#buffydarkhorsecomics

“Have yourself a merry little…” The voice on the television began to sing with a campy Christmas cheer before the song was abruptly ended by Tristan switching off the television in the living room of the apartment, he shared with Faith above their bar Rogue’s. “Christmas is cancelled this year; we are drinking straight through to New Year’s.” A drunken Tristan declared, while wearing just a pair of tight white boxer briefs as he held a half empty bottle of whisky in his hands, before crashing on to the nearby couch. This year had been especially difficult for Tristan Summers, who had went from being a vampire who was possessed by a demon, to being killed, only to come back to life and find himself sucked into a twisted dimension where he and his parents Buffy and Angel worked together to kill the shadow demon that had once possessed him. Being back from the dead should have been reason enough for Tristan to celebrate Christmas, however, despite many pleas from both of his infamous parents he continued to decline, even going as far as convincing Faith to head to Los Angels for Christmas so he would not have anybody to remind him come the day. The earliest Christmases that Tristan could remember with his adoptive parents seemed like a perfect Christmas looking back which were probably heavily influenced by nostalgia and how much he missed them. Heck, even his Christmases spent with vampires Dante and Drusilla were fun for him, of course they were all crazy and there’d usually be humans on the table instead of turkey but it still felt like a family holiday, a deeply disturbed family, but family nonetheless and after so many losses, heartbreaks, and betrayals, Tristan was done with it all, especially Christmas. After everything him, Buffy, and Angel had gone through to get to a place where their relationship was somewhat healthy, or at least healthier than Tristan trying to kill his biological parents, he did feel guilty for rejecting both of their invitations but he just did not feel ready to open himself up to another form of family, especially not on Christmas Day.

As the hours passed, Tristan waited until his bottle of whisky was completely empty before passing out drunk on the couch where he sat but sleep was not something he would get much of on the night of December 22nd as he suddenly found himself being awakened by his old high school friend Mandi Jenkins, startling him to his core, considering Mandi was killed by Drusilla not too long ago. “Mandi,” Tristan mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what stood before him. “How is this possible? Your dead…I saw your body myself after Dru killed you.” “I believe the correct answer would be it’s the magic of Christmas, believe it or not that kind of thing really does exist but to be fair in a world filled with vampires, witches, slayers and sons of slayers is it really that far of a stretch that Christmas really is that special after all.” Mandi replied to her old friend. “Clearly, I am dreaming once again.” Tristan realized, as he stood up from his couch. “There’s only so many twisted dream scenarios one unhinged slayer can handle before he becomes completely and utterly tormented like…” “Drusilla…you were going to say Drusilla, right?” Mandi interrupted the slayer’s son, instantly noticing his guilt over mention the name of her killer to her so casually. “It’s okay Drusilla killed me, biggest surprise was it was not you who killed me…and I use the term loosely considering I am not actually Mandi.” “Are you the first? Please tell me you’re the first and not the shadow demon because I am getting sick of going up against the shadow demon.” Tristan complained. “I am the ghost of Christmas past.” Mandi revealed to him, only to be met by laughs of disbelief from Tristan. “Are we really doing this?” Tristan asked in between laughs.

Exactly one blink later and before his very eyes he was now standing next to Mandi on the snow covered grass of his family home in Riverborn looking into the dining room window to see his adoptive parents playing games, talking and laughing with each other and a six year old version of himself. “They loved Christmas so much, my dad used to dress up as Santa, I guess like most dads did but he really committed to the role either that or I was a really dumb kid because I was shocked when I found it was him.” Tristan admitted to Mandi, with tears in his eyes as he watched a beautiful Christmas memory before his very eyes. “Do you remember how our parents used to meet up on Christmas night and it would be like this big mash up of Christmas? And how you used to spend New Year’s with me every year?” “I know I look like Mandi, but I am not actually her remember,” The ghost of Christmas past reminded him. “I can see why Christmas is so difficult when it serves as a reminder of all you’ve lost but not all of which you have lost is bad…” “What does that mean?” Tristan wondered, before realizing. “Dante and Drusilla…I loved them like family too and the whole time they were the ones who killed my real family, first my parents, then you, well Mandi…” “I know how much Mandi Jenkins meant to you which is why I chose to take this form and I know the guilt you feel for not only her death but your parents’ too but all of that was out of your control.” Mandi of Christmas past explained to the son of the slayer. “Maybe not…but killing Mandi’s boyfriend was definitely all me, killing all those slayers, and all those innocents, that is all on me without any excuses and that is something I can never make up for.” Tristan admitted, never forgetting the horrors he had committed with his own hands. “I could feed you the line and play the role of a person endorsing your shit by saying you were manipulated by two vampires, one whom you were in love with, but the truth is you chose that path and you killed all of those innocents and that is something you should have to live with for the rest of your life without a doubt!” Mandi made clear to Tristan. “However, that does not mean you should resign yourself to the shadows, if you truly want to redeem yourself and be the better person then you need to learn the true differences between the past you, your present and what your future may look like.”

It was December 23rd the eve before Christmas eve and Tristan had all but regulated his experiences the night before as nothing more than a drunken dream as he pulled himself together, showered, washed, and put on some clothes before opening up his and Faith’s bar Rogues which they opened during the day despite the fact most of their customers couldn’t step out in the day, however, one particularly loyal customer only showed up during the day, Miss Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins, a former vengeance demon from an alternate world who had found herself annoyingly human and in New York City. “So, you spend a thousand years give or take with the best gig a girl can ask for…minus all the bloody bunnies and then boom some shadow demon gives you an offer you cannot refuse although in hindsight I probably should have…” A drunk Anya Jenkins slurred while drinking her bottle of beer, sat on a stool, at the bar counter, within Rogues bar, which was empty barring her and her bartender Tristan Summers, who stood behind the counter, looking far from amused by his company. “Only to be beat by two humans and the worst part of it all is not only does the world suck a lot more than I hoped for but this world’s version of my boss tells me I have no choice but to stay human because this world’s me was given too many chances…” “You have told me this story every time you come in here in the afternoon, always drunk before the sunsets, forcing me to get you a taxi so you do not wind up some vamp’s dinner…” Tristan complained to her. “You need to get over it already and find yourself some kind of life you do not totally hate living.” “Oh, I am very sorry if my life’s problems bore you!” Anya said with great sarcasm. “It was you lot who did this to me…it’s only fair you have to wallow in my misery with me.” “Hey, do not get uppity with me because you were bested by a broken key and a halfwit.” Tristan mocked the former vengeance demon, and by doing so also mocked Dawn and her boyfriend Xander. “You are almost as bad as Sid for the complaining, but the guy is a freaking puppet who cannot drink…real problems, unlike yours!” “Remind me again why I keep choosing to come back here to a bar which service is severely lacking?” Anya asked, while digging at Tristan at the same time. “Because this is the only place stupid enough to let you have a tab!” Tristan replied. “Which was definitely more Faith’s idea than mine considering I know for a fact you are never going to find a way of paying us back nor do you want to look.” “You make an excellent point,” Anya responded before finishing her beer and placing the empty bottle onto the bar counter. “Where is your fellow slayer anyway?” “Spending Christmas in Los Angeles with everyone including the two humans who brought you down to your knees.” Tristan informed her, all too happily. “If I knew you were this much fun during the holidays I would have told her to take you with them although considering you’re an alternate world version of the girl Xander almost married I do not think Dawn would be too happy…saying that I am not too sure if I care about her not being happy.” “So, you turned down being somewhere for Christmas so you could serve me alcohol all through the holiday and yet I’m the one who needs to get a life?” Anya said blatantly, as she stood up from the barstool and began walking towards the bar door, ready to leave Tristan alone to think about her latest insult.

Later that very same night after he was finished closing up Rogues, the only male slayer Tristan went straight to bed, avoiding any drinks in an attempt to avoid further dreams about Christmas past, but alas the ghost of Christmas past and had come and gone and it was now time for the ghost of Christmas present and who better to represent it than Drusilla, a vampire that Tristan had a lot of history with, history which continued to troubled him right up to this very day, and possibly in the future too. “My boy still looks like an angel when he sleeps but the things, he’s done makes his daddy angel weep and weep.” Drusilla tormented Tristan, as the male slayer awoke from his sleep to find her stood above his bed within his bedroom. “Considering you were not invited into this home this has got to be another dream,” Tristan reassured himself, as he climbed out of bed and stood up on the floor, ready to face the vampire who made him into the monster he once was. “So, are we still on the theme of Christmas or is this just another dream with you in it?” “Yes, I do seem to haunt your dreams on the regular…tell me what is worse for you? The dreams in which I am killing everybody you loved which serve more like flashbacks than dreams, or is it the dreams in which you’re happy, we’re happy, Dante, and Mandi too?” Drusilla, the ghost of Christmas present, questioned the man who once loved her like a mother, knowing the turmoil her mere presence caused him. “I cannot believe I am saying this,” Tristan admitted to both himself and the ghost of Christmas present, eager to avoid anymore talk of his troubling past. “Please tell me this is another Christmas dream…” “Yes,” Drusilla said after a sinister cackle, the Christmas ghost playing their part of the deranged vampire a little to well, before the two found themselves standing outside the front doors of the Hyperion Hotel, within the garden, looking through the front doors to see Tristan’s father Angel reluctantly decorating a large tree within the reception area of the hotel, under close super vision by the all-powerful witch Willow. “Hate to break it to you Dru but if this is what you have to show me then your seriously lacking in the sinister department these days…or this Christmas ghost version of you is way too much Christmas and not enough Halloween.” Tristan scorned Drusilla, as he continued to watch his father Angel decorate a tree with Willow, looking further to find Faith and Spike knocking back drinks at the counter of the reception area, while behind the reception area Giles, his mother’s watcher, was heavy into what looked like a game of scrabble with Dawn and Xander, the watcher looking justifiably frustrated by what Tristan assumed was the others lack of verbal intellect in comparison to Giles. As Tristan continued to search through the festive scenery before his very eyes, taking Drusilla’s silence as a hint to continue examining what lay before him, after a few more moments he found his mother Buffy Summers sat on the stairs playing dolls with her six year old niece, and his cousin, Joyce Harris, and for some reason that he did not want to admit to himself he began to feel a gut in his stomach, jealous not of Joyce or her child play, but broken by the sign of Buffy being motherly to a child, a child that was not him, a child that would never be him. “You are right in thinking she will never be like that with you, for you a neither a child, or remotely innocent…the days of that ever being likely for you are well and truly over.” Drusilla told him. “You are never too old to be somebody’s son but are you too far gone to allow anyone to love you like that?” “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tristan questioned the vampire, confused by her often-cryptic ways of putting a sentence together. But before the son of the slayer could get any answers from the ghost of Christmas present he found himself waking back up in his bed in his bedroom, only this time there was no sign of Drusilla to be found.

It was now December 24th, officially the eve before Christmas, and it felt to Tristan like this particular Christmas was on steroids, as Christmases tended to feel like during times people were far from feeling the festive spirit, and it seemed to Mr. Summers that he could not turn on a television, stream a song, or listen to the radio, without the message of Christmas being shoved down his throat, but as he opened up his bar for another day to night shift, he began to look forward to the distraction of Anya Jenkins, knowing she would be the last person to feel the festive cheer, or at least that is what he thought. As Anya strolled into Rogue’s dressed as a literal elf, holding a hot, sexy, and barely dressed, male Santa in her arms looking happier than she had ever looked before, Tristan could not believe his eyes, believing instantly some sinister magic was to blame for this ungodly sight before him. “I thought you hated elves why the hell are you dressed up like one?” Tristan asked Anya, as she sat down at the bar with her festive suitor. “It’s bunnies, it’s always been bunnies, bloody bunnies!” Anya corrected the male slayer, unnerved by mentioning the creatures she feared the most. “So, you hate Easter but not Christmas then?” Tristan wondered, before turning to examine the sexy Santa, failing to not notice his amazingly chiseled and seemingly oiled hairless chest. “Or do you just have a kink for Santa’s…which judging by this one makes a whole lot of sense.” “I like money, and lots of it, and I got myself as an elf at some shopping mall…can you believe shopping malls are still a thing on this world? In my world we enslaved all designers forcing them to make their designs exclusive to us which definitely wound up backfiring when they started stitching terribly and we got all angry and killed them all.” Anya revealed to Tristan, with a sense of fondness. “Now those were the days…” “Did you just say this world…as in you’re from another planet or something? Because that is super cool, everyone meets vampires and demons these days, but I never hear stories about aliens.” A clearly confused sexy Santa asked Anya, all too excited by the potential of her being an alien. “I knew by Xander that dumb was your type but at least this one’s hot.” Tristan told Anya, mocking both Xander and the sexy Santa without care. “Well aliens are from another planet and I am from another universe so yes, I’m technically an alien to this world anyways.” Anya replied to Tristan, before going on to say. “Also, I am not the Anya who almost married that lump I am the Anya that has only had the misfortune to meet him once.” “So, Santa what do you want to drink?” Tristan asked the man, eager to change from the topic of aliens. “Oh, I do not drink, I respect what goes into my body.” The sexy Santa, instantly losing all appeal to both Anya and Tristan within that one instant. “I’m cool with the whole not drinking thing but respecting your body? Is that really a thing when there is literally a fast-food joint on every corner? I mean I am all for self-love and stuff but keep your greens and I will keep my fats.” Tristan responded to the man dressed as Santa. “Tristan your bitterness over no Christmas date is starting to show, maybe you should hitch a ride to L.A. before it’s too late and spend Christmas with that god-awful family of yours.” Anya suggested to the male slayer. “I’d gladly tend to the bar for you…if I’m payed Christmas wages of course.” “No thank you,” Tristan scoffed, not willing to trust Anya, nor willing to go anywhere, especially not on Christmas. “I mean I know this place is just a dive bar and everything, but I would not trust you to take care of my stakes never mind my bar, and everything’s a stake if it’s wooden and you get creative…”

After spending his day shift watching Anya making out with the sexy Santa she brought to Rogues, and the night shift serving demon after demon, creature after creature, and the odd human who were very odd indeed, Tristan shut down the bar for another night before putting himself to bed once again, falling into a deep sleep, hoping the future was further away than what it would be…as before long he found himself awakening on the cold hard ground of his own grave. “Well this is definitely a little too much melancholy for even me…” He mumbled to himself as he stood up from the ground and walked off his grave, looking around the San Francisco cemetery, confused by how he got there. “Down here big guy!” Sid instructed the slayer, forcing Tristan to look below to find the living puppet stood in front of him. “In case you’ve not quite caught up on all of this, yet I am your ghost of Christmas future.” “I figured that much but why take to me to where Buffy buried me before the whole coming back to life via some powers that be meddling?” Tristan replied to the puppet man, made of wood. “Well where else were they going to stick your lifeless body the next time around?” Sid answered him. “They never got round to getting rid of the grave, not that they needed too considering you wound up back in it before long.” “What did I die of a severe lack of Christmas cheer?” Tristan joked, unaffected so far by this spiritual visit. “Or maybe a vampire staked me with a candy cane, the amount I’ve staked seems kind of poetic actually…” “Nope, after you went back to the bad way of life much to no-one’s surprise your mum Buffy stepped up and killed you…if memory serves right you were stabbed to death with way too many wounds for it not to be a little…you know…fun for her.” Sid revealed to the slayer. “But after all the work they put in saving you just for you to go back to being a bastard who would blame her…” “So, I go back evil? I wouldn’t do that…not after everything…” Tristan dismissed his claims, all while fearing Sid was telling the truth. “Yep, that’s what you thought too but after continuously pushing away the parents, then Faith, and even Anya got sick of you…well after all that you had nobody and before long you were back budding it up with Drusilla acting as if you did not know she and Dante killed your parents…or maybe you just really did not care anymore.” Sid continued to explain to a stunned Tristan. “I mean how are you supposed to be human when you haven’t bonded with any since you started playing with monsters.” “That’s not true!” Tristan snapped at the ghost of Christmas future. “I care about Faith she has never given up on me, and I care about Buffy and Angel, I mean sure the parents thing is a little complicated but I do care about them…and I cared about Mandi, Lucas, and the parents that raised me.” “If you really care about all these people, the ones who aren’t dead yet then why are you treating them like they are already gone?” Sid asked Tristan, already knowing the slayer’s answer. “Because you fear one day you might end up caring too much and losing them which will happen as nobody lives forever, thing is…if you don’t care, lose, get hurt, and let your heart break, then you’re not really human as much as it sucks, we got to feel the bad as well as the good because nothing is more dangerous than becoming numb to it all.” Tristan wanted to argue back with the man trapped within the dummy, wanting to prove him wrong, but Sid’s words were wiser than Tristan would like to admit, and even if he was not a fan of Christmas itself he was certainly a fan of those who did care about it, those who wanted to spend it with him and before long he started to realize that he had made a huge mistake by trying to skip Christmas….

As Tristan woke up in his bed within his room on Christmas Day, he was immediately met with guilt as he realized he had missed out on a chance to bond with his friends, his family, and potential loved ones. He was not suddenly a fan of Christmas itself, that would take some time, but he began to remember its message and how important it was for people, how important it once was for him, and as he climbed out of his bed, rising onto his feet, and walked over to his window to see the back alleyway, in between his building and several others, was covered in snow, as snow continued to fall from the sky, and for a moment, just a moment, he even considered opening that window and yelling Merry Christmas. Instead, he chose to get changed and then call up those who would answer to him, so he could wish them a Merry Christmas and admit to his regrets of not being with them on this special occasion but after he had got changed, and walked into the living room of his apartment, he quickly realized he had no calls to make as his living room was decked to the halls with Christmas decorations, including a fully decorated tree, as his mother Buffy Summers, his father Angel, his aunt Dawn, her man Xander, and their daughter Joyce, stood beside his friend Faith, the vampire Spike, his mother’s best friend Willow and the retired watcher Giles…all of them ready to spend Christmas with him whether he wanted to or not…but luckily for him he was more than ready to celebrate Christmas with them all.

Have a truly twisted Christmas that only torments you in the more joyous ways and a happy new year, a year which will hopefully be less chaotic than 2020, keep slaying slayerettes.

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