Disclaimer: I only own Buffy's family, excluding Joyce.
Previously: After the tree lighting, Spike took Buffy home, where after a series of weird statements, Buffy kissed him. Later, after some hot cocoa, Spike and Buffy snuggled up for a good night's rest, until her dad found them and got into a heated argument with Buffy, Spike and Joyce...
A/N: Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, I've been on vacation. I should be posting more frequently now.
(---)
Buffy left so early Sunday morning that even the birds weren't up yet. She was hoping to get out of the house before any of her family woke up and began berating her with questions about the argument the previous night. She left Spike in a heap on the cot, taping a note to his forehead telling him she'd be back later.
Now, she was walking through Sunnydale--her light coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders--heading towards Sunnydale Mall, where she was planning on buying Christmas presents for her mom and friends. By the time she reached the mall, it had just opened and there were about two other people wandering the stores.
She decided to get Willow's present first. She had originally intended to get her friend something witch-y, but since the mall didn't have a Wiccan store--considering the supernatural state of their town--she was settling for a nice new blouse for Wills.
Xander was another story. She'd gotten him shirts for, like the last three years. She doubted he needed another one. Granted--yes, you can never have enough shirts--but she'd practically bought him the same shirt every year too. Maybe a comic book would be better, Buffy thought sidestepping one of the additional two people in the mall and slipping into a darkly lit comic book store.
The man behind the counter was tall, with a pair of black-rimmed glasses and black curls. He would have been a little cute if he didn't have a tee shirt that said: Comics First, People Later! in large, bold letters. Buffy walked up to him and glanced at the comics under the glass of the counter.
"Can I help you?" the cashier's voice was monotone and he sounded less than happy to be there.
"I'm looking for something for a friend. Maybe Star Wars?" Buffy suggested.
"One moment," the young man said before turning away and walking through many sets of beads into the next room. Buffy waited--tapping her fingers on the glass and humming 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas'--until he returned, carrying one sheet of something.
"You say your friend likes Star Wars. This is a limited edition poster-- signed by the cast--from it's original release in 1977. This is an once-in- a-lifetime present here, missy," he held out the poster. Buffy recalled the characters from her hours of watching Star Wars with Willow and Xander.
"I'm sure he'll love it," Buffy tugged at her purse, "how much is it?"
"It's supposed to be $250, but I like your enthusiasm, so I'll only charge half of what's worth. You have $125?" Buffy nodded and pulled out the money she snagged from Spike before leaving--she'd pay him back later--and handed it to him.
"Thank you," Buffy took the bag and walked out of the store. Next she headed to the nearby clothing store called Shoes On Sunday. She searched for a bit longer and found what she was looking for--a blue silk button down shirt--bringing it up to the register she paid for it and asked that it be wrapped--something she'd forgotten at the comic book store. The woman was more than happy to assist her--or it looked like she was more than happy--but Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that this young girl would much rather be at home on the day before Christmas instead of helping out late shoppers struggling to find gifts for their best friends.
(--)
Spike woke to find Buffy missing. He also found a piece of paper taped to head. Pulling it gently, he recognized her handwriting before reading its words. She wrote that she'd be back soon--but she didn't say where she had gone. Part of him was a bit worried--if she'd left before the sun came up she could've gone patrolling--and a quick glance at the sole, high, tiny window of the basement told him the sun had been up for several hours now-- so she would've been gone for a long time--She probably went out shopping, you twit! She would've asked you to come patrolling with her. He settled with that--well, not exactly calming--thought, and went upstairs.
As soon as he did, though, he wished he hadn't. Sitting in the living room was Buffy's father, along with his girlfriend and Buffy's grandparents. Jim Summers was reading a newspaper while what's-her-name was watching a program on the telly. Spike held his breath and tried to slip down the hall without them noticing his arrival--but super-hearing must not be part of the slayer package--as Jim looked up, then scowled.
"Oh, it's you. Where's Buffy?" Jim asked.
"Don't know. She left early this morning," Spike replied, the cheery mood he'd adopted since he'd started up the stairs faltering.
"Where'd she go?" Jim asked, his voice firm--not so much a worry more like I'm-going-to-ask-you-all-the-bloody-questions-I-want-because-I-hate-you.
"Probably shopping," Spike answered, skating away while he could. He found the kitchen surprisingly empty upon his arrival--the only occupant being himself.
"Where the bloody hell is everybody?" he asked no one in particular--but he jumped about a foot in the air when he received an answer.
"The girls took the kids to the park."
Spike spun around to find Grandpa Jack leaning against the molding--a pose very similar to one of his own. The man was definitely old. He had no beard but his face was stubbly--one might call it a little-after-five-o'clock- shadow--but he still looked regal. His posture was the meaning of elegant as he walked towards Spike. The vamp watched the man and saw much of Buffy-- even his expression was that of Buffy's own.
"Spike, I want you to know what you're getting yourself into," Jack began.
"I don't think I understand, sir," Spike replied.
"Buffy is a very special girl. She'd very different." Jack sat down at the island, encouraging Spike to join him.
"I know she is, sir. Trust me, I know far too well."
"That's the thing--you may think you know her, but Buffy is a night owl--to say the least," Jack looked deeply at Spike. His gaze was penetrating and Spike had to avert his eyes.
"I'm aware of her nighttime tendencies," Spike started, "and I know she's not like other girls--but I'm-."
"Not like other guys. I would've said the same thing," Jack's eye's twinkled, "if I were a blood-sucking fiend."
Spike stared at Jack, his mouth agape. This man--granted he was a relative of the Slayer--but a man nonetheless had sussed him out. He had sussed out his vampiric ways--okay, yeah, that was getting over the top--but this guy had figured out he was an undead menace--or ex menace anyway.
"How--how did--you--huh?" Spike was doing the fish--his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.
"Being around Joyce, Joan and Judy their whole life has taught me how to read people. Buffy was easy--anyone with eyes could tell she had a secret-- I just asked Joyce and she laid it all out for me. You were a bit harder-- but when I discovered the bags of blood in the fridge downstairs--I didn't need a masters in folklore and legend to figure out what it was you two were up too."
"So, with the fight and all, you knew," Spike pointed out, his brain was starting to feel numb. The Slayer's grandfather knew about her and him and the whole bloody shebang! And he was okay with it! --Why was he okay with it?
"Of course I knew. I'd found the blood that afternoon--I was going to tell you two I knew when I heard Jim yelling at the top of his godforsaken lungs and I jumped in--grandfather thing to do."
"Okay, I get that you know, I get how you sussed it out what I don't get is why you aren't screaming your bloody head off about your granddaught being crazy and her friend being very, very sick in the head?" Spike queried.
"Well, when you discover your granddaughter's a vampire slayer and her house guest prefers a bag of B negative instead of a glass of red wine you start going past all reasonably thinking and just start accepting things the way they are," Jack got to his feet, "and the only reason I'm letting you in on my knowledge without Buffy around is because I thought you might want a confidant--someone who knows, who you can talk to." Jack didn't wait for a reply; he started to leave Spike alone but the vamp stopped him.
"I have an idea--but I might need a little help..." Spike's hand closed on the old man's upper arm. Jack turned, about to protest, "it's for Buffy," stopped him in his tracks. Instead he nodded and followed Spike.
(--)
Buffy walked lazily through the mall. She had picked up a 'MOM' pin and a collection of books-on-tape for Giles--or rather for the gang--since they were demonology books. Along with her purchases for Willow and Xander, she only had to find something for Anya and Tara--she had an idea for Anya but for Tara--who knew?
Spike probably does, she mused. The vampire was extremely observant she had noticed over the three-year span she'd known him. Well, it's not exactly three years. He was gone for most of the second year--off chasing Drusilla around the freakin world. What does he see in her? I mean, I suppose I understand the sire-childe connection but--she's not even that pretty! I'm prettier than her--and she's had two hundred years to prefect her image-- I've had nineteen! Big diff!
She walked past the Toy store and had to double back. She was going to buy Anya fake money--since the ex demon seemed so obsessed about money. She thought it was a good gag gift. She could almost picture what Anya would say...
"Oh! Money! Buffy you got me money!" she would say.
"Ahn, honey, you know that money's not real, right?" Xander would counter.
"Not real? What kind of horrible person would do such a thing? Give out not- real money?" Anya would ask in the strange way she always did.
Buffy knew Anya would be upset for hours over it. She would complain to Xander and Willow. She would be miserable and probably stay in the corner mumbling about it forever...Xander would be mad cause Anya was being antisocial and then Willow would roll her eyes and maybe float Anya a tissue or something to that effect. Things would be in chaos. A nightmare for all involved...
"Fake money it is then," Buffy said aloud, walking in. It only took her a few moments to find the money. Next to it was a rack of stuffed animals. Buffy glanced at it, eyeing it with increased curiosity.
"I wonder," she ruminated. Moving to her left, she began digging through the pile until she found what she was hoping for. A tiny kitten with a little witch hat on--left over from Halloween. Tara would love it! The girl seemed to have a fond attraction to cats--as any good witch does--and the tiny hat was Buffy's nod to Tara's witchcraft.
She quickly paid for the money and kitten and then left the toy store. The noises of the mall were starting to give her a headache--something that had never happened while she was shopping before--and she found herself-- strangely--missing Spike--anything something that never happened. Please, I don't miss Spike. Maybe I miss beating up Spike. But I hardly miss him. That would imply other feelings--feelings that don't equal hate, loathing, distrust, and disgust! Missing him would entail crushy feelings. Possibly lovey feelings. Oh! I did not just think of loving Spike! Expect she had. She could potentially love Spike--which in itself was weird--but she also didn't have a major problem with it. Spike has acted the most human I have ever seen in him this weekend. Besides he's a hottie! So it's probably just lust. Yes, lust. Cause, damn, his abs are like WOW! Okay, so it's lust, maybe like but not--and I repeat--not love! I can deal with the lusty and likey feelings...Just breathe Buffy--great, now Faith Hill's gonna get stuck in my head for the next ever and--hey! Poetry books!
During Buffy's mental ranting, she had passed another bookstore--hidden in between the shoe store and the clothing store--in the front was a large collection of books by various poets through the ages. The slayer's attention was drawn to the table were the books were set up.
She reached out to touch the covers--to stroke the bindings--and let her fingers trail over the words written there. 'Poetry of Times: Enjoy Poems from a variety of famous--and not so--poets from the 18th century through today'.
"Spike," she breathed softly. This would be the perfect gift for her poetry inclined vampire.
"Can I wrap this for you?" a woman's voice broke through Buffy's reverie. The Slayer looked up to find a sales clerk with dark hair and even darker eyes. The nametag read 'Jenny'--in fact, she looked so much like the late Miss Calendar that Buffy had to do a double take--but the woman looked less holy in the neck region and much more alive than Miss Calendar. And I'm not talking metaphorically alive, either. Miss Calendar was six-feet under at the very moment that Buffy was looking at this woman.
"Uh, no. I could never afford these," Buffy replied, her fingers still dancing across the six books in the collection's covers.
"Well, perhaps, we could strike a price together?" Jenny suggested.
"I have a hundred and ten left plus another twenty--is that enough?" Buffy asked, pulling out her wallet and laying Spike's money--and her twenty-- on the counter in front of Jenny.
"May I ask who this is for?" Jenny began before answering Buffy's question.
"A friend. A special friend who probably hasn't read many of these poets in a long time," Buffy replied.
"Is he an avid poetry reader?" Jenny continued.
"How did you know it was a 'he'?" Buffy frowned at Jenny.
"It's always a he," Jenny winked at Buffy and then reverted to her business demeanor, "One hundred is your total." She pulled the wrapping paper around the book set quickly and skillfully. The paper was very beautiful. It looked to be made of silk--and the paper Jenny had picked out was dark, dark blue--which Buffy thought was absolutely gorgeous with the lighter blue ribbon she'd picked out.
Buffy handed the young woman the hundred while she placed the now-wrapped books in a bag. Jenny nodded and put the money away. She handed Buffy the bag and smiled.
"I hope your friend enjoys this collection--it's worth near a thousand dollars," Jenny called to Buffy's retreating back. The girl turned around to look back at the woman and found a blank wall where the small shop once was. Pulling at the bag, Buffy found her gift for Spike was still there-- even though the store had completely vanished.
"Weird," Buffy said softly, walking away from the mall. It was time to go home and see Spike.
(--)
Buffy pushed her front door open quietly. She really didn't want to alert anyone to her presence just yet--well, she wanted someone to know she was home--but he was bound to be in the basement now that it was nearing noontime. But as soon as Buffy stepped all the way in the door, she found the house in chaos.
There were pine needles covering the floor around her feet. Masses of ribbons and lights sat piles on the stairs. Some garlands were hung around the doorframes while others seemed to have been left at a moment's noticed-- gone unfinished.
"What holiday tornado hit the Buffy Summers home?" Buffy asked aloud as she daintily stepped around the many decorations on the floor.
"Oh, good, Buffy! You're home!" Joyce came out of the living room her arms open wide. She pulled her daughter into a warm hug before whispering fervently in her ear, "Spike's downstairs. He needs you."
Buffy pulled back--confusion in her eyes and written across her face--Joyce simply nodded and pushed her towards the basement. The Slayer took her bags from shopping and walked the steps--making as little noise as possible. She left her stuff at the bottom, while she walked around in awe.
The musty basement was decorated with a few garlands. Holly berries dotted the dark green, lessening the frightening effect. Around the banister and handrail of the stairs was a white garland flecked with gold and silver. The cot had a new red and green blanket with the eight reindeers' names on it. And over the cot were two stockings; one had a 'B' while the other had a 'S'. Buffy smiled--and it only widened when she saw what was sitting on the cot--a bucket of loose popcorn and some thread with popcorn already strung on it--in the start of a popcorn garland.
"You like it, pet?" the voice was deep, sultry and yet soft.
"It's beautiful," Buffy breathed, the hands on her hips falling to her sides.
"I did it for you," Spike came to stand beside her. The slayer looked up at him--and suddenly she wasn't the slayer anymore. She was just a girl--a normal girl looking at normal Christmas decorations in her normal basement with a guy she might just like.
"Thank you," she walked over to the cot and dragged her hand over the velvety fabric.
"You're welcome," Spike replied. Buffy turned to find her standing right in front of her. She tried hard to catch her breath as he slid a hand around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. She willingly moved, placing her palms on his sculpted form.
"Hey," she tried to joke, "does this mean no other presents for Buffy?" She laughed nervously. He didn't answer, just moved his other hand to her cheek, cupping it gently.
"Nope," he finally responded, "Buffy doesn't have to worry about lack of gifts this year." He had begun to lean in slowly.
"Good," Buffy managed, forgetting the joke, "Buffy likes presents." She sighed as his mouth came within mere centimeters of her own...
"Buffy!?" Jim Summers voice was loud throughout the basement, jolting Buffy and Spike apart for the second time.
"Yeah?" Buffy called back, watching Spike's sorrowful face.
"Lunchtime," Jim replied from the top of the stairs.
"'K!" she locked eyes with Spike, "can we finish this later?"
"Always, pet," Spike said back and started up the steps. He could hear Buffy come slowly after.
What the bloody hell am I doing? Oh, yeah, falling in love with the bloody slayer! 'Cept, she's not really the slayer anymore. She's just kinda Buffy now. How the hell did I get myself mixed up like this? Things used to be simple. Slayers equal bite and kill--not kiss and grope! Bloody bastard her dad is! Stupid bloke came in right before things could get going! I didn't even get to bloody kiss her! Damn him!
The vampire took his seat at the table. He felt Buffy sit down beside him but he didn't look at her. When Buffy served herself, her hand brushed against his, sending a shock through his system and causing him to reel away from her. This didn't go unnoticed by the others at the table--well, except for the four children.
"Buffy, what were you doing?" Joan asked. Buffy jumped at the question.
"Nothing. Nothing happened," she said nervously.
"She means this morning, pet," Spike whispered, leaning over and absentmindedly breathing on her neck. Buffy, however, did not miss this action and had to keep telling herself to breathe--and answer the damn question.
"I went shopping. Bought gifts for my friends," Buffy answered, considerably calmer.
"Did ya get me anything?" the voice at her ear said. Again she could feel his breath on her neck and she had to fight the urge to shiver.
"I'll give it to you later," she whispered back, this time her breath reached his neck. And now it was his turn to try and control the shiver of excitement running through his body.
"I got my friend Willow a new shirt; and a cool movie poster for Xander; a stuffed kitten for Tara; some fake money for Anya and books-on-tape for Giles," Buffy answered the unasked question.
"Those sound like wonderful presents Buffy," Joyce said.
"Kiddo, we were thinking about decorating the tree this afternoon. You wanna help? The boys were gonna do lights, maybe Spike could assist them?" Joan suggested.
"Um-." Buffy started.
"Actually, Spike and I were going to finish our basement project," Grandpa Jack cut in, "Buffy only saw the first part."
"Really, well, I'm sure that would be fine," Joyce agreed.
"And Buffy can help us," Judy followed.
Buffy and Spike glanced at each other. Their fun would have to wait for a couple of hours. Damn, Buffy thought angrily, this is going to be the longest day of my life!
TBC in Chapter 7: Night Before Christmas