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fenderlove Dec. 20th, 2010 02:52 am)
fenderlove Dec. 20th, 2010 02:52 am)Title: Twelve Christmases in the Life & Unlife of William H. Pratt
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fenderlove
Pairing: In these sections, Spike/Buffy, Spike/Fred (friendshippy), Spike/Tok (from the Spike: Shadow Puppets comic), and Spike/Ursula (from my London Calling comic).
Rating: R for mentions of torture and things of an erotic nature... though not at the same time.
Summary: When you live as long as Spike, you've had a variety of holiday-related experiences. Here are twelve glimpses into some Christmases in the life and unlife of our favourite vampire.
Twelve Christmases in the Life & Unlife of William H. Pratt
:: Part IX, X, XI, and XII ::
December 25th, 2002
Sunnydale, California
... She believes in me, and she'll find me...
A clawed hand was on him. One of Spike's eyes was swollen shut, but he was grateful to lack peripheral vision on that side. There was an area above one half of his ribs that was split and open. The claws dragged hard over the torn edges of his skin.
... Please, Buffy, please hurry...
The gnarled fingers pressed hard, and Spike's uninjured eye flew open wide as pain ensnared him, causing him to scream. It felt as though the ubervampire had its entire hand embedded in his chest. Spike's muscles were torn, and he felt a horrible tugging and then a snap followed by another. His ribs were being broken individually from the inside.
... God... please help... Buffy... needyouneedyouneedyou... I can't... can't hold on...
The pain was incessant. The only pauses in the beatings and the pointless, yet none-the-less painful, drownings were when the First would come to taunt him, wanting him to give up, to fall apart, beg for mercy. Sometimes it would watch, taking the form of all the people he had ever cared about. Spike had to be strong. Buffy would save him. She just needed more time. He could be strong for her. He wouldn't let her down, not again.
********
December 25th, 2003
Los Angeles, California
Soulless, penetrating eyes stared right through him. Spike glared at the beast, its blood red maw gaping open ready to emit an ear-splitting wail that would bring the bravest warrior to its knees.
"Spike, leave Peter Pine alone," Fred warned, as she came into her office.
"It's evil," he replied as he frowned at the "singing" and "dancing" plastic Christmas tree sitting on Fred's desk.
Fred sighed, "It is not. It's a Christmas decoration, and it's supposed to make you happy."
Spike poked at fake tree, which began to bounce in its little burlap base. Its plastic eyes blinked open and closed rapidly while its mouth flapped not in time with the electronically mangled version of Have a Holly Jolly Christmas it croaked out.
"You're going to run down the batteries," Fred reached over and hit the 'off' switch on Peter Pine.
"It's possessed," Spike sat down on the edge of her desk, "I'm getting the holy water."
Fred thwacked him with a file folder and went back to scratching some calculations on a notepad.
Spike turned his head to watch her for a moment before asking, "Why are you working today, love? Shouldn't you be at home watching twenty-four hours of A Christmas Story?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Fred smiled, her glasses slightly askew on her nose as she looked up at him.
Shrugging, he sat quietly, letting her work. Knox came hurriedly into the office with two large paper cups, but his large grin disappeared when he saw Fred had company.
"I've got some warm cocoa to while away the Los Angeles chill- Oh, I didn't realize you had a visitor," he said as he handed Fred one of the cups.
Spike took the other cup out of Knox's hand and drank from it, "Ta, mate. Bloody nice of you."
"Thank you," Fred smiled at Knox, silently offering an apology for Spike.
As Knox left, stomping down the metal stairs outside of the office, Spike winked at Fred, and she laughed softly. While she continued to work, Spike took a peek at some of the Christmas cards on her desk, most were from her family from what he could tell.
Fred noted him fiddling with the knickknacks on her desk and put down her pen, "Are you hungry? There's a nice Chinese place right by my apartment that's open."
"Sure, if you're buying, I'm eating," he grinned.
After grabbing some takeaway, Fred took Spike back to her apartment. It was in a pleasant-looking, quiet building. He explored her living room while she set the table. Her Christmas tree was only two feet tall and appeared to be made out of silver tinsel. The ornaments were little test tubes filled with glitter in various colours.
"You're quite the science-y Martha Stewart," Spike said as Fred handed him a plate of lo mein, crab rangoons, and Peking duck.
Fred took some chopsticks out of their paper packaging and smiled, "The tree was my mom's idea. She's great with crafts, like scrapbooking and quilting."
"My mum used to do needlepoints with little sayings," he mused quietly, "Guess that's what Martha would be doing if she were a Victorian lady, I suppose."
Spike really enjoyed having an actual conversation with someone. He was worried that Fred might have been upset with him running off without telling her that he had been recorporealized, but she'd been surprisingly understanding about it. After they finished their dinner, the pair settled on Fred's couch to watch a Mythbusters marathon. Spike wasn't surprised that Fred's TV was already tuned to the Discovery Channel.
During a segment in which the bubbliness of champagne under various corking methods was being tested, the phone began to ring. Fred picked up the receiver and began talking to her mother. Spike leaned his head against the back of sofa, listening to Fred's voice, her Texan twang becoming more apparent the longer she was on the phone, talking about revivals and gossip about her relatives.
Sometime later, Spike woke up, groggy. A blanket was pulled over him, and Fred was curled up on the opposite side of the couch. She was snoring lightly, and Spike felt fairly content as he drifted back to sleep.
********
December 24th, 2006
Machida-Shi, Tokyo, Japan
"Ie, ie, Supaiku-san, kiite (No, no, Spike, listen)," Kaori smiled brightly, patting Spike's arm, and then she sang, "Ohoshi-sama kira-kira; kingon sunago (The stars twinkle; gold and silver grains of sand)."
Spike shook his head, picking up a calligraphy brush, and said in very shaky Japanese, "Gomen nasai, Kaori-chan. Watashi wa orokashii gaijin desu. (Beg your pardon, Kaori. I am a stupid foreigner)."
Kaori giggled loudly, turning to Tok, "Nee-san, kikimashita ka? (Sister, did you hear?)"
"Hai, Supaiku wa baka desu (Yes, Spike is an idiot)." Tok nodded, bringing a pack of origami paper to the little table in her living room.
The little girl laughed even harder at that, and Spike rolled his eyes. Asian languages had never been his forte, but he'd been able to pick up a little though the words always sounded strange with his English accent added to them. Kaori had been desperately trying to teach him some folk songs, but he'd failed miserably at remembering any of them. The kid seemed to enjoy playing teacher to an adult, so it provided entertainment for everyone.
Tok had called Spike to Japan to help her with an infestation of some pretty nasty ogres that had been plaguing the area around Naruse Station. She'd asked him to stay for a little while after the demons had been taken care of, and Spike had agreed. Tok had moved into a traditional Japanese style home near Shinjuku. The house with its sliding paper doors was surrounded on all sides by tall greenery; it was like living in a private forest in the middle of a technological wonderland. Her mother and little sister were visiting from Matsumoto, so the cramped little house was even more so.
Spike had been wary of Tok's mother. Her husband had been killed by a vampire, and he couldn't blame her for being nervous about staying in a house with one. Tok carefully explained that when her sister had fallen victim to the evil Smile Time puppets that had come to Japan, Spike had been the one to slay them, effectively ending the coma Kaori had been trapped in. While their mother was still apprehensive, Kaori practically used Spike as a jungle-gym, climbing all over him, hanging off of his arms.
While Christmas was still a relatively new tradition in Japan, Tok had gotten a miniature fake tree, and now Kaori was teaching Spike how to make decorations. Origami cranes, paper chains, tanzaku with their wishes for the new year written on them were hung from the little branches. Spike showed Kaori that he actually knew how to make several types of origami including beetles, flowers, and balloons, just odd bar-room tricks he'd picked up over the years.
"Normally, the tanzaku are put on bamboo for the Tanabata festival, but I thought that they would be nice to have for Christmas," Tok explained as she watched Kaori help Spike figure out how to write his wish in Japanese a long strip of paper. Leaning over to see his very simple and messy handwriting, she read out loud, making an amused expression, "'I want new shoes.'"
"What? You said I could wish for anything. Was I supposed to wish for world peace or something?" Spike asked.
Tok smirked as she used a brush to write her wish, "It's not that. You have the hand-writing of a kindergardener."
As Tok pushed her paper for Spike to see, he felt self-conscious. Hers was a very calligraphic, looping set of characters, and he couldn't make out what it said at all. Kaori, who impatiently was trying to steal a peek at what her sister had written, couldn't read it either and pouted because Tok was using kanji characters that she had not learned yet. As Tok's mother entered the room with a plate of mochi, little sticky rice cakes, she caught sight of Tok's wish and made a very displeased face before retiring to her room. When Kaori started yawning after they had hung the last of their paper ornaments on the tree, Spike decided it was a good idea for some rest before he had to leave for his flight back to the States the following evening.
Having just closed his eyes after getting comfortable on his futon on the floor, Spike heard the door slide open to his room. Tok, wearing a red silk robe, was closing the door behind her as he sat up. Her shimmering black hair was loose from its characteristic pigtails, falling all around her to her waist.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"No," Tok smiled, untying the belt on her robe, letting it slip from her pale shoulders and fall to the floor, revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Spike stared at her for a moment, taking in her athletic physique. Tok was human, but her strength and agility would rival any Slayer. She was no shy violet as she walked towards him, kneeling down, her expression exuding her pure confidence. Pulling back his comforter, Spike invited her to join him in bed, or in futon rather. They kissed, and, while Spike had not been expecting Tok to make any advances, he found it extremely pleasurable. It was slow and sweet, no fighting for dominance, just the motion of their bodies and the quiet gasps that escaped their lips. They found comfort in one another, two heroes just trying to do their best even when it wasn't always enough.
As Tok was laying on top of him, Spike curled a lock of her hair playfully around his finger, "Thank you."
"It was nice, wasn't it?" she sighed, kissing his chest gently.
Spike laid there for a little while, enjoying the afterglow, "Hey, you never told me what you wrote for your wish."
"Supaiku wa watashi o aishite kureru (Spike, will you love me)?"
"Sounds pretty, but what does it mean?" Spike replied.
Tok tried to hide her sadness behind a smile, "It means 'I wish for Spike not to miss his flight tomorrow.'"
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Spike kissed her forehead, "Thanks, pet, let's hope it comes true."
********
December 25th, 2046
London, England
Placing the holly wreath at the bottom of the headstone, Spike knelt down and brushed some of the snow off the marker, "I miss you, love."
The vampire bit the inside of his cheek to try and get a hold of his emotions, but it was a losing battle. Letting out a shuddery breath, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his overcoat. Spike never imagined he would be in this position, but there he stood crying for the wife that was his in everyone's eyes but the law. He knew he should have been grateful for thirty-odd years of happiness, but once it was gone, he felt cheated.
Ursula had been his match. She had given him so much that being a vampire had taken away, and she found the parts of himself that he thought were lost, that he was afraid to show to anyone else. He clung now to the wonderful memories- nighttime trips to the shore, listening to her play the keyboard, the way she danced around the kitchen even as she grew older, and all the Christmas mornings watching Roxanne open her gifts- he hoped they would never be eclipsed by the sadness he now experienced.
Footsteps crunching in the snow behind him made Spike turn around, "Didn't expect you'd come."
"Didn't really want to," Roxanne replied as she walked towards the grave.
Spike tried to remember who Roxanne used to be, the happy-go-lucky little girl who once called him "dad," not the angry young woman she became. When she was a teenager, Roxie was a bright, studious girl and a star lacrosse player, but she began to have strange bouts of adolescent rebellion that neither Ursula nor Spike could quite figure out. Once she graduated from university, she had eloped to parts unknown with a boy she was dating, and no one heard from her for several years until she turned up on Ursula's doorstep with hubbie and a kid. And that's how it would be, disappear for a few years and then show up when she needed help with a new baby.
Roxanne was in her late thirties now, a child on her hip and three more trailing behind her. Spike only knew the names of the first three, all girls- Biblioteca, Scholastica and Ecclesia. Roxanne had a veracious appetite for books and for learning. She'd gotten her degree in Antiquity Studies and spoke quite a few languages. Spike had always felt proud that he had had a part in her going down that path, but it was probably just coincidence. At any rate, it made sense that she'd give her children names related to what she loved. It was also amusing to Spike that he himself was named after a literary figure, Ursula had been named for a literary character as was Roxanne herself, and that Roxanne ultimately named her kids after the institutions related to, and the pursuit of, learning.
"I'm sorry that I missed the funeral," Roxanne said somewhat stiffly. "Our plane got delayed out of Greece what with the weather."
Spike nodded, "We got the flowers you sent. They were very beautiful."
He felt his stomach turn as he reminded himself that there was no more "we;" it would be just himself from now on.
"Archie picked them out," she motioned with a tilt of her head towards a car idling outside the cemetery gate. "He's better at that stuff than me."
Spike could see a skinny, ginger-haired young man standing outside the car pacing around in a nervous fashion. Archie had always been terrified of Spike, especially after the elopement. The boy was an artist and never managed to finish school, and Spike really didn't mind the him so much, but on the principle of the matter, he let him continue to be frightened.
Looking around at the kids, Spike said softly, "Seems like you've added a new one."
At that Roxanne smiled, and she looked so much like Ursula. Mother and daughter shared the same doe eyes, pixie nose, thick auburn hair, and smile. Spike had been glad that Roxie looked like Ursula; it would have been even more awkward than it had been if the girl had turned out to look like her bio-father whoever he was.
"This is Bill," Roxanne held up the little boy, who was no more than two and absolutely adorable, in her arms.
Biblioteca, who had to be about nine or ten by Spike's estimate, tugged on her mother's coat, "Mum, I'm cold! You said we could go get cocoa."
"All right," Roxanne nodded, and then turned back to Spike and paused, "Maybe your grandda' would like to come with us?"
"How can he be our granda'?" Ecclesia asked, "He looks younger than Daddy!"
"That's a long, long, very long story, sweetheart," Spike laughed, "And one that is probably best saved for when you're older."
"Just tell them that Botox does wonders," Roxanne said quietly to Spike as they walked back towards her car. "That's what I used to tell my mates."
"I'm glad you came back," Spike spoke as Roxanne tried to get Bill into his carseat, "It means a lot."
Helping the other children into the car, she replied, "I didn't want to you to have to be alone, especially at this time of year."
Spike felt his eyes mist up a little, "I appreciate that, really."
Roxanne wrapped her arms around Spike, and he was able to hug his daughter for the first time in years.
"Next Christmas will be better, Dad. I promise."
The End... until all the Christmases to come.
Previous: Parts 1-4, Parts 5-8.
Author:
fenderlovePairing: In these sections, Spike/Buffy, Spike/Fred (friendshippy), Spike/Tok (from the Spike: Shadow Puppets comic), and Spike/Ursula (from my London Calling comic).
Rating: R for mentions of torture and things of an erotic nature... though not at the same time.
Summary: When you live as long as Spike, you've had a variety of holiday-related experiences. Here are twelve glimpses into some Christmases in the life and unlife of our favourite vampire.
Twelve Christmases in the Life & Unlife of William H. Pratt
:: Part IX, X, XI, and XII ::
December 25th, 2002
Sunnydale, California
... She believes in me, and she'll find me...
A clawed hand was on him. One of Spike's eyes was swollen shut, but he was grateful to lack peripheral vision on that side. There was an area above one half of his ribs that was split and open. The claws dragged hard over the torn edges of his skin.
... Please, Buffy, please hurry...
The gnarled fingers pressed hard, and Spike's uninjured eye flew open wide as pain ensnared him, causing him to scream. It felt as though the ubervampire had its entire hand embedded in his chest. Spike's muscles were torn, and he felt a horrible tugging and then a snap followed by another. His ribs were being broken individually from the inside.
... God... please help... Buffy... needyouneedyouneedyou... I can't... can't hold on...
The pain was incessant. The only pauses in the beatings and the pointless, yet none-the-less painful, drownings were when the First would come to taunt him, wanting him to give up, to fall apart, beg for mercy. Sometimes it would watch, taking the form of all the people he had ever cared about. Spike had to be strong. Buffy would save him. She just needed more time. He could be strong for her. He wouldn't let her down, not again.
********
December 25th, 2003
Los Angeles, California
Soulless, penetrating eyes stared right through him. Spike glared at the beast, its blood red maw gaping open ready to emit an ear-splitting wail that would bring the bravest warrior to its knees.
"Spike, leave Peter Pine alone," Fred warned, as she came into her office.
"It's evil," he replied as he frowned at the "singing" and "dancing" plastic Christmas tree sitting on Fred's desk.
Fred sighed, "It is not. It's a Christmas decoration, and it's supposed to make you happy."
Spike poked at fake tree, which began to bounce in its little burlap base. Its plastic eyes blinked open and closed rapidly while its mouth flapped not in time with the electronically mangled version of Have a Holly Jolly Christmas it croaked out.
"You're going to run down the batteries," Fred reached over and hit the 'off' switch on Peter Pine.
"It's possessed," Spike sat down on the edge of her desk, "I'm getting the holy water."
Fred thwacked him with a file folder and went back to scratching some calculations on a notepad.
Spike turned his head to watch her for a moment before asking, "Why are you working today, love? Shouldn't you be at home watching twenty-four hours of A Christmas Story?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Fred smiled, her glasses slightly askew on her nose as she looked up at him.
Shrugging, he sat quietly, letting her work. Knox came hurriedly into the office with two large paper cups, but his large grin disappeared when he saw Fred had company.
"I've got some warm cocoa to while away the Los Angeles chill- Oh, I didn't realize you had a visitor," he said as he handed Fred one of the cups.
Spike took the other cup out of Knox's hand and drank from it, "Ta, mate. Bloody nice of you."
"Thank you," Fred smiled at Knox, silently offering an apology for Spike.
As Knox left, stomping down the metal stairs outside of the office, Spike winked at Fred, and she laughed softly. While she continued to work, Spike took a peek at some of the Christmas cards on her desk, most were from her family from what he could tell.
Fred noted him fiddling with the knickknacks on her desk and put down her pen, "Are you hungry? There's a nice Chinese place right by my apartment that's open."
"Sure, if you're buying, I'm eating," he grinned.
After grabbing some takeaway, Fred took Spike back to her apartment. It was in a pleasant-looking, quiet building. He explored her living room while she set the table. Her Christmas tree was only two feet tall and appeared to be made out of silver tinsel. The ornaments were little test tubes filled with glitter in various colours.
"You're quite the science-y Martha Stewart," Spike said as Fred handed him a plate of lo mein, crab rangoons, and Peking duck.
Fred took some chopsticks out of their paper packaging and smiled, "The tree was my mom's idea. She's great with crafts, like scrapbooking and quilting."
"My mum used to do needlepoints with little sayings," he mused quietly, "Guess that's what Martha would be doing if she were a Victorian lady, I suppose."
Spike really enjoyed having an actual conversation with someone. He was worried that Fred might have been upset with him running off without telling her that he had been recorporealized, but she'd been surprisingly understanding about it. After they finished their dinner, the pair settled on Fred's couch to watch a Mythbusters marathon. Spike wasn't surprised that Fred's TV was already tuned to the Discovery Channel.
During a segment in which the bubbliness of champagne under various corking methods was being tested, the phone began to ring. Fred picked up the receiver and began talking to her mother. Spike leaned his head against the back of sofa, listening to Fred's voice, her Texan twang becoming more apparent the longer she was on the phone, talking about revivals and gossip about her relatives.
Sometime later, Spike woke up, groggy. A blanket was pulled over him, and Fred was curled up on the opposite side of the couch. She was snoring lightly, and Spike felt fairly content as he drifted back to sleep.
********
December 24th, 2006
Machida-Shi, Tokyo, Japan
"Ie, ie, Supaiku-san, kiite (No, no, Spike, listen)," Kaori smiled brightly, patting Spike's arm, and then she sang, "Ohoshi-sama kira-kira; kingon sunago (The stars twinkle; gold and silver grains of sand)."
Spike shook his head, picking up a calligraphy brush, and said in very shaky Japanese, "Gomen nasai, Kaori-chan. Watashi wa orokashii gaijin desu. (Beg your pardon, Kaori. I am a stupid foreigner)."
Kaori giggled loudly, turning to Tok, "Nee-san, kikimashita ka? (Sister, did you hear?)"
"Hai, Supaiku wa baka desu (Yes, Spike is an idiot)." Tok nodded, bringing a pack of origami paper to the little table in her living room.
The little girl laughed even harder at that, and Spike rolled his eyes. Asian languages had never been his forte, but he'd been able to pick up a little though the words always sounded strange with his English accent added to them. Kaori had been desperately trying to teach him some folk songs, but he'd failed miserably at remembering any of them. The kid seemed to enjoy playing teacher to an adult, so it provided entertainment for everyone.
Tok had called Spike to Japan to help her with an infestation of some pretty nasty ogres that had been plaguing the area around Naruse Station. She'd asked him to stay for a little while after the demons had been taken care of, and Spike had agreed. Tok had moved into a traditional Japanese style home near Shinjuku. The house with its sliding paper doors was surrounded on all sides by tall greenery; it was like living in a private forest in the middle of a technological wonderland. Her mother and little sister were visiting from Matsumoto, so the cramped little house was even more so.
Spike had been wary of Tok's mother. Her husband had been killed by a vampire, and he couldn't blame her for being nervous about staying in a house with one. Tok carefully explained that when her sister had fallen victim to the evil Smile Time puppets that had come to Japan, Spike had been the one to slay them, effectively ending the coma Kaori had been trapped in. While their mother was still apprehensive, Kaori practically used Spike as a jungle-gym, climbing all over him, hanging off of his arms.
While Christmas was still a relatively new tradition in Japan, Tok had gotten a miniature fake tree, and now Kaori was teaching Spike how to make decorations. Origami cranes, paper chains, tanzaku with their wishes for the new year written on them were hung from the little branches. Spike showed Kaori that he actually knew how to make several types of origami including beetles, flowers, and balloons, just odd bar-room tricks he'd picked up over the years.
"Normally, the tanzaku are put on bamboo for the Tanabata festival, but I thought that they would be nice to have for Christmas," Tok explained as she watched Kaori help Spike figure out how to write his wish in Japanese a long strip of paper. Leaning over to see his very simple and messy handwriting, she read out loud, making an amused expression, "'I want new shoes.'"
"What? You said I could wish for anything. Was I supposed to wish for world peace or something?" Spike asked.
Tok smirked as she used a brush to write her wish, "It's not that. You have the hand-writing of a kindergardener."
As Tok pushed her paper for Spike to see, he felt self-conscious. Hers was a very calligraphic, looping set of characters, and he couldn't make out what it said at all. Kaori, who impatiently was trying to steal a peek at what her sister had written, couldn't read it either and pouted because Tok was using kanji characters that she had not learned yet. As Tok's mother entered the room with a plate of mochi, little sticky rice cakes, she caught sight of Tok's wish and made a very displeased face before retiring to her room. When Kaori started yawning after they had hung the last of their paper ornaments on the tree, Spike decided it was a good idea for some rest before he had to leave for his flight back to the States the following evening.
Having just closed his eyes after getting comfortable on his futon on the floor, Spike heard the door slide open to his room. Tok, wearing a red silk robe, was closing the door behind her as he sat up. Her shimmering black hair was loose from its characteristic pigtails, falling all around her to her waist.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"No," Tok smiled, untying the belt on her robe, letting it slip from her pale shoulders and fall to the floor, revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Spike stared at her for a moment, taking in her athletic physique. Tok was human, but her strength and agility would rival any Slayer. She was no shy violet as she walked towards him, kneeling down, her expression exuding her pure confidence. Pulling back his comforter, Spike invited her to join him in bed, or in futon rather. They kissed, and, while Spike had not been expecting Tok to make any advances, he found it extremely pleasurable. It was slow and sweet, no fighting for dominance, just the motion of their bodies and the quiet gasps that escaped their lips. They found comfort in one another, two heroes just trying to do their best even when it wasn't always enough.
As Tok was laying on top of him, Spike curled a lock of her hair playfully around his finger, "Thank you."
"It was nice, wasn't it?" she sighed, kissing his chest gently.
Spike laid there for a little while, enjoying the afterglow, "Hey, you never told me what you wrote for your wish."
"Supaiku wa watashi o aishite kureru (Spike, will you love me)?"
"Sounds pretty, but what does it mean?" Spike replied.
Tok tried to hide her sadness behind a smile, "It means 'I wish for Spike not to miss his flight tomorrow.'"
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Spike kissed her forehead, "Thanks, pet, let's hope it comes true."
********
December 25th, 2046
London, England
Placing the holly wreath at the bottom of the headstone, Spike knelt down and brushed some of the snow off the marker, "I miss you, love."
The vampire bit the inside of his cheek to try and get a hold of his emotions, but it was a losing battle. Letting out a shuddery breath, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his overcoat. Spike never imagined he would be in this position, but there he stood crying for the wife that was his in everyone's eyes but the law. He knew he should have been grateful for thirty-odd years of happiness, but once it was gone, he felt cheated.
Ursula had been his match. She had given him so much that being a vampire had taken away, and she found the parts of himself that he thought were lost, that he was afraid to show to anyone else. He clung now to the wonderful memories- nighttime trips to the shore, listening to her play the keyboard, the way she danced around the kitchen even as she grew older, and all the Christmas mornings watching Roxanne open her gifts- he hoped they would never be eclipsed by the sadness he now experienced.
Footsteps crunching in the snow behind him made Spike turn around, "Didn't expect you'd come."
"Didn't really want to," Roxanne replied as she walked towards the grave.
Spike tried to remember who Roxanne used to be, the happy-go-lucky little girl who once called him "dad," not the angry young woman she became. When she was a teenager, Roxie was a bright, studious girl and a star lacrosse player, but she began to have strange bouts of adolescent rebellion that neither Ursula nor Spike could quite figure out. Once she graduated from university, she had eloped to parts unknown with a boy she was dating, and no one heard from her for several years until she turned up on Ursula's doorstep with hubbie and a kid. And that's how it would be, disappear for a few years and then show up when she needed help with a new baby.
Roxanne was in her late thirties now, a child on her hip and three more trailing behind her. Spike only knew the names of the first three, all girls- Biblioteca, Scholastica and Ecclesia. Roxanne had a veracious appetite for books and for learning. She'd gotten her degree in Antiquity Studies and spoke quite a few languages. Spike had always felt proud that he had had a part in her going down that path, but it was probably just coincidence. At any rate, it made sense that she'd give her children names related to what she loved. It was also amusing to Spike that he himself was named after a literary figure, Ursula had been named for a literary character as was Roxanne herself, and that Roxanne ultimately named her kids after the institutions related to, and the pursuit of, learning.
"I'm sorry that I missed the funeral," Roxanne said somewhat stiffly. "Our plane got delayed out of Greece what with the weather."
Spike nodded, "We got the flowers you sent. They were very beautiful."
He felt his stomach turn as he reminded himself that there was no more "we;" it would be just himself from now on.
"Archie picked them out," she motioned with a tilt of her head towards a car idling outside the cemetery gate. "He's better at that stuff than me."
Spike could see a skinny, ginger-haired young man standing outside the car pacing around in a nervous fashion. Archie had always been terrified of Spike, especially after the elopement. The boy was an artist and never managed to finish school, and Spike really didn't mind the him so much, but on the principle of the matter, he let him continue to be frightened.
Looking around at the kids, Spike said softly, "Seems like you've added a new one."
At that Roxanne smiled, and she looked so much like Ursula. Mother and daughter shared the same doe eyes, pixie nose, thick auburn hair, and smile. Spike had been glad that Roxie looked like Ursula; it would have been even more awkward than it had been if the girl had turned out to look like her bio-father whoever he was.
"This is Bill," Roxanne held up the little boy, who was no more than two and absolutely adorable, in her arms.
Biblioteca, who had to be about nine or ten by Spike's estimate, tugged on her mother's coat, "Mum, I'm cold! You said we could go get cocoa."
"All right," Roxanne nodded, and then turned back to Spike and paused, "Maybe your grandda' would like to come with us?"
"How can he be our granda'?" Ecclesia asked, "He looks younger than Daddy!"
"That's a long, long, very long story, sweetheart," Spike laughed, "And one that is probably best saved for when you're older."
"Just tell them that Botox does wonders," Roxanne said quietly to Spike as they walked back towards her car. "That's what I used to tell my mates."
"I'm glad you came back," Spike spoke as Roxanne tried to get Bill into his carseat, "It means a lot."
Helping the other children into the car, she replied, "I didn't want to you to have to be alone, especially at this time of year."
Spike felt his eyes mist up a little, "I appreciate that, really."
Roxanne wrapped her arms around Spike, and he was able to hug his daughter for the first time in years.
"Next Christmas will be better, Dad. I promise."
The End... until all the Christmases to come.
Previous: Parts 1-4, Parts 5-8.
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I hope his Christmases DO get better. *pets the beautiful but sad vampire*
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these were lovely and sad, I'm glad Spike has a family.
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading! :D
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