Spuffy: It's the Great Slayer, Buffy Summers

Summary: Spike and Buffy are together celebrating Halloween. No angst, just happy Halloween-ing with a little homage It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. *Re-edited*

“A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality.”
-It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown


“Come on, Summers, this one’s perfect!” Spike heaved the odd-shaped orb to his chest, stumbling a bit as he readjusted the weight. Realizing just how ridiculous he must look, Spike straightened and tried to compose his dignity.

Buffy’s eyes never lifted from her inspection of her nails and simply turned up her nose, “No, too small,” she insisted starting off in another direction. She hadn’t even looked at it.

Spike heaved dramatically, his leather shoulders shrugging, “When I offered to help you patrol tonight, this is not what I had in mind.” Spike followed the trail Buffy’s heels left in the dirt and weaved his way through Mrs. Wilder’s garden. “It’s Halloween, nothing’s out here.”

“Then why’d you agree to come out with me since you knew there’d be no action?” Buffy challenged, ignored his bellowing and continued on.

“I don’t mind your dishonesty half as much as I mind your opinion of me. You must think I’m stupid,” he marveled.

Spike grumbled something to the extent of being ‘whipped’ and lit a cigarette. He exhaled, “I really hate this.” He sounded like a petulant four year old. “What a way to spend Halloween. Out here making a yearly fool of m’self,” he continued to grumble.

Buffy pivoted on her heels, crossing her arms across her chest, “You better cut it out right now or I’ll pound you!” Buffy took a deep breath, attempting patience. “Spike, I am quite aware of your distaste in Halloween. But, having it be the only no-vampire lurking night of the year, I plan to revel in it.” Her jaw set, “Now are you going to help or not?”

Spike sighed, surveyed their surroundings, “Are you sure it’s legal? I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking part in a rumble,” he faked morals, mocking her reasons for dragging him out on his most hated night of the year.

”Gah!” Buffy growled, pouting at him and trudging to the other side of the garden.

He never knew when to stop, always made one joke too many.

“Buffy,” he sang, approaching her as she sulked away from him. He saddled up next to her. “I’m sorry, luv,” he apologized in that octave that usually got him out of anything. “I’d never laugh at you, Buffy,” he caressed her silky hair, drawing it over her shoulder. “You’re so intelligent and you say the cutest things.”

Her shoulders slumped and the corner of her cupid mouth twitched, the sure signs she was forgiving him. But she fought it. “If you try to hold my hand I’ll slug you!” She exclaimed. Apparently she was too pissed for his sweet-talk to have much effect.

Unable to deny his girl anything, he quickly reconsidered. “Fine, Slayer, I’ll do whatever you want,” he answered, waving the white flag. She rewarded him with a pretty smile, thrusting a heavy pumpkin into his arms.

Every fall Mrs. Wilder created her own pumpkin patch in her backyard garden. It was during late night patrols that Buffy took the opportunity to pick the best pumpkins for her and Dawn to carve up for Halloween. This year Dawn was spending this Halloween with Willow and Tara at some witch retreat, but Buffy was game to celebrate the demon-free night anyway. Trick or treating was to begin in less than an hour and Xander was coming over to hand out candy with Buffy and Spike and partake in a Halloween television special marathon.

“If anyone had told me I’d be waiting in a pumpkin patch on Halloween night with my sworn enemy, I’d ‘ve of said they were crazy,” Spike grumbled, adjusting the awkward weight in his arms. He had picked the one double the expanse of his chest as a joke.

But then her eyes lit up, “Perfect!” she squealed. Buffy chose a pumpkin of her own, slightly smaller than the one she had handed Spike. Ignoring his bellyaching she started back towards Revello Drive. He got half way before he decided to just roll the damn thing – not that it was too heavy for him, just awkward to carry.

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When he made a big deal about his efforts to stop the rolling pumpkin at her porch steps, she glared at him and he quickly picked it up, stumbled up to the house.

Buffy set her own pumpkin down on the kitchen table. She motioned for Spike to do the same. It hit the table with a thud.

“Take off your coat and roll up your sleeves.” She began spreading newspaper under each pumpkin.

Spike did as she said, but looked less than enthused, “Summers, I carried the damn thing here, do I really have to take part in the festivities?”

“Here,” she handed him a lethal looking knife the length of his forearm.

His complaining instantly ceased and his blue eyes lit up, “Ohhhh, you didn’t tell me we were going to kill it.” A smirk came across his lips as he stabbed the sharp instrument deep into the pumpkin, happy for a spot of violence, even if his victim was a large fruit.
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*DING DONG*

The doorbell rang and Buffy hurried from the kitchen, which she had just dashed towards moments earlier to refill the ever emptying orange bowl of assorted chocolates and candy not seconds earlier.

Her exasperated sighs were diminished when she reached the thick wooden door and opened it to reveal the doorbell ringers -- a half a dozen little people bursting with color and energy. Spiderman stood next to a pirate, a flapper, and Mary Poppins.

Buffy’s bright smile couldn’t help but light at the sight of some of the cutest kids she’d ever seen. All were jumping with excitement at the sight of the bowl at her hip, tripping over their costumes and bumping into each other for first picks.

“You guys look great!” Buffy exclaimed, lowering her bowl to their grabby hands.

Buffy closed the door on the latest trick or treaters. Smiling, she turned into the living room. Her boyfriend, and only active demon tonight, was sprawled across the couch. Xander was lying on the floor, head in his hands. Both were riveted to the television screen. On second thought, maybe not so active. . . .

“Isn’t anyone going to help me here? What if some evil psycho casts a spell and turned everyone into their costumes? Dozens of Cinderella’s could be beating me with sharp sticks with sequenced stars on the ends and the two of you would still be sitting there.” The irony of her joke was lost as the two men continued to watch the tv. Buffy craned her neck to see what they found so interesting. Linus and his blanket went flittering across the screen, describing the fantastic Great Pumpkin. “Oh, brother,” she grumbled.

“Well if they try anything, we’ll beat them up and steal their candy,” Spike deadpanned, eyes never coming off the screen.

Buffy dropped the bowl of candy into Spike’s lap, “Thanks ol’ pal,” sarcastically.

He shook his head in amazement, “I totally understand the appeal now,” Spike marveled quietly at the show.

“You were missing out, my friend,” Xander called back, eyes trained on It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

Coming out of his reverie, Spike only now realized what his girlfriend had given him. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, hips lifting slightly off the couch, trying to off the offending object, unwilling to touch it with his hands.

“It’s the candy bowl, take over. I need to go raid the kitchen for extra bags of candy, I’m running out.” Buffy turned, planning to search for Dawn’s secret stash. “If someone comes to the door, hand it out.” Her words had him leaping off the couch.

“Oi! Buffy, no. I was willing to be a good sport in the pumpkin patch earlier on account of it’s stealing, but this is too much. I. Do. Not. Celebrate. Halloween. I have my reputation to think of, you know.”

“Spike, it’s not even a celebration anymore. It’s an over commercialized excuse for kids to cover themselves in cheap plastic and get on a sugar high, you can handle it.”

He looked at her and blinked. “We’re obviously separated by denominational differences.” His eyes focused on the foreign object in his hands. “Any advice?” he lifted the bowl.

“Advice? Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker. Good Lord, Spike, this isn’t brain surgery, kids come to the door, you throw some candy into the bags and they go away.” She scoffed and left him to fend for himself in the foyer when the doorbell rang.

She must have been in there awhile because when the door chimed for the umpteenth time, she heard Spike get up from the couch, grumbling about “bloody stupid holidays.”

Minutes passed and Buffy didn’t hear the door shut. Wondering what could be taking Spike so long, she grabbed the half empty bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups and entered the foyer.

He was leaned against the door frame, bowl in one hand, and a raised eyebrow. His mouth was twisted in a half frown and a look of disdain crossed the rest of his features.

“Spike, what are you . . . Oh my god!” Buffy’s eyes bulged as she followed Spike’s sightline down to the ground before the threshold. Buffy gasped, “That is absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

There stood a little curly haired blonde boy, no more than three years old. What would have been a poodle head of curls was slicked back against his head. The skinny little baby boy was wearing a makeshift vampire costume complete with black t-shirt, black jeans, and miniature black Reebok’s. His mother had completed the look with plastic vampire teeth. The Lil’ Spike was staring up at his larger, more muscular counterpart with equal parts curiosity and innocence.

Spike stared the boy up and down, “I don’t like the look of ‘im.”

Buffy couldn’t resist temptation and leaned down around Spike, putting her face to face with the little boy, “Now repeat after me, ‘I’m the Big Bad’.”

Spike gently kneed her head out of the way. She giggled as she came up.

“ ‘S not funny, Pet.”

Buffy just winked at him and reached into the bowl he was holding, taking out a bag of cookies, “Here you go, sweetheart,” placing the bag in his pumpkin bucket.

The toddler seemed more than ecstatic with his treat, and retreated back to the edge of the porch, reaching out for his mother’s hand to help him down the stairs.

Buffy closed the door on the cute little scene and turned around, only to bump into Spike’s hard chest. He deposited the candy bowl on the table by the door, freeing his hands to wrap around Buffy’s waist. She gamely wound her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be pulled into his kiss.

Pulling back, Buffy grimaced, “Bach! Bach! Vampire lips!” she mocked disgust, pretending to spit.

He slapped her sashaying bottom as he followed her back into the living room.

“Blockhead!” She called back before curling up on the cushy couch.

“Hey Buffy,” Xander called back, flipping through a book that looked like it should belong to Giles, “Did you know that if a girl puts a sprig of rosemary herb and a silver sixpence under her pillow on Halloween night, she will see her future husband in a dream?” He read.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Right. Next you’re going to tell me there’s a Great Pumpkin.”

“You don’t believe the story?” Spike mused. He lowered his voice, mouth descending to her neck. “I thought all little girls believed everything that was told to them. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting?” He nipped at the exposed vein.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” she replied, tilting her head while her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A ring of the doorbell interrupted them, Spike growled as Buffy pushed off his lap. Grabbing the bowl of sweets, Spike headed to the doorway behind her, planning to make quick work of the munchkins on the other side.

He opened the door to a little girl and boy. Spike eyed the male, “What in the bloody hell kind of costume is that?”

Xander appeared behind him on his trek to the kitchen, pausing in the stairway, “He’s a World War I flying ace!” He exclaimed.

The little boy looked at Xander appreciatively.

Spike turned to the little girl who stood next to the pilot, “And you are?”

The girl who had been standing on the porch, meekly waiting for her candy, instantly shot to attention. “A fierce warrior!” she hollered into the night sky, showing off her Xena-like costume.

Spike looked impressed. He leaned back, reaching into the pocket of his duster that was hung on the coat-rack. “Here,” he handed the little girl a stake after spinning it through his fingertips deftly.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled, trying to grab it out of his grasp, but the girl was already off with it.

“What? Might save her life one day.” He looked out into the yard in satisfaction as the little girl chased her friend around with her new weapon. Granted, she was holding it backwards.

Spike closed the door and the three returned to the living room. Xander stretched, “What a way to spend Halloween. You just gotta love that Snoopy,” he marveled as the credits on It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown began to roll. He eyed the two on the couch, “Do you want me to show you the dance?”

“NO!”

END