Noel the Naughty Elf

Shadith

Email: Shadith
Fandom: BTVS
Pairing: X/?
Rating: G to NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Thanks. C. Cross for the idea. Thanks Sans and Vo for the run through.

Summary: What's a poor elf to do when Santa sends him on a special mission?

It's not my fault! It's not like I set out to ruin anything! Machines just hate me! And I know this time I'm gonna get canned. Who knew the N'sync dolls were so susceptible to fire? Anyone could have acidentally turned all the GI Joe dolls pink. Right?

But this last one... lets just say paintball guns and reindeer don't mix. Santa may be a saint and all but I think even this time I'm done for. But what's an elf to do? I don't wanna leave the North Pole! Have you SEEN the outside world?!

Noel Ivy shuddered visibly. Noel fidgited outside the doors, trying desperately to figure out what the boss was going to do to him. Being called to Mr. C's office wasn't usually a good thing for him, and this morning's incident....

It wasn't like he tried to do things wrong, quite the opposite, in fact... Noel just wasn't mechanically inclined. He swore the others kept inventing clever new devices just to spite him.

Noel bit back a groan. This was it. The last time he'd stood in this very same place, after the tragic Shrek mishap, Mr. C had told him he would have another chance. There was no doubt that he'd blown that chance today. Noel's mouth went dry. What was going to happen now?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Noel stepped through the door and met the very serious gaze of Mr. C himself. He tried to choke down the lump of dread in his throat.

Oh gods! Mrs. C too! This is so not a good sign.

Mr. Claus breathed deeply, straining his red suspenders. "Noel, there's no two ways about it. You aren't working out among the elves on the floor." The genile old man frowned, pushing his spectacles further up on his red-as-a-cherry nose. Noel had never seen him so solemn, not even the time when he'd lost an entire batch of Tickle-Me- Elmos.

"We can't have elves who don't contribute to the bottom line," he continued, "especially at this time of year, when we're heading into very heavy production."

"It's bad for morale, dear," Mrs. Claus interjected. "And we can't have that when everyone has so much work to do."

"Please, Noel, we're asking you not to go back on the production floor," Mr. Claus said.

"Ever," Mrs. Clause clarified.

"Under any condition."

Noel fought the panic that was rising steadily. That could mean only one thing. He was being fired. From the North Pole workshop. Noel was quite certain that elves in this world didn't get work just anywhere else. And the places that used elves were places he, sure as reindeer shit, didn't wanna go!

"Now, don't look so worried. We know it's not really your fault," Mrs. Clause quickly continued, wringing her hands in her apron. "We know you have a heart of gold, Noel. You just haven't found your niche." She bit her lip and frowned. "There's just something about you that makes everything run amuck. You have some kind of... gift, luv."

It didn't feel like any damn gift to Noel.

"Damndest thing." Mr. Claus scowled. "And very inconvenient."

Mrs. Claus gave him a sympathetic smile. "So, dear, you'll just have to stay out of the workshop for good."

Noel finally found his voice. "But what'll I do?!"

Mrs. Claus face brightened considerably. "We've found just the thing for you. Go on. Tell him, Kris."

"Very tricky job," Mr. Claus said gruffly. "But you just might have the necessary talent to get it done."

Noel wondered bitterly whether they needed something broken somewhere.

Mr. Claus pulled off his glasses and stared off into space for a moment. "There's a situation in a little town called Sunnydale," he said slowly, "A young man there hasn't had the best of Christmas. He's become rather disenheartened about the whole thing."

Noel knew there was a blank look on his face.

Mr. Claus sighed, putting his glasses back on. "You see, I believe your just the elf to bring him the spirit of Christmas."

Now, Noel knew he looked clueless. "And just how do I do that? Won't he notice I'm an elf? I mean, the ears do give it away." He fingered the telltale points on his ear.

"What we want you to do is go down there and set things in motion. There are a few things he's desperately wanting. You just have to give them to him. We've got a nice identity all set up for you, already. It's the seventeenth of December, and Christmas is an awfully nice time to get a marriage propsoal."

Noel paled and swayed dizzily for a moment. How in Santa's sleigh was he gonna find somebody to marry the boy in a weeks time? He opened his mouth to voice his doubts.

"What do you say, Noel? This could be the beginning of a bright future for you."

As he looked back at them, Noel knew that he held in his grasp what was truly his very last chance. He had to make this work or he'd be a very unemployed, yet still immortal, elf. It would be tough to scrap by for all eternity. He had to succeed. He swallowed and nodded with false confidence. "I'll do it. When do I start?"

The pair before him smiled. "Right now," said Mr. Claus. Before Noel could say anything more, he lifted his hand, with his palm flat. He saw the glitter of fairy dust for just an insant before Mr. C pursed his lips and blew.

Then Noel was surrounded by dancing crystals, not unlike swirling snowflakes. A warm wind picked him up and tumbled him along with them as though he weighed no more than the snowflakes. He rolled helplessly, surrounded by fluttering sliver and light and wished with all his heart that he would succeed.

When the flurries cleared he was standing in front of sign that should have read 'Welcome to Sunnydale.' Instead it was crossed out and beneath in blood red letters was 'Welcome to the Hellmouth.'

Noel threw his head back and screamed. "Oh, shit!"

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