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Ready to Unwrap by slaymesoftly
 
Two
 
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Chapter Two

Buffy walked into the building, making a beeline for Andrew’s office and brushing off his secretary when the poor girl tried to prevent the world’s oldest slayer from barging in. The young watcher glanced up when the door banged open, then dove under his desk when he saw who it was. He sat there, trembling and praying that she hadn’t seen him, until the heavy walnut piece of furniture was lifted up and tossed to the side.

With a whimper, he cowered on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips trembling. Using only one hand, Buffy yanked him to his feet, holding him by the collar as she glared at him.

“How long have you known where he is?”

He had the good sense not to pretend that he didn’t know who she meant.

“I don’t – didn’t actually know where he was,” he stuttered. “He just calls me when he wants to know something, or when he has information for us. That’s all. I swear, Buffy!”

“And you didn’t tell me this because…?”

Andrew did his best to stand up straight and appear dignified, even while cringing away from her furious face.

“He’s my friend. My noble vampire warrior friend and my loyalty to him prevented me from violating my promise.”

“What promise?”

“That…that…I…you…that I not mention him to you.”

She allowed him to drop, absently stepping aside to avoid his stumble as he was released. Her glare faded into a resigned sadness that softened her eyes until he no longer feared for his life.

“I guess he really didn’t want me to know,” she whispered.

Feeling much braver as Buffy turned to walk out the door, Andrew managed to say, “He always asks about you. It’s his first question, every time he calls. He asks how you are and if you need anything.”

“What I needed was…never mind.”

“I tried to tell him that you missed him,” Andrew ventured. She stopped, hand on the doorknob, back rigid. “But I don’t think he believed me.”

“Asshole,” she muttered, opening the door and walking out without making it clear to whom she was referring. Behind her, the phone, now under a chair where it had rolled when the desk was toppled, began to ring. She pulled the door shut on the sight of Andrew crawling across the floor to reach the phone before it could stop.

“Hello?” His shaky voice left no doubt in the caller’s mind that Buffy had been there.

“Did she tear you a new one?”

“She’s very…scary,” Andrew responded with as much dignity as he could muster. “And very, very angry…and sad, I think.”

“Yeah, yeah. Got that. I really bollixed things up this time.”

“Did you send her the flowers like I told you?”

“Sent them, and watched her throw good money into the gutter. What else have you got?”

“I guess candy is next. She really likes chocolate. Maybe an expensive box of candy?”

“Maybe I should jus’ let her bloody m’nose a few times and it’ll be alright,” Spike muttered. “Always worked before.”

“This isn’t before,” Andrew said, putting on his most knowing “watcher” voice. “You’ve never rejected her like—”

“I didn’t bloody reject her!”

“That’s not how she sees it,” Andrew responded, sounding more mature and genuinely wise than usual. “I don’t know what happened between you two in that cave, but whatever it was, she expected you to come running as soon as you came back. And when you didn’t even call…”

“I had my reasons,” the vampire muttered, not sure he really wanted to be having this conversation with the hero-worshipping young man.

“Yeah, I know. You told me – back when you asked me not to let her know that you were alive. But you said you were going to tell her…in your own time. If I’d thought you were going to be too chicken to…”

“Who are you callin’ ‘chicken’?” Spike’s voice was a guttural snarl and Andrew quickly reverted to cowering human admirer.

“Okay, maybe that was a poor choice of words. But, you should have told her, Spike. She had a right to know. Now she’s all mad at me again – like it’s my fault she didn’t know where you were.”

“Well,” Spike sounded a bit more cheerful, “with a little luck, she won’t kill you before I can grovel enough to calm her down.”

“Ha, ha,” Andrew replied weakly.

“So, chocolates, huh?”

“It’s on her Christmas wish list,” Andrew replied. “I’m her Secret Santa, so I got the list.”

“I want it.” There was no room for argument in the vampire’s voice. “And you’ve just been fired. She has a new Secret Santa.”

“Right. Got it.”

“I’ll pick the list up tonight. And be sure you’re alone when I get there. I don’t want any more surprises!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the large box of Godiva chocolates was delivered, Buffy didn’t even blink, sure that she knew who they were from. Steeling herself, she dropped them into the trash bin with a small whimper, then bent to pick up the card that had fallen onto the floor. Unable to resist, she opened the card and found to her surprise that it said simply, “Happy week-before-Christmas-week,” and was signed “Your Secret Santa”.

With a sigh of relief, she quickly pulled the unopened box out of the bin and ripped through the red and gold wrapping paper. If there was a glimmer of disappointment that the gift had turned out not to be from Spike, she ruthlessly pushed it away and began to sample her first gift of the season.

She answered the phone with her mouth so full of chocolaty goodness that she was difficult to understand.

“Mullo?”

“Buffy?” Andrew’s voice was unsure. “Is that you? Are you all right?”

“Mmph. ‘M fine, ‘ndrew.” There were chewing and swallowing sounds, followed by a throat clearing “ahem”. “I had my mouth full,” she explained more clearly.

“Oh?” He tried his best not to sound more interested than he should be.

“Yep. Whoever my Secret Santa is, he sure knows what I like. I got a big box of Godiva chocolates this morning. And they’re delicious,” she concluded, somewhat unnecessarily as the sound of crinkling paper carried over the phone line.

“Well, that’s great! Good for you and your Secret Santa.” His voice trembled with the effort to contain his excitement. “I’ve gotta go now. See ya, Buffy.”

“Andrew? What did you want…? Damn, he hung up already. What a doofus.” Buffy went happily back to sampling her gift, shrugging off Andrew’s obvious inability to follow through on an errand.

He’ll remember it in a little while and have to call me back and be all, ‘Ha, ha, Buffy. Guess what I forgot?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she got to the Council offices, Buffy peered with happy suspicion at everyone who greeted her, wondering which one might be her Secret Santa. She’d filled out her list of likes, needs, and wants, just as had everyone who was participating, and dropped it into the big bag along with everyone else’s. Most people were planning to use the lists they’d received to buy one perfect gift for the person whose name they’d drawn – a gift that was to be delivered on Christmas Eve.

I guess I hit the jackpot. My Secret Santa started early. I wonder if that means I’m going to get lots of prezzies?

That question was soon answered, as every day that week brought something new to her doorstep. One day it was a bottle of her favorite perfume, carefully wrapped in the same red and gold wrapping paper; the next day it was a new set of hand-carved wooden stakes. The day after that, a lovely soft cashmere sweater in a shade of moss green that brought out her own eyes.

My Santa not only has money, he has wonderful taste,she purred to herself as she held the sweater up to her face and rubbed it against her cheek. When the next gift turned out to be reservations for two at a restaurant that she’d been wanting to try, she put on the green sweater and asked Willow to accompany her to dinner. The two friends had a lovely evening, the entire dinner - including wine and ice cream for dessert - all paid for ahead of time.

“Come on, Willow,” Buffy wheedled. “Do you know who it is? I just want to say ‘Thank you’.”

“I don’t know, Buffy. I really don’t know who it is. I’ve figured out a couple of the Santas – because you know how some people are, they just can’t keep a secret, even a Santa secret – but nobody has said they have you. Your list is gone. I can tell you that; so somebody has it, but whoever it is, is being pretty cagey.”

“You’d think whoever it is would want to see me enjoying the prezzies,” Buffy said with a pout. “I even wore this sweater…just in case…”

“It’s really beautiful,” Willow smiled her approval. “Whoever he – or she – is has taste.”

“I know…it’s like…not only is he getting me stuff that’s on my list, but he’s getting exactly the kind of chocolate or the perfect color sweater, or …” Her voice trailed off as she focused on a scene across the room.

While they ate and talked, Buffy’s eyes had been darting around the restaurant, hoping that her Secret Santa might have wanted to see her enjoying her gift, but she had seen no one she recognized. Just as she was licking her lips to get the last trace of hot fudge sauce off her mouth, she caught a glimpse of a man wearing a Santa Claus suit standing near the exit. He was staring in her direction, and, as her eyes swept across and noticed him, he raised one hand in a jaunty wave, then turned and hurried out of the restaurant before she could get to her feet to follow him.

“That’s him, Willow! That was my secret Santa. I know it. Damn! I wish I’d seen him sooner.”

“Are you sure it’s a him? Anybody can hide inside a Santa suit.” Willow frowned at Buffy’s agitation. “Are you all right, Buffy? Don’t you like all your presents? You’re the envy of the whole Council, you know. Your Santa is making everybody else’s look bad, and we’re all starting to get little gifts every day or so – just to keep up.”

“I know it’s a ‘him’. I can’t tell you why. I just do…Gah! This is so frustrating!”

“Yeah, mysterious stranger showers you with wonderful prezzies. I can see where that could be infuriating.” Willow’s couldn’t smother her grin and Buffy reluctantly joined her oldest friend in laughing at her own behavior.

“Pretty ungrateful, huh?” she sighed. “I do love the gifts, all of them. I just wish I knew who he was, that’s all. In my experience, mysteries and Buffy are not of the good.”

“Well, it’ll be Christmas in another few days and you’ll find out then. Probably…”

“PROBABLY?”

“Well, yeah. There’s nothing in the rules that says a Secret Santa has to identify him or herself; just that they have to get a nice present for their person.”

“Wonderful. With my luck, I’ll never find out who it was. I find a man who knows just what to do to make me happy, and he never tells me who he is.”

~~~~~~~~~

The next gift to appear was a beautiful white, down-filled coat with a hood trimmed in faux fur. Buffy looked at it and shook her head.

It’s pretty, but what do I need something like this for in London where all it does is rain? I did say I liked white coats, though…I guess it was on the list.

She tried the perfectly fitting coat on and studied her image in front of the mirror, admiring the way the white fur framed her face and brought out the color in her cheeks. She pulled the hood around her face and tried to imagine herself walking through the falling snow, mysterious stranger by her side.


 
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