Chapter 2: So This is Christmas

“I just don’t understand why only half the reindeer blinks,” said Buffy, stretched out on her stomach on the floor of Willow and Tara’s apartment. She dug her toes into the squishy carpet and made a mental note to get this kind of rug in every room of her house as soon as she had spare cash. It would make a much softer landing than the hardwood floors when demons broke in and threw her around.

“Maybe it’s an artistic decision?” Tara suggested, curled up in a chair, flipping through a spell book. After a moment of silence, she said, “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

Buffy looked up from where she was poring over her own large tome, her head propped up on one hand, elbow resting on the floor. “What?”

“Spike… living with you,” Tara explained, as though it should be obvious. She raised her eyebrows at Buffy’s surprised expression.

“Um, did Dawn tell you that?”

“Yeah, last night when she came over, she…” Tara trailed off, her lips forming a silent “oh.” “You hadn’t told anyone else.”

Buffy smiled sheepishly. “I kinda thought it’d be easier to do it afterwards. You know, once it’s too late for them to try to talk me out of it. But Dawn’s got a big mouth, I guess. Does Willow know, too?”

“No, she was at the library… Oh! Here it is!” Tara exclaimed, her voice enthusiastic but weary as she pointed to a page in her book.

Buffy pushed herself up off the floor to peer at the spell the witch had found. “See? You thought that would take a long time, and it only ended up taking five and a half hours.”

Tara gave her a rueful smile. “Gee, I’m glad I didn’t spend my whole Saturday doing research.”

“So, this will destroy the magic thingamabob?”

“No thingamabob can withstand it – guaranteed or your money back.”

Buffy dug around in her purse and pulled out the offending object – an artifact she’d found on patrol the previous eve. It didn’t look like much, just a plain, roundish, metally thing with weird inscriptions in some demon language. But Giles insisted it could be used for very dangerous black magic and must be destroyed as quickly as possible, hence research mode. Willow had offered to help, but she’d been bogged down with end-of-semester work and planned on spending most of the weekend at the library, leaving Buffy and Tara to figure it out.

“Okay, what ingredients do we –”

They both looked up at the sound of the front door. “Hey, guys,” said Willow, dropping her backpack next to the hall closet and shrugging out of her coat. “What’s cooking?”

“Magic thingama – oh!” Buffy cut herself off as she realized there was someone flanking Willow.

“Hi, Buffy,” said Jacob, somewhat hesitantly.

“Jacob!” She scrambled to her feet at the sight of her – well, she could hardly consider him an ex, since they’d only managed two dates before she called it quits. Succumbing to the inevitable need to impress him, to show that she was doing totally fine on her own, she surreptitiously tried to spruce up her appearance, smoothing out her clothes and running her fingers through her hair. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Uh, good! You? How’ve you been?” She hugged the spell book against her chest protectively and tried to check him out without looking like she was checking him out. He caught her looking, and she quickly averted her eyes, fidgeting like a child.

“I’m all right.”

“Jacob and I were just working on our final papers for Roman Civ,” Willow explained. “He walked me home from the library. I completely forgot you’d be here.” She shot Buffy a wink and a conspiratorial smile. The Slayer only looked nauseous in return. Wasn’t there some sort of rule about best friends not arranging “chance” meetings without properly warning the subject of said meeting first? She was totally unprepared for this.

Jacob shifted side to side a little, then gestured to the book in Buffy’s hands. “What’re you reading?”

She slammed the book shut. “Oh. Tara and I were, uh…” She looked down at the cover, which said “Witchcraft” in curly gold script. “Studying?”

“It’s okay, Buff,” said Willow. “Jacob knows all about the witchy stuff. He’s cool with it.”

“Oh,” said Buffy. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Oh! Well, that’s… that’s great.”

“Buffy, I didn’t know you practiced magic,” Jacob said.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t, really. I was just helping Tara.”

“Are you guys destroying that doohicky Buffy found last night?” asked Willow.

“I think doohicky destruction is definitely in our future,” Buffy replied.

Willow turned to Jacob. “Buffy found this magical thingy when she was pa – uh, petting a dog?” she finished, noting the Slayer’s frantic expression. “It’s apparently some nasty black magic thingy that we have to get rid of before someone tries to use it to destroy the world or something.”

“Does that happen a lot?” asked Jacob.

“Oh, yeah, I pet dogs all the time. You could even call me a dog person!” Buffy offered in an overly cheerful voice.

“I meant the destroying the world thing.”

“Oh… um… well…” She looked to her friends for help, but they seemed as much at a loss for words as she was.

“Maybe more so here than other places,” Jacob said, in a purposeful tone of voice.

Buffy’s mouth fell open. “You mean you know…?”

“That weird stuff goes on in Sunnydale? Yeah, I kinda noticed.” He gave her a look. “Gangs on PCP don’t hit like that.”

Buffy dropped her eyes to the floor, a sheepish expression on her face.

“Listen, I should get going,” Jacob said, gesturing towards the door, “so I’ll leave you to your, uh, doohicky destroying. But Buffy…” He gave her a gentle smile that made her unexpectedly tingly all over. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You, too,” she replied, her voice tinged with confusion.

Once Willow had closed the door behind him, Buffy burst out, “Will! What was that about?”

Willow shrugged. “He asked about you. I think he still likes you.”

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out as a thousand thoughts ran through her head all at once.

“I might have mentioned we were going to the Bronze later tonight,” Willow added. “If you wanna, you know, carpe diem or something.” She winked again.

“You remember there was a reason this didn’t work out the first time, right?”

“Well, yeah, it was your whole ‘normal girl’ thing. But that’s what I’m saying – Jacob’s cool with magic. He’d be cool with the Slayer thing, too. Isn’t that what you wanted, Buffy? Someone who accepted the Slayer stuff?” Willow looked at her earnestly, as though hoping for confirmation that she still understood her best friend. After a pause, she added, “Unless… you’re still hung up on Spike…”

“No!” Buffy replied, a little too quickly. “No… no hanging. Spike and I, we’re just… friends.” She caught Tara’s sideways glance and shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d promised him any more than that. She knew what Spike was hoping for, but she’d been clear – she didn’t know when or if she’d ever be ready for that step.

*****

I hear the bells
Down in the canyon, it’s
Snow in New York
Some blue December, I’m
Gone to the moon…

“This is a great song,” Buffy said, taking a sip of her soda and reclining casually against a pillar. At least, she tried to look casual. She felt like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, stock-straight but tipped to one side. She was not nearly relaxed enough for casual leanage. This felt disturbingly like a first date, which was silly, because she’d already been on two dates with Jacob, and this wasn’t even a date. They just ran into each other in the Bronze.

Yeah, and Willow was just having eye spasms.

“You wanna dance?” Jacob asked her, holding out one hand to escort her onto the dance floor.

She shrank back with a fervent shake of her head. “Oh, no, no. That’s okay.”

“Right, okay.” He dropped his hand to his glass and fiddled with the straw, bending it and twisting it around itself. “So, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just gonna, you know, say it. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided I’m not ready to give up on you just yet.”

Buffy stopped drinking and looked at him. “Huh?”

“I know that may sound kind of creepy possessive, but if you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll find that it’s totally reasonable. Because here’s the thing: I don’t think you’re ready to give up on me, either.”

She glanced around, nervousness preventing her from making eye contact. “I – I don’t know.”

“I really like you, Buffy. And if you’re not interested, I understand… but I think you are. So, I’ve decided I’m not giving up yet.” He got very close to her and tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “And I – I feel like there’s something… else, in the way. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’d really like it to go away.”

Buffy hesitated. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

I hear the bells
They are like emeralds and
Glints in the night
Commas and ampersands
Your moony face
So inaccessible
Your inner mind
So inexpressible…

“Buffy, I love you. Know that’s not much of a shock, but I want – you need to understand – that is, when I – bloody hell.”

Spike whirled around and continued pacing back and forth on the catwalk above the Bronze’s dance floor. He started again. “Look, Slayer, with me movin’ in, I thought we sh– no, don’t call her that. Call her Buffy.”

He went to the railing where he’d slung his duster, leaning over, scanning the crowd for her. She was talking to some bloke – couldn’t tell who, couldn’t see his face – and it only strengthened his resolve to get out what he needed to say.

He took a deep breath and went back to rehearsing. “Buffy, I know you said you’re not ready yet, but I need you to know I’m not giving up. Remember what you said, ’bout taking control and making our own decisions again? Well, I’ve changed, pet. The thing with Dru… that was really the end of my old life. Nothin’ left to go back to. Nothin’ I’d want to go back to, anyway.”

He glanced down at his clothes, the physical symbol of his changes. Instead of the usual outfit, he wore faded jeans and a midnight blue long-sleeved tee just clingy enough to show off his well-sculpted arms and chest. He didn’t understand why one would buy jeans that already looked worn, but Dawn had assured him that was the style, and he trusted her. That was the whole point of bringing her along on their secret shopping excursion earlier in the week – because he clearly had no fashion sense of his own. The last time he’d tried to insert color into his wardrobe for Buffy’s sake, he’d looked like a right ponce. Even now, he felt sort of naked without his trademark black, but in a way, he liked the change. He’d been wearing the same thing for so long he was starting to feel like a Gilligan’s Island reject.

“Point is, pet, I wanna be more than just a roommate someday. Don’t wanna make things uncomfortable, but I’m in love with you, love you so much I can’t think, an’ I –”

“Um, are you talking to me?”

Spike looked over to see a short, dark-haired nerdy kid with a vague air of familiarity about him. For some disturbing reason he didn’t want to explore, a swimsuit calendar came to mind.

He growled low in his throat and Jonathan scampered away down the steps. Frustrated, Spike leaned back against the railing. She was still talking to Mr. Not-Long-For-This-World, if Spike had anything to say about it. Not that he could do anything to a human, but it didn’t make him any less jealous. He’d just have to win Buffy over the old-fashioned way. Grabbing his duster, he shoved off the railing and headed downstairs.

You snooze, you lose
Well I have snost and lost
I’m pushing through
I’ll disregard the cost

“So you… slay things. Vampires.” Jacob furrowed his brow, and Buffy could almost see the gears shifting, processing, perhaps developing this new information into some sort of explanation for the weird-but-normal-for-Sunnydale occurrences that everyone always seemed to forget or ignore.

“And demons. And other ghouly, monstery things.”

“And your friends help you.”

Buffy nodded. “I know it seems totally crazy and you probably think I should be committed –”

“No, I don’t.”

Buffy looked up and noticed that his eyes were fixed intently on her. “Really?”

He pulled her close. “Really.” He dipped his head, capturing her mouth with his. Her arms snaked around his neck as she melted into the kiss and the room disappeared, except for his touch. Hands, pressed lightly on her back, finding their way to the spots her halter top left bare, fingertips gliding over smooth skin. His lips, soft, anxious, eagerly tasting her. Arms encircling her, drawing her against a warm chest that rose and fell with little gasps as he drew in breaths between kisses.

Spike stopped short, taking it in like a sucker punch to the gut. He clenched his jaw until his muscles twitched, and took another step forward, his hand balling into a fist of its own volition. A government-sponsored twinge in his skull made him think better of it, and he loosened his fingers and backed away a few stumbling paces, bumping into a young woman who shot him a dirty look and a “Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, briefly taking in her appearance – beer sloshed all over her top, probably his fault – before brushing aside three more people who got in his way, with far more force than necessary. He headed straight for the door, breathing in a huge lungful of cool, useless air as soon as he broke free of the throng outside. His stomach churning and his entire body aching for some violence, he headed out into the night.

And I can
Hear the bells are
Ringing joyful and triumphant and I can
Hear the bells are
Ringing joyful and triumphant and...