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beer_good_foamyTold ya there'd be more!
Title: The Return of the Son of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
Author: Beer Good (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Fandom/timeline: Buffy, s3: "Amends". Except Dawn is in it.
Word Count: 1750 (this chapter)
Characters: Buffy, Faith, Joyce, Dawn.
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, Angel has been talked down from the hill and awww, isn't all that snow pretty. That can't be a bad thing, can it? I mean, this is Sunnydale, where the supernatural is always helpful and it's not like magical snow instantly covering the entire town could possibly herald the arrival of...
He'll have a happy face, a happy smile
A happy point of view!
If you'll build me a snowman
Then I'll build one for you!
- Cannibal! The Musical
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Stalkin' In A Winter Wonderland
Stupid sky.
Really, what was the point of having your boyfriend... uh, ex saved by magic snowfall if he had to go home afterwards because you couldn't be sure the clouds wouldn't suddenly clear up and fry him on Main Street... and then you were walking home alone and it was still pitch black. And the snow was seeping into your non-winter boots.
Stupid snow.
Plus, y'know, the standard stuff that always came from intense angsty Angel confrontations, which was especially confusing now that they weren't really together in that way even with the dreams and the ambiguity and the tension and the build-up and the lack of something corporeal to slay and... gnnn. Not a productive line of thought when you're heading home to celebrate Christmas with Mom and Dawn and... oh God, Faith would be there too. If she hadn't taken off again. You could never tell with Faith. Why couldn't things just magically work out?
Stupid Santa.
She had to admit, though, that Sunnydale was pretty in the early morning snowfall. Somehow, covered in white fluffyness, the town seemed almost... well, normal. Not Sunnydale normal, normal normal. OK, except for Rapture Eddie on his usual street corner yelling about repenting for this was certainly a sign of the end times bla bla bla, but he said that about everything up to and including poodles with puffy haircuts so who cared. (Though granted, it was weird how many poodles disappeared last year. Giles had suggested there was something supernatural about it, but she had been too busy fighting Spike to investigate.)
No, right now as Buffy made her way back home, she was all about getting in the Christmas spirit, whatever that is. Yup. That and coffee. And dry socks. And breakfast, because of the hungry and nothing else. And... what the hell was that freaky thing in her yard? It looked like a huge snowball trying to ooze up the stairs leading up to the kitchen door... and was that somebody struggling underneath it? She ran the last few steps toward her house and cleared the hedge in one leap – or would have, if not for an especially inconvenient patch of ice under the snow. Buffy went through the hedge in an undignified cloud of snow and shattered frozen leaves, landing in a heap on what used to be a lawn just as Faith managed to kick the snowman off herself.
Beowulf rocked back on his ass (which made up roughly half of him), turned towards Buffy and roared. "BRRRAAAAINS!"
"B! In the house!" Faith scrambled for the door and almost fell inside. Buffy ducked under the broom as Beowulf swung it with all his might, which turned out to be considerable, and landed a kick straight in his belly – to no effect whatsoever; a fistful of snow got shaved off, but the snowman showed absolutely no sign of pain or slowing down. Buffy sighed, ducked the broom again, then sprinted up the porch stairs right behind Faith. They slammed the door shut and watched out the window as the snowman tried in vain to follow up the stairs, but failed due to lack of legs. After a few seconds, he seemed to give up and moved out of sight.
"Alright." Buffy turned to the three snowman builders. "What's going on? I can't leave you people alone for ten minutes without something trying to wreck the house? And -" She looked at Faith, who had a large dark stain forming on her tan jacket. "Are you OK?"
"What?" Faith looked down. "Oh. It's just melted snow. Guess I was too hot for him to handle." She shot Buffy a grin.
Buffy shook her head. "Aaaaand we're back to 'what the hell is going on'. Was that a snowman? And was he -"
"Yeah, we built him and now he's alive as he can be," Faith shrugged with a slight shiver. "Shouldn't be difficult to ice him, though. You up for some holiday violence?"
"You built that?"
"They helped."
Dawn and Joyce looked embarrassed, and Dawn tried to change the subject. "How's Angel?"
"He's... we..." Buffy groaned and turned to Faith. "You said something about violence? Let's go."
At which point Joyce intervened. "Faith, you can't go outside soaking wet in this weather. Buffy, would you lend her some of your clothes?"
Both Slayers looked profoundly uncomfortable with the suggestion of dressing alike. "Uh..." Faith got an idea and plunged her (very cold) hand down the back of Buffy's stylish but not very badass coat to check the size tag. "Hey, look at that. B's a tiny little thing. No way these are going to fit me. Too bad. I guess I'll just have to wear whatever I'm wearing and -"
"Hey!" Buffy looked up at her in resentment, then discovered she was indeed looking up at her and didn't pursue the matter further.
"Don't be ridiculous, Faith," Joyce said, "you'll catch your death of cold." She put her hands on the younger Slayer's shoulders and looked at her appraisingly. "Hmmm... what size are you?"
* * *
Five minutes later, Buffy knocked on her bedroom door. "Faith! Are you coming out?"
"No."
"Come on! Snow monster on the loose, sacred calling to save the world, hitting things..."
"Just focus on rounding up weapons, 'kay?"
"Already got 'em." Buffy shook her bag o' weapons with a clinky clanky sound. "I couldn't find Mr... uh... a good stake, but I figure stakes don't work on snowmen anyway. So just your average hack'n'slash, plus I brought something extra just in case. Now come out already, I promise I won't laugh."
The door swung open and Faith stood there fully dressed. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"
"I swear, I have no idea what you're talking about. You look great." Buffy nodded as she looked at Faith, who looked like she would give anything to be anywhere else and wearing anything but the neon green and pink ski suit that Joyce had last worn when she and Hank went to Telluride in 1986. "So... how about that new Duran Duran album, huh? Those guys are rad."
"Don't make me clock you on Christmas. Let's go."
* * *
They had covered half a block with no sign of Beowulf when Buffy broke the silence. "Look... thanks for sticking around and keeping an eye on Mom and Dawn. I really appreciate it."
"No sweat. Your Mom's pretty cool." Faith looked down at her clothes. "All things considered. Plus, if there was some big bad lurking about..." She was quiet for a few seconds, scooped up some snow as they walked along and started shaping it into a ball. "So, what was going on with Angel?"
"It's..." Buffy grimaced. "I-it's just... stuff."
"Right." Faith hurled the snowball at a stop sign. "None of my business."
"No, I didn't mean..." Buffy sighed. Why did things always have to be so complicated? She relented and gave Faith the previously-on. Well, the edited version, minus the funky naked dreams and all that. "...and then voilà, magic snow and Angel was saved."
Faith stopped and held her hands up. "Hold on, let me get this straight. You're saying... Angel thought he'd been brought back to do evil?"
"Uh-huh. He was wrong, though."
"And there was some kinda big nasty trying to make him stick around and do evil?"
"Yeah...?"
"And he was gonna go Sun-Maid Seedless rather than let that happen, when...?" Faith gestured at the falling snow.
Buffy shot her a watch-your-tongue glare. "Is there a point you're getting to?"
Faith shrugged. "Just sayin', I've seen snow before, alright? Yeah, it's white, it's pretty, it's cold, you know what it's usually not? A goddamn solar eclipse." She pointed at the dark sky. "If all it took for vamps to walk around in the daytime was two hours of pretty snowfall, there wouldn't be anyone left alive north of Kansas City. Something's going down here, and if whatever wanted Angel evil is behind this, then we could be up shit creek without a snow shovel."
"And you think Angel has something to do with that?"
"I'm just sayin' -"
"Because last time I checked, the only monster I've seen in the past few hours was one you built. And I for one never heard of killer zombie snowmen bringing tidings of comfort and joy."
"OK, first of all, it's one snowman, it was your kid sister's idea, and so far he ain't killed anyone."
* * *
Thump thump.
"Come on, come on."
Thump thump.
Tucker Wells tried to pull himself deeper into his too-thin jacket and stamped his feet to keep warm. "Come on already, do your business. I'm freezing my ass off here." He tugged the leashes of the four tiny hellhounds, who growled and showed absolutely no inclination of giving up sniffing a particularly interesting lamp post (where, unbeknownst to Tucker, Buffy had killed a demon two nighs earlier.)
Thump thump.
At least there was hardly anybody else around. People were starting to give the growing hellpuppies funny looks whenever he took them for a walk, and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to pass them off as "Patagonian terriers." Not to mention that they were already starting to act like, well, hellhounds when they met someone, and it wouldn't do to have them attack anyone before he could be sure that they were fully grown. He'd even started carrying a baseball bat with him to keep the hounds in line with if they got too... hellacious. Infernal. He was still working on his evil speech.
Thumpety thump thump.
What was that weird noise, anyway? He looked around and saw nothing but whirling snow. At least the hellhounds seemed to have completed their survey of the lamp post and were ready to move on. In fact, they were starting to really pull on the leash. And whining. Whining? Hellhounds aren't supposed to... He looked behind him, gripping the baseball bat a little firmer just in case.
And saw nothing but whirling snow. But there was something in the way it whirled. Like it seemed to pull itself together and solidify, being drawn in on a central shape that... oh crap. "Uh... h-hi?" Tucker offered to Beowulf who towered above him, 10 feet tall, and growing with every flake that landed on him. The snowman looked at him, and at the cowering hellhounds. Then it opened its mouth and roared with hunger.
On to chapter 3: Now I Have A Machine Gun, Ho Ho Ho
Title: The Return of the Son of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy) Rating: PG13
Fandom/timeline: Buffy, s3: "Amends". Except Dawn is in it.
Word Count: 1750 (this chapter)
Characters: Buffy, Faith, Joyce, Dawn.
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, Angel has been talked down from the hill and awww, isn't all that snow pretty. That can't be a bad thing, can it? I mean, this is Sunnydale, where the supernatural is always helpful and it's not like magical snow instantly covering the entire town could possibly herald the arrival of...
He'll have a happy face, a happy smile
A happy point of view!
If you'll build me a snowman
Then I'll build one for you!
- Cannibal! The Musical
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Stalkin' In A Winter Wonderland
Stupid sky.
Really, what was the point of having your boyfriend... uh, ex saved by magic snowfall if he had to go home afterwards because you couldn't be sure the clouds wouldn't suddenly clear up and fry him on Main Street... and then you were walking home alone and it was still pitch black. And the snow was seeping into your non-winter boots.
Stupid snow.
Plus, y'know, the standard stuff that always came from intense angsty Angel confrontations, which was especially confusing now that they weren't really together in that way even with the dreams and the ambiguity and the tension and the build-up and the lack of something corporeal to slay and... gnnn. Not a productive line of thought when you're heading home to celebrate Christmas with Mom and Dawn and... oh God, Faith would be there too. If she hadn't taken off again. You could never tell with Faith. Why couldn't things just magically work out?
Stupid Santa.
She had to admit, though, that Sunnydale was pretty in the early morning snowfall. Somehow, covered in white fluffyness, the town seemed almost... well, normal. Not Sunnydale normal, normal normal. OK, except for Rapture Eddie on his usual street corner yelling about repenting for this was certainly a sign of the end times bla bla bla, but he said that about everything up to and including poodles with puffy haircuts so who cared. (Though granted, it was weird how many poodles disappeared last year. Giles had suggested there was something supernatural about it, but she had been too busy fighting Spike to investigate.)
No, right now as Buffy made her way back home, she was all about getting in the Christmas spirit, whatever that is. Yup. That and coffee. And dry socks. And breakfast, because of the hungry and nothing else. And... what the hell was that freaky thing in her yard? It looked like a huge snowball trying to ooze up the stairs leading up to the kitchen door... and was that somebody struggling underneath it? She ran the last few steps toward her house and cleared the hedge in one leap – or would have, if not for an especially inconvenient patch of ice under the snow. Buffy went through the hedge in an undignified cloud of snow and shattered frozen leaves, landing in a heap on what used to be a lawn just as Faith managed to kick the snowman off herself.
Beowulf rocked back on his ass (which made up roughly half of him), turned towards Buffy and roared. "BRRRAAAAINS!"
"B! In the house!" Faith scrambled for the door and almost fell inside. Buffy ducked under the broom as Beowulf swung it with all his might, which turned out to be considerable, and landed a kick straight in his belly – to no effect whatsoever; a fistful of snow got shaved off, but the snowman showed absolutely no sign of pain or slowing down. Buffy sighed, ducked the broom again, then sprinted up the porch stairs right behind Faith. They slammed the door shut and watched out the window as the snowman tried in vain to follow up the stairs, but failed due to lack of legs. After a few seconds, he seemed to give up and moved out of sight.
"Alright." Buffy turned to the three snowman builders. "What's going on? I can't leave you people alone for ten minutes without something trying to wreck the house? And -" She looked at Faith, who had a large dark stain forming on her tan jacket. "Are you OK?"
"What?" Faith looked down. "Oh. It's just melted snow. Guess I was too hot for him to handle." She shot Buffy a grin.
Buffy shook her head. "Aaaaand we're back to 'what the hell is going on'. Was that a snowman? And was he -"
"Yeah, we built him and now he's alive as he can be," Faith shrugged with a slight shiver. "Shouldn't be difficult to ice him, though. You up for some holiday violence?"
"You built that?"
"They helped."
Dawn and Joyce looked embarrassed, and Dawn tried to change the subject. "How's Angel?"
"He's... we..." Buffy groaned and turned to Faith. "You said something about violence? Let's go."
At which point Joyce intervened. "Faith, you can't go outside soaking wet in this weather. Buffy, would you lend her some of your clothes?"
Both Slayers looked profoundly uncomfortable with the suggestion of dressing alike. "Uh..." Faith got an idea and plunged her (very cold) hand down the back of Buffy's stylish but not very badass coat to check the size tag. "Hey, look at that. B's a tiny little thing. No way these are going to fit me. Too bad. I guess I'll just have to wear whatever I'm wearing and -"
"Hey!" Buffy looked up at her in resentment, then discovered she was indeed looking up at her and didn't pursue the matter further.
"Don't be ridiculous, Faith," Joyce said, "you'll catch your death of cold." She put her hands on the younger Slayer's shoulders and looked at her appraisingly. "Hmmm... what size are you?"
Five minutes later, Buffy knocked on her bedroom door. "Faith! Are you coming out?"
"No."
"Come on! Snow monster on the loose, sacred calling to save the world, hitting things..."
"Just focus on rounding up weapons, 'kay?"
"Already got 'em." Buffy shook her bag o' weapons with a clinky clanky sound. "I couldn't find Mr... uh... a good stake, but I figure stakes don't work on snowmen anyway. So just your average hack'n'slash, plus I brought something extra just in case. Now come out already, I promise I won't laugh."
The door swung open and Faith stood there fully dressed. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"
"I swear, I have no idea what you're talking about. You look great." Buffy nodded as she looked at Faith, who looked like she would give anything to be anywhere else and wearing anything but the neon green and pink ski suit that Joyce had last worn when she and Hank went to Telluride in 1986. "So... how about that new Duran Duran album, huh? Those guys are rad."
"Don't make me clock you on Christmas. Let's go."
They had covered half a block with no sign of Beowulf when Buffy broke the silence. "Look... thanks for sticking around and keeping an eye on Mom and Dawn. I really appreciate it."
"No sweat. Your Mom's pretty cool." Faith looked down at her clothes. "All things considered. Plus, if there was some big bad lurking about..." She was quiet for a few seconds, scooped up some snow as they walked along and started shaping it into a ball. "So, what was going on with Angel?"
"It's..." Buffy grimaced. "I-it's just... stuff."
"Right." Faith hurled the snowball at a stop sign. "None of my business."
"No, I didn't mean..." Buffy sighed. Why did things always have to be so complicated? She relented and gave Faith the previously-on. Well, the edited version, minus the funky naked dreams and all that. "...and then voilà, magic snow and Angel was saved."
Faith stopped and held her hands up. "Hold on, let me get this straight. You're saying... Angel thought he'd been brought back to do evil?"
"Uh-huh. He was wrong, though."
"And there was some kinda big nasty trying to make him stick around and do evil?"
"Yeah...?"
"And he was gonna go Sun-Maid Seedless rather than let that happen, when...?" Faith gestured at the falling snow.
Buffy shot her a watch-your-tongue glare. "Is there a point you're getting to?"
Faith shrugged. "Just sayin', I've seen snow before, alright? Yeah, it's white, it's pretty, it's cold, you know what it's usually not? A goddamn solar eclipse." She pointed at the dark sky. "If all it took for vamps to walk around in the daytime was two hours of pretty snowfall, there wouldn't be anyone left alive north of Kansas City. Something's going down here, and if whatever wanted Angel evil is behind this, then we could be up shit creek without a snow shovel."
"And you think Angel has something to do with that?"
"I'm just sayin' -"
"Because last time I checked, the only monster I've seen in the past few hours was one you built. And I for one never heard of killer zombie snowmen bringing tidings of comfort and joy."
"OK, first of all, it's one snowman, it was your kid sister's idea, and so far he ain't killed anyone."
Thump thump.
"Come on, come on."
Thump thump.
Tucker Wells tried to pull himself deeper into his too-thin jacket and stamped his feet to keep warm. "Come on already, do your business. I'm freezing my ass off here." He tugged the leashes of the four tiny hellhounds, who growled and showed absolutely no inclination of giving up sniffing a particularly interesting lamp post (where, unbeknownst to Tucker, Buffy had killed a demon two nighs earlier.)
Thump thump.
At least there was hardly anybody else around. People were starting to give the growing hellpuppies funny looks whenever he took them for a walk, and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to pass them off as "Patagonian terriers." Not to mention that they were already starting to act like, well, hellhounds when they met someone, and it wouldn't do to have them attack anyone before he could be sure that they were fully grown. He'd even started carrying a baseball bat with him to keep the hounds in line with if they got too... hellacious. Infernal. He was still working on his evil speech.
Thumpety thump thump.
What was that weird noise, anyway? He looked around and saw nothing but whirling snow. At least the hellhounds seemed to have completed their survey of the lamp post and were ready to move on. In fact, they were starting to really pull on the leash. And whining. Whining? Hellhounds aren't supposed to... He looked behind him, gripping the baseball bat a little firmer just in case.
And saw nothing but whirling snow. But there was something in the way it whirled. Like it seemed to pull itself together and solidify, being drawn in on a central shape that... oh crap. "Uh... h-hi?" Tucker offered to Beowulf who towered above him, 10 feet tall, and growing with every flake that landed on him. The snowman looked at him, and at the cowering hellhounds. Then it opened its mouth and roared with hunger.
On to chapter 3: Now I Have A Machine Gun, Ho Ho Ho
