Home
Register
Recent
Categories
Authors
Series
Titles
Completed
Help
Search
Betas
Links
Find-A-Fic
Spuffy Twitter
LiveJournal
Top 10
Contact Us


RSS

Chit-Chat

squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!

Support


Author's Corner

[Reviews - 14]

Microsoft Word Chapter or Story

Printer Chapter or Story

ePub eBook Chapter or Story


- Text Size +
3023 - Reads


Chapter 1

Dawn was sitting at the research table idly flipping through some of the reference books thrown about the top of it. It was the beginning of December and Anya and Giles had been arguing about what traditions they should observe for the coming Solstice season. There had been a lot of bickering where Anya insisted that they should just allow for all of them, and Giles had huffed saying it was preposterous to do such preparation. It had all ended when Buffy and Dawn came in and Giles insisted on training.

Suddenly her attention focused on a picture of a young woman with a wreath full of lit candles on her head. She appeared to be wearing an older style white nightgown, complete with an embroidered collar. Below the picture read Modern interpretation of Saint Lucia festivities. Dawn sat up a little straighter and started reading the short passage that followed.

“Hey, Lucia,” Anya butted in over her shoulder. “That’s mine you know. I started that whole thing.”

“What?” Dawn’s irritation faded at being interrupted at Anya’s comment.

“Lucia. The Italian girl. What a vengeance case that was!” Anya said, her eyes lighting up in that creepy way that they did whenever there had been a lot of bloodshed involved.

“It says it’s a Swedish tradition in this book,” Dawn said, confused.

“Well, yeah. That was all part of the wish you see. For her to live on after she was killed. She wanted to live on forever. I couldn’t do anything about those Italians, they were very stubborn. But the Vikings jumped on the tradition right away. They were funny that way.” Anya explained flippantly, though offering little detail. It only served to confuse Dawn more.

“What are you talking about, Anya?” Dawn asked, getting more frustrated because it said nothing about Lucia being Italian in the blurb from the book. Just that it was a solstice celebration on the darkest night of the Scandinavian winter and girls dressed up and put candles in their hair. And something about the Nobel Feast and the king of Sweden, but Dawn hadn’t paid attention to that part.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Anya sighed. “Lucia was a girl who called me as she was being burned at the stake. So naturally, I made time go really REALLY slowly so she could tell me her story. She wasn’t accused of being a witch, so I was intrigued. I mean, witch burnings were another thing. Pretty common for a while. I can’t tell you how many falsely accused women I helped who weren’t witches.”

“Anya!”

“Fine, Ms. I Want To Know Everything Now. So, Lucia is there, burning to a crisp, and she tells me that her father wanted her to marry a very rich man and had given her a dowry with lots and lots of monetary value, especially in today’s market. I never could figure out why she didn’t want to keep all that money, even if she had to marry a boring husband. She could always find some stable boy to provide her good orgasms.” Anya paused, and seemed engrossed in the possibilities.

“Anya, can you please tell your story,” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of the ex-demon’s face.

“Okay, okay. Well Lucia was very beautiful, she had sworn to die a virgin, was a good Christian and all that. She had given up her dowry to feed the poor and helped Christians hiding away in the mountains from the Romans. Now this wealthy potential husband decided to report her to the Roman government and they ordered her to be burned at the stake. The Romans always loved burning people at the stake,” Anya was about to start another tangent, but at Dawn’s irritated huff she continued on. “So that’s where I came in. I asked Lucia what she wanted and she said that she didn’t mind dying to help others, but she didn’t want her message to die with her. She wanted people to keep giving their own hard earned money away to people who didn’t have any. I never understood it, but hey, so basically I made sure that her story lives on. Mainly in Sweden and Denmark where they make the prettiest girls Lucia and all the uglier ones her attendants during the festival. They sing, bring baked goods and coffee to people early in the morning, and bring light into the darkest winter nights.” Anya finished with a flourish.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. But Lucia died at the stake then?” Dawn asked.

“No, she was stabbed through the throat with a sword. That’s what the red band the Lucia wears is supposed to be. The blood,” Anya looked down at the picture in front of her.

“Oh. But why do the Scandinavians celebrate her if she was Italian?” Dawn wrinkled her nose up in question.

“Who knows? I sent a bunch of monks out with the message. I was a vengeance demon after all. I wasn’t about to spread the message of peace and goodness too far. I guess they were the ones who liked it. It is very dark there in the winter,” Anya flipped through another book that she had found on the table. “Here, see. There’s more for you to read about.”

Dawn glanced at the open page which revealed not only how the tradition was celebrated, but also what treats to bake and translations of all the songs. Anya had been distracted by a potential customer, leaving Dawn to read all of the details on her own. It looked pretty interesting. A wreath with candles on the Lucia’s head looked easy to make, and all they would need were nightgowns…

“Whatcha lookin’ at Dawn?” Buffy’s voice startled her out of her reading.

“Saint Lucia Day. It’s a Solstice celebration they do in Scandinavia,” Dawn answered, eyes still glued to the page in front of her.

“Ahh, a beautiful tradition indeed,” Giles added, having come up behind Buffy. “They wake all the Nobel prize winners on the morning of December 13th in the Lucia manner. Scares some of them half to death, mind you.”

Buffy looked at the picture of the Lucia in the book, “What’s with all the candles?”

“To light the way in the darkest of times, I believe,” Giles answered.

“Hey, that’s what I said!” Anya had finished helping the customer and fixed her decidedly fake smile on Giles.

“Indeed,” Giles sat down at the table, exhausted from his sparring session with Buffy who had settled down in a chair near Dawn and begun whittling new stakes.

“I want to do this,” Dawn piped up after a few minutes silence.

“What?” Buffy asked, her attention had been focused on other things.

“I wanna do a Lucia celebration,” Dawn said pointedly looking at her sister as if daring her to deny her.

“Why Dawn? You only heard about it today,” Buffy started.

“Because, Buffy, I want us to do something fun. I’m sick of you moping around. Besides, it’ll be like our Solstice celebration since we have Christmas,” Dawn turned up her pathetic-lost-puppy-eyed look to its maximum.

“I don’t know Dawn,” Buffy didn’t know how to respond. She certainly wasn’t about to do some crazy celebration she’d never heard of, right before Christmas without Mom.

“I’ll help!” Three pairs of disbelieving eyes turned to where Anya was dusting merchandise nearby.

“What?” Buffy chocked out through her shock.

“I’ll help. It’ll be fun. I mean, I haven’t even participated in the tradition before which is strange because I started it,” Anya finished proudly.

“How on earth are you responsible for the Saint Lucia tradition?” Giles asked while pinching his nose. He knew he probably wouldn’t want to hear the explanation but would be regaled with the tale nonetheless.

As Anya launched into an even more elaborate explanation of how she was responsible, Dawn turned to Buffy, hoping to persuade her.

“C’mon Buffy, it’ll be fun. We can bake and make coffee and dress up. It’ll be like Halloween but with the potential of running into monsters if we’re out early,” Dawn said cheekily.

Buffy wanted to resist, but she hadn’t really been spending a lot of time with her sister lately, and it was getting close to Christmas. They would both miss Mom even more soon and maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing they could do. Dawn would probably sleep through the early wakeup call anyways so there was even a chance of it not happening at all.

“Okay, Dawnie. Who do you want to go to?” Buffy asked after reading over the passage in the book.

“Well, Tara and Willow of course, Giles, Xander, and Spike!” Dawn finished with a smirk.

“Why Spike? He’ll only be snarky with us,” Buffy cringed at the thought of what Spike would say when he saw them singing and clad in nightgowns.

“No he wouldn’t. He’d love it!” Dawn smiled hopefully.

“I really don’t know about this Dawnie,” Buffy looked at her sister’s hopeful expression. What the hell, she figured if she didn’t disagree outright, she may still be able to avoid going out later.

“It’ll be so much fun! I can’t wait to go out and find everything. Maybe Janice will want to come, but then I’d have to explain why we’re visiting a crypt…” Dawn trailed off, happily engrossed in her planning. Buffy meanwhile was debating how smart her choice was to go along with the scheme.




Enter the security code shown below:
Note: You may submit either a rating or a review or both.