Notes: Hey everybody! I'm not really sure where I got the idea for this, it being June and all, but I decided a Christmas story was the perfect thing to spend my afternoon writing instead of my term paper. I generally don't write a lot of fluff, mainly due to the fact that few of my fandoms fall under that category, so feedback on this one would be more than appreciated, be it negative or positive. Thanks!

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They are all property of Tanya Huff and Peter Mohan's team of excellent writers. Hopefully I've used them and returned them in pristine condition.

Vicki stared down at the quiet streets surrounding Henry's apartment, streetlamps casting a soft orange glow over the pavement, a light dusting of snow settling into the cracks. December had reached Toronto, and Vicki despised the brisk weather and congested traffic caused by late-night snowfalls such as this. She hated ice skating, hadn't the time for sledding, and winter was the perfect season for petty burglaries, keeping her busy around the clock.

She also hated December because it meant Christmas was fast approaching. It wasn't the actual holiday she disliked so much as it was the fact that buying gifts for loved ones was incredibly difficult. Her mother was easy enough in that a new bathrobe and some champagne would do the trick. Celluci was always in need of something, be it a pack of razorblades or a new sweater. Coreen, she had a feeling, would be the easiest to buy for. However, this year presented itself with an entirely new challenge: What do you get a man who already has everything? Five centuries of this particular holiday and Henry was bound to have already received gifts he had wanted, and then had them duplicated.

"Ready?" his voice asked, cool breath brushing against her skin.

Vicki whirled around, having forgotten Henry was even in the room.

"Sorry, what?"

"Are you ready to go?"

Vicki raised an eyebrow. "And where, pray tell, are we headed?"

Henry gave her a knowing smile. "C'mon."

"Your vampire powers don't work on me," Vicki reminded him, though she pulled on her jacket and wrapped a thick-cabled scarf around her neck, following him out into the night.

With one arm tucked firmly in his, she let herself be lead through the quiet night to a nearby park. They made their way along snow-covered paths, and Vicki did her best to ignore the inky blackness that threatened to engulf her already limited vision. She would have easily strayed from the sidewalk had Henry not been with her. Had she had any choice in the matter, they would have stayed in, preferably curled up on Henry's sofa, steaming thermos in hand. As it were, she pushed aside her displeasure with the chilling wind that blew snow about her ankles and hunkered down inside her jacket a bit more.

Glancing over at Henry, she rolled her eyes.

"You do realize that I hate you for never being cold, right?"

Green eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. One of the limitless advantages of being dead.

"I know. You've reminded me nearly every day for the past two months, remember?"

She remembered. And she was still jealous.

"Hmph," she muttered into the bundle around her neck.

The two walked for what Vicki deemed to be far too long, and eventually found themselves in the heart of the city, tall glass buildings rising up on all sides. Vicki shot Henry a look of pure annoyance.

"We went the long way for nothing. Why didn't you just drive?"

Henry glanced sideways at her, well aware that she had stopped walking and was facing him, hands on hips.

"For someone who claims to be so well-adjusted, you certainly complain a lot."

"It's cold out," Vicki grunted, though she resumed her stride, hesitant as it may have been, careful to avoid any physical contact with him.

Henry rolled his eyes; she certainly was stubborn. He knew she couldn't see, and yet she insisted on walking alone. If she hadn't been about to run into a large telephone pole just out of her peripheral, he would have let her.

"Careful," he said lightly, pulling her back towards the center of the sidewalk.

"Fuck off," she replied sweetly, though she allowed herself to be lead for the remainder of their stroll.

Eventually Vicki found herself staring into an extravagant window display just outside of Macy's. Multi-tonal shades of red and green stared back at her, and she raised an eyebrow at Henry's reflection.

"You made me walk all the way into the city, in the middle of winter, to stare into some crappy store window?" she asked, slightly put off. "The store isn't even open, Henry. If you wanted to go Christmas shopping, we could've just turned on your computer."

Henry found her dislike of the holiday season strangely fascinating, and so he ignored her complaints.

"Why did you stop here?" he asked instead.

Vicki looked confused. "You stopped."

"I've just been following you," he replied, trying to hide a mischievous smile.

Now she looked utterly lost.

"You could've stopped at any other window. Why this one?"

"Because it's the last building on the block and I want to go home, where it's warm."

"So you don't actually like anything in the window?"

"I didn't say that," Vicki said through chattering teeth. "What I said was, 'I want to go home.' Unless you missed that." She gave him a pointed look.

Henry stared at her long and hard, then shrugged, turning and leading the way back down the street. So much for trying to find her the perfect Christmas gift.

"Oh no," Vicki said after a moment, realizing he intended to walk the entire distance back to his apartment. "We're taking a cab."

It was a Sunday afternoon, weak winter sunlight just enough to illuminate her desk. Vicki was pouring over the limitless possibilities on Ebay, having marked a few as potential gifts for her vampire friend; a medieval sword, an 18th century painting of Henry's family, an ancient book of vampire folklore. Each item she had tagged was certainly something he would appreciate, but none of them were perfect.

Discouraged, she turned the laptop off and leaned back in her chair.

"Maybe I should get him a dog," she said to no one in particular. His apartment was certainly lonely; maybe what he needed was a companion that was neither her nor any other unsuspecting woman.

She suddenly had a vision of Henry not having eaten for a few days and accidentally killing the dog. Perhaps a pet was a bad idea.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Vicki sighed.

"You're as bad as Henry, you know that? Why doesn't anybody around here knock?"

Mike Celluci smirked and took the seat across from her, propping his muddy feet on the desk.

"Damnit, Celluci, I just cleaned!" Vicki groaned, a finger trying to prod his shoes off a stack of papers.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Office looks like crap, Vic. It always does."

"Does not," she muttered, wiping a trail of brown slush onto the floor, watching it soak into the rug. "What do you want, Mike?"

"What do you want for Christmas?"

Vicki's lips curled into a smile. Every year, precisely a week before the 25th, Mike was guaranteed to turn up with the same question. He wasn't much for thinking on his own when it came to purchasing gifts. With an entire family to buy for, it was easier for him to simply find out what they wanted, then pick and choose from what they told him.

"For you to learn how to knock," she replied with mock severity.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Besides that."

Vicki thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever you want to get me is fine." She hadn't really had time to think about what she wanted; she'd been too wrapped up in trying to find Henry the perfect gift amidst doing her job and babysitting Coreen, who had recently turned into a blubbering mess.

"I'm s-sorry! I d-don't know why I'm c-c-crying," the young woman had sobbed earlier that morning.

But Vicki did. It had been nearly a year since Ian's murder, and as much as Coreen didn't want to admit that his memory was affecting her, it most certainly was.

"That's very helpful, Vic," Mike said, voice laced with sarcasm. "I'll keep that in mind when I'm rolling a cart down the isle labeled 'nothing.'" He wove his fingers together and leaned forward. "Seriously. Any ideas?"

She shook her head. "I've been a little busy lately. Sorry. I'm sure you'll think of something, Mike. You always do."

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Mike broke the silence.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

He grinned. "Aren't you going to ask me what I want?"

Henry stared blankly at the TV, wondering why on earth women were so obsessed with the Home Shopping Network; it was completely useless. And entirely boring. He had had little hope in finding Vicki's gift here, and had been let down yet again. He was running out of ideas.

He had tried everything. He had taken her shopping in hopes of a random outburst somewhere along the lines of, "Isn't this darling?!" or "Wouldn't this look great in the office?" Neither of which he could imagine coming out of Vicki's mouth, but he had hoped all the same.

He had taken her on that long walk downtown a few nights ago, but that had failed. He'd hinted at a few ideas he had, though she'd basically ignored him. Henry had even resorted to asking Mike for ideas, who had not been helpful in any way, shape or form.

"I don't even know what to get her," Celluci had grumbled. "I'm certainly not helping you come up with something."

He had done literally everything he could without flat-out asking, "Vicki, what do you want for Christmas?" He was running low on both ideas and time.

Unable to take it a second longer, he turned off the television and made his way into the kitchen, yanking the door to the refrigerator open with more force than was probably necessary. The inside was bare, save for a few bottled waters (his), and leftover Chinese (obviously Vicki's). He crinkled his nose at the smell, trying to remember how long it had been since the white carton of orange chicken had taken up residence on the bottom shelf. When he couldn't settle on a date, he decidedly pulled it out and tossed it into the garbage.

Twisting open a water, he pulled himself up onto the counter, a habit he had picked up from hanging out with a certain P.I. a little too often. He ran a hand through his hair, desperate for a new idea. This gift had to be perfect; he didn't care how hard it was to find. Whatever it was, he would know when he saw it. He just hoped it wouldn't be June when inspiration struck.

Vicki was fumbling with her keys, intent on making it into the office before the phone stopped ringing. Unfortunately for her, she had had quite a day and suddenly found herself turned into a klutz, dropping her keys in a nearby snow bank.

"Goddamn it," she hissed, tossing her bag onto the front step and climbing into the snow. Coldness seeped into her boots, immediately soaking her socks and her jeans up to the knees. A patch of ice had been covered by the white mound of fluff and, unable to steady herself in time, Vicki found herself engulfed in frigid winter.

"God-fucking-damnit."

After a long moment of digging around, she proudly held up her keychain, the tiny vampire charm glinting in the fading sunlight. She pulled herself out of the snow and hurried inside.

The phone had stopped ringing.

By the time Vicki had climbed the stairs and peeled off her sopping wet clothes, Henry was sitting Indian-style on the window seat, looking as warm and dry as ever. Vicki shot him a weary look.

"Don't ask." She pulled on an old t-shirt of Henry's she had stolen, along with a pair of thick flannel pajama pants, and padded out of the bathroom, squeezing moisture from her hair. "Why can't you men knock?" she added as an afterthought.

Henry smiled. "Don't need to."

Vicki rolled her eyes. "Too lazy?"

"Something like that," he laughed.

It was then that inspiration struck. A grin spread across her face, though she quickly masked it by coughing and shoving her head into a sweatshirt.

"So, what's on the agenda tonight?" Henry asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch. "Online shopping? A nice walk?"

Vicki's eyes narrowed to thin slits.

"Don't even think about making me go outside," she snapped. "I have had enough of this damn snow."

The cold was even beginning to annoy him, so he nodded his agreement. It wasn't cold enough to make him feel human, but it was a bit on the obnoxious side. He had had to turn up his collar to ward of the frigid wind earlier that evening, and that was rare.

"Okay, so what did you want to do?"

He made a dramatic show of yawning and slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a tad bit closer.

Vicki couldn't help but smile. She was in no mood to argue.

"Sounds good to me."

Six a.m. Too early for most of Toronto's population, too late for a vampire. He was cutting it close. He could feel the earth warming beneath his feet as he slid out from under the covers and snatched up his clothes.

"Wachoo doin'?" came a muffled voice from the bed. "Wha' timezit?"

Henry smiled. Vicki Nelson would never be a morning person.

"A little after six. I need to go."

That seemed to snap her out of her sleep-induced stupor.

"Henry, hurry up! I'm not going to have you turn into a pile of ash in my bedroom the day before Christmas!"

"Yes, Mister Scrooge," he teased, planting a kiss atop her head.

And with that he disappeared, Vicki's head already returned to its rightful place on her pillow, blanket pulled up to her chin, already fast asleep.

Henry hurried down the street, wishing he had planned a little better; either he should have brought the car, or he would need to start setting an alarm. Vicki would love that.

He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. 6:17. Less than five minutes.

He quickened his pace at the sight of his building, breaking out in a run as he crossed the street. Not until he was safely locked in his bedroom did he dare breathe.

Just as consciousness began to slip away, a thought struck him. He smiled.

The 24th came and went without much excitement, and Christmas dawned gray and icy. Vicki spent the morning with her mother, who, as expected, greatly appreciated the bathrobe and champagne. Her afternoon was spent with Celluci's family, as she did every year, and was bombarded with food and a jumble of Italian profanities. The two exchanged gifts, Mike pleased with the new trench Vicki had selected, Vicki raising an accusing eyebrow at the books he'd gotten her; three had to do with vampires, one with zombies, and the other on marriage.

"It's a joke, Vic, calm down," he'd grinned, watching her cheeks grow pink. He handed her a smaller box, which, when opened, revealed a thin silver chain with a handful of charms dangling from it. Upon careful inspection, she smiled in appreciation. One was a tiny police badge, the others ranging from a small silver bat to an elegant 'V.'

Now she was sitting in her office, nervously drumming her fingers against the desk as the sun set, repeatedly tucking a stray curl behind one ear to keep her hands busy. She and Henry had decided to spend the evening together, as neither one had any family commitments. Obviously. She had argued with herself for nearly an hour, but had eventually settled on a black dress with a large red ribbon tied at the waist. Henry had commented on it before and knew he liked it.

She didn't think she had left any windows open, any doors unlocked, and waited for the expected knock at the front door. It came as soon as the sky had turned a violent shade of blue and she quickly let Henry in, trying to ignore the box in his hands.

"Merry Christmas," he grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," she intoned.

Hurriedly, she shoved her gift into Henry's hands.

He blinked in surprise. He glanced up at her, eyes sparkling.

"Sorry. I just wanted you to open mine first."

"That's funny. I wanted you to open mine first."

Vicki grinned.

"Together?"

Henry nodded.

The two made their way into the office and took a seat on the couch, watching each other for a signal to begin.

Quickly growing tired of waiting, Vicki began to slide the bow off her box. Henry followed soon after, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.

Vicki drew in a breath as the box slid open. Henry's pocket watch, the one she had seen him pull out so many times as he checked the sky, fell into her hands. Carefully, she popped it open and read the inscription he had obviously put in for her sake: Keep an eye on the time and your heart open to me; we can beat the odds. Always, Henry.

She ran a finger over the intricate cover design and smiled, her expression otherwise unreadable.

Henry, meanwhile, had managed to get through the seemingly endless layers of wrapping paper, tissue and tape to pry open the tiny box Vicki had handed him. Inside was a keyring, a lone key dangling from a sterling silver cross, much like the one he wore around his wrist.

"What's it go to?" he asked, confused.

"My apartment," Vicki said with ease.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"Perfect."

Vicki continued to run her fingers over the watch, but turned to Henry in excitement. "I love the watch," she said. "And the inscription." Her eyes twinkled. "It's perfect."

"Good," Henry nodded, pleased. "I'm glad you can appreciate it." He toyed with the key in his hand. "Am I allowed to use this tonight?"

"You most certainly are." She leaned in for a kiss, lips hovering a breath away from his. "Just remember to knock."