Okay we're back in a Kerry and Katharyn co-production.... What is that you say? "Speech, Speech"?
Okay...
Kerry’s Speech
As a little Christmas/Yule/Chanukah/Seasonal/Holiday present for all the Kittens out there, Katharyn and I have put together a bit of W/T festive goodness to hopefully amuse and entertain you.
Thanks to everybody who has posted on this board, the artists, the writers, the Moderators and their minions, in short - everyone who has made this a very special place to be. [A special thanks to Julia who provided the date for Yule in 2001 - thanks Dumbsaint!]
Forrister (The elf in the festive trench helmet)
Katharyn’s Speech
What Kerry said… with festive bells on. Merry Xmas one and all and compliments of the season to those who have other beliefs.
Katharyn (Well if she’s the elf then I better be the nymph…)
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Title: A Sunnydale Carol (Chapter 1 of 9)
Author: Forrister & Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome
Spoiler Warning: Very limited, set around Christmas in Season 5 between “Into the Woods” & “Triangle.” Spoilers to that point. Reference to a dream sequence from “The Body” but only referring to Xmas, not the events of that episode.
Summary: Everyone is making plans – good and bad
Disclaimer: We don’t own anything to do with the Buffy shows and are making zilch from this except the rush of feedback.
Rating: PG13
Couples: As standard nothing strange!
Notes: The parts of this fic, technology allowing, will be posted daily (as it is already complete!) up to Christmas so check back often. Obviously this may limit the feedback that might occur between updates but feel free to comment on earlier parts if you want… we love feedback.
We have taken a slight liberty with the Spike/Dawn storyline in S5. This version does not go against canon but we have worked on the basis that it was a developing thing over time.
Thanks To: From Katharyn - Kerry for the idea that sat behind this whole thing, this is her gig… I’m just along for the ride, L as always. From Forrister - Katharyn who provided the get up an go that actually got the project moving - and far from being along for the ride, she was one of the engines that kept the train running.
Chapter One
The Magic Box was experiencing a slight upswing in sales, probably because Christmas was coming. It wasn't what any reasonable person would call a rush, but cash sales had increased by about ten percent. Anya looked pensive. She'd been looking that way for a few days, particularly as she saw the Christmas sales figures that appeared in that weeks 'Sunnydale Merchants News'. Sales figures were up all over town, but a simple calculation told Anya that other businesses were doing much better than they were in these last few weeks before Christmas.
"Why aren't we making more money?" Anya complained to Giles who was busy shelving some new books that had just arrived.
"What?" Giles asked absently, his mind on books rather than sales figures.
"Why aren't we making more money?" Anya repeated impatiently. "Other shops are doing much better than we are. Why aren't we doing that well?"
"We're selling more than we usually do."
"Yes, but not enough. We're not getting enough of the holiday trade." Anya was determined to do something and making Giles aware of the problem was the first step. This shop would have been out of business ages ago if not for her with Giles staring bankruptcy in the face.
"We shouldn't be greedy now, Anya." Giles replied, still concentrating more on his books than the sales figures.
"I'm not being greedy!" she protested. "I just want our fair share. Actually I want more than our fair share."
"Our fair share?" Giles put down the book he was browsing in and gave Anya his full attention.
"Of the Christmas sales boom."
"Oh, that." He picked up the book again. Anya was just on about the Christmas thing again. "Its rank commercialism. It'll pass by the time that post-Christmas Sales all finish and things will go back to normal." He replied, not realising what forces he was dealing with.
That thought made Anya positively frown. She became utterly determined to find out how the other stores were making bigger sales and apply it here, in spite of Giles's wishy washy attitude to business, and before the opportunity passed them by.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the shop bell. She turned to greet the customers but saw only Willow and Tara as they arrived at the shop, as they usually did most afternoons. She frowned and got back to her planning but her attention was grabbed again by Willow's words.
"What are we doing about Christmas?"
"I believe we agreed at thanksgiving that it was happening at the Summer’s residence." Giles replied, as he picked up another book.
"Yes, but that was before." Willow pointed out as she put her bag on the table. "I'm not sure that with Buffy’s Mom being sick and everything else that they can cope with putting on Christmas as well."
Giles thought about this. She could well be right. She often was. "What are you proposing Willow?
"I just thought that we could help out, you know. Look after some of the cooking, help with the decorations. Give them a bit of a break over the holiday."
"Hadn't we better ask them before we start making any plans?" Tara asked, knowing full well how Willow could get carried away with a plan.
"Well, I kinda thought that if we did a bit of planning first then break it to them later, it would be more of a holiday surprise." Willow admitted, not really wanting to be the one to face Buffy with the idea. That was what Watcher’s were for right? Letting Slayers in on plans?
"I'm not sure that they'd appreciate their own plans being taken over." Tara pointed out.
"They won't be!" Willow felt she was on firm ground here. "I talked to Buffy yesterday and sounded her out a little. They have no real plans. Her Mom is still spending a lot of time in bed resting and Buffy is still pretty down about Riley leaving." She didn't exactly admit that she'd said nothing of her plans to her best friend, but had solidly pumped her for the Summers Christmas agenda.
They were all silent at this observation. The family had it pretty tough this year and they all felt an urge to do what they could to make it easier.
"So what about it?" Willow asked.
Everyone nodded, except Tara.
"I suppose so." She finally agreed. "But only if we ask them first."
Willow smiled. "That’s my baby. Sure, we'll ask them."
Everybody looked at everyone else. Nobody volunteered. While the idea was good the prospect of going to Buffy and her mother with this was daunting.
Willow looked at the small sea of empty faces in front of her. "Ok then, we'll draw straws for it." Thus deciding the matter in the time honoured manner.
At that moment the shop bell rang out in the silence and they all turned to see Xander standing in the doorway. He quickly became aware that all eyes were glued to him.
"Er… Did I interrupt something?" He asked in all innocence.
**********************
"Oh come on!" Harmony stamped her foot in frustration.
“He always was a little slow to get up,” one of her other new minions commented about the latecomer.
“Well he should be up and around by now. The rest of you managed it and I bit you,” she gestured at the biggest of the group, “last of all.” She stamped her foot on the earth of the fresh grave once more. “Get up!”
She had big plans for this group of… group members. And was she going to pile on the pounds after last night’s pig out? All you can eat at the hopeless inadequate bar. Six in one night. She had never managed to take that many before. And they had fallen for it. As if she would have touched one of them. Let alone all six. In turn. Uggh.
Unless she really needed them. And she did. This was a great opportunity to make money and get food. Though she could probably afford a few days dieting. Strictly the pleasure of the kill for her for a little while. Or she wouldn’t be able to fit into that cute costume that she had maimed for.
She hadn’t snacked on the clerk either, which showed the sort of restraint that she had always had in her dieting. Being dead really didn’t make a difference.
Her new minions had all pretty much brushed themselves down when the last one finally made it from his grave. A real weedy guy. She preferred… well everyone in the whole world to him.
He looked up at her and was obviously confused by the change as he looked up at her. “Back for more honey lips?” She kicked him in the privates for the second time in twenty four hours and was satisfied to hear that his shrieking had survived the change.
This was definitely a wonderful opportunity.
It was Christmas after all which was when she was supposed to get things handed to her.
**********************
“Organization. That’s what we need. Organization.” Willow decided that she was the one to get the gang organised properly, so that nothing would be overlooked and everyone would have a job. Last night’s Scooby version of the plan had been less than a success. But with a good night’s rest behind her she was raring to take charge and reorder some lives for them. Now. Who'd do what?
Giles and Anya had the shop so that they'd be unavailable during the days. But after it closed… They could be left off the list and filled in later. Xander, on the other hand, was very useful for putting up decorations and running errands – though he too had a job and that had to be taken into account. He could probably make it back for six each night.
Willow had decided that the Summers home would be a Christmas wonderland, inside and out. The inside they could handle, outside would be Xander's domain – though not his design. Dawn could look after the more exciting interior decorations with a little help… after all she was fifteen and seemed to enjoy that sort of thing, the more mundane stuff the rest of them would deal with. They just had to ensure Dawn didn’t adopt too much of Anya’s… enthusiasm.
The next important thing was the food. Christmas meant lots of good food, Willow knew that and though she wasn’t very experienced with Christmas per se… the winter holidays were a time of celebration for many. And whatever you happened to believe that also usually implied lots of frantic cooking. Except at Xander’s house where the only thing that implied cooking was a general strike in the takeaway industry. Buffy's cooking had improved lately but she'd still need a lot of help in the kitchen. Willow put herself and Tara down for that, although Tara had been quite firm about having her own things to do. Willow vaguely recalled something about a Yule celebration, but as this was to take place some days before Christmas she moved it to the back of her mind.
Mrs Summers wouldn't have to do a thing. She was still a bit weak from her operation and was spending a great deal of time in bed resting. Willow thought that if they made up the couch nice and comfy, that she could lie there and see the entire Christmas thing going on around her. They'd wait on her and pamper her like a queen, and she'd still be at the centre of all that was going on.
There. She had the beginnings of the plan down. She knew the criteria, she knew the deadline. But it was just the beginning… but not the flesh and bones. The next step was to figure out the precise tasks required and then assign them and set it all out in a logical fashion. A chart. She'd make a chart which let you know what needed to be done and when, and who was supposed to be doing it. They'd tick off boxes as the tasks were completed so that the overall progress could be measured. There also had to be personal schedules. Little charts for each person so they'd know what they were supposed to be doing and where they were supposed to be. This could all be linked back to a master chart with spaces for each task and each person so that you could tell at a glance what was going on.
And colours. It had to be colourful. And coordinated in that colour. Hmmm. Thoughts of different coloured papers began to float through her mind. Project colours were important for team identity. How much would some coloured A4 be?
She fired up her laptop, opened up a spreadsheet program and got to work. When Tara arrived back some hours later, fresh from one of her mysterious 'shopping trips’, which seemed to take forever and were becoming more frequent of late, she found Willow hard at it.
“Tara, I've put you down for two cooking sessions, on these two days. You see the orange blocks? My red and your yellow. You and me both together. Isn't that great? Getting all domestic and kitchenny! We don’t get kitchenny often enough. I think the cafeteria food spoils us…” The overwhelming silence she heard…or rather didn’t cause her to look up from the screen.
Tara looked stricken.
Probably not about the cafeteria degrading their domestic skills though. Actually there was that Banoffi pie that Tara really liked. Willow was a bit taken aback though. “Oookay. I can see that the cooking thing may not be such a good idea. I could put you down for cleaning up if you'd rather?” Though that might mean shifting Xander into the culinary role… good idea? No.
Tara frowned. “Willow, have you forgotten? That day, that's Yule! We were going to celebrate a proper Yule. You promised that would be okay with all the other planning.”
It was Willow's turn to look stricken. “I'm so sorry. I remembered, but then I forgot again. It went out of my head entirely.” Tara looked a little brighter, but not much.
“Look.” Willow gestured to her laptop and changed a few things, watching the reordered tasks drop through the sheets, pleased that it had withstood it’s first test. A successful spreadsheet it was like… well something that was very, very pleasing. “I'm putting Xand… no… Buffy and Dawn down for that time. See, all done! We'll have the whole night.”
“And the morning.” Tara added. “We'll need to get some sleep afterwards.”
“Sleep?” Willow joked. “What's that?” It was a joke, but then she realised that in fact there was a whole period on the 24th where she had not allowed for more than 3 hours sleep. For anyone. Nobody was going to be fit for holiday high jinks with just three hours sleep.
“We'll be staying up all night and I know that we'll both need some sleep.”
Particularly since we're supposed to be doing a shopping trip that afternoon, thought Willow to herself as she got back to her charts and allowed Tara to squirrel away the mysterious things from her bag into her closet without peeking. She noticed though that the printed draft of her chart had a woefully blank spot in the middle, and she moved quickly to fill it with a different coloured pen.
*************
“Spike, what was Christmas like? When you were my age, I mean.” Dawn asked as she made herself comfortable. Comfortable as you could be in a musty old crypt with a vampire for company when it was already dark outside. But it was kinda cool in here and the bones were definitely way cool. But part of that was also the thrill of being where she shouldn't be. At least where big ‘I'm the Slayer listen to me’ sister thought that she shouldn't be. This was just the second time and she thought that Spike was almost as surprised that she came back for more as he had been when she first turned up. That was kinda cool too. Shocking the vampire. Probably not much did.
Spike snorted. “I was never your age.”
“You had to be once upon a time. What was it like?” Dawn insisted. That only made sense. Okay he had stopped aging when he died but he was way older than her… ‘old’ even. And English. But not stuffy like Buffy's watcher.
“Ah. A story. You want me to tell you another story.” Spike settled back in his chair and lit up a smoke not fearing to blow it in her direction. If secondary smoking was the biggest danger the kid faced in this town then she would be doing pretty damn well. Time was I might have been one of those dangers.
“I want a true story.” Dawn demanded, knowing that Spike had loved telling her his little story despite what he sometimes said. Then coughed. Smoking was just so… uncool. It was about the only thing about him that wasn't cool though. Everyone had their little faults. Some, like Buffy, more than others.
Spike blew a few smoke rings, showing off now, and thought about it. “Why not?” He could tell the kid the sort of tale she loved to hear. Topical. “Ok, when I was a boy I lived in a big country estate house with my father.” Course actually it was a London townhouse and I was hardly ever there and when I was there the old man was off on one of his bloody business trips.
Dawn looked puzzled. “What about your mother?”
Spike frowned. “She died when I was small, I don't really remember her.” Which was bollocks. I remember how soft her hair was, and how she would sing to me and read me stories. She had a smell like lavender and roses. But am I going to tell the kid that she was about as interested in me as my father was? She thinks I'm cool.
And I am.
“I'm sorry.” Dawn understood his loss, she had been so afraid of losing her mother for a while there, but Mom had pulled through and now everything was all right again now. For a while she had been afraid, that last Christmas would have been… well the last. But Buffy had been right. Mom was fine. A little tired but getting better everyday.
“Don't be. It was common enough in those days.” Happy days. Back then no one cared if a family turned up dead in their house. Damn sight easier to feed in those conditions. “Anyhow, at Christmas the dining hall and parlour were decorated with ivy and holly. None of your tacky plastic tinsel and shiny mass-produced ornaments. Real greenery and little carved wooden figures hung everywhere.” Spike closed his eyes as if he were remembering the scene instead of just visualising every English Christmas movie he had ever bothered to watch. What he was actually remembering was that at the boarding school they put all the boys who stayed over Christmas at one table in the big empty dining hall. The table might have a sprig of holly or two on it but it was pretty much the same as it was all year round.
“Wow!” Dawn exclaimed, tucking the idea away for their own Christmas decorations. “It must have been a lot of work for you and your dad.”
Spike smiled at the naivety. “We didn't do it, we had servants for that. A butler and a housekeeper, upstairs maids and downstairs maids, cooks, gardeners and grounds men.” Spike struggled to think of a few more for the list but came up with a blank. You only needed grounds men if you had grounds and a small garden did not grounds make. There was just old Johns who looked after the townhouse. He was a good enough bloke. Didn't steal from the family, happy with the pay and never caused trouble when later I came home tipsy from a social event. He had done a little cooking for me when I was there, hadn't he? Spike wondered if his memory was playing tricks. Nah I was usually sent to eat at the Inn down the road. Still might as well play to stereotype.
“Servants? Your dad must have been pretty rich then.” Dawn was surprised. She never thought of Spike coming from a wealthy family.
“Yeah, but I never really thought about it.” Actually, he thought, I hated it. Back when I was little we were just a typical lower middle class family, though at least we were a family. When the old bastard made his money in the railways he started to act like a born toff. They laughed at us but he never noticed. I didn't notice them laughing at me until much later. It's amazing what you blind yourself to when trying to fit in. Still it made me what I was when Dru killed me – angry enough to be the bloke I am today.
“Did you have a tree?” The most important part of Christmas for Dawn was decorating the tree with her Mom and Buffy.
“Sure, it was a big pine tree that was grown on the estate.” Spike tried to remember what some of the other boys at school told him about their trees. “We decorated it with paper chains and hung wooden ornaments and sweets from the branches. We also hung oranges and sugar plums on Christmas Eve and we'd eat them Christmas day. All the presents were wrapped in cloth or paper and piled underneath.” At the school there had been a 'tree'. It was several pine branches tied together in what passed for woodwork. There were paper chains but nothing else. For a ‘good’ school it was a sodding pit.
Oranges and sugar plums reminded Dawn about food. A thought that was rarely far from the mind of a growing girl. “What did you do for Christmas dinner?”
Spike described a scene from an old movie he'd seen on TV once. “We had it in the dining hall where the tables were arranged in a big horseshoe shape. All the servants and all the tenants of the estate were invited. There was a great goose, which my father carved. We had several smaller geese as well so that everyone would get some, but the big goose was special – it was the only one he carved. There were roasted potatoes, pumpkin, marrow, turnip, peas, beans, chestnut stuffing and gravy. Plum pudding for desert and lots of rum punch to wash it down with.” Really… well there were slices of chicken and the usual three vegetables. Of course at Christmas there was always a spotted dick with custard and treacle, but it all tasted the same after a while.
Dawn sighed. Images of this wonderful scene filled her head. “I wish I could have lived back then.”
“No. No you don't Nibblet.” That was the truth. She wouldn't have lasted five minutes back then. If disease, poverty or overbearing parents hadn't got her then something nasty would… something like me. “Life was hard and times were harder. We never lacked for food or a roof over our heads but there were many who did. 'You're lucky to live here and now.” Yeah. The kid doesn't know how good she has it.
He couldn't help thinking that was a good thing though – that she didn’t have to know what things had really been like. Which was why he had gilded the lily a bit. Well, a lot really. But it was the sort of Christmas he would have had, if reality hadn't intervened and he had been allowed to live inside his childish fantasies.
Maybe her Christmas fantasies would come true.
**********
Chapter Two
“There, it's all done!” Willow pressed a key and saved her work, then leant back to enjoy the complex, yet easy to read schedule she'd drawn up. Tara came over and stood behind her, using her hands to massage away the tensions in Willow's back and creating a whole new set of tensions elsewhere. Willow wasn’t sure though that she had factored that sort of thing into the Holiday Schedule. Or at least enough of it.
“What do you think?” Willow asked, running her hand affectionately up Tara's arm. “It's all finished now.”
Tara took a look at the chart, stopped her massage, and looked more closely. “Willow, you have everybody scheduled for twenty-four hours of every day!”
“I was careful. I allowed for eight hours sleep and three meal breaks every day.” Willow replied proudly, wishing that Tara's hands would continue what they'd been doing just a moment before.
“Sweetie, there's no time here for anyone to do as they please. No free time.” Tara pointed out gently as she resumed her task, Willow’s back was calling to her as her love’s body always did.
“Hmmmmm.” Willow sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation for a bit before pointing out. “No, I allowed two whole hours every day for them to do whatever they like. I took account of the holidays.” Two hours though…? Tara was reminding her of just what that time would have to include, but it was a good plan.
Tara began to gently kneed the back of her lover's neck. “I think you should double that at least, and give everyone a day off. If you organise people's lives too much they'll just ignore you.”
“But it's such a good schedule!” Willow complained, as she gently drew circles on the back of Tara's hand. Their own sleepy time would suffer though if they just had two hours…
“You can fix it in the morning. It's late now, and you need your sleep.”
“But I'm not sleepy! And…” Willow looked at her watch, not yet even eight o’clock. “It’s early.” She turned and rested her head on Tara's stomach. The hands that were previously massaging her back were now gently stroking her hair.
“Not yet you're not, but you will be sleepy and it will be late” Tara’s low whisper caused Willow to look up and lose herself in the sexiest pair of blue eyes that ever looked into hers. Those eyes held the promise of everything she ever wanted out of life and she drank them in. She didn't look back at her laptop, just fumbled behind her until she could close the lid to shut it off. Her eyes never left her lover's face and her free hand was doing some massaging of its own. That mundane detail complete, she stood and led Tara to the bed they shared. She wasn't tired yet, but she felt certain that she could find something to keep her occupied until sleep eventually came. And it would take more than two hours, Tara had a point.
The holiday preparations could wait until tomorrow, even if Tara had cheated to prove that point.
**********
A clap rang out across the old church hall, summoning those within to attention. Of course since the church that had given the place it’s title sunk into the ground in an earthquake decades ago, there seemed little reason to call it by that name anyway. Some curious people, not knowing the history of the area also wondered about that and had examined the matter, discovering the obvious, that there had indeed once been a church. If they'd asked the locals they would have found out straight away but they had to go through the tedious process of adding two and two together and getting every other number before finally arriving at four. There had been much in the way of ‘Duh’ exclaimed then.
But all that mattered for its current purpose was that it was empty, had fairly decent acoustics and most important it had distinct lack of old church religious symbols to affect the performance and force the performers outside.
“Where’s….” she looked around desperately trying to remember the name. “Help me out here,” the young woman at the front of the hall asked of the other five individuals. Actually they were more than a group. They were her group. Because she had a plan. She had plan, a group to carry it out and brains.
And a really cute costume.
“Terry?” asked one who was fingering the green velvet costume that he had been given with the distaste of one who has been ridiculed for his dress sense all of his life and knew that it was about to get a whole lot worse. He was called Larry and he was not impressed.
“Yes. Thank you. Where is Terry?” Harmony asked.
“Not here…” Barry guessed. Though he quite liked the purple velvet suit that he had received. Though the blood on the collar might not ever wash out. Still she was his sire and she had got the costumes just like she promised. Actually she had got the costumes before she had… got… the group who would wear them. Which was why they didn’t fit too well. But it was a good plan. He knew that with the conviction of a person whose finest plan previously had been how to take out the nest of orcs that inhabited level 13 of the dungeon with just a broadsword, a sack and a scantily clad assistant.
“Oh well done Cary,” Harmony added scathingly.
“Barry, he’s Cary,” he informed her patiently.
“Okay… fine. He’s Cary and you’re Larry. You’re Barry. Yes? Terry is missing” she was getting testy now. She’d never been much good with names. Important people you just knew. That was the way the world worked and whilst she had definitely heard the names of this lot whilst they were at Sunnydale High she was proud to say that she couldn’t remember ever having to say a word to them. Even in insult. They had been that far below her notice.
How the mighty are fallen….
Actually no they have been elevated to my level. I am sooo generous. Like… that really famous generous person. I’m a really good person. Well vampire. Well totally evil. I am such an evil vampire. With a plan. And brains. And a gang… group. One that isn’t going to try and kill me. And even if they did they couldn’t manage to do more than lace their shoes without help. I am so good… at being evil, she thought. “So who are you?” she gestured at the yellow suited one.
“Kevin,” he replied smiling at her, certain that if he just went along with her for long enough he might even get a kiss off her. That would make all the abuse worthwhile. After all they had eternity now to get it on. She would succumb to his charms eventually it was just a matter of time. This wasn’t like the chess club. This was a choral society. Everyone knew that the choral society was the way to get babes – almost as good as the band for that. The apparently quiet and shy kind. That was where that whole rivalry came from. Not that Harmony was either of those things, quiet or shy, but that had to make it easier right. There had been a whole movie about that.
Well not just about that… but enough. And it wasn’t as if he was looking for anything more than a kiss. Though that might just be the start of an eternal love affair. Full of passion and… passion. He picked at scab that marred his face where he had been picking his human acne. Turned out that being a vampire did nothing for your skin condition… you just kept returning to the state you were when you died.
“And you blue?”
“Bruce.” Bruce was the quiet one. Bruce didn’t have much of a thought in his head at the best of times.
“Right so let me make sure that I have got this. Larry, Barry, Cary… gee that rhymes did you guys know that?” They nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm and she carried on very pleased with the observation. “Kevin and Bruce. That doesn’t rhyme so well.”
“No,” Bruce confirmed.
“Have you considered changing those names. I really think you should have. If Terry were here like he should be… I mean like the rest of us made it on time… then we could really have some fun with names. It would be just like the elves of legend.” Harmony tried to sound mysterious with that, always best to sound like you knew what you were doing. Spike had always sounded like he knew what he was doing with the mystical stuff and look where it had gotten him.
A chip in his head.
Oh well.
“Elves of legend?” Barry asked, searching his memory… various fantasy novels springing to mind. He could live… well unlive… with being a noble elf like creature. Not that the costume was very noble more sort of fabled toy maker than noble elf.
“Happy, Dopey, Doc… you know.” God they were so dense.
“That was the Seven Dwarfs. We’re vampires dressed up as elves,” Larry told her.
Larry? Yes Larry was definitely the problem one of the group. Harmony knew a lot about controlling a group of vampires. She’d had minions before and learnt a lot from them. Namely never pick a minion with a backbone or who was stronger than you were. Hence… this lot and even Larry the troublemaker… well to call him Larry the Dweeb would be an insult to Dweebs everywhere. He was big, and he would argue, but he didn’t have… stones… Spikey would have said.
“Well…” she thought desperately, not wanting to show any weakness at all. Sound confident. Sound you know what is what and who is who. “I can be Snow White!” That sounded like a good addition to the plan. When they went round they could sing and she could look pretty as Snow White… people were sure to come out of their houses for that. It was a great, great plan. All you could eat and when you were no longer hungry the humans might give them drinks and money. They would leave their houses of their own free will. And before that… shopping precincts and cash aplenty. With cash, equally distributed they could all buy her Christmas gifts. As was her due as their sire.
Brilliant!
“But we’re elves. Not dwarves,” Larry told her.
“You said you wanted to be dwarves!” Harmony was frustrated. They seemed to get the plan but they were just terrible with the details. She could have got better minions she guessed. Slightly less stupid – though these guys had all been geeks too – but they were stuck with their book learning. What good would that do them now? She needed minions who were still basically cowards and obedient. But she had needed them to sing well enough to get people to leave their houses to watch and to give them stuff… and this was a group. Back from college for the holidays and reunited in their old group. They would have to do.
“No… you said you wanted to call us dwarf names.”
Always arguing was Larry. If she didn’t need… well whatever kind of voice he had, then she would have thrown him out of the group. No voting. Just expulsion. “Look enough with the names okay? Fine! Elves with common names. See if I care.”
“Right so what are we calling the group? The group has to have a name otherwise people are going to suspect something is wrong,” Barry tried to divert the conversation. Larry had never been consensus kind of guy. In chess club he had been the one who forced them to play on green and yellow checked boards instead of the traditional ones. We never did know why, Barry mused.
“How about being… ‘In Harmony?’” Kevin replied, his mind whirling with carried over adolescent fantasies about his blonde sire. Sire? Siress? In Harmony… mmmmn.
“Ewww!” Harmony cried.
Okay nix that. Kevin crossed that subtle bit of seduction off his list. He had been thinking about this and her since he had got up… dead… and been told the plan. It was a great plan. Very sexy. Cheap innuendo, though, was not going to get this done. This was going to take seductive wiles. He was good at that, he had actually once made out with Larry’s sister. Well he thought it was Larry’s sister. It had been kinda dark and that bottle of wine had blurred things. But, anyway, that would be nothing to the passion he would show Harmony. She was a babe. Schwing! As the saying went. There had been a movie about that too.
Schwing!
“The Harmettes?” Barry asked eager to please. And pleasing Harmony seemed, in the few short days since she had turned them all, to revolve around complimenting her at every opportunity in every way that you could. They were her group. They were her gang. She was their sire. The Harmettes why not?
“Good!” She clapped her hands once more. “I like that. The Harmettes!” A group could go places with a name like that she realised. That was a name with class. Like all those sixties groups she had never listened to but had their photo’s on walls on TV shows and in some bars. Faded black and white photo’s it would be good to be remembered like that. Appreciated and well managed. The manager was the most important thing after all. Didn’t matter if you could sing as long as you had good management. Look at ‘N-Sync.’
Sunnydale was certainly going to remember them though.
“Okay then… Harmettes.” It even sounded good to say it. “I have another costume gift for you all…” she waved the bag at them. The looks on their faces ranged from eager to please – Barry – to vague disgust – Larry – stopping off in a…what was that with Kevin’s tongue? Eww. “Elf ears! Come and get them everyone.”
They dutifully came forwards and took their ears from the bag.
“These aren’t elf ears,” Larry accused her as soon as he saw them.
“Yes they are!” She replied. Not that she was sure. She had forgotten to ask the clerk at the costume store before she had eaten him. She’d spent hours trying to track down enough sets for them all… though she might have got out of there that much earlier if she had known that Garry? No Terry… would be a no show.
“No they are not elf ears.”
“Yes they are!” Harmony ripped a packet open and modelled them. “Look pointy elf ears.”
“Your ears are lovely,” Kevin told her wanting to stick his tongue down them.
Harmony paused thought about a response and then decided it would be better to just ignore him. But maybe keep him hanging on… I mean as if I would touch that… But hanging on, he was her insurance. Just in case they turned her. Doing one nasty thing with him… and a kiss would be very, very nasty and he would be hers forever.
That was even nastier to contemplate...
“They’re Spock ears,” Larry told her almost patiently.
“No they are not.” She tried to sound firm and authoritative but suspected that she was getting out of her depth and into geek territory.
Barry had to agree with Larry. “They are Spock ears. Sorry… but I have some Leonard Nimoy originals.”
“You're sure?” At least it was Barry and not Larry. She could let Barry win…
“Yes.”
“Okay… well I never watched Star Wars so how was I supposed to know?”
None of them had the heart to set her straight on that and were having a hard enough time imagining someone not having watched Star Wars or Star Trek and being able to tell the difference.
“But…!” she added positively. “They are pointed and elves have pointy ears. Everyone knows that. People will be expecting pointy ears under your hats.”
In the shadows at the back of the hall something absently reached up and fondled it’s own ear, thinking of what people expected. There were standards it was true… not that this lot had any. Time to thin the numbers a little more…Not that it had been responsible for Terry. The blonde vampire outside had seen to that one. It pointed a claw and reality subtly shifted. The effect of that shift would take a moment so it went back to taking notes on the meeting certain that it could not be seen until it needed to be.
And that time was not yet.
Impersonating Elves indeed.
The Harmettes put their ears on some more reluctant than others. “Excellent! Very, very elfy” she told them, happy that her plan was coming together so well, as the minions went back to their places ready for rehearsal. Bruce never made it though.
It was sort of freaky how it happened. Bruce’s ears fell off for no apparent reason, the elastic snagging both his shoelace and a vent in the floor and pulling the former undone. He stumbled over the lace that had not been loose a minute earlier and fell sideways across a table, which shattered under his weight. With a poof he was gone.
Harmony just looked at the rest of them, raised her eyebrows. “Oh come on Harmettes! Be careful!” The meeting proceeded. One minion more or less was no big deal. They were going to sing for their supper and one less mouth to feed was no disaster.
********************
Spike had watched the group arrive and was on his third smoke before the singing actually started. Which took him by surprise. Actually he'd been following Harm, more out of interest than for any specific reason. She’d run off after another of her screaming fits and all because he'd called her blonde bint. As if he had never done that before…
Still she seemed to be doing… something. He’d watched over the last few days, almost interested in what she was doing… Making herself a new gang? He had to hand it to her for her choice of minions though – if they all turned against her at exactly the same time, even she would kick their collective ass. It might almost be fun to see them go up against the Slayer cause that one he’d dusted – just for fun, mind – hadn’t even known how to raise his fists. Spike had given him every chance but it had been, well - taking candy from a baby would have been harder. Where was the fun in that then?
Probably wouldn’t even get time to light a smoke when they came up against the slayer, though that wouldn’t be anytime soon. The Slayer was all cut up about her nancy-boy, poncy out of work secret agent - ‘I’m so sodding macho’- Riley leaving. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned. What with that and Joyce being so badly off this year the Watcher and the friends had decided to give them both a decent Christmas celebration. To which he wasn’t invited, but somehow was appearing on this colourful roster that Red had slipped under the door of his crypt. Rostered for covering the patrolling and slaying on many of the nights around Christmas. Without having being asked. Bloody cheers. And tonight too…
But he hadn’t argued. Not that she had been there for him to argue with. It was a little indulgence that he was gifting himself, playing along with them and doing what they asked without complaint. Joyce was a nice lady and she deserved some quality time. Besides one day he would rip all their hearts out.
He took a drag on his cigarette and then admitted to himself that Joyce was not the only reason for this. There was great capital to be made in helping the Slayer have a nice Christmas. After all she was so… Well… he didn’t like to think about it, but his dream thank you involved the Slayer, some mistletoe and a few minutes later a king size bed. He’d probably have to settle for just the Mistletoe though… Though it might be fun to play around with those witches too. A little tongue under that sprig ought to piss them right off. He’d have to think on that one. Just so long as it wasn’t the librarian or the monkey boy. But monkey boy’s girl. Now that would be fun, and with the Slayer’s sister no doubt begging for a traditional Christmas like he’d told her about there was bound to be mistletoe, so he just had to swing by and visit on the day didn’t he?
Chapter Three
Tara went over things once more in her mind. She had the camping spot booked; the rangers knew they were coming. She had the tent and the other equipment stored at the Magic Box. She was glad that Xander was able to lend it to them, even though they'd only need it for one night. She'd found the perfect spot for their Yule ritual in a State park. There was a clearing near the top of a hill, surrounded by trees except on the eastern side where it was perfect for watching the sunrise. She checked and found that they could camp there and were allowed to have an open fire. That was an important part of the ritual. She debated the need for a tent and sleeping gear since they were planning on staying up all night but finally decided that rituals and talk were probably not all they'd be doing that night and she wanted to be comfortable. She'd laid in a stock of wood for the fire, the incenses and oils she'd need for the ritual. All that was left was the things that required making by hand.
Mr Giles had agreed, after hearing her reason and carefully examining her licence, to loan her his car for the night. Now that had surprised her a great deal. She'd fretted about asking him for a week before she finally found the courage to bring it up, preparing herself to try and find the money to hire a car when he said no. When he agreed, she nearly fell over. His statement that he was sure she'd be responsible really got to her, she was so embarrassed, but also privately pleased at his trust.
She left the hardest part until last. There was the making of all the things needed and also all the presents she intended to give. She spent much of her Christmas budget at the magic box buying the basic supplies she needed. Mr Giles was kind enough to give them to her at cost price. She wondered why he put such a big mark-up on his goods, as the price difference between cost and store price was really huge. He'd explained that Anya set the prices based on some formula of her own, which was linked to supply and demand, and the slow turnover of stocks. He laughingly admitted that he was baffled as well as he personally wrapped up her goods, and threw in a large bottle of pure almond oil and some rolls of real silk ribbon in Christmas colours. Store incentives for a good customer, he claimed. Tara was sure that he was just doing it to be nice, when he saw her interest in the items and her dismay at the cost. He refused to take them back, claiming that it would be bad for business. She smiled and thanked him, graciously accepting the gifts.
Her next few 'shopping trips' involved going to the nearby nature reserve where she collected pinecones and went to 'speak' to the Willow tree there. She did it with a purpose, trying to coax the tree into dropping a branch that she could use to craft a wand for her sweetie's Yule gift. It took three weeks of regular visits before she arrived to find the perfect piece of wood lying on the ground under the tree. She thanked it for its gift before tucking the branch into her bag. She had found a tree where the mistletoe grew and was going to harvest some the day before Yule. Ivy was easy too. The walls of the buildings at the University were festooned with it and the head grounds man gave her permission to take as much as she liked. It was the holly that was the problem. She couldn't seem to find somewhere to get genuine sprigs of holly. There was fake plastic holly in abundance but little of the real thing. Anya promised to keep her eyes open for it when she did the ordering for the shop.
******************
“You did what?” Anya was aghast.
“I sold Tara goods at cost,” Giles told her for the third time; pretty sure that he had done so. That bafflement was threatening to clobber him again.
“Cost? Whose cost?” she pressed.
“My cost…” he replied slowly.
“Do you even know what cost is?” she asked then, astonishingly for her, backtracked as if realising she had gone a little too far, softening her face.
He had been about to interrupt but pleased with her realisation and the progress it might reveal in his assistant settled for explaining. “Tara is a very good customer and more than that, she is a friend who gives us a lot of her time. Not just to help with the,” he waved at the outside world meaning the Hellmouth, “…local situation, but also with the shop.”
“Absolutely.”
Well that was easier than he expected.
“But do you really know what cost is? Do you know how I calculate the prices?” Anya asked, entirely more reasonably.
“Well… I imagine that it involves the cost of the goods supplied.”
“And?”
“Supply and demand?” he added, hopeful that the answer was the correct one, or at least the fundamentals of economics would get him through this.
Anya just stared at him, not believing that he could take on a business and not know. Of course he just applied a huge mark up and that pretty much covered everything – but when you started to sell at cost it helped to know what that actually was.
“Erm. Look this is my shop you know,” he reminded her again.
“You don’t know, do you?” she suggested to him.
“No.”
“The cost of the goods supplied is just the start. Then we have my wages, rent, bills, taxes…” He shuddered at that last. His first attempt at a tax return had been a nightmare and she knew it. “And your profits. If you want to supply at cost then you should just sell minus your profit. The rest is cost.”
“Oh…” Now probably wasn't the time to mention that he had given away the almond oil and the silk ribbon she had ordered for their best customers.
Anya herself decided that it wasn't quite the right time to mention that she'd practically given Tara several sprigs of genuine, naturally grown holly, at far less than cost. Even by his definition.
They looked at each other, keeping their own little secrets, both giving a half smile. One having learnt something.
*************
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly! Fa la la la la, la la la la.”
The late night shopping trade was always brisk around Christmas and the carollers were doing a brisk trade. They were a quartet now, though once there had been six. Well only five who ever made it to a rehearsal. Actually just the four of them who had actually rehearsed. The unfortunate incident with Bruce, a pair of Spock ears and a shoelace had seen to that. They were dressed in their brightly coloured elf costumes. They sang all the traditional carols in perfect four part harmonies. The blond girl with them, dressed in a red mini-dress trimmed with white fur seemed to think she was conducting but anyone with an ounce of music knowledge would not have recognised that as conducting. It seemed to be also her job to pass around the red Santa hat and coax cash from the people who stopped to listen. Plenty of people did stop, for a time, and the hat was filled rapidly. It ended with a discordant and out of time “la” from the young woman. She had also taken it upon herself to sing, but fortunately for their money making not too loudly. After the set, the carollers retired to a quiet alley to rest and count their gains.
“Well, there’s plenty of cash here. Enough to give us some merry Christmas shopping!” The blonde counted the money with undisguised pleasure. Money was, she thought, generally a good thing. Pretty much she would even admit that it was better than blood. Money could buy you blood, but what could blood buy you? And you couldn’t kill every shopkeeper when you wanted something.
“But Harmony, when do we get to eat?” The tallest of the elves, Barry, whined.
“I think we’ve got enough for one night.” She tucked the money into her purse and turned to her little group. “Now for the next part of the plan. We go into the suburbs, door to door. Singing a bit, hopefully getting invited in for a little Christmas cheer, then and only then we eat. Course, if they don’t want us to come in then at least we can get them to come out… all they have to-do is cross the threshold.” She eyed up their costumes and considered what she'd gone though to get them. “Oh, and remember. Anyone who gets blood on the costumes will be doing the laundry for a week.”
Barry raised his hand, hesitantly, pointing at the collar where he already had a bloodstain. He had been complaining about it since she had given him it.
“Yes, yes except for you. But if you get anymore on it…” she warned him.
“I won’t!” he absolutely assured her – though he wasn't sure what use this costume would be after Christmas.
They moved quickly from the mall into the nearby suburbs. Going door to door and carolling their little hearts out. Unfortunately it was twelve days until Christmas and people were too busy to pay them any mind. Nobody invited them in. After the fifteenth such try Harmony gathered the others around her. “Look, this isn’t working and I’m getting sore feet with all this walking. How about we check out the alley behind the bar, pick up a quick snack and head off home.”
“But you promised us a nice fresh dinner, not some wino bum!” The tallest elf whined.
“You just remember who’s in charge here.” Harmony was getting pretty tired of this big bozo, even if he could sing a mean bass. “I’m the boss, your sire, and you're all my minions – sorry elves… get it? Do you think Santa’s elves argue with him?”
They started to mutter about her not being Santa. All except Kevin who still hadn’t gotten over the fake fur trimmed mini dress, fishnets and boots.
“Hey, hands up who wants to be dusted. Anyone?” Nobody raised his hand, “No-one? Good. Then lets go. Things should pick up closer to Christmas.” She paused for a moment to contemplate the effect her nail polish had on her ensemble. “Is this shade of red too bright with this outfit, do you think?”
“Oh no!” Kevin replied quickly. “You know what they say about nail varnish… what it reflects…” he trailed off, thinking the answer obvious.
Instead they all looked at him, Harmony more intently, raising her eyebrows. “No. What?”
“Well you know…”
“No.”
Kevin’s eyes flicked downwards, the direction of his gaze as obvious as his grin.
“Ewww!” Harmony smacked him in the face and stalked off with the others following her.
Barry fell in beside Kevin slapped him on the back and told him mockingly, “That’s not nail varnish stupid… I think you mean lipstick.”
“They’d better pick up though.” Larry whispered to himself as Kevin ran on ahead with an ‘Ohhhh’ to try and get a better look at Harmony’s lipstick. The guy was obsessed.
In the shadows a cloaked figure watched the group silently, still taking notes.
**************