Christmas thankfully only came once a year. Any more and Buffy Summers was sure that she would complain. Most people at this time, were at home with their loved ones or listening to carol singers or going to midnight church. Buffy was in a church and it was five minutes past midnight.
“You just couldn’t give me one night of the year to relax?” Buffy strode into the cold, bleak church, stake in hand. It was just the four of them now. “Talk about lacking the festive spirit.”
“To be fair, you’re the one with a murder weapon in your hand,” Claus, a granola type vampire had said to her defensively. “This is the season for giving. How about you don’t kill us this Christmas night?”
Buffy stopped for a second. Three vampires who had fed on a group of teenagers who were drunk at the time and full of joy and wonder. The leader of this vampire was now asking her not to kill him. This was different.
“I could, but I left my Christmas spirit at the door,” Buffy said as she launched into the vampires with stealthy accuracy. She had managed to dust the female vampire that was with Claus and his stoner mate. Only two to go.
“Your loss,” Claus snapped in anger, bashing Buffy’s head on one of the pews. Before his mate could advance towards her, Buffy elbowed the guy from behind.
“Bitch,” the stoner vampire grunted in fury. Buffy had broken his nose.
“That wasn’t very Christmassy of you,” Buffy grunted sarcastically, managing to backhand Claus in the face before he took a nip.
“I gave you a choice, slayer,” Claus said, stunned from the smack he had received. “It’s not my fault you have to die this night.”
Claus lunged for Buffy again, along with his mate. Both of them were throwing punches at her from both sides. For every one that Buffy deflected, at least two others got in. Getting slammed against the pews when her stake was discarded by the stoner vampire gave her a much bigger weapon to play with. Stoner vampire shrieked in agony as Buffy used the broken pews to impale him without a second thought.
“What was that you said about a choice?” Buffy turned to Claus. He realised that he was outnumbered.
“Before you kill me, I just hope you know that you’re not making a real difference,” Claus said sharply.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buffy looked at him quizzically.
“Your slayers,” Claus hissed. “There might be more of you girls out there but you don’t seem to be doing much good, are you?”
“I’d say given how this little rundown has gone,” Buffy aimed the broken pew at him, “that’s you’re reaching. The world has changed. I’m not the only slayer. And that’s what scares you lot. And it should.”
“You wish,” Claus laughed. “A thousand girls all hiding because they dare not reveal themselves. I think you’re the one who are scared.”
“No,” Buffy had thought about it for a few seconds before staking Claus. She stood alone in the church now, her thoughts turning to something else. She whipped out her phone.
“About time,” Dawn said as she tried keeping Kenny from pawing her at the end of the other line. “It’d be nice to spend Christmas Day with you. We’ve already drunk most the eggnog in your absence.”
“Tell Andrew to get camera happy,” Buffy instructed.
“Whatever for?” Dawn asked as both she and Kenny gave the other confused looks.
“Looks like Lizzie isn’t the only who has a speech to make on Christmas Day,” Buffy lamented as she hung up and left the church.
Back at the castle, Buffy had sifted through her clothing, trying on various bits and pieces before deciding on an outfit she had worn during her first day as guidance counsellor at Sunnydale High.
“This’ll do,” Buffy smiled at the outfit as she headed downstairs to the confusion of everyone else that was waiting for her.
“Mind telling us what’s going on B?” Faith was the first one to ask, before eyeing the choice in attire. “Even for you, that’s a little school ma’am.”
“I have to make the right impression,” Buffy said. “Are we ready?”
“Whenever you are,” Andrew kept his words to a minimum as the discovery of him and eggnog not agreeing with each other was coming to a head. “Are you sure about that footage?”
“You were the one all those months ago following me around with a camera, telling me that it would be helpful for future generations,” Buffy reminded him. “The future’s here, Andrew and we need to act now.”
“Act on what, Buffy?” Giles asked, though he was beginning to piece everything together for himself. “Are you sure? Now?”
“We’ve been here for four months, Giles. In Scotland. We’ve hardly found anyone,” Kennedy interrupted. “I don’t usually agree with you Buffy but it’s the best idea we’ve got.”
“Then we’re agreed,” Buffy smiled before turning to Andrew. “Start shooting.”
It was one am in the morning. An hour into Christmas Day. The message had to be spread but as discreetly as possible. Worded wrong and Buffy knew that the wrong attention would be drawn to this castle in Scotland. The world did not need to know about slayers, at least not yet but Buffy needed to find others like herself, Faith and Kennedy out there and this was the only way possible.
A montage opened up with her training the girls. Kennedy had been subbing and overly enjoying the drill sergeant mantra she had adopted. Footage of Faith training by herself was shown. She gave Andrew a withering look before carrying on. Then it cut to present day Buffy, dressed smartly and sitting down, looking at the camera intently.
“Looks like an ordinary montage, doesn’t it?” Buffy addressed her intended audience. “Only it isn’t. And here’s why. You!”
Willow and Xander watched each other while looking at Buffy. Kenny had left by then and Giles and Faith were to the side with Dawn and Kennedy.
“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Xander said with mild trepidation.
“The last thing we need is this place getting stormed into,” Dawn said in agreement.
“She’ll be fine,” Willow glanced at them before paying attention to Buffy’s speech. Buffy certainly could deliver them. They had all heard more than enough of them in the last few months.
“You have bad dreams. Monsters popping up in your head and they’re real,” Buffy said, her voice taking on a more empathetic tone as she continued. “The world’s become a scarier place and you feel that your identity has gone out the window, that you’re someone else. You are. You’re chosen.”
“Good angle, B,” Faith smirked admiringly as she and Kennedy glanced at each other.
“This strength isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Took me a long time to really realise that with such a gift, some good can genuinely come out of it,” Buffy maintained her empathetic tone. “I’m here to reach out to anyone with this ‘gift’ to come forward and call the number below the screen. You are not alone. You are chosen.”
1-800-Chosen-1
“And we’re done,” Andrew smiled. “That was great, Buffy.”
“Who needs the Queen when you can do the Christmas message every year?” Xander tried to compensate for his earlier vocalised doubts.
“Really?” Buffy looked doubtful. “I should’ve planned something more. I don’t know... professional?”
“I think any newbie slayer out there has got the message, B,” Faith reassured her. “Though given what day is it, don’t bank on any calls until after Boxing Day.”
“It’s not the only calls we have to worry about,” Giles said. “But it might make all the difference.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The recorded plea had made its way online within hours. Andrew had even managed to get it appearing on BBC Scotland and ITV in between advertisements for the Christmas soaps and the actual Queen’s speech. Apart from a slow succession of slayers that it coerced into dialling the number with the word ‘Chosen’ so audaciously put in it, it was seen by someone else.
“So she’s been in Scotland all along,” a cloaked man wearing a mask thought, stroking his chin. “This is interesting. That call to arms will be party to her downfall.”
General Voll answered the phone, not particularly in the most pleasant of moods. He had the hangover from hell and on the rare time he was with his wife and four children he was not pleased to be interrupted, even by pressing matters or a persistent new ally.
“This had better be good,” Voll said down the phone. “Twilight, what is it?”
“Does the name Buffy Summers mean anything to you?” Twilight smirked down the other line. Voll stopped himself from making another agitated comment. “I know where she is.”
“Where?” Voll demanded.
“Oh, now,” Twilight drolled sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to spoil your Christmas dinner. Or hers come to think of it.”
Before Voll could demand an answer again, Twilight immediately hung up and up high from where he was floating, he saw a band of eight women, all armed with swords and stakes taking on an army of monsters in the local cemetery. The leader of this gang inspired many conflicting feelings for Twilight, including to his surprise awe.
“Goodwill to all,” Twilight mused as he gazed at the slayers from a safe distance. “Including thy enemy. Merry Christmas slayers.”
And then he flew away, unnoticed by the woman whose life he planned to destroy within the next year.
---- The End ----
