One day…..

Darla watched as the boy prowled round the room. She could see he was itching to pull back the heavy curtains to see if the final light of day had gone.

“He tires me. Why can’t he just sit and wait like the rest of us?”

Angel looked up from nuzzling Dru’s neck. “No patience. No finesse. Boring. I still don’t understand why you wanted him, my sweet.”

Dru wriggled closer on his lap. “You won’t play all the time, Daddy. Spike’s all mine. We play games, lots of games. Such pretty, nasty games.”

Angel stood up abruptly, barely glancing down to where Dru had fallen on the bare wooden floor. “Come away from the damned window! I’ll not tell you again.”

Spike spun round, his eyes feverish with excitement. “It’s dark now. Why can’t we go?” He raised a hand to the edge of the curtain then growled and vamped out as Angel’s hand clamped down on his, twisting the wrist.

“I said no!”

“Boys, boys!” Darla drawled from where she was laying on the sofa. She didn’t mind them fighting; in fact she enjoyed watching, especially when the blood ran free, but tonight was too important for them to get distracted.

“You can’t beat him, Spike. He’s too big and too fast. So stop being so – irritating.”

Spike’s face returned to normal. The sweetness of his smile as he bent his head in obedience belied the thoughts churning through his mind. One day he’d be stronger, one day he’d be faster, one day he’d want it more than Angel, then they’d all see.

But for now… He returned to the window and this time Angel didn’t stop him pushing the heavy velvet drapes aside. It was snowing! Great fat flakes settling on the street outside. The street lamps were on and across the green the vast doors of the Cathedral stood open, light and sound flooding out in a great golden rush.

The organ was playing; Spike could hear the Christmas music even this far away. Happy laughing people were walking towards the light. So many of them! Lovely, juicy people, full of hot red blood. He could almost taste them on his lips, in his mouth.

Christmas Eve! It had always been his favourite day. Church, decorating the tree, presents from loved ones. He loved presents. Surreptitiously he felt in his pocket for the tiny parcel he’d wrapped that morning – a jet necklace he’d taken off a late night snack. Black jet for his black princess. Upstairs, hidden under the bed, were a bottle of brandy for Liam and a lace handkerchief for Darla. Excitement fizzed through him as he wondered what he would receive in return.

He spun round, anxious to be out and killing, then froze. The three of them were standing, arms linked, heads together, not speaking, just – being. Close, complete, shutting him out.

And with a flash of reality as cold as the snow outside, William the Bloody realised there would be no gifts for him this Christmas – or ever again.