Disclaimers: Joss would NEVER condone drug use and crank calls

Characters: Xander, Anya & others

Set: BtVS season 4, Angel season 1

Christmas 1999: Take two

Anya draped the sleeping bag around her shoulders and snuggled close to Xander. "I must tell you, that while I find this contemporary holiday custom to be quite pleasant, relaxing, and potentially erotic –" She paused and looked around the backyard. "It must be quite uncomfortable for those young people who inhabit a less temperate climate than Southern California."

From inside the house, the echo of shattering glass reached them. "Goddamit Rory, why don't you watch where you put the goddamn eggnog? No, I don't care what was in the stinking fruitcake."

Xander sighed and inched closer to his girlfriend. He looked into her eyes and contemplated their beauty. No, it wasn't fair to lie to such a trusting, loving soul. Besides, he wasn't entirely certain that she had gotten away from the habit of eviscerating males that she suspected of betrayal. "Anya," he said. "I have a confession. There is no such Christmas tradition as the youngest member of the household avoiding the festivities and sleeping in the backyard. I kind of made that one up myself."

Anya's brow furrowed, and Xander braced himself in the expectation that she might decide to smack him. Then another crash sounded from inside, and Anya did something unexpected. She took his hand, moved closer, and kissed him softly on the chin. "It's all right," she mumbled. "Let me tell you, Olaf's family was no fun around the solstice festival. I kind of wish we'd had a tradition like this." Then she moved to kiss him on the mouth, and he thought, "Yes, this. . .this is the true meaning of Christmas. . . ." And just when their lips were starting to meet. . .

"Lavell! Lavell! Get the damn phone, it's one of your stupid girlfriends."

The portable phone came sailing out the door and landed on the lawn beside Anya.

"Girlfriends?" she snapped, picked up the handset, and listened for a moment. "No!" she said. "What would Prince Albert be doing in a can?. . .I don't know, I'll check." She turned to him. "Is the refrigerator running?"

Xander groaned and said, "I'll take that." Into the receiver he shouted: "Willow! Buffy! This isn't a good time!"

On the other end, he heard silence, and then the unmistakable sound of Cordelia Chase in a high dudgeon. "Willow? Buffy? Thanks for forgetting that I exist, once again."

In the background, he heard a voice that sounded like Angel: "Buffy? Is Buffy there?"

Cordelia's voice chimed in with another male voice: "NO BUFFY!" And then the man's voice continued, in a clipped British accent Xander knew too well. "Whatis Prince Albert in a can, anyway? Does anybody know?"

Xander almost choked. "Is WESLEY there?"

Cordelia's tone sweetened. "Yes. . . Wesley. Wesley came to spend Christmas with me in Los Angeles. We'd invite you, only the car wouldn't make it this far, would it?"

"I. . .I. . ." Xander stammered, knowing the perfect comeback was lying in his subconscious. Only why could Cordy still do this to him? Hearing giggles in the background, he demanded, "Cordy, are you HIGH?" More giggles. Three sets of giggles. "Are ALL of you high?"

Angel's voice came on the line. "We're watching Snoopy. He can dance."

Xander couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make him feel like Giles.

Suddenly, Anya ripped the phone from his hand. "Xander doesn't want to talk to any of you now! We are having a lovely holiday in his backyard! And as soon as I hang up, we will have sexual intercourse! At least twice!" She threw down the phone.

Xander stared at her, and she kissed him, and he thought: "BEST – CHRISTMAS – EVER!"