~*~

Nothing dared get in the way of the grumbling vampire slogging through the sewers of Sunnydale, headed for the manhole nearest the mall. Any demon that had seen him coming would have given him wide berth. No one would have confused the cursing member of the undead community with St. Nick or expect that his mission had anything thing to do with that "happiest" of times in the year.

It was nearly a week to the day since that other stupid holiday when, once a year, Americans got together for the express purpose of overeating, watching too much of that nancy boy football and uttering comments filled with forced cheer and gratitude.

Spike had been surprised when Buffy invited him to the festivities. "So with mom in the hospital and Glory on the prowl, I thought I’d try to make something close to normal for Dawnie. I’m having everyone over for Thanksgiving this year and Dawn would love for you to come too."

"You cookin’, slayer? Traditional bird and fixins with gravy and cookies for the vamp?" Spike hoped he didn’t sound too interested.

"Well, yeah, that’s what we humans do. I’m sure Giles would enjoy another snobby Brit to help make fun of football while Xander’s watching the game, even if it would be you helping him," Buffy replied.

"So, let’s see, turkey, whipped potatoes, peas, pies, bears…," he prodded.

"Yup, turkey, mashed potatoes, peas, pies, bears ….NO! Wait, no bears!" Buffy swatted Spike on the arm. "Bears are of the bad!"

"Told you so at the time as I recall," Spike said.

In spite of the snark, Spike was pleased at the invite. Not just to be included in a Scooby moment, but in this particular one. He secretly saw American Thanksgiving as an anniversary of sorts. A day marking his choice to go to the Watcher for help instead of setting up minions to kill for him when the bloody military doctors shoved the chip in his head a year ago.

That day had been the start of his new path, his new way of living. A path that had led to his coming to know and love his Slayer. Not that the path had been smooth or had led to any returning of his feelings by the lady in question, mind you. In fact, that lady was still blissfully in the dark about Spike’s change in plan for her future, his desire to plant something other than his fangs deep within her.

"So, spacey boy, are you coming or not?" Buffy asked again. "You can bring beer if you want; it’s not like I expect you to cook or anything. I’m fixing most of it with Tara’s help. Dawn’s doing the pies and Willow’s supplying the after dinner games and guilt. I DO expect you to be my partner if she insists on Trivial Pursuit, ‘cause we can kick serious ass with the history questions, you having lived through most of it," she rattled on.

"Hah, bloody hah, Slayer. Not that old. I’ll have you know that I’m one of the youngest vamps to make Master status!" Spike pretended insult convincingly and Buffy laughed at his expression.

It had come to this, Norman Rockwell vamp in small town America! Spike was outwardly dour but secretly chuffed to be included.

"So Red’s against overeating or is it overpadded sissies trying to play watered down Rugby that she dislikes?" Spike teased.

"Naw, she’s down with the whole massive amount of food bit and I think she’s a closet football fan. I mean, tight pants on buff bodies…who isn’t?" Buffy glanced up at Spike with a teasing smile of her own. "It’ll just be the annual lecture on how we’re celebrating the destruction of an indigenous people and their culture. Kinda takes the giving out of Thanksgiving if you ask me. She wouldn’t bring it up if mom were here instead of in the hospital. Mom never lets anyone ruin the holidays." Buffy looked suddenly sad and worried.

"I love Willow to death, but I wish she’d leave some of the book knowledge and angst at home for the season. This Slayer is looking forward to some down time that hasn’t got evil all over it somehow," Buffy muttered.


~~~