In honor of actual!Christmas season, I come bearing my own twelve days of crack. Many thanks to my dealer, recoilandgrace, and to Village Hall, my beautiful noit partner in crime and drug wars. Oh, and thank you LightWoman for explaining Boxing Day.

BAM BAM BAM. Cal pounded swiftly on Gillian's beautifully decorated wooden door.

"Oi! Love! I called you an hour ago! Aren't you ready yet? It's half eight and we're meeting the governor of Vermont at nine tomorrow."

"Yes, Cal. Coming," Gillian's beautiful melodic voice called out exasperatedly. "You do realize today is the day after Christmas? When people traditionally stay home with their presents and families and eat leftovers instead of driving hours to do work?"

She opened the door, dislodging the sparkling wreath covered in glitter. "And seriously, Cal? We couldn't fly? At least then we could wait until tomorrow."

"Sorry, love." He glanced appreciatively at her fuzzy cream sweater with kittens on it. It brought out the different shades of blonde in her hair beautifully. "Flying's expensive. Also, there's a wind advisory out, and our target destination is an hour drive from the nearest airport, anyway. So we're better off driving."

"Fine. BUT. We're stopping for hot chocolate. Every two hours. And I get control of the radio."

Cal sighed his consent in a great huffy breath. "Fine."

He picked up her sparkling red sequined suitcase and took the black leather purse she shoved into his arms. Gillian had disappeared into the depths of her immaculately decorated house. Just as Cal became concerned whether or not he should plunge in after her, she re-emerged, clutching a giant round tin patterned with little rocking horses and be-ribboned teddy bears.

"Oi! Foster! What is that? It looks like a children's book threw up."

"Christmas cookies, Cal! If you won't let me stay in and enjoy them at home, I'm bringing them with us. And you are going to eat some, and they are going to be delicious, and you are going to tell me that they are the best thing you have ever tasted."

Cal just shook his head and muttered about dentists and cavities and something else about eight-year-olds with a sugar addiction. He carried the luggage to his cute little beat-up car as he waited for Gillian to put her coat on and get in.

Two hours later, they made the first promised hot chocolate stop. It had started to snow softly, a beautiful sparkly dusting gently floating down to land in big, fat flakes on eyelashes and noses and mittens. As they walked out of the coffee shop with large cups of steaming liquid, Gillian stuck out her perfect pink tongue and caught three snowflakes on it.

"You know the air's full of pollution, right, love?" Cal questioned as he tried to avoid eye contact. His pupils were dilating furiously; Gillian was just so adorable with her knit navy hat with a pompom on top and big brown mittens. She glowed with an innocence he found marvelous.

Gillian shushed him, throwing out her arms and spinning a little, splashing some of the hot chocolate onto the bright snow. "It hasn't killed me yet."

"Yet being the operative word, love. And goodness sakes, how long have you been eating that stuff?"

Gillian just grinned impishly and ducked into the car. "You should eat a cookie, Cal."

"I think we should get going, Foster."

She reached into the tin and pulled out a sugar cookie snowman, coated with thick blue frosting and smothered with tiny colorful ball sprinkles.

"Look, he's smiling at you. He's delicious." Foster held the cookie out on the palm of her delicate hand the way one would offer an apple to a horse. "Do you start with the head or the body first?"

"I dunno, Foster, how do you start?" Cal picked up the cookie and looked dubiously at it, mentally calculating how high his blood sugar would spike and how long he could put off the inevitable consumption of the little guy.

"Head first. Put them out of their misery. Plus there're more sprinkles on the bottom." Gillian picked up her own cookie, a yellow five-pointed star with lines and lines of orange and yellow sprinkles meeting at the center. "Now eat it!"

Cal shook his head and rolled his eyes, stuffing the cookie into his mouth. Gillian was nearly finished with hers and eyeing the rest of the tin hungrily. Cal clapped the lid back on.

"Now sit back, buckle up and drink your hot chocolate," he admonished. "That's plenty of sugar for a while." Several days, in fact, he thought to himself, but it'll last her at least an hour or two.

An hour later, after an unusually long period of silence, he glanced over to see her dozing, heels discarded on the floor, feet curled up on the seat, head tucked gently against the edge of the backrest. She looked so beautiful, just like an angel asleep in his car. Sometimes he wondered about her humanity.

And other times, he was well aware of her temper. No doubts about her reality there, he smirked to himself and he focused back on the dark snowy road, remembering the tongue-lashing she'd given him after she found out he had a file on every man she'd ever dated. He had no plans of stopping, however. He had a bright orange folder with green labels picked out already for the next one.