.