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snoggedTitle: I’ve Got A Theory (That It’s A Holiday)
Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
rating: PG/FRT
word count: 752
setting: Post-Series, AU
summary: Buffy and Illyria clash over holiday traditions...in a manner of speaking.
recipient/prompt: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brutti_ma_buoni
Requested Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
Three elements you'd like included: oh the good old days, culture clash, candles
Two things you don't want: fluff, turkey feasting
Beta: the fabulousvelvetwhip
Buffy had a theory and, over the years, she found that it held up under scrutiny:
Demons didn’t understand the point of holidays.
Ethan Rayne, for example, had ruined her for most Halloween costumes. She couldn’t bring herself to dress like a sexy bumblebee or a sexy witch because she didn’t want to run the risk of turning into one of those things.
There had been the “actual-size” Fear demon that, while easily squashable, had made her feel reluctant to walk into any house that had a symbol painted on it.
The restless and ancient spirit of a Chumash demon had turned Thanksgiving into the time when a bear showed up in her living room and Spike got shot by an arrow. (Okay, so those stories were a little entertaining, but the clean-up that had to occur after that party still gave her the shivers.)
Christmas, however, was the most notorious holiday of the year. She had spent Christmases past fighting Bringers and the First Evil. She had saved her boyfriend from committing suicide-by-sunlight.
So why was it that she, who hated holidays, was hanging out with a God-King alternatively strategizing how to take down the Brotherhood of Rin-Tin-Tin (or whatever) and discussing holiday traditions?
Then again, what else would they have to talk about? Not like they had much in common.
“In my time, the Brotherhood to Tintinnablua roamed the streets. They were servants to the nightmares. They skewered hearts and strung them across the windows like garlands. That is how you knew the house belonged to an inferior.”
“Uh…gross.” Buffy wrinkled her nose and reached for the bowl of un-salted, un-buttered popcorn and a handy-dandy piece of string. She managed to pop a few kernels into her mouth, despite the visual, and went to work on making garland that actually looked pretty.
“I’ll stick to the standard tradition. Thanks.”
Illyria frowned. “The host has these memories of tradition. Coniferous trees as high as the moon. Men slashing these sentinels down with swords, making their spirits scream and writhe as their lashed to metal boxes on wheels.”
“Trees don’t scream,” Buffy murmured. “They’re not human.”
“I am not the insensitive one, Slayer. I am a God. Do you think that I know not what spirits rise and what spirits fall?”
Buffy popped several more kernels into her mouth and shifted her position on the sofa. She felt uncomfortable, her cheeks reddening with fluster. She had never been into that hippie-vegan-save-the-trees thing, but she had to admit that Illyria was making her consider hopping aboard that bandwagon. (Kinda-sorta.) She wasn’t ready to go full hippie because she really didn’t want to give up once-a-week hamburger night at Xander’s, though. She looked forward to those nights and the melty, gooey cheese that held dominion over her appetite. But, you know, it couldn’t hurt to buy an artificial tree for the house this year....
“Okay. New topic. Offing the enemy.”
Illyria’s thin blue lips curled upwards in a mockery of a smile. She was clearly pleased to move into different territory and when she spoke, she said exactly the sorts of things Buffy expected from a violence-loving Old One.
“In my world, our heroes were rewarded on the Saint’s Day of Kilong. They would receive the lungs of their enemies wrapped in paper and bright ribbons. Do you wish this as a gift for your day of Christmas?”
Buffy gulped. “Well…I was thinking a scented candle might be a bit nicer.”
“I will enjoy hurting these demons. I will set fire to their necks and bring the torch to please you,” Illyria offered, acting as if demon neck was a perfectly acceptable substitute for the latest Bath and Body words line.
“Uh, how about we stick with a nice sandalwood or lavender one instead?”
“Very well.” Illyria replied, grabbing a piece of popcorn and sticking in her mouth. “I pity this world. To waste their dreams and wishes on scented wax when they could feel the glory of vanquishing an enemy.”
“I’m the Slayer. That means I get to have both.”
“As you wish.”
Buffy sighed and threaded a few more kernels onto her string and draped the completed garland over the sofa.
She was pretty confident that her theory about demons and holidays still held up.
Illyria was never going to truly understand what Christmas was all about, but she was absolutely going to be a great partner in fighting off another apocalypse.
That definitely counted for something in Buffy’s book.
FIN.
Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
rating: PG/FRT
word count: 752
setting: Post-Series, AU
summary: Buffy and Illyria clash over holiday traditions...in a manner of speaking.
recipient/prompt: Written for
brutti_ma_buoniRequested Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
Three elements you'd like included: oh the good old days, culture clash, candles
Two things you don't want: fluff, turkey feasting
Beta: the fabulous
velvetwhipBuffy had a theory and, over the years, she found that it held up under scrutiny:
Demons didn’t understand the point of holidays.
Ethan Rayne, for example, had ruined her for most Halloween costumes. She couldn’t bring herself to dress like a sexy bumblebee or a sexy witch because she didn’t want to run the risk of turning into one of those things.
There had been the “actual-size” Fear demon that, while easily squashable, had made her feel reluctant to walk into any house that had a symbol painted on it.
The restless and ancient spirit of a Chumash demon had turned Thanksgiving into the time when a bear showed up in her living room and Spike got shot by an arrow. (Okay, so those stories were a little entertaining, but the clean-up that had to occur after that party still gave her the shivers.)
Christmas, however, was the most notorious holiday of the year. She had spent Christmases past fighting Bringers and the First Evil. She had saved her boyfriend from committing suicide-by-sunlight.
So why was it that she, who hated holidays, was hanging out with a God-King alternatively strategizing how to take down the Brotherhood of Rin-Tin-Tin (or whatever) and discussing holiday traditions?
Then again, what else would they have to talk about? Not like they had much in common.
“In my time, the Brotherhood to Tintinnablua roamed the streets. They were servants to the nightmares. They skewered hearts and strung them across the windows like garlands. That is how you knew the house belonged to an inferior.”
“Uh…gross.” Buffy wrinkled her nose and reached for the bowl of un-salted, un-buttered popcorn and a handy-dandy piece of string. She managed to pop a few kernels into her mouth, despite the visual, and went to work on making garland that actually looked pretty.
“I’ll stick to the standard tradition. Thanks.”
Illyria frowned. “The host has these memories of tradition. Coniferous trees as high as the moon. Men slashing these sentinels down with swords, making their spirits scream and writhe as their lashed to metal boxes on wheels.”
“Trees don’t scream,” Buffy murmured. “They’re not human.”
“I am not the insensitive one, Slayer. I am a God. Do you think that I know not what spirits rise and what spirits fall?”
Buffy popped several more kernels into her mouth and shifted her position on the sofa. She felt uncomfortable, her cheeks reddening with fluster. She had never been into that hippie-vegan-save-the-trees thing, but she had to admit that Illyria was making her consider hopping aboard that bandwagon. (Kinda-sorta.) She wasn’t ready to go full hippie because she really didn’t want to give up once-a-week hamburger night at Xander’s, though. She looked forward to those nights and the melty, gooey cheese that held dominion over her appetite. But, you know, it couldn’t hurt to buy an artificial tree for the house this year....
“Okay. New topic. Offing the enemy.”
Illyria’s thin blue lips curled upwards in a mockery of a smile. She was clearly pleased to move into different territory and when she spoke, she said exactly the sorts of things Buffy expected from a violence-loving Old One.
“In my world, our heroes were rewarded on the Saint’s Day of Kilong. They would receive the lungs of their enemies wrapped in paper and bright ribbons. Do you wish this as a gift for your day of Christmas?”
Buffy gulped. “Well…I was thinking a scented candle might be a bit nicer.”
“I will enjoy hurting these demons. I will set fire to their necks and bring the torch to please you,” Illyria offered, acting as if demon neck was a perfectly acceptable substitute for the latest Bath and Body words line.
“Uh, how about we stick with a nice sandalwood or lavender one instead?”
“Very well.” Illyria replied, grabbing a piece of popcorn and sticking in her mouth. “I pity this world. To waste their dreams and wishes on scented wax when they could feel the glory of vanquishing an enemy.”
“I’m the Slayer. That means I get to have both.”
“As you wish.”
Buffy sighed and threaded a few more kernels onto her string and draped the completed garland over the sofa.
She was pretty confident that her theory about demons and holidays still held up.
Illyria was never going to truly understand what Christmas was all about, but she was absolutely going to be a great partner in fighting off another apocalypse.
That definitely counted for something in Buffy’s book.
FIN.
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no subject
on 2015-11-21 01:43 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed the story, hun.