Warning: This is random. And weird. And probably not even very funny. Just kinda sick.
~*~*~*~
Like an overripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage cheese, the corpulent remains of Santa Claus lay dead on the hotel floor.
It had started out as a really nice evening, too. The whole gang, plus significant others, had been crashing at Giles' house. The former librarian had set up a little Christmas tree, and they had all snuggled down into their sleeping bags with visions of sugar plums (or, in Tara's case, a nicely balanced salad) dancing in their heads. At around two in the morning, though, a low thump had echoed through the empty house.
Usually such a sound would've gone unnoticed in a house that Xander was frequenting, but nothing had been stirring (not even a mouse), so it set off the Slayer senses of the resident superhero. Springing from her sleeping bag, she beheld the sight of a shadowy figure (one that could use a few hours on a stairmaster) attempting to creep around the room.
In the business of killing nasty slimy demons, one rarely asks questions. So Buffy could be forgiven for immediately assuming that their rotund visitor had come intending harm.
Despite her silent approach, her approach was noticed. Jolly Old Saint Nick made what turned out to be a very costly error.
"Ho -"
In her recently wakened state, Buffy took that as a personal insult to her character rather than a cheerful greeting of the season. Staking Father Christmas required a little extra muscle to penetrate all the flab and get to the organ in question, but Buffy managed it. The sound of the scuffle had alerted not only the other Scoobies, but also Santa's faithful minions.
Tiny or not, killing eight reindeer (it was a clear night, so Rudolph had apparently been left behind) was messy work. Riley took out Dancer and Dasher with his magnum (unregistered guns don't kill reindeer -- people kill reindeer using unregistered guns), and the rest were bludgeoned to death with the scones that Giles had cooked for this festive season.
After Vixen made his heroic last stand, the reality of what they had just done sunk in. Riley and Tara both had breakdowns, though not for the same reasons. Riley just couldn't take the thought that he had been a party to the death of Santa, but Tara was a card-carrying member of PETA and couldn't stand the fact that she was responsible in part for the piles of venison now lying around the living room. Both were quickly chained up until they could come to their senses about the situation, and Buffy agreed to sit with them.
The Scoobies were no strangers to body disposal. This was a bit of a special case, though. Xander and Anya managed to stuff the eight reindeer into the back of his ice-cream truck, and they drove them down to the meat-packing plant. Tara almost broke free at the thought of reindeer-burgers. Since it was Giles' house, he got stuck with the problem of clean-up.
The problem of The Fat Man was left to Willow. As the only one in the group who didn't (or, rather, *hadn't*) worship Santa, she was left with getting rid of him. It had to look like an accident, that's all she was certain of. After enlisting the services of a professional, Willow managed to stuff Santa into the back of Giles' Citron and drive him to the nearest sleazy, rundown hotel. Fortunately, this was Sunnydale. From any point in town you were within five minutes' drive of a sleazy, rundown hotel.
The professional arrived. Collecting his burden, he managed to haul the fallen elf onto the roof. Then, yelling, "Goodbye, cruel world, and a merry fucking Christmas to all!" he hurled the body down onto a nearby picket fence. It made a rather surprising 'squish'ing sound.
It was small comfort to Willow to think that even though the Scooby gang had managed to single-handedly traumatize all the Christian children of the world, they were still ahead by the points due to the saving of said children on multiple occasions.
The professional was the only one happy.
"Forget about the money," Spike said, happily puffing on his cigarette, "that was pleasure, not business."
Joy to the world.
The End.