A/N: This chapter is a quick Christmas Special intermission.
Sadly, I have no idea when I'll get back to posting regular updates, but I hope this will hold you over for the holiday season!
Of Baby Vampires and Tinsel
~¤~ A Feral Christmas Special ~¤~
The only attention Godric had ever paid to December in the past few decades was the pleasant scent of cinnamon, pine and beeswax candles permeating his nest from the decorations Isabel spread around the house. He had long since given his Second in Command full control over making their home presentable to visitors, and she'd claimed that decorating for the holidays was important.
Not that he'd ever minded. The scent of pine reminded him of the time he'd spent in Sweden, in the decades before and after turning Eric, and the candles spread a soothing glow.
This year, however, things seemed to have gotten decidedly out of hand.
Godric looked at the living room, which normally appeared immaculate and crisp with its modern furnishings and minimalist decor, and felt his eyebrows raise higher and higher on his forehead the more he took in.
"You said to distract her for a few hours, while you dealt with the Nightclub incident." Isabel folded her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture. "And she really wanted to help decorate. Apparently, Christmas is her favorite holiday."
"So I see."
The room was a sparkly, tinsel covered nightmare, with hideous plastic Santa figurines popping out from the most unexpected places. "And where is my Daughter now?"
The smallest twitch at Isabel's subtly painted lips made a feeling a dread—that hadn't been nearly as familiar before Irin moved—in settle in his stomach. "Where is she?"
"She's with Stan. In your office." The Latina bit her cheek as she glanced at him. "She said you could use some holiday cheer to help you get through all the paperwork."
"Isabel …!" Several image of what the mischievous duo consisting of his kitten and Stan could get up to while left unsupervised among his important documents appeared for his inner eye, and he clamped his teeth shut around a groan. "If they have broken anything expensive, it is coming out of your pay."
Feeling a certain sense of urgency, Godric turned around and walked briskly through the hallways—that, along with the entrance, seemed to have avoided his protege's particular brand of interior design skills—until he got to his closed office door.
Ominous giggles and clanking could be heard from within.
Bracing himself for utter destruction of his near-sacred workspace he twisted the doorknob—and froze in horror.
It was even worse than the living room.
The tinsel littering every curtain rail, wall decoration and lamp was multicolored and extraordinarily fluffy, and on his desk—on top of a pile of extremely important reports he had yet to finish up—was what appeared to be a … a 'Winter Wonderland' scene predominantly made from cotton wool and poorly crafted wooden figurines. To finish off what used to be his well organized and tidy workspace, a large, bobble-headed plastic reindeer balanced on top of his computer screen, grinning goofily for every bob of its over sized head.
Fake snow and red hearts were everywhere.
"Godric!"
It was more habit than anything else that made him open his arms just in time to catch the overexcited girl as she leapt at him from across the room, where she'd been preoccupied with writing 'Merry Christmas' across the windows with gold paint. Some distant part of him had vague hopes that it could be washed off again, so he wouldn't need to replace the sun- and bulletproof glass.
"We decorated your office for you! Do you like it?"
Still on autopilot, Godric lifted his head when she nudged at his collar so she could press her nose against his throat in the usual way she liked to greet him. That's when he spotted Stan, who besides sporting a wide and somewhat devious grin, also wore a reindeer antler headband instead of his beloved cowboy hat.
"It's …." He narrowed his eyes at Stan, silently promising him an unpleasant talk at the earliest possible time. "Very colorful."
"Uhhu." Her nose rubbed along his jugular, the small pants of breath she didn't need tickling his skin. "I've got so much more planned for the rest of the house. No offense, but you guys just don't know how to do Christmas."
"That's possibly because we are not Christians, kitten." Godric pulled his head back just in time to receive the full force of her pout.
"That's not the point, you know."
"Oh?" He raised a teasing eyebrow at his baby vampire. "I do believe quite a few Christians would disagree with you, dear one."
Rolling her eyes Irin squirmed in his arms until he let go. Rather like an insulted cat she huffed at his teasing as they separated, making his lips curl into a wry smile. It was a good thing she'd accepted his chosen pet name for her, because she wasn't getting rid of it anytime soon.
"Celebrating religion is fine, but you don't have to be Christian to enjoy Christmas. Wasn't there some sort of heathen sun celebration back in your day?"
His smile grew at her haughty tone. "Yes, indeed there was. Of course, back in 'my day', as you call it, it wasn't considered heathen. Are you saying that you wish to celebrate the return of the Sun—our fiercest enemy, Daughter?"
It was fortunate that Stan had slipped out of the room, reindeer antlers and all, while they were talking, because despite the tinsel mayhem in his office, he was not in the mood to scold the girl when she stuck her tongue out at him. Putting up with her misbehaving was one thing, but any level of disrespect in public was not acceptable.
"Irin," he gently warned.
"I just mean that the spirit of Christmas, or whatever you want to call it if you insist on being so pedantic, is to be with friends and family, and to do good things for others."
"Like covering their home in tinsel?" he inquired, giving the creepy reindeer a glance.
"No, like helping your neighbors, or doing charity work. My family always had our Christmas card taken by this photographer who would donate everything he earned on Christmas pictures to the Children's hospital. And we'd wear sweaters from the local charity shop … you know, the really ugly ones? It was a lot of fun." Her voice faltered, and she quickly looked down.
"Irin." Godric reached for her even before he smelled the subtle hint of blood from her tears.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled as her fingers clutched at the back of his shirt. "I just … wonder if they will have their picture taken this year, without me."
He slid his fingers through her soft hair to soothe her, resting his head against hers while she calmed down again.
Maybe it was time. He had opted not to let her see her family again because she was so unstable—he had no way of predicting if the experience would tip her volatile emotions into destructive rage or endless depression, and he wasn't willing to risk her well-being. But she'd been doing so well lately.
Not that she was fully stable, but he was always able to calm her within moments.
And seeing her ache for what she'd lost burned like silver.
"Maybe it is time that we go see them? Let them know you are okay."
She stilled in his arms, but where he expected excitement, he got fear instead.
"No." It was a hoarse whisper. "No, I can't … not yet."
Godric's brows furrowed. "Why not? I will be there with you every step of the way."
The redhead whimpered. When her body started shaking, he clutched her tighter.
"Irin, tell me what's wrong." He rested his cheek against her head once more and waited. He knew these episodes too well by now, and knew his nearness was the only thing that would settle her.
"They would ask," she whispered into his chest. "They would ask how I was Turned. Why I left them. I can't … I can't …."
Godric felt a purr rumble out from his chest as he gently kissed the top of her head while he waited for her trembling to subside.
"I'm not the same person anymore. The Irin they knew is gone."
Her voice sounded so hollow, all the happiness drained from it, like color having been leeched from parchment, and Godric felt a knot of guilt in his chest in the place her face was pressed into him. He'd done this—broken her moment of happiness by bringing up her past too soon.
He would fix it, too.
"You listen to me, my little one." He let his hand wrap around her chin so he could tilt her head up from her hiding place against his chest. Her pretty face was smeared with blood, and he knew his shirt would be too.
"The Irin you were meant to be is not gone. I promise you that. I see her in small glimmers every night we spend together, and one day soon, when you have healed, she will be all you are. And I will see you get there, my Daughter—my blood."
Her pink bottom lip started quivering again, but instead of burying her head against his chest, she stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
Godric saw it coming just the second before her lips impacted with his own, and managed to brace for the sweet rush her kisses always brought.
He usually tried to dodge them, finding his body's reaction to the brush with her femininity quite disturbing and wholly unhelpful in securing their Maker-progeny bond, but he'd already upset her by bringing up her family. So instead of swiftly stepping out of the way, he closed his eyes, tensed his jaw and let it happen.
It was gentle and short, like all her kisses, but the Beast inside of him woke with a growl. When she bounced back down on her heels his eyes snapped open in just a fraction of a moment's desire to grab her and pull her back to sate his starved Beast's need for her closeness. But as always, the sight of her big, trusting eyes smiling up at him made the darkness inside subside as easily as dawn breaks through the night.
"I love you."
He saw it in her violet gaze as clearly as he heard the words. Had seen it in her eyes and face for a long time.
Yet, hearing her say it out loud warmed something in his chest he'd forgotten existed.
"I love you too, my kitten."
The happy little sound that burst out of her throat was a mix between a sudden purr and a squeal.
That odd thing in his chest moved with her when she collided with his chest and, rather forcefully, pressed her nose up against his throat.
"Very, very much."
A/N: There's totally a Christmas Card being sent around the vamp world, featuring Godric & his nest mates in ugly Christmas sweaters and suffering facial expressions.