"So, do vengeance demons have to eat. . . like human food?" Dawn asked between mouthfuls of turkey. "And could you please pass the stuffing?"
Buffy smiled widely at her sister's question. Dinner was going smoothly despite Xander's pie debacle. He'd knocked one of the pies onto the floor after he removed the turkey from the oven. Buffy was proud of the way they had decorated. The dining room was dimly lit with long candles and decorated warmly with rich red and green napkins, tablecloth, plates, and water goblets.
Dawn accepted the bowl of stuffing from Xander after he spooned more onto his own plate. "Thanks. I mean, is it like Spike who doesn't need to eat but does anyways?"
"Um, pet, I do have to eat," Spike reminded her.
Dawn nodded. "I know but only icky stuff like blood."
Anya sniffed. She enjoyed being asked questions about her past. "Yes! I have to eat, but sometimes I could go several days without eating anything at all and be just fine. It's kind of like being a camel. You know, we store stuff inside of us. . . nutrients and things. We just don't have a giant hump or two."
Xander raised his eyebrows at Buffy and Willow like he wasn't sure what to make of this news about his ex-fiancé.
Spike laughed, but for once, the laughter wasn't singed by sarcasm or pain. Buffy was seated next to him, and she discretely reached her hand over and squeezed his thigh. He smiled down at her, eyes sparkling.
"What's funny, Spike?" Anya demanded, slightly miffed that the vampire found humor in her story.
"Just you. . . lying about your past. Vengeance demons don't store up nutrients like a camel. You have to eat just the same as the rest of the human, demon population." Spike winked at Dawn who flashed him a grin in return.
"Shame on you, Anya," Willow teased, choosing another roll from the tray next to her. "Lying to us on Christmas. Whatever shall we do?"
On the verge of a pout, Anya set her fork down and shifted in her chair. Xander reached over and grabbed her empty water glass.
"More water?" he asked chivalrously.
Anya cast him a grateful glance. "Yes, thank you."
As Xander entered the kitchen, the phone rang. He tossed Anya's glass into his left hand and headed to the phone. "I'll get it!"
"Thanks!" Buffy called from the next room. "Tell them we're not home."
"I will!" Xander clicked on the phone. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end was soft, polite. For some reason, Xander still wanted to punch the lights out of the owner of that voice.
"Well, Merry Christmas to you, too, Angel." Xander sighed as he listened to the Buffy's vampire ex-boyfriend explain his situation. "And why did you wait until Christmas Day to call?" Geez, Angel was worse than his parents with his timing.
Buffy appeared quietly in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, she mouthed, "Angel?"
Xander nodded tersely, annoyed that Buffy had jumped up to speak to her ex-lover. "So, Buffy's here now. Do you want to talk with her? Wait. Who am I kidding? Of course, you want to talk with her!"
Practically shoving the phone at the blond slayer, Xander quickly filled Anya's glass with ice and water and slid into his seat in the dining area. Once noisy with playful banter, the atmosphere in the room was now quite subdued. No one was saying anything because everyone was focused, straining to hear the conversation in the other room. For some reason, they were always overly curious about what went on between Buffy and Angel.
Willow decided to break the silence. "So, um, Xander. What did Angel have to say?"
"Immediate apocalypse. You know: the usual."
"On Christmas?" Willow donned her shocked face.
"Yep. The best timing as usual." Xander sounded jaded.
"Don't I know it," Spike commiserated, wishing that Buffy were still sitting warmly next to him. "He's always mucking up something."
"That is one area in which we agree one hundred percent, Spike." Xander rolled his eyes.
"You guys are funny," Anya commented. "Always worried about Buffy talking to Angel and never realizing neither one of you don't stand a chance with her."
Everyone at the table merely stared at Anya.
"What?" Anya asked defensively. "I'm just saying what I observe. What's wrong with that?"
"Anya, I'm not interested in Buffy anymore. I've told you that a hundred times. I'm just. . . just concerned about her safety. . . . She's been through enough," Xander disputed.
"Don't we all," Anya retorted. "I'm not stupid, Xander. You may not want her, but you don't want anyone else to have her either."
Willow and Dawn stared at the couple, forks in mid-bite. They exchanged surreptitious glances.
Spike said nothing and simply bowed his head. He knew the truth when he heard it. In an instant, he remembered whose handwriting was in the book Buffy had given him. . . .
Angel's.
Angel had given Buffy the book of love poetry. Now she was mocking him, letting him know that her heart would always and forever belong to Angel, her first love. Scooting back his chair with a sharp screech, he hastily gathered his plate, leftover water, utensils, and napkin.
"Well," he murmured, "looks like I'm done with dinner."
As Spike exited the room, Anya managed to look remorseful, and Willow, Xander, and Dawn focused on their plates, shoving around the remaining food.
Once in the kitchen, Spike breezed by Buffy who was still talking on the phone. She tried to reach out for him, but he jerked his arm away. He wasn't going to allow her to penetrate his core again. He stormed out of the kitchen and onto the front porch, making sure the door gently latched behind him.
Buffy's stomach plunged at Spike's reaction to Angel's phone call, and she hastily returned to the dining room, handing the phone receiver to Willow. "Here. You know more about the technicalities of what's going on here than I do. Finish filling him in for me."
Snagging the book she'd given Spike, she pursued him out the front door, pausing after she shut the door behind her. He faced away from her on the porch swing and didn't move even though she knew he recognized her.
"So, you did it again, slayer." Spike was resigned, tired.
"Did what?" she whispered, padding toward him with sock-covered feet. She settled behind him on the swing, placing an open palm on his tense back.
"Made a fool of me."
She knew he was reliving every instance she and others had used him during his human and vampire life. "And how did I make a fool of you?"
He evaded her query by asking her one of his own, "Did you finish talking with Angel?"
"Oh, so that's what this is about. . . as usual, it's all about Angel. Have you ever thought that I was a person before he came into my life and that I continued to exist as an independent individual after he was out of my life? So he called me! Big stinking deal! We talk maybe. . . once, twice a year." Buffy's words were a stark contrast to her light tone.
Spike spun to face her, and Buffy was shocked to see the tears tracking down his cheeks. She wanted to reach out and wipe them away. Instead, she remained unmoving, listening to the rant she knew he needed to make.
Ashamed at the tears on his face, he tore his gaze from hers, snatching the book of poetry from Buffy's lap. "This, this book, is what it's about. Not the bloody phone call."
Relief washed over Buffy, and she laughed. "The book? That is what you're so upset about?"
"And Anya said. . ."
Buffy sighed. "Oh, don't listen to Anya! She is dealing with her own crap and projecting it onto other people. She's unhappy with herself and isn't sure where she fits into life now. That's why your gift to her was so perfect. She has a lot to figure out."
Spike was uncertain he wanted to hear what Buffy had to say, but he didn't let himself falter. "I recognize Angel's handwriting in the book. He gave this to you for a gift. He's the one who wrote, 'Always.' So, you're trying to tell me. . ."
"That Angel and I are over. By giving you this book, I was showing you that I was giving up his hold on me. . . that Angel and I aren't meant to be forever and ever. . . that I'd like a new start. Does that make any sort of sense?" Buffy countered adamantly.
"Maybe I need it said in black and white." Spike vacillated a few seconds before decisively engulfing Buffy's warm hand with his own.
"I think I'm ready to let go of the past," Buffy stated carefully, lacing her fingers with Spike's. "I know what I don't want."
"If you know what you want, what do you want?"
Buffy pressed her body against Spike's side, pushing his left arm around her waist and leaning her head against his chest. "I want. . ."
"Buffy, what are you doing?" a familiar voice interrupted.
Apprehensively, Buffy's head whipped around to view Xander hovering in the doorway. Her surprise melted into a smile, and Spike felt her muscles relax against him. Spike couldn't help but grin when she brought his head to hers, gently smoothing aside his remaining tears.
"This."
She exhaled a sweet breath against Spike's lips before kissing him without reservation or embarrassment. Spike did his part by deepening the affection until Buffy groaned slightly, nipped his lower lip, and pulled away with stars in her eyes.
"That the answer you're looking for?" she asked softly, not willing to let go of his forearms.
Xander was frozen in the background. Buffy forced her face into one of neutrality and returned her attention to her friend, enjoying the feel of Spike's fingertips massaging her hip. Xander said nothing for a long moment. Then, something swept across his eyes, and he nodded once to Buffy before backing into the house and leaving Spike and Buffy alone.
Spike playfully nuzzled her hair. "Yeah, love, it was."
TBC. . . the final chapter. . . hope you've enjoyed this fluffy, happy Christmas series!!! More Spuffy moments coming. . . night falls. . .
Thanks for the amazing reviews! You guys are wonderful! *hugs* Happy Holidays!!!
Take care,
Sandy
http://www.secretloft.com/ed/ :o)