A/N: Merry Christmas to mah darling number one Allysue08/Ally/AKA/Knuckles. I hope you enjoy Scroogesper! He's all yours ;) I love you to pieces.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. Charles Dickens owns A Christmas Carol. I own Scroogesper.

PART I

Fuck Christmas.

Seriously. Bah humbug and all that shit.

What amuses me about this god-forsaken holiday is that nowadays, no one even understands why it's celebrated. The birth of Christ? Love and sacrifice? Religion and faith?

No. These days, commercialism simply runs amok.

Who has the best, most epileptic-fit-inducing light display?

Whose cookies will just melt in your mouth while subsequently giving you a mouthful of cavities?

Who got the most expensive gift, which will be forgotten in the back of the closet by Valentine's Day?

Ugh, and don't even get me started on that Hallmark-card-nightmare of a holiday.

It's Christmas Eve. Naturally – because I couldn't care less – I'm still at the office even though it's well past closing. Also – because I couldn't care less – my assistant is still here as well, until he finishes every bit of paperwork. Since I'm required by the state to close for Christmas day, he has twice the amount of work to finish.

There wouldn't be nearly as much to do if Black was still here. We opened this accounting office together nearly ten years ago, and then last year, the bastard up and died on me. Who knew a twenty-eight-year-old man of average weight could die from a stroke?

I suppose you could say that, of the two of us, Jacob Black had a much more amiable personality. He actually gave a crap about our employees and our customers, whereas I just want to make lots of money and continue living in my $1.6 million townhouse. Jacob gladly gave them holidays off, had no problem if they needed a sick day, and actually turned the heat on for them in the winter. After he died, most of the employees quit because I didn't continue with his frivolous behaviour.

My assistant is the only one who stayed, because he's too damn poor to quit, and would never find work anywhere else. Luckily, Edward Cullen knows this. He doesn't complain when I make him work on Christmas Eve. He nods politely when I decline his request for a personal day to take his sick son to the doctor. And he simply shows up wearing several layers of clothing in the winter instead of asking to turn the heat on.

We are in a recession for Christ's sake. I'm not shelling out all that money for oil to heat an office with two people in it.

I hear the bell over the door chime, and the booming voice of my nephew filters through to my office. I groan at his intrusion as he enters my back room uninvited.

"Uncle Jasper! Merry Christmas! Why the hell are you still working? And Jesus, it's freezing in here! Poor Cullen is turning blue out there!"

I run my hand over my face and sigh. Emmett has always been this way. If he has an opinion, he shares it no matter what. And he's always so goddamn happy. Even when we were children together – my sister was quite a few years older than me, and I was an accident according to my father – I'd never see him angry or in a bad mood about anything.

"What can I do for you Emmett?" I say in a business-like tone.

He smirks and shakes his head at me.

"Jasper, you're such an old Scrooge, I swear."

"Emmett, need I remind you that you're only six years younger than me? I wouldn't go around calling me an old anything."

"Well, then act your age and come to my house for Christmas day. We'll be starting the festivities around ten in the morning. I'd love to have you there, I…" he paused, clearing his throat. "I'm going to ask my Rosalie to marry me tomorrow, and it would mean a lot to have family there."

Ah, another poor sucker. He's kidding himself if he thinks he'll be happy as a married man. Women are good for two things: sex and nagging. And after marriage? Well, one of those things will increase exponentially, while the other disappears completely. I'm sure you can guess which does which.

"Emmett, I have far too much work to do. It's the holidays, it's almost tax season, and I have no time for juvenile get-togethers, and definitely not for silly proposals of marriage doomed from the start."

For the first time in his life, Emmett looks hurt. So hurt, that I actually feel guilty for a split second. This is interrupted by yet another ring of the bell on the front door.

Dammit Cullen, why haven't you locked the fucking door? We're closed!

I rise from my desk, ignoring Emmett for the moment, and storm from my office out to the front room. I am greeted by the site of two smartly dressed men, one holding a clipboard, both wearing bright smiles.

"Mr. Cullen, after I see these two men out, I expect you to lock the door, as we've been closed for well over an hour now," I quietly snarl at my assistant.

Edward looks up from his desk quickly, his eyes terrified. He quickly nods his head and apologizes, mumbling something about being preoccupied with his work.

"Ah, Mr. Whitlock! Merry Christmas! We're sorry to barge in, we saw the lights on and thought you were still open," the man with the clipboard says.

"Yes, well, we're not, so if you would just – "

"Oh yes, of course! But first, if we could just discuss something with you? My name is James, and this is my partner Laurent, "James motions to the other man, who seems like he doesn't often speak. "We are going door to door, hoping to obtain some charitable donations from the businesses in the area for the local soup kitchen. As it's Christmas, we're hoping to give the less fortunate a nice turkey dinner tomorrow night. What do you say? Can you spare a few dollars?"

The rage I feel at the moment must be clearly visible on my face, because the two men and even Cullen cringe away from me.

"Right. James, was it? How dare you barge through my door, after-hours, and demand money from me? I owe these people nothing, and frankly neither do you! Perhaps if they got jobs and took care of themselves, they wouldn't be in the position they are in, needing a soup kitchen to have a holiday meal. Do they even deserve a holiday meal? Do they deserve something warm and delicious that's coming from my hard-earned money? No, they don't. The world is overpopulated as it is, perhaps we should stop providing for them – that would take care of the problem. Now I'll ask once more for you to kindly leave my office immediately!"

The silence that ensues is deafening. It is broken by Emmett, who had been listening from my office, striding forward and handing James a fifty-dollar bill. James takes it and silently nods his thanks, and both men quickly retreat to the door, Emmett following behind. As they leave, he turns to me, his eyes resigned. I see so much of my sweet sister in them…

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Jasper."

"BAH!" I yell as I storm back to my office. "GO HOME CULLEN, AND LOCK THE DAMN DOOR!"

My house is so cold that the hot tea I made is like ice in a matter of minutes. I begin to regret not paying my heating bill. I throw a few small logs into the fireplace instead, pulling my recliner up close to keep warm. I grab a book from the coffee table – Macbeth – and settle in to read.

But the day's been long, and the fire is so warm…

Hours later, I awake with a start. The flames are all but gone from the fireplace – just an eerie glow remains. I'm shivering from the cold, but this isn't what woke me.

I swear I heard something rattling…

I stay silent for a moment, listening, but the house is quiet.

That's what you get for reading a ghost story before bed.

I yawn and make my way upstairs to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me, then change into some flannel pyjamas and reach to turn out the light. But I hear something again.

It's definitely a rattle. It almost sounds like…chains? Heavy chains, rattling and dragging…

My heart leaps to my throat, but I shake off my fear and creep to my bedroom door. I open it slowly, cursing the old hinges that creak, and poke my head out into the long, dark hallway…

Nothing. The sounds have stopped and there's nothing out there. I breathe a sigh of relief and, feeling a little silly, shut the door and turn back towards the room.

Jacob Black is standing in the middle of it.