Buffy twisted her wet hair between her fingers, wringing out the excess water before she wrapped a white towel around her body. She hummed quietly, the song had something to do with ships and sailing on Christmas morning, but she could never seem to remember all the words. It had been one of her mom's favorite carols, and it seemed to fit her perky mood. Buffy couldn't decide whether the smile on her face was from Spike's presence or from the infectious holiday spirit. Maybe she had the CD somewhere, Buffy thought as she flipped through her closet. Shaking her head, she pulled out a long navy blue skirt and held it up to her hips. The shiny material cascaded straight down to her knees before plunging into a dramatically slanted hemline, stopping just above her right ankle and leaving her entire left calf bare. "Perfect," she murmured, tossing the skirt onto the bed, "now I need a shirt."

Cold hands wrapped themselves around her shoulders, turning Buffy away from her clothes. "Talking to yourself again," Spike teased, his hands pushing her damp tendrils away from her shoulders. Buffy shook her head ruefully, "just trying to get dressed," she said. "Not all of us keep spare clothes in my Jeep." Spike's eyes narrowed, his voice tinged with laughter, "it just so happens that I picked up my dry cleaning on the way back here yesterday." "Two days ago," Buffy corrected, reaching up to smooth invisible wrinkles from his white shirt, "and you're a rotten liar." Spike chuckled, "you caught me, pet. I had the suit there for safe-keeping. Figured I'd offer to take you and Dawn out on Christmas Eve anyway. Now that the Nibblet's in Aspen, I have you all to myself."

Leaning in closer, Spike brushed a gentle kiss over her temple. "Not that I'm complaining," he said in a throaty whisper. Buffy flushed red at the compliment, still not used to the open adoration and unmasked desire in Spike's eyes. "I still have to get dressed," she protested weakly, untangling his arms from her waist. Spike's eyes glittered mischievously, "I think I can help with that," he said. Leading Buffy to the edge of the bed, he pushed her shoulder gently, "sit down gorgeous, and I'll be right back."

Buffy licked her lips, watching Spike's retreating back. What's he up to, she wondered, practically giddy with excitement. "Here you go," Spike proclaimed as he re-entered the room, carrying a large red and white striped shopping bag. "I left the rest in the living room." Buffy's eyes widened, "the rest," she squeaked out. He nodded, "can't have Christmas without presents." Right, she thought numbly, trying to figure out how she was going to explain the three year's worth of presents that were hidden in the back of her closet. Ever since she had left Sunnydale, Buffy hadn't stopped buying shirts, books or CDs that reminded her of Spike. She had hidden her purchases from everyone, never telling her friends about her little secrets, always hoping that one day he would come back and she would be able to give the gifts to him. Spike watched Buffy intently, trying to figure out how he was going to explain the pile of gifts that were sitting in her living room. He had been buying her presents for the last three years; birthday presents from Europe, Christmas gifts from Australia, dust collectors from everywhere he had traveled, all things that reminded Spike of his love. After talking to Dawn and making sure that she was going to call Buffy the next day, he had loaded everything into her Jeep, emptying almost an entire suitcase worth of presents into a sea of rainbow colored shopping bags, during a quick trip back to his hotel.

"Well, are you going to open your present," Spike asked. Buffy's eyebrows knit together in mock confusion, "but it isn't Christmas," she teased. Spike growled softly, "just open it," and she nodded gleefully, diving into the tissue paper. She pulled out a package that felt suspiciously like clothes and a small box that could have been jewelry. "Which one first," she asked, deliberately teasing Spike with her slowness. He pushed the larger one into her hands, soft fabric squishing against the tissue paper. Buffy tore into the paper, all teasing forgotten, gasping when she pulled out the white silk blouse. "Spike, it's beautiful," she said, rubbing her hands over the delicate material. It seemed to flow effortlessly into her lap, a pool of cool silk enveloping her fingertips. The shirt was like nothing Buffy had ever seen before; the neckline extended across her collarbone in a sort-of boat-neck style, draping her tanned skin in what felt like yards of silk. Two thin straps extended out from beneath the neckline, somehow securing the material over her shoulders. Spaghetti-thin straps crisscrossed over the entire back of the shirt, leaving the majority of her back exposed.

"Where did you find this," Buffy murmured, her fingers tracing the strings as she admired the gift. Spike smiled in satisfaction, "Paris," he said nonchalantly, ignoring the wide-eyed stare that Buffy shot in his direction. "Saw it and couldn't resist," he said, pushing the small box into her hands. This time Buffy didn't try to slowly open the paper; she ripped into it eagerly, unwrapped in white box no larger then a CD jewel case. Inside were nestled two thick hairpins that looked like black chopsticks, the ends were dotted with tiny crystals that sent prisms of light dancing all over the room. Before she could ask where they were from, Spike took her free hand between his. "Wear it tonight," he asked softly and all Buffy could do was nod.

It was all so overwhelming, like she had leapt onto a speeding train and had no idea where she was going or how to get off. But I don't want to get off, she thought, I don't want to stop whatever this is between me and Spike. "Give me a couple of minutes to put this on," she said, "and then I'll be ready to go." She paused, looking at Spike shyly, "would you help me put this on," she asked, holding the white top in her hand. "I'm just not sure how to get into it," she said, trailing off into nervous laughter.

Spike didn't answer right away; he just studied Buffy for a long moment. "Is this too much," he asked, somehow knowing exactly what she was thinking about before she said a word. "Because if it's too soon and I'm rushing into things, then." Buffy covered his mouth with her hand, "it's not too much. It's just a little overwhelming, that's all. Don't want to chase you off." The last few words were barely above a whisper, and Spike had to strain in order to hear her. "Buffy, I love you," he said, looking at her bowed head, "and I'm not going anywhere, never gonna leave you again. I swear to you sweetheart, I'm not going to do that." She swallowed hard, lifting her head slowly to gaze at Spike with teary eyes. "I know that." Letting out a humorless laugh, she wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "I know that you're not going anywhere, but it just takes some getting used to.you know? This thing with us.all of this.it's like a whole new level of weird." Spike chuckled, "yeah, we're not too big on the normalcy, are we, gorgeous?" Her smile radiated genuine warmth, the tension of the previous moment already forgotten. "No, we're not," Buffy agreed, "but normal's overrated anyway." Spike's quiet laughter filled the room, "right you are sweetness, right you are." He stood up, suddenly serious, "now let's get you into this outfit so we can go to dinner." Buffy gazed coyly at Spike, "and then back here," she purred. It was more of a statement then a question, and Spike just nodded. Extending his hand, he pulled Buffy to her feet. "Anything you want, gorgeous, anything you want." Buffy's smile widened as her mind processed the potential implications of Spike's words.

It was a few minutes after eleven when Buffy and Spike left the upscale French restaurant. "That was amazing," Buffy said, pulling her dark blue wrap tighter around her body. The wind howled through the streets, drowning out the sounds of traffic as Buffy and Spike waited for a cab. "Glad you liked it," Spike said, a genuine smile on his face, so far everything was working out perfectly. Dawn had helped him plan the Christmas surprise down to the last detail and Spike was amazed at how well everything was going. Dinner had been phenomenal, the conversation had been light without being trivial and they couldn't stop smiling adoringly at each other like they were keeping a secret from the rest of the world. Buffy looked exquisite in the silk blouse and Spike was thanking every deity that would listen for the fashion designer who had crafted the exquisite garment.

A yellow taxi pulled up in front of the restaurant and they climbed in, away from the biting cold. "Where to," the cabbie asked, his voice bored. Spike told him Buffy's address and the driver nodded, pulling out into traffic without answering. In the backseat, Buffy snuggled against Spike, her wrap still tight around her shoulders. "Cold, sweetheart," he asked, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over her. "That's better," Buffy murmured, her cheek resting on his chest, her words slightly muffled. Spike smoothed her blonde hair with his free hand, the one that wasn't wrapped securely around Buffy's waist. "In case I forget," Buffy whispered sleepily, "I had a great time." Spike smiled, watching her drift off to sleep in his arms.

When they pulled up in front of Buffy's apartment building, Spike peeled several bills off the money clip in his pocket, passing them up to the driver. "Merry Christmas," he said, carefully pulling Buffy out of the cab and into his arms. Her building's doorman hurried to close the cab door after them, before darting up the steps to open the door to the foyer. Pressing a crisp twenty dollar bill into his hand, Spike smiled appreciatively. "Have a good holiday," he said, making his way towards the elevator with Buffy nestled in his arms like a sleeping child. The doorman watched the blonde couple disappear behind the metallic gray door of the elevator. Once he was sure they were on their way upstairs, he peeked at the bill in his hand. "Nice guy," he murmured appreciatively before going back out into the cold to open the limo door for Mr. Osle and his wife.

Outside Buffy's door Spike shifted her in his arms, balancing her weight against the doorframe as he searched his pockets for the keys. "Here," she murmured sleepily, dangling a keychain shaped like a sandal in front of his face. "Thanks," Spike said, slipping the key in the lock and opening the door without putting her down. Crossing the living room, he deposited Buffy on the sofa before going back to lock the door and turn on more lights. "When did you wake up, sweetheart," Spike asked, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. Buffy stretched like a cat, lifting her arms over her head. "In the elevator," she purred, "somewhere around the second floor."

Instead of sitting down on the couch beside her, Spike stood in front of Buffy, extending his hand to her. She tipped her head quizzically, "what are you doing?" He didn't answer, instead pulling her across the room towards the picture windows that overlooked the City. "Look outside," Spike said, standing behind Buffy with his arms around her waist. She gasped, a wide smile of childlike wonder on her face, as she watched enormous white flakes fall down from the sky. "It's snowing," she said with a giggle, tapping her fingernails against the glass. Spike chuckled, "just what you wanted, luv, a white Christmas." Turning away from the snow, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike's neck. "It's perfect," she said, not just talking about the snow but the entire night; Buffy felt like Cinderella, granted one magical evening filled with fairy-tale perfection.

As if on cue, her grandfather clock sounded midnight. Buffy leaned in to kiss Spike gently, "Merry Christmas," she said softly, the clock calling out the hours in the background. "Merry Christmas," Spike replied, softly kissing Buffy's lips, his hands caressing the sides of her face. Before he could deepen the kiss, Buffy was pulling away from him, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Do you want to open presents now," she chirped. Buffy was oblivious to the fact that she didn't have a Christmas tree or any other real decorations in her house, besides the little elf figurines on her coffee table. She always waited for Dawn to come over so they could put the decorations up together, somehow this year she had forgotten to even pull the boxes out from the closet in the guest bedroom. Nor did she care that her gifts weren't all wrapped in perfectly creased Christmas paper and topped with matching ribbons. All she knew was that it was Christmas and she was overwhelmed with feelings of love and happiness.

Spike's eyes locked with hers, "impatient, aren't you sweetheart?" She nodded emphatically, studying Spike from beneath her thick black eyelashes. "Don't you want to," she pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Tracing her lips with his thumb, Spike chuckled, "just teasing you, pet. You know I want to." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, smirking at Buffy in a devilishly sexy way that made her knees go weak. Buffy giggled, the high-pitched sound reminding Spike of sleigh bells. "Focus, Spike, focus! Presents now, shagging later." She kissed him quickly before he could say anything. She dashed down the hall, opening her bedroom door to dig dusty shopping bags out of her closet. Spike chuckled softly, "you're going to be the death of me, precious," he murmured good-naturedly.

"I'll be right there," Buffy called, sticking her head out the door to yell into the hall. Spike nodded, taking one last look at the snow before moving into the kitchen to retrieve the presents he had hidden underneath the table. "Take your time, luv. No rush." Still muttering to himself, Spike started pulling boxes out of the bags and carrying the piles into the living room.

He was just arranging the last box on the carpet when Buffy came back into the room, carrying a small stack of presents. She had changed out of the silk blouse and skirt, slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a fitted long- sleeved shirt. Smiling at Spike, she deposited the boxes on the other side of the sofa, trying vainly to disentangle the two stuffed shopping bag handles from her wrists. "There's a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt in my room," she said, "if you want to get changed. Unless you want to open presents in a suit." Spike chuckled, "thanks luv. Be back in a minute." While she waited for Spike to get changed, Buffy looked through her CD collection, trying to find something to suit the holiday mood. "There's that silly song," she murmured, putting the disc into the player and skipping over to the fourth song. Humming along to the music, Buffy walked into the kitchen in search of a bottle of wine and some glasses. She wanted champagne but the red wine Spike had brought a few days ago would work just as well. Rinsing out the crystal fluted glasses, Buffy wiped at the excess moisture with a paper towel before filling them with wine.

When she walked back into the living room, Spike was already sprawled out on the couch. His bare feet were propped against the coffee table and she was glad to see that the black pants she had bought for him fit. Sitting down crossed-legged beside him, Buffy offered him a glass of wine. "Want some," she asked. He tipped his head, "don't know," he said. "Last time you and I drank wine together, I got screamed out for a good part of an hour." Buffy blushed red to the roots of her hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, "sorry about that," she mumbled. Chuckling, Spike accepted the glass, "think nothing of it, pet. Just wanted to make sure that you remember this Christmas, something tells me it'll be worth it."

Buffy's blush returned in full-force under his probing gaze. Barely able to conceal his laughter, Spike took another sip of wine to calm himself down. "You alright over there, sweetness," he asked. Buffy nodded emphatically, drawing her knees up to her chin, her fingers pulling the bottom of her pants over her feet. Shaking his head, Spike pushed a present into her hands. They knew better then to ask where all the gifts came from, Spike wasn't ready to admit that he had been planning his trip to New York for months and Buffy couldn't bear to tell him that she had been dreaming of his return for months. It felt better to get swept up in the frenzy of Christmas; tomorrow they could deal with reality, today was all about them. There was something about the holiday that made Buffy believe that anything was possible, that people could fall in love and spend their entire lives together.

The carefully wrapped gift in her hands brought Buffy back from the magical world of sugarplum fairies and glittering snowflakes made of candy. "You going to open it," Spike asked, peering over the edge of his wine glass at Buffy. He had almost forgotten how much she loved Christmas. There was something about this day that made life simpler for a while, giving life a magical glow; if only for a few hours, Spike could indulge in foolish dreams and sentimental nonsense about true love and happily ever after.

The sound of paper tearing brought Spike back from his thoughts. Shaking his head, he turned towards Buffy, watching as she ripped the paper off the DVDs he had bought. "Oh Spike, this is awesome," she exclaimed. "It's all my favorite Audrey Hepburn movies: My Fair Lady, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Roman Holiday, and Sabrina." Leaning over, she pecked him on the cheek, "thank you so much." Slightly embarrassed, Spike shook his head, concentrating on the terribly interesting pattern on Buffy's rug. "Here, you open one," Buffy insisted as she read about the special features included on each disk, never looking up.

Sighing heavily in mock aggravation, Spike looked at the pile of gifts in front of him. "Hand one to me," he pleaded, "don't want to mess up any kind of secret organizational system." Buffy stuck out her tongue, passing him a rectangular box, "smartass," she quipped, settling back into the sofa. Sliding the paper off the box, Spike reached inside the cardboard and pulled out a black sweater. Holding it up to his chest, he nodded approvingly, "very nice." Buffy's smile widened, "I couldn't resist," she said, "it was so soft and I just thought of you." She trailed off, not really sure how to explain how the black wool sweater seemed so perfect, it just screamed "Spike!"

"It's great," Spike said, re-folding the sweater before sliding another box in Buffy's direction. "Good for all the cold winters," he said, unwittingly hinting at one of his surprises. If Buffy noticed, she didn't say anything, concentrating instead on the yards of ribbon woven intricately around the round gift box. After a few moments of struggling to untie the knots, she groaned in frustration, pulling the ribbon apart with a snap. "Being neat took too long," she said apologetically, taking off the box top to reveal a glass sphere. Taking it out of the cradle of tissue paper and foam peanuts, Buffy gasped as the green swirls seemed to move before her eyes, small flecks of gold inside the sculpture catching the light. "Spike, this is beautiful," she whispered. He smiled self-consciously, "glad you like it. Reminded me of your eyes, couldn't resist gettin' it." Buffy's cheeks pinked at the thoughtful gesture and she got off the sofa to put the sculpture on her mantle. "That looks amazing," she said, more to herself then Spike, before sitting back down beside him.

"Open this next," Spike said, dropping a red and gold striped box in her lap. "Ohmigosh," Buffy exclaimed, throwing the lid on the floor as she pulled a red bathrobe out of the box. She looked at Spike excitedly, "it's gorgeous!" Slipping it on over her shirt and sweatpants, Buffy did an experimental pirouette amidst the piles of gifts and wrapping paper, twirling like a ballerina. She stopped in front of Spike, the red silk shimmering in the lamplight. "How do I look?" Spike glanced up at her, ready to tell her how adorable she looked, but when his eyes fell on Buffy he couldn't figure out how to form the words.

Granted, she looked absolutely ridiculous with the expensive bathrobe draped over her sweatpants, but there was something about her that made him freeze. Her eyes were glittering and the smile on her face was wider then any Spike remembered seeing from his brief time in the City. The only other time he had seen her look so beautiful was the night they ran into each other at Amici. Of course, she looked breathtaking and stunning every time they went out or he saw her, but in that moment it was like Spike was falling in love with her all over again. "Amazing," he choked out, finishing his glass of wine before she could say anything else. Buffy smiled, feeling luxurious in her new bathrobe as she sank back into the couch. "Here, open this one next," she directed, pushing a box in Spike's direction.

They kept exchanging gifts, stopping to trade bits of commentary and reasoning about each present until Spike came to his last present. He turned the heavy present, which he suspected to be a book, over in his hands. "Why don't you go first," he suggested, gesturing to the small bag sitting in front of Buffy. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion, trying to guess what could be in the silver and gold shopping bag. Pulling out all the layers of light blue paper, Buffy looked at the envelope in her hands. Turning to face Spike, she asked, "what's this." He didn't reply and she ripped open the seal, taking out two typed pieces of paper. Her eyebrows knit in confusion as she read and re-read the words to herself, trying to make sense of everything. "I don't think I understand," she stammered. Spike smiled, "it's my resignation. I sent it to the Dean of Students right after I got to New York." She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with questions. Before she could say anything, Spike had her hands in his, staring intently into her green eyes.

Under his piercing gaze, time seemed to crawl to a stop until all that mattered was this moment. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she looked down at Spike, willing him to say something, to explain why he was leaving his job in Australia. Somehow the millisecond pause was allowing enough room for the icy fingers of insecurity and doubt to curl around her heart. Spike stared up at her, his gaze a mixture of reverence and desire. "Buffy," he began, finding his voice after what felt like an eternity of silence, "I couldn't go back to the University. I couldn't leave you again."

Clenching his fists tightly, Spike fought the verses of poetry that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Tipping her head in his direction, Buffy looked at him questioningly. His next words were the last thing she had expected. "I love you," Spike said, "and you know, I never really understood it till now." Too stunned to say anything, Buffy just stared at him in shock, waiting for him to continue. He paused, trying to collect his thoughts into a way that wouldn't frighten Buffy with its emotional intensity. "I mean I always thought that love was passion, fiery and dangerous, this tornado that takes over your life and turns it upside down until you don't bloody know which way is up. But then I look at you and it's not all about fire. there's something else."

Looking up to see if he was getting through to her, Spike plunged recklessly ahead, "you're everything to me, sweetheart. I look at you and suddenly everything makes sense. You're the one, Buffy, the only one for me. And if I have to spend a lifetime proving it to you, then I will. But I promise, precious, I'm not going to give up." Tears welled up behind Buffy's eyes but she couldn't tear away from his gaze. Spike enveloped Buffy in his arms, pulling her body against his, "I love you," he whispered in her ear. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Buffy allowed her body to melt into his, "I love you too." She turned her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder, "so you're staying in New York?" Spike nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead, "yeah, luv, I'm staying." Buffy smiled, "just making sure."