Earth, hours later

Within four hours, the Christmas tree and house had been decorated with ornaments, tinsel, lights, garland, and stockings. Between mild but playful bickering sessions about who was to do what and put what where, everyone at Buffy's house thoroughly enjoyed the relief from worrying about the great evil they would eventually have to face and conquer.

None of them had realized just how much tension and pressure they were under until that stress was removed. As a result, the merriment exhausted them. After they were finished decorating, they looked at one another and unanimously decided to get some sleep so that they would be refreshed for Christmas day.

After the rest of the Scoobies had settled in for the night, Buffy slowly descended the garland-woven stairs. The only source of luminescence was the gentle light being emitted from the strands of colors lining the Christmas tree's branches. As if drawn by the fresh scent of pine, Buffy entered the living room to view the majesty of the tree.

Spike was leaning against the back of a chair his legs bent and his forearms resting on his elevated knees. He didn't take his eyes from the tree until Buffy was a few feet from him. His eyes were bright with the sparks from the lights when his eyes met hers. A contented smile touched his face, but he didn't appear tired.

"Hey." Buffy sat beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

Buffy's voice was light. "Bout what?"

"Just. . . thoughts." Spike didn't feel ready to make himself that vulnerable to her again, so he didn't voice his perceptions, feelings. He kept things vague to stay safe. . . to protect himself. He could be at ease that way.

Buffy was silent in response, resting her chin in the valley between her knees. Then, she revealed, "When I was a little girl, my parents, Dawn, and I would decorate the tree together. We'd listen to old Christmas records and drink hot chocolate. My favorite as a kid was Captain Kangaroo's Christmas album.

"Dad was allergic to real pine, so we had an artificial tree. He'd put all the branches on, and Dawn and I'd bring them to him one at a time. Then, Mom would sit on the floor and put hooks on the family ornaments. Dawn and I would take turns retrieving them from her and hanging them on the tree with Dad. After everything was finished, we'd turn out all the lights and lie under the tree, looking up at the infinity of lights and green. It was beautiful."

Spike was watching her as she finished her story. "Do you sometimes miss those little traditions?"

Buffy laid her cheek on one knee, facing him wistfully. "Yeah, I do. But then, I make new memories. . . like tonight." She touched his bicep briefly. "Before I forget to tell you, thank you."

Spike shook his head. "Don't thank me. Thank the Powers."

Impulsively, Buffy reached out and took Spike's hand, cradling it in her lap as she straightened her legs and crossed them in front of her. Spike was startled by the gesture and imitated her leg position.

"Tell me a Christmas story about you." She smiled at him briefly. "I was just realizing that I know Christmas stories about everyone in this house except you."

"What do you mean?" He was still lost in the shock that Buffy was touching him willingly again.

Buffy was feeling a bit dreamy. "Tell me a story about William's Christmas. Not Spike. . . William."

Spike was confused by Buffy's request. "William?"

"William."

"Okay." Spike thought for a moment, trying to decide what to tell the young woman beside him. His human Christmases hadn't exactly been particularly joyous. "My favorite memory of Christmas was of the food. Mother would oversee the cooking in the kitchen. We had servants that did most of the cooking. My siblings and I would be allowed to sleep late on Christmas day, so we'd wake up to the smell of. . ."

"You had siblings?" Buffy interrupted, playing with each of Spike's fingers individually.

"Yeah, I did, love." Spike didn't offer more the confirmation, and Buffy didn't press him. "Anyway, we'd wake up to the smell of fresh goose or pheasant. We'd scamper down the hall to the living area to find our presents. When we were little, our nanny always hid our presents throughout the living room, so we had to hunt them down."

"Really? What kind of presents did you receive?"

Spike rubbed his thumb along Buffy's palm. "Various things really. Usually fruit, nuts, and candy. My favorite present was the desk set I received with ink pens, ink, and paper."

"Why was that your favorite?" Buffy had trouble remembering that Spike had once been very human. She laced her fingers through his and clasped his hand firmly.

"I loved to write." His smile was full of sadness and regret but also a hint of sentimentality. "Poetry. Various things."

"What happened to that part of you?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"I don't know." Spike shifted and gazed at the ceiling where tiny colors danced. "I think that part of me has always been there. I just express it in other ways."

"How come?"

Spike took a deep breath and plunged into the truth, "I was pretty much ridiculed for my poetry, pet. I didn't have much use for being ridiculed."

Buffy bit her lip, thoughts of her ridicule of him sending ripples of guilt through her stomach. "Oh."

They remained mute for several minutes, each lost in a reverie of memories and emotions. Neither stopped touching the other. Peacefulness settled over both of them, and Buffy found herself drifting toward sleep.

Then, a thought darted into her mind as if waving a red flag. She spoke before she thought, "Hey! I have an idea!"

Spike didn't even seem startled. "What's that, pet?"

"Let's make Christmas like it was when you were a kid!" She jumped to her feet, releasing Spike's hand.

For his part, Spike was bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Let's have dinner cooking when everyone wakes up, and let's hide their presents in here!" Her eyes shone happily. "Will you help me?"

Spike stood, shoving his now free hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "I'll do whatever you want."

Buffy blinked at the double meaning behind his words. "I want you to be happy with the plan, too," she said sincerely.

Spike smiled again. "I am."

Buffy didn't know when she'd ever seen him smile so much, but she accepted this new side of the vampire eagerly. "Okay! Let's get busy!"

TBC. . . Dawn catches Spike and Buffy cooking. . . the Scoobies wake up. . . more Spuffy moments!

Hope you enjoyed the Spuffy moment!!! I wanted to have an intimate moment early on with just the two of them!

Thanks for the encouragement! *waves* *grins*

Sandy :o)

http://www.toomanycolors.net/sensibility