I've noticed a few people are re-posting their very first fics, and this one was mine, written on Dec. 12, 2000, while my very first college class was taking an open-book, open-note final that involved writing a paragraph. It's not pretty. I mispell Dru's name. I get the nationality of the monks wrong. I call the duster a coat. Spike is a Cockney. Let's just say I've come a ways. :)

( It was a lovely, Christmas-card-perfect scene. In the still night air, pretty little lights twinkled from the eaves of the suburban houses. The scent of roast turkey wafted from open kitchen windows. Since this was California, there was no snow; however, one lone figure was softly humming “White Christmas” as he made his way towards the Summers’s home, his black leather coat billowing behind him. Spike was in an unusually good mood. )

Originally written May 27, 2003

( So, it's Tuesday night, about ten minutes to 8:00, and this is it. The first permanent rerun of Buffy,  )