Chapter 5: Deck the Halls

“Are you ready for this?” Buffy asked Jacob as they approached the cemetery gates.

“I want to see what you do.”

Buffy started into the graveyard, Jacob following behind after a moment’s hesitation. “Mostly I just walk around, look for open graves, signs of a newly risen vamp. Sometimes we hear about the victims ahead of time, in the newspaper or something. Willow’s kind of a whiz with the morgue records and the police reports on the computer.”

“Is that legal?”

“Not… technically.”

“Oh. Right. So, what’s on the agenda for tonight? Anybody to look out for?”

Buffy shook her head. “Just regular old keep-your-eyes-peeled patrol.” She shrugged. “I also have a kind of tingly spider sense thing, lets me know when vampires are nearby.”

“That’s handy.”

She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch. “Yeah, especially since they don’t breathe or have a pulse or anything else that might make noise and alert you that they’re…”

She trailed off, her head tilted to the side, one hand raised in a “stop” gesture. Then, she nodded in a direction and headed off that way, with Jacob on her heels. She tracked the vampire for a few yards before stopping abruptly and turning around. “You know what? Why don’t we check out Shady Hill instead?”

“Isn’t there a vampire over there?” Jacob pointed in the direction she’d been moving.

Buffy grabbed his arm and started hauling him back to the gates. “There are twelve cemeteries in Sunnydale. I’m sure we’ll find plenty to do tonight.”

He didn’t try to protest, but as he glanced back over his shoulder, he thought he saw a glimpse of platinum blond in the bushes behind them.

*****

Spike smirked. Taking the lad out for his initiation. Maybe he’d get lucky and some beastie would sneak past the Slayer and off the poor sod. Not that he was advocating any such thing – he’d considered paying a demon to do the honors, but he’d felt a twinge from the chip just counting out the money. Or maybe that was guilt he felt, he wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, killing the blighter was out, but if it just happened to occur on its own, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

He couldn’t help noticing how the Slayer was giving him a wide berth tonight, doubtless to avoid any conflict that might come up if he and Jacob got together. He’d felt a little thrill go up his spine when he first caught her scent on the night breeze. It had been a while since he’d patrolled with her, and he missed their time together. Nothing better than ripping heads off demons with the love of his unlife.

But it seemed that tonight was not to be his night. He sniffed out the intruding male just before he heard her usher him away. For a moment, he thought about following them, tracking them from just far enough away that he wouldn’t alert Buffy’s senses. Or maybe he’d let her know he was there but stay in the shadows, just out of sight. Wouldn’t that drive her mad, knowing he was right there, watching her and her boy, every move they made?

No, he decided, slumping a little. It’d probably just tick her off, and she’d ferret him out and yell at him for stalking her again. And that was the last thing he needed, her thinking he was just like he was last year. He’d changed, hadn’t he? No more being a creep. Taking a disgruntled punt at the nearest headstone, he loped off to patrol his own turf, muttering bitter things about Jacob under his breath.

*****

She was beautiful.

He’d always found her attractive – he’d thought she was pretty from the moment they met. He adored the way her smile lit up her entire face, admired the mixture of delicacy and strength that was evident in her movements, appreciated the way her clothes clung to her frame, accentuating the petite curves of her body. But he’d never realized quite how beautiful she really was until he watched her in the graveyard.

She moved with a feral grace, seeming to engage her opponent in a fearsome dance to which only she knew the steps. Her arms and legs arced in fluid motion, landing kicks and punches with refined dexterity. There was an elegance to her that was glorious to watch, despite the grittiness of a fight to the death. Jacob was mesmerized as her body absorbed blows with ease and delivered them back tenfold. She seemed boneless, and yet rock solid, besting the vampire with superior strength and skill that lent her an air of unmatchable self-confidence. Watching her from the sidelines, he was completely in her thrall.

Until the vampire burst into nothing and his mouth gaped open in shock.

“I know, it’s kinda weird the first time you see it,” she said, coming over to him, brushing dust off her clothes. “But you’ll get used to it. Trust me. My friends had that same face the first time they saw a vamp get dusted. Now it’s practically second nature to them.” She stopped and looked up at him, a shade of uncertainty in her expression, as if she feared it might be too much for him to handle. “So… what’d you think?”

He gazed back at her with loving eyes, one hand coming to rest cupping her cheek. “Incredible,” he said softly.

*****

“This is turning into a habit,” Susan remarked playfully, as Spike escorted her out of Willy’s for the third night in a row.

“Didn’t hear any complaints,” he growled low in her ear, sending a flood of heat through her. As soon as they’d ducked into the alley, she pulled him back against the wall and kissed him.

“No complaints,” she murmured, realizing as he ground into her that they weren’t even going to make it back to her place tonight. Spike’s hand slid up her skirt, and she reached down to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his fly. “God, whatever she’s doing to make you jealous, I hope she keeps it up.”

Spike froze, stilling his hands and pulling his mouth away from her neck.

“Oh, come on. You didn’t think I was stupid, did you?” Susan asked, wrapping her hand around his erection. “You’re only here because you think you’re getting back at Buffy.” She started to stroke him firmly. “Hey, that’s fine. I’m having a good time. Aren’t you?”

Finally, Spike began to move again, kissing and nibbling at her throat as he lifted her up against the wall and slid inside her. “Yeah,” he breathed, gripping her tightly and thrusting into her. “Yeah, I’m havin’ a good time.”

*****

Later that night, with Susan spooned against his chest as they lay together in her bed, Spike asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What?” Susan mumbled, half asleep.

“This being about Buffy. You really don’t mind?”

Susan rolled over so that she was facing him. “Do I mind?” She let out a low chuckle. “As long as you keep doing what you’re doing…” She paused to kiss his throat. “I’m not worried about the details.”

Spike fell silent, gently running his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm, a vaguely guilty expression on his face.

“Do you have a problem with it?” she asked him. “You’re not cheating on her.”

“Know that,” Spike replied, rolling onto his back so that she could climb on top of him, a tacit acceptance of the situation. “Just doesn’t seem fair to you.”

Sitting astride his hips, Susan bent down to kiss him again, her fingers running through his hair, which now showed at least a half-inch of dark roots beneath the platinum curls. “I told you, Spike, I’m not stupid. You’re hurting, and that means this isn’t going to last very long. I’ll take what I can get.”

He smirked like he was fully aware of his sexual prowess, but she could see the insecure “why am I worth it?” in his eyes, betraying just how much he measured himself by Buffy’s standards.

“You’re not the freak she makes you think you are,” Susan said, sitting back and sliding down onto his hardened cock. Spike closed his eyes, and a moan escaped his lips as she began to ride him, running her hands over his chest. “Girl doesn’t know what normal is.” She gasped as Spike clutched her hips and arched up into her. “And thank God for that.”

*****

Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Fa la la la la la la la la
'Tis the season to be jolly
Fa la la la la la la la la

“Turn that down, will you?”

Dawn lowered the volume on the stereo a fraction on her way out of the living room, while Buffy dug around in between the sofa cushions, shoving aside boxes of Christmas decorations, until she unearthed her ringing cell phone.

“Hi, Buffy, what’s up?”

“Will?” Buffy held the phone out and looked at it, then put it back to her ear. “You don’t sound too good.”

“I have a sinus cold.” She paused and Buffy heard a faint sneeze in the background. “I am uber-sexy right now.”

“Really? I'm rarely sexy with a sinus cold.”

“Oh, yeah. But only over the phone.”

Buffy giggled. It was true; Willow’s voice was in a husky lower register than normal.

“I have that phone sex voice thing going. In person I'm a little less hot.”

Buffy was about to respond when she was distracted by the sight of Spike, holding their undecorated Christmas tree in one hand, kicking it repeatedly. “What did it do, insult your mother?” she asked him.

“It wouldn’t stand up straight,” Dawn explained as she came back up from the basement with another box of Christmas stuff.

“Huh?” said Willow, trying to figure out what was going on at the other end of the phone.

“Sorry,” Buffy said. “Nothing. Spike.” She gave the vampire and her sister a last dubious look as she backed away into the kitchen. “So, are you studying for exams?”

“Yeah. I’m at the Espresso Pump. There is the most obnoxiously loud family here and –” Willow cut herself off as she heard Spike bellowing in the background, “Bloody hell! One light goes out, they all go out!”

“What was that?”

Buffy leaned on the breakfast bar, massaging her forehead with one hand. “Spike. He and Dawn are trimming the Christmas tree.”

“Oh, that’s fun.”

“Yeah, and with Xander on the roof doing the outside lights, it’s like Attack of the Demented Elves around here.” She rolled her eyes. “So, anyway, finish your story, Will.”

“There’s this annoying family in here, and the kids are crying, and I can’t get any work done. And they’re from out of town! Tourists shouldn’t be allowed in the Espresso Pump.”

Buffy picked up a napkin and started absentmindedly tearing it into strips. “Tourists really shouldn’t be allowed anywhere in Sunnydale. Don’t they know this is a Hellmouth? I mean, are they trying to get killed?”

“The Espresso Pump is for locals,” Willow said, continuing her rant. “For those of us who live here and would like our daily jolt of caffeine in peace. They should put up a sign: Tourists Not Welcome. And under it, one that says, UC Sunnydale students only.”

“Will?”

She heard Willow sigh on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I need to cut back on the caffeine.”

Suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness. Even though it was Sunday afternoon, the curtains were drawn for Spike’s sake, and the loss of electricity was very noticeable. Before Buffy had a chance to question anyone, Xander came through the house and headed towards the basement.

“Get a flashlight, Buff. I blew a fuse.”

Buffy glanced from the basement door where Xander had disappeared to the kitchen entrance where Spike and Dawn were peering at her, their own decorating disrupted by the lack of power. “Uh, Will, I gotta go. Good luck with everything!”

“Yeah, you, too…” Willow said, starting to feel better about the Espresso Pump as a peaceful work environment.

Once Xander had managed to get the power back on, Dawn came to fetch her sister. “Buffy, we’re ready for ornaments.”

Buffy followed her out to the living room, where “Joy to the World” emanated from the stereo and a completely unnecessary but festive blaze danced in the fireplace. She smiled, remembering how her mother always liked to light a fire during the Christmas season, defying the southern California weather in the name of holiday spirit. Taking a deep breath of wood smoke and pine needles, she admired the tree – which was upright, if a little worse for wear. “How’d you get it to stand up?”

“Bolted it to the wall,” Spike said, bursting with pride.

Buffy bent over the sofa, sifting through the boxes of ornaments. Trimming the Christmas tree was a tradition in the Summers household, made bittersweet by the vivid absence of their mother. She pulled out a red construction paper cutout of a child’s hand and turned to Dawn. “What is this?” she asked, holding it up. “Were you deformed as a child, or just artistically challenged?”

In response, Dawn rooted through the boxes until she found one of Buffy’s ornaments – a miniature kite made out of popsicle sticks and yarn. The sticks were crooked and the yarn was fraying and partly unraveled. “Whereas this is the work of a master craftsman.”

Buffy picked up a crumpled paper snowflake. “Is this you or me? Either way, I think it’s ready for retirement.”

“Oh, this has got to be you,” said Dawn, backing away from the box, trailing a popcorn string from one hand. “No wonder we have ants.”

“Look who’s talking, little miss shellac-the-Christmas-cookies.”

“Martha Stewart did it. They make good ornaments.”

“Martha Stewart knows how to shellac things properly, so they don’t go stale and crumble into a Christmasy mess.”

“What the bloody hell are you two on about?”

Both of them whirled to face Spike. “This is what we do,” Buffy explained.

“We ridicule each other’s ornaments,” Dawn added. “Usually until Mom gets tired of us and tells us to shut up or stop helping. It’s tradition.”

Spike nodded slowly, then headed over to Dawn’s box. He peered in, and after a moment’s study, stuck his hand in and drew a small mouse out by its tail. “And which of you darling girls is responsible for this one?”

Buffy’s face softened with nostalgia. “Oh, Dawn, remember – Mom’s little church mice, with the bows and the… no…” she said, getting a closer look. “That’s a dead mouse. Eww!”

Dawn shrieked, and Spike waved the mouse in her face, making her dash to the other side of the room.

“Spike, get it out of here!” Buffy commanded, also shying away from the mouse.

“Some Chosen One you are,” Spike muttered. “It’s just a little –”

“Out!”

Once he had disposed of the dead animal, the three of them settled into a rhythm, exchanging banter and memories with each ornament they hung on the tree. Even when they reached the ones that evoked memories of Joyce – little artsy trinkets she’d picked up through the gallery, mementos of favorite vacation spots, and the little plastic church mice who, unlike their deceased counterpart, wore red bows around their necks and carried hymnals – the joy of the task seemed to buoy them up, keeping them from wallowing in the grief of the dreaded “first Christmas without.”

Spike crouched by the stereo and fiddled around until he found a mellow version of “The First Noel.” His presence, too, seemed to mitigate the absence, filling the empty space in a way that was not Joyce, but which managed to ward off the feelings of loneliness well enough, distracting them with his antics and demanding entertainment in the form of stories of past Christmases.

Once every square inch of tree had been covered in relics of Buffy and Dawn’s childhood, the three of them stood back to admire their handiwork.

“Light it up!” said Dawn.

“Okay, are we ready?” Buffy asked, bending down by the electrical outlet. She plugged in the extension cord.

“Bloody – ! Now why the hell are they blinking?”

*****

“Looks like you guys got all Christmased up,” Jacob remarked later that night, taking in the newly decorated house.

“Yeah. We’ve been at it all day,” said Buffy, greeting him with a kiss that started off innocent, but quickly deepened into a full-on tongue wrestle, with Buffy pressed up against her front door. “Mmmm, could have used more of that today,” she murmured. “It was crazy around here.”

“Looked like someone went a little crazy with the lights on the roof.”

Buffy smirked. “Xander insisted on competing with the house across the street.” She pressed a line of kisses along his jaw. “Seriously, it was like the Griswolds, with Xander on the roof and Spike kicking the crap out of the tree, and then the electricity –”

Jacob stiffened. “Spike helped out?”

“Yeah.” She wriggled against him playfully. “I mean, what’s the point of having super strength if we can’t get him to haul a Christmas tree?” She kissed him again before pulling him into the living room. “We all went last night, and he helped me cut down Xander’s and Willow’s trees, too.” She picked up an axe off the floor and frowned. “And I think he used my favorite battle-axe. Now it’s gonna be all wood-chippy.”

“Oh… well, good use of resources, I guess.”

Buffy dropped the axe, and her arms snaked around his waist. “You okay?”

He gazed at the glittering tree. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could – since I’m not going to be home for the whole Christmas season thing, I thought maybe you’d let me be a part of… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Everything looks great.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Buffy adopted her sad-puppy face. “I didn’t know you wanted to… I should have thought to include you.”

“It’s all right.” He bent down and let his lips brush against hers. “There’ll be other things.”

“You could patrol with me tonight,” she offered.

Jacob chewed on his lip. “I’d like to, but I really ought to study for finals.”

Buffy pouted, and so he felt obligated to kiss her pout away. “You don’t mind doing it by yourself, do you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sure Spike’ll go with me,” she assured him.

“And suddenly I’m incredibly free.”

Buffy giggled. “It’s cute how your jealousy outweighs your pursuit of academic excellence.”

He bent his head close to hers. “Eh, I was never that great a student anyway,” he murmured just before his mouth enveloped hers.

“Seriously,” Buffy said, breaking the kiss. “I don’t wanna be responsible for you flunking out. I’ll be fine on my own.”

*****

“Dammit,” Buffy muttered to herself, scanning the patrons at Willy’s but not finding the vampire she was looking for. “Where’s Spike when I need him?”

She’d gotten a tip on a nest of Ghora demons down in the sewers, but she knew she couldn’t take out three full-grown Ghoras by herself, so she was hoping to find Spike. She hadn’t crossed paths with him at all on patrol, and he wasn’t in his crypt when she’d stopped by. Willy’s had been her last hope, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Buffy!” a cheerful voice greeted her. She spun around to find Clem waving from his table in the corner. With a friendly smile, she went over to join him.

“Hey, Clem. What’s up?”

“Oh, you just looked out of sorts, hovering by the door. You looking for Spike again?”

“Yeah. Have you seen him?”

Clem shook his head. “Not tonight. He’s probably off with that lady friend of his.”

Buffy’s mouth gaped open. “What?”

“That reporter lady,” Clem explained helpfully. “She’s been in here a few times. Tall, dark hair, real pretty. Spike left with her nearly every night last week.”

Buffy felt her stomach drop like a stone at his words. Somehow, the idea of Spike dating someone else had never occurred to her. And Susan, of all people. She was insanely glad she’d quit her job at the newspaper once the Council paychecks started coming in. She would never be able to face Susan, knowing the other woman was sleeping with Spike.

She shoved her chair roughly away from the table and stumbled to her feet, ignoring Clem as she bolted for the door.

“What’s the matter, Buffy? Did I say something wrong?”

Buffy was already out on the street, gasping for air and fighting down nausea, when it hit her.

Why should it matter who Spike was with? She’d been given a chance with him – several chances – and she’d turned him down. She was perfectly happy with Jacob.

So why did it feel like she’d just been punched in the chest?

The world was suddenly spinning too fast. She couldn’t be jealous. She couldn’t be. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind, of Spike and Susan writhing against each other, tangled up in the bed sheets, Susan moaning in ecstasy – because, let’s face it, Spike would be fantastic in bed – and Spike looking at her with that awed devotion, the look Buffy used to see sometimes when he looked at her.

She dropped to her knees in the alley and vomited up her dinner, coughing and choking as her chest heaved with keening, shuddering moans.