Author's notes: This fic is dedicated to MonkeeMidgie, who waited for my story as well. It's a Christmas story, and I know, it's a bit late, but hey, it's fanfic. You can make believe it's Christmas and fool yourself into getting excited about Christmas presents. I hope I get a Mike Nesmith green wool cap. I didn't get one last year (yeah, it's 2013 now) because even though my family looked everywhere, they simply could not find one. But, my sister is learning how to crochet, and then to knit, so I'm optimistic about this year. Only 11 months, 10 days to go. I can hardly wait!

Well, that train of thought jumped the tracks, crashed and burned, then it's ghost went all the way to Clarksville and back, and I just don't know what I'm doing hangin' round. Anyway, here's the first part of my Christmas story, I'm not sure how many parts this is going to take... I haven't quite finished planning it out yet.

All in all, Micky was excited. The reason for his excitement: The four Monkees were going to go down to Ventura for Christmas. It had been a little more than three years since he and Peter had left, and Micky's mom had sent him several letters begging him to come home for the holidays.

They were considering going, but hadn't really decided, when she took the persuasion up a notch and started calling collect every day to convince them. Unable to afford the bill, the Monkees quickly made up their minds and assured her that they would come.

And so, all packed up and ready to go, the four boys piled into the Monkeemobile and began the hour-and-a-half long drive down to Ventura.

Micky was on overdrive for the entire trip, talking so fast that none of them could even make out what he was saying, and generally being a nuisance by constantly changing seats, jostling Davy, who was sitting next to him, and falling out of the car.

Luckily, they had been driving through a town when that last one happened, and as there were kids running around everywhere, Mike was driving fairly slowly.

"Mick, would you calm down?" He asked, after he'd backed the car up and Micky had climbed back into the Monkeemobile. "We'll get there soon enough, there's no reason for you to be this hyper."

"No reason!?" Micky exclaimed. "We're going to go spend Christmas at my house! That's plenty enough reason for me to be hyper!"

"Not to mention, Micky's pretty hyper anyway," Peter said as Mike began to slowly start the car back onto the road. "But gee, it'll be good to see everyone again. I can't wait!"

"Oh, now don't you start!" Davy said, glancing at Peter before turning back to Micky, who had just accidentally elbowed him. "Watch, it would'ja?" He pleaded. "That hurt!"

"I'm sorry, Davy," Micky said. "It's just we're almost there, just another half-hour and we'll be- OH MY GOSH STOP THE CAR!"

Mike, startled, let out a small gasp and screeched the car to a stop, looking around. When it appeared that there wasn't any immediate danger, he turned to Micky. "Don't do that," He said.

"What's wrong this time?" Davy asked as Micky jumped back out of the car.

"My candy bar's missing," Micky yelled over his shoulder as he ran back to where he had fallen. "I think it must've fallen out of my pocket when I fell out of the car."

Sure enough, the candy bar was lying on the concrete a little ways back, so he picked it up and returned to the car, unwrapping the candy bar as he ran.

Hopping into the back seat, he was about to take a bite out of it when it was suddenly plucked out of his hands. "Oh no you don't," Mike said, taking the candy bar. "Not when you're this hyper already. I'm about to get going fast again, you'll get this back when we get to Ventura."

"Mike!" Micky whined, but Mike was not going to be persuaded.

"Here," He said, handing it to Peter. "Keep this safe until we get to Ventura. And don't go giving it to Micky when you think I'm not watching," The Texan said, catching Peter's sidelong glance to his hyper young friend. "Cause believe me, Pete, I'm always watching."

That was sufficient enough to keep Peter from giving the candy bar to Micky, although the drummer tried several times to convince his friend to hand it over. The candy bar was completely forgotten, however, as soon as they reached Ventura.

Micky was too excited to be of any help in the art of giving directions, so Mike relied on Peter's instructions while Micky streamed endlessly in meaningless chatter, talking so quickly that the others could barely figure out what he was saying.

"Well, this can't be right," Mike said when they pulled up in front of the hotel. "Peter, I thought we were going to Micky's mom's house for Christmas."

"We are," Peter said. "But the house is too small for the four of us to stay there for the whole weekend. Besides, this is where Micky and I lived before we moved to LA."

"Really?" Davy asked. "You lived in a hotel?"

"You bet we did!" Micky said, jumping out of the car, not even bothering to open the door. "Come on, let's go, I want to get checked in! Whoa, that's weird, I never thought I'd be saying that about this place. Well? What are you all waiting for!? Let's go!"

With that, he ran over to the front door and started jumping up and down as the others got out of the car and hurried over to where he was waiting, afraid that if he had to stay still for very long, he would explode from the energy he was currently charged with.

As soon as they got close, he swung the door open and ran over to the front desk.

""Hi!" He said excitedly. The girl looked up at him. "Um, hello," she said. "Can I help you?"

"As a matter of fact, you can," Micky said. "You're new, so I don't blame you for not knowing who I am."

The girl looked a little confused, and slightly irritated. "Well," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"We want two motel rooms," Micky said. "And, uh, we need one of those rooms to be room 113."

"113?" The girl asked. "I'm sorry, we don't rent out that room. It's on permanent reservation."

Micky's eyebrows shot up. "Permanent reservation?" He asked. "Really? Mr. Spiner hasn't changed it at all?"

"I'm sorry," The girl said, frowning up at Micky. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Micky," he said. "Micky Dolenz. I used to work for Mr. Spiner, he rented out room 113 to me and Peter."

"Micky?" They heard, and they turned around to see another girl, this one wearing a concierge's uniform. "Peter? You're back!"

"Tawnia!" Micky yelled. "Yeah, we're back! We're in town for Christmas, so we're gonna stay here at the hotel!"

"Hi, Tawnia," Peter said, smiling. "Let me introduce you to our friends, this is Michael Nesmith, and Davy Jones."

"Pleased to meet you," Mike said, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Cowboy," Tawnia said, smiling at his accent. "You from Texas?"

Mike blinked. "Yeah, I am," he said.

"That's neat," she said. "I have an uncle down in Texas, I used to visit him sometimes. I don't suppose you lived anywhere near each other, it's a big state. What part of Texas are you from?"

"New Gallifrey," Mike said. "How about your uncle?"

"Ah, he lives in Houston," She said. Then she turned to Davy. "And what about you," she said. "You from Texas, too?"

"Further, actually," Davy said. "Manchester, England."

"Wow," Tawnia said, turning back to Micky. "Connecticut, Texas, England... how on earth did you manage to get such a diverse group of friends?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Micky said. "But anyway, what's this I hear about our room being on permanent reservation?"

Tawnia smiled. "Well," she said. "Mr. Spiner did that. It just about freaked out the entire staff, after you left, he simply came out of his office, announced that room 113 was not going to be changed, rented, or even unlocked, unless you came back. Then he went back into his office and didn't come out until a week later, except on business."

"Wow," Peter said with a smile. "Who knew he would miss us that much? We should go say hi."

"Before we do that," Mike said. "I'd like to get checked in, so we can get all our luggage out of the car."

"Here, you guys get checked in, I'll go and get Mr. Spiner," Tawnia said. Then she left.

"Well, you heard her," Micky said, leaning on the front desk and smirking smugly at the girl. "Open up room 113, cause we are BACK!"

They were moving all their luggage and their instruments into the elevator when Mr. Spiner came running out of his office and looked around the room wildly before spotting Micky and Peter and running over to them.

"Hello, boys," he said, smiling.

"Hello, Mr. Spiner," Peter said, smiling back.

"Hi!" Micky said excitedly. "We're back! Merry Christmas!"

"And boy, am I glad to see you," Mr. Spiner said. "We're a bit short on help, you see, and we need a few extra hands to help pick up the slack."

Micky hesitated. "Actually, Mr. Spiner," he said. "We're here for a Christmas vacation, we're not coming back to work for you."

"I know, boy, I was just pulling your leg!" Mr. Spiner said, laughing.

Micky and Peter joined in, and Mike and Davy also chuckled a bit. Finally, Mr. Spiner seemed to collect himself. "Anyway, they gave you your old room, right?"

"They sure did," Micky said. "And we rented the room next to it, for Mike and Davy to stay in."

"What do you mean, 'rented'?" Mr. Spiner said. "You mean they took money from you boys?"

"Well, yeah," Micky said, frowning in confusion. "It's a hotel, they're supposed to."

"Well," Mr. Spiner said. "I've just made a decision that you don't need to pay for your room. It's yours, after all. There's no way I'd be able to rent it, not with the broken window, the mismatched furniture, not to mention the decor was ugly anyway."

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Spiner," Micky said, astonished. "But just because it was our room three years ago doesn't mean you have to give it to us free this weekend."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Spiner said. "Your other room will be free to, the one you rented for these two fine young boys you've brought with you. Now, boys, I'll have the concierge take your luggage up for you, while you go get some dinner in the kitchen. Unless, would you like your instruments sent down to the basement? That room is still empty, you know."

"Uh, sure," Micky said. "Mr. Spiner, are you feeling quite all right?"

"Yes, my boy, of course I am!" Mr. Spiner said gruffly. "Now, you'd better get in that kitchen! We had quite the dinner crowd tonight, if you don't hurry, we might run out of meatloaf!"

That was enough to distract Micky and send him leading the way to the kitchen, Davy following behind him, but Peter waited for a moment, and Mike waited as well. Peter knew Mr. Spiner well enough to know that something was wrong, and Mike was intuitive enough to pick up in it, even though he hadn't known the man very long.

"Mr. Spiner," Peter said quietly. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

Mr. Spiner took a deep breath, and then smiled gently at him. "I'm fine, Peter," he said. "Don't worry about it, go ahead and get your dinner. There's nothing you could do to help anyway."

That wasn't much of an answer, but Mr. Spiner suddenly turned and walked away, so after a moment, Peter and Mike began heading towards the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Pete," Mike said, noticing Peter's troubled expression. "I'm sure that whatever it is, Mr. Spiner's got it handled."

"I hope so," Peter said. "He was a good boss, I liked working for him. I don't know much about him, but he's a good man, I'd be sad to see something bad happen to him."

"Pete, you'd be sad to see something bad happen to anyone, no matter how good they are," Mike said.

Peter laughed, reassured. "Yeah," he said. "That's true... But, Mr. Spiner was right about one thing, we don't want all the meatloaf to be gone before we get there. Come on, you haven't lived till you've tried Aunt Franny's meatloaf."

To say Aunt Franny was happy to see Peter and Micky would be an understatement. When Micky burst through the door with an exuberant "Hi, Aunt Franny!" She screamed and dropped a bowl of soup she'd been filling for a customer, then stood and stared at Micky in shock, one hand over her heart, one over her mouth.

Finally, she seemed to regain control of her senses and with a grin, she stepped forward and pulled Micky into a hug.

"Oh, Micky, dear!" She said. "You about gave me a heart attack, coming in here, just like you used to, as if you haven't been gone for years! Why didn't you at least call ahead!?"

"Sorry, Aunt Franny," Micky said. "I didn't think about it."

"No matter," Aunt Franny said, pulling away. Then she looked at Davy. "My dear Peter, how much you've changed!" She said.

Davy chuckled. "I'm Davy Jones," he said. "It's nice to meet you."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Aunt Franny said with a smile. Then she looked around. "Where is Peter?"

"Right here," Peter said, having stepped into the kitchen just in time to hear. "Hello, Aunt Franny."

"Peter!" Aunt Franny exclaimed, pulling the blonde into another hug. "Oh, I missed you both so much!"

Mike smiled, and when she was done hugging Peter, he held out his hand. "My name's Michael Nesmith," he said. "So... are you Micky's aunt, then?"

Aunt Franny laughed. "No," she said. "No, Aunt Franny's just what everybody calls me, although I'm beginning to think I should just go ahead and claim it, I get asked enough times. Besides, I would be honored to have Micky as my nephew!"

"Thanks, Aunt Franny!" Micky said. "I would be honored to have you as an aunt, you've always treated me like a nephew, or even a son!"

"Oh, Micky," Aunt Franny said. "I see you haven't changed a bit. I hope you're not expecting any extra food for your flattery. I might've missed you, but I'm not going to give you any more than what I give all my customers."

"Of course," Micky said, acting innocent. "I wouldn't expect anything else!"

Peter grinned at the exchange, remembering the first time he'd ever seen Micky flatter Aunt Franny, who always put an extra portion on his plate when she thought he wasn't looking.

"So are you boys all paying today, or what?" Aunt Franny asked. "I feel all strange even asking you, but since you're no longer on the payroll, I'm not sure what the arrangement is..."

"Oh, we talked to Mr. Spiner," Micky assured her. "He told us to get dinner, and he's not letting us pay for our rooms, either, so I think the meals are free, too."

Aunt Franny sighed, but then smiled. "Alright," she said. "Four dinners coming up! I assume you both want the meatloaf?"

"You assume correctly," Micky said. "And get them the meatloaf too," he said, jerking his head in Mike and Davy's direction. "They need to try it."

"Yes, I admit, I've been very curious as to this legendary meatloaf," Mike put in as they all went to the back of the kitchen and sat down. "After all I've heard about it, I'd just about expect it to get up and talk to me."

"No kidding," Davy said, chuckling. "I'm almost afraid to try it. What if it's not as good as these two say?"

"Sacrilege!" Micky exclaimed, gasping. "Blasphemy! Heresy! Mutiny! Treachery! Er, Treason! Um... Betrayal?"

"I think they get it, Micky," Peter said, laughing.

As soon as Aunt Franny brought the plates, however, and Mike and Davy sampled the dish, all joking fell by the wayside as Mike and Davy both agreed that no other meatloaf could compare, and so the four friends fell into silence as they ate the rest of their meal, including brownie ice-cream sundaes, "in celebration of Christmas and reunions and old friendships and the end of good things," according to Aunt Franny.

After the meal, Mike gathered the dishes and brought them over to the sink to where Aunt Franny was washing dishes, then, grabbing a towel, he began to dry and put away some of the clean ones.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, dear," Aunt Franny said.

Mike smiled. "Now, don't try and stop me," he said. "I know none of the others'll think to help out, As much as I love 'em, Davy and Mick are too thoughtless to even notice, and Peter won't notice because he's Peter. But not me. I've gotta be doin' something, I never could just sit by and watch other people clean up my messes."

Aunt Franny smiled. "You have a good heart, Mike," she said. "I was worried about Micky and Peter, going out into the world by themselves. I'm glad you found them, and took care of them."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, I have a habit of doing that," he said, marveling once again at how his life had turned out. How had he gone from being a quiet loner to being the leader and big brother to three Monkees? But then he sighed. "I wouldn't trade them for the world, though," he said. "I almost did, once, but I learned my lesson, and now nothing can separate the lot of us."

Aunt Franny smiled. "Thank you, Mike," she said. "I feel a whole lot better knowing you're around to keep them safe."

"Yeah..." Mike said. After a few moments, he did what he'd really come to do. "Aunt Franny, I have a question," He said.

"Yes, Mike?" Aunt Franny asked, handing him a clean spoon to dry.

"...What's going on with Mr. Spiner?" He asked. "And don't you say 'nothing' and pretend everything's fine," He said, as she shifted her weight and looked away. "We all noticed it," he continued. "Well, except for Davy, but he doesn't know Mr. Spiner at all. Micky just forgot when Mr. Spiner changed the subject to meatloaf, and Peter's Peter, like I already said. But it's obvious something's going on, so please, tell me. Maybe I can help."

Aunt Franny sighed. "You're right," she said. "Yes, you're right. Okay, I'll tell you. The hotel... it's- it's being shut down."