Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. Spike knew this because Dawn chased him out of the basement before the sun rose. With only a few hours sleep under his belt, the vampire was hardly feeling up to spreading Christmas cheer. After watching Buffy and Dawn riffle through their stockings, he managed to escape back into the basement while the sisters ate breakfast and waited on their guests.

When the others arrived some time later, Spike was feeling much more charitable. He even helped Xander hide the newly repaired coffee table, the victim of Spike and Dawn’s kidnappers, away from Buffy’s vigilant eye.

When it came time to open presents, Spike would have liked to hang to the back, but Dawn had other plans. The vampire was dragged into the living room and placed on the couch between Buffy and Tara with a shove and a good-natured glare. Meret escaped the girl’s attentions by retreating to the top of the tree and wrapping herself in a chokehold around the angel there, so Dawn returned to her self-styled position of Christmas director. Once all the presents were distributed, Spike was surprised to have collected a small stack in front of him.

As the youngest, Dawn opened a present first. It was a compendium of common demons from Giles. She giggled with glee and started flipping through the fully illustrated volume. In the weeks following her inclusion, Dawn’s enthusiasm for research had only grown. The watcher smiled paternally at the girl’s reaction.

Two to one odds the Bit ends up bein’ a watcher.

The first round of gifts revealed a large amount of clothing: the highlight being the incredibly inappropriate outfit Anya had purchased for Xander. Spike found the lengths of vinyl and chains nearly as amusing as the interesting shade of red the boy turned upon opening the gift. After a fair amount of teasing on Dawn’s part, it was decided that in spite of their appearances, Spike and Anya were assuredly the oldest people in the room, so Giles had to go before them. The watcher opened a present from Willow to reveal a slim book with the title A Guide To American Slang. The Brit snorted in amusement and started flipping through the pages.

With that, the vampire found all eyes on him. The situation was decidedly uncomfortable, but he managed to keep up a mien of cool composure as he selected a present to unwrap. The one he finally chose was from Dawn and sported black wrapping paper with tiny skulls and crossbones.

Someone’s been hittin’ the goth specialty shops.

Without further preamble, the vampire tore through the wrappings to reveal a small, leather journal. He cocked an eyebrow at the teenager before opening the book. Inside he found page upon page of information on coatls written in loopy, girlish script. Anything Dawn had been able to scrounge up on the feathered serpents had made its way into the pages, everything cited, organized, and catalogued in an index with scanned images glued on some of the pages. He ran his fingers over the pages, knowing how much time and energy had gone into the book. The final entry had a photograph of Meret lounging on Dave’s shoulders, but it was Dawn’s writing that had Spike’s full attention.

Meret – “Beloved,” Egyptian Goddess of Song and Rejoicing

He never could keep his secrets from her. By the time he looked up from the gift, the others had started opening the next round of presents. He met Dawn’s eyes and the girl grinned impishly at him. He was thankful that the group’s attention had turned to Willow’s set of crystals. He was having a little trouble dealing with the growing lump in his throat.

Buffy selected his present to open next. Slipped under the ribbon was a note, written on heavy paper. She did not read the words aloud, but Spike replayed them in his mind.

I can’t top the present you were supposed to open today. However, I do believe that I can add a little cultural depth to your weapons’ chest. Use these in good health and a long life.

Inside the box were two daggers: a Turkish kukri and an Indonesian kris, newly sharpened, polished, and oiled. He had retrieved the curved blades the night before from the piles of loot he had stored beneath his crypt. Their craftsmanship was beautiful, but each was still a fighting weapon. Buffy smiled at them, appreciative as only a true warrior could be of the folded steel and keen edges. She thanked him with a twinkle in her eye, and Spike caught her playing with the ring on her right hand.

Tara also chose to open his present next. Her note was much shorter:

For reference the next time I try to get myself dusted.

Beneath the white tissue was a book on medicinal herbs and healing potions. He had caught the shy witch eyeing the volume longingly when it came in one of Anya’s shipments. He had managed to hide it until he could talk the former demon down to a decent price. Tara’s reaction was all he could have hoped for. She felt the binding and delicate velum covering the colored plates disbelievingly before stuttering her effusive thanks.

He opened his gift from Tara next. Inside he found a stack of simple cotton t-shirts, all black, and a strange contraption consisting of a few large brass loops, a couple matching chains and various bits of wood and rope tying the pieces together. He had stared at it in confusion until the witch had explained that it was for Meret, a perch that he could hang up for the little coatl to enjoy. He mumbled another thanks, touched by her thoughtfulness. No one knew better than Tara how quickly he ran through his signature shirts and Meret certainly seemed to approve of her new toy.

Giles had been given Spike’s red envelope, addressed to all of the Scoobies, to open. He did so, even if his facial expression seemed to indicate that he expected someone’s ear to fall out of the folded paper. As he read the letter, Giles’ eyebrows crept higher and higher.

“C’mon G-man, what does it say. Is it a death threat?” Xander asked. “It’s a death threat isn’t it?”

The watcher sighed in exasperation. “No. It is a promise for each of us to receive a coatl egg when Meret starts laying them.” Buffy’s soft intake of breath was as satisfying as Dawn’s exuberant squeal. “It won’t be for another year,” the watcher continued, “but she should clutch two or three at a time every other year after that.” Spike received enthusiastic appreciation from all sides. Even Xander managed a sincere thanks. The vampire, for his part, tried his best to look unaffected by the entire scene, but even he knew that his mask of casual indifference wasn’t convincing anyone.

Soon enough the furor died down and they moved on to their next gifts. More clothes and a stack of cheesy Japanese horror films for Xander later, and it was the vampire’s turn again. He only had one present left, a card from Buffy. More nervous than he would ever admit, the vampire picked up the brightly colored envelope and opened it. The card itself sported a rather chintzy picture of a Christmas tree, but it was the note inside that captured his full attention.

Spike,

It turns out that shopping for a vampire is really hard, especially one whose favorite past times pretty much include drinking, smoking, and bar fighting. I could only think of one thing that you might want, and it’s not the kind of thing I could get at the mall. You once told me that all we have ever done is dance. Seeing as how your chip isn’t really working anymore, I’ve talked Giles into setting aside every Wednesday night for one-on-one ‘dancing lessons.’

I won’t hold back if you don’t.

Buffy

Spike read through the letter twice, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Slayer’s giving me fights for Christmas?

Finally deciding that his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Spike turned to the slayer with a wide grin and a feral gleam in his eyes. He found Buffy chewing the corner of her lip in worry.

“So what do you think?” she asked.

His smile widened even further. “Can’t think of a better way to spend my Wednesday nights.”

Obviously relieved, the slayer’s eyes took on a wicked glint. “You really think you can take me?”

He curled his tongue behind his teeth and narrowed his eyes, raking the slayer’s body with an appraising gaze. “Oh, I think I’m up to giving you a go.”

Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but whatever she was about to say was lost in a high-pitched shriek from Dawn.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” When everyone else in the room leaned in to see what had the girl so excited, Dawn presented a slip of paper and read it aloud.

"Here are two things every girl in Sunnyhell should have. Now you just need your big sis to teach you how to use them properly."

She dropped the note and pulled the contents of the box out to show the rest of the room. From one hand dangled a pair of black Doc Martins, uncannily similar to Spike’s own boots. In her other hand were two slender stakes the vampire had carved down from twisted roots that had invaded his ceiling.

While Dawn gleefully shed her brown loafers and started trying on her new shoes, every other eye in the room turned to the vampire. Some were amused, some disapproving. He just flashed a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“You’re just trying to get me pissed,” Buffy hissed.

Spike met the slayer’s glare with a leer. “If I was tryin’ to do that, I’d’ve given you some bourbon.”

“You are so going to get it this Wednesday.”

He leaned in close and breathed across her ear, “I’m countin’ on it, love.”

*****

Dinner was rather tame, considering that the last major holiday meal Spike had spent with the Scoobies had seen him tied to a chair with half-healed arrow wounds all through his body. When the others, Meret included, settled in to watch “A Christmas Carol,” Dawn used her best puppy dog eyes on him, a ploy that ended with Spike alone in the kitchen and unsure as to exactly what had just happened.

Spike was attempting to stare down the stack of dirty dishes when he realized he had company. Giles was standing in the doorway, polishing his glasses and watching the vampire with a distant expression on his face.

“Got somethin’ to say or are you just here for the show?”

The watcher replaced his glasses and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I thought you might like a memento of your latest apocalypse.” Giles’ face was unreadable. “I came across it in the Oaxatlual Codex two days ago.”

His interest piqued, Spike took the piece of paper and unfolded it. He nearly choked when he realized what he was reading. His eyes were wild and questioning when he looked back up at the other Brit. Giles retrieved the paper and started reading the words of the prophesy aloud.

“Mictlantecuhtli and Quetzalcoatl
God of Death, God of Life
Dance the ages, mirrored partners
The feathered serpents tied with warriors’ blood
To keep the balance
To turn the sky above the age.

Mictlantecuhtli and Quetzalcoatl
God of Death, God of Life
Anoint their avatars, every cycle
The blooded warriors tied with serpents’ feathers
To keep the balance
To fight the ending of the age.

For failure brought beasts
And failure brought wind
And failure brought fire
And failure brought water
And failure will bring earthquakes
If the children of Death and Life fail again
In the eyes of Coatlicue
And bring about the final death

Mictlantecuhtli and Quetzalcoatl
God of Death, God of Life
Bind the warriors, start the cycle
To go against nature, to bring about truce
To keep the balance
To prevent the death of an age.

For life brings life
And life brings death
And death brings death
And death brings life
And the living dead walk with the dead living
And the ties that bind them must endure
In the eyes of Coatlicue
Or bring about the final death.”

Spike snatched the paper back and started reading it again.

Giles cleared his throat to get the vampire’s attention. “The Aztec calendar predicted that the end of the world would come some time around the turn of the new millennium. They recorded many such catastrophes, by fire, wind, water, and beasts, each caused by the failure of the ‘avatars’ chosen by two of the Aztec gods. This was to be the last apocalypse if their avatars failed again.” Giles’ eyes pinned the vampire. “They did not.”

The watcher paused for a moment to let that statement sink in. “You said that Maclin painted two serpents on the floor of the cavern, one red and living, the other green and dead?” When Spike nodded mutely, he continued, “Those were representations of Quetzalcoatl and Mictlantechutli, the Aztec gods of life and death. The test was to bind together a slayer and a vampire to see if the two of you could work together and prove that a world where you both existed was worth saving. Maclin was only a tool, both in giving you Meret’s egg and in casting the spell. If you had not managed to stop him, I believe that the goddess Coatlicue was waiting on the other side of the gate to make sure that the energy of the two Hellmouths pulled apart this entire dimension.”

The watcher looked torn. “This goes against everything the Council has taught me, but I would like you to know that I,” he swallowed before he could continue. “I believe that your help would be most beneficial in coming years, especially considering the link you already have with the coatl and your unique perspective on demons…” the watcher trailed off as Spike’s scarred eyebrow inched higher and higher.

“There now Rupes, was that so very painful? You look like you’re about to pass a stone,” Spike grinned at the watcher’s open-mouthed stare. “Of course I’m gonna stick around, things are too interestin’ to warrant me goin’ anywhere else. Now unless I’m too much mistaken, the future Mrs. Whelp is callin’ our names.” Spike pushed past the amazed watcher and wandered into the living room.

When Giles finally caught up, Anya smiled beatifically and launched into what was obviously her idea of a prepared speech. “I read recently that in many capitalist societies, people receive what is known as a ‘bonus’ over the holiday season when business has been particularly good. Well, since everyone here has worked at the Magic Box at some time or another, and because business has been very good this year, I decided to bring the checks tonight. Giles, since you are technically the owner, I’m afraid that tradition mandates that you don’t get one. So, in alphabetic order, first on the list is Alexander Harris!” Anya waved the check before passing it to her fiancé. “That had better go to the tux down payment. Okay, Tara Maclay!” Again, she presented the check with a flourish. “William Pratt!”

Spike jerked his eyes to the watcher standing at his side, horrified. Giles, for his part, had turned a waxy shade of gray and was watching Buffy.

Xander, oblivious to the situation unfolding in front of him, gave a hooting laugh. “Your last name is Pratt? Isn’t that British for stupid or something?” When no one else joined in his laughter, he looked around in confusion. “Guys?”

Everyone else’s eyes were trained on the trio of people in the front of the room. The watcher was stammering, trying to come up with some feasible excuse. The vampire was attempting to pretend that nothing had happened and had become fascinated with a piece of lint on his sleeve, and the slayer was simply watching them both, irritation overshadowing what might have been amusement in her eyes.

“You’re William Pratt?” she finally asked, ignoring Giles’ stumbling placations.

“Bugger.”



A/N Thanks are in order to LimitlessD for proof reading and encouragement. This was the first fic I ever wrote, and it took her about three months to convince me (with threats of physical violence) to post it. Thanks also to LMBossy for the beautiful banner, I stand in awe of her design skills, and to everyone who read and reviewed. Reading the feedback really makes my day and feeds my muse. I am currently working on a sequel, Feathers and Forked Tongues.