Chapter Three

As the days went on, each one bringing her a little closer to Christmas and her decision not to join Dawn and everyone else at her ex-watcher’s home, she found herself taking less and less joy in the steadily increasing collection of presents. Every item so far had been on her list in one form or another, but even as she opened every new box and marveled at how perfect the gift was, her happiness diminished.

In spite of the flowers and the apology Spike had sent her, she hadn’t heard from him again, and she assumed he’d left London to go back to wherever he’d been.

Who knows if he was even here? He could have been calling from anywhere – and you can order flowers by phone or online. He’s probably not even in this country, let alone this city.

Pride prevented her from asking Andrew if he had heard from Spike again, or if he knew where the vampire might be. She had even ceased watching the faces of her fellow employees, finding herself unable to imagine any of them knowing her well enough to have picked out such perfect gifts. She didn’t think that even Willow knew her well enough to have selected some of the presents she’d received.

I can only think of one person who ever knew me that well, and he--- She froze, then flew down the hall to Andrew’s office, bursting in and sending him diving under his desk again.

“Come out of there, you moron!” she growled. “I have some questions for you.”

His head appeared around the corner of a drawer, and he asked apprehensively, “Questions?”

“Yes, questions. Like, where’s Spike? Was he here? Is he still here? Do you still have his phone number? How would he get hold of my Secret Santa list? Where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know where Spike is – I told you, he doesn’t tell me where he is when he calls.” When Buffy’s eyes narrowed and she stepped towards him, he hastily qualified his statement. “He…he might be still here…in England…but I don’t know that for sure,” he finished apprehensively when Buffy looked like she was about to shake Spike’s location out of him. “I do have his mobile number,” he added. “I could give it to you.”

“Give it. Now.”

He quickly scribbled down the number for her, handing her the paper with an eager smile.

“Does this mean that you’ve forgiven him for not telling you he was alive?”

“It means I have something to say to him,” she growled, snatching the paper out of his hand and whirling around. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t tell him I asked for the number!”

Andrew mimed zipping his lips behind her back. “Mum’s the word, Slayer. You have my…word.”

“I’ll have your ass, if you don’t keep it,” she muttered as she left the office, the scrap of paper clenched in her hand. She walked down the hall to her own office and threw herself into her chair, staring at the telephone.

As soon as the door slammed behind her, Andrew fell onto the phone, punching numbers frantically. As he waited for Spike to pick up, he kept anxious eyes on the door to be sure Buffy wasn’t going to come back and surprise him.

“Yeah?” Spike’s voice brought his attention back to the phone.

“I think she knows,” he whispered. “She asked for your phone number.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing!” Andrew sounded as wounded as possible, causing Spike to sigh loudly. “I gave her the number and told her I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t mention the Secret Santa list and she didn’t ask again, but I think she’s figured it out.”

“Does she look brassed off?”

“I…I don’t think so. It’s kinda hard to tell with Buffy sometimes, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” Spike sighed again. “Alright. Nothing for it now but to wait and see what she does.”

“Are you getting her another gift today?”

“The last thing on her list was ‘snow’. Not bloody much I can do about that, is there? Although, I guess I could try to track down…” There was some quiet mumbling from the vampire, then, “It’s Christmas Eve – I should have somethin’ really special for her, but I’m out of list ideas.”

“When in doubt, buy expensive jewelry,” Andrew said with the confidence of someone who had never had a girl friend.

“Yeah. The old stand-by, I guess. Alright. I better get off the line in case the Slayer’s trying to get me. Happy Christmas, Andrew.”

“You too, Spike. I hope it’s a happy one for both of you.”

~~~~~~~~

Buffy spent the rest of the afternoon staring back and forth between the paper containing Spike’s phone number and the phone on her desk. By the time the office closed early so that everyone could go home, she still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do. She put the paper into her pocket and walked out of the building into an afternoon that was much colder than normal. Heavy, gray clouds covered the sky and she wondered briefly what snow clouds looked like in England.

California girl, here, she chided herself. It’s not like I’d know a snow cloud if I saw it, anyway.

She made it all the way home without seeing anything more exciting than the normal late afternoon drizzle. It was a colder drizzle than usual, and she was glad that she had worn her new down coat. With it zipped up to her neck and the hood keeping the drizzle off her hair, she could almost pretend that she was walking through falling snow rather than a cold mist.

She fixed herself a light meal and sat down to eat it, wondering if she’d made a mistake by insisting on spending the holiday by herself. Sipping on the glass of wine she’d poured for herself, she stared absently at the empty chair across from her and tried to picture someone sitting in it. When she couldn’t picture anyone who wasn’t blond with blue eyes that looked at her with utter devotion, she gulped the rest of the wine and resolutely turned her attention back to her food.

After she had finished eating and had carried her plate to the kitchen, she wandered by the window and found to her delighted surprise that fat, wet snowflakes were floating by. She watched, mesmerized as they wafted past, landing on the ledge outside and doing their best to accumulate on the damp surface. She was just turning away, planning to get her new coat and go out for a walk in the snow, when movement in the street below caught her eye. She followed the track of the motion until she found Santa Claus standing across the street and staring at her window. As she watched, he blew her a kiss, then whirled and disappeared down the street, the cotton ball on the top of his hat, bouncing as though waving ‘good-bye’.

With an exasperated gasp, she scribbled something on a piece of paper, grabbed her coat, and flew down the stairs, ignoring the elevator in favor of slayer speed. She dashed out into the street, looking back and forth frantically, but seeing nothing but a few people hurrying home to spend Christmas Eve with their families. She sighed and began to jog down the street in the direction the Santa hat had been going. When she didn’t catch up with him after a few blocks, she slowed down and began to stroll through the rapidly accumulating snow, indulging in the sensation of having a fantasy come true and sticking her tongue out occasionally to catch a melting snowflake.

The flakes came faster and harder, quickly turning the ordinary looking city street into something completely different from the neighborhood she was used to. With the diminishing traffic and snow covered cars, it was easy to picture the old buildings as they must have looked in Dickens’ day. She walked for blocks, enjoying both the silence and the transformed neighborhood. The unfamiliar scenery was so beautiful with it’s dusting of white and the wavy illumination from the Christmas lights barely visible through the falling snow, that she almost forgot her original purpose in coming out.

Until she entered a small park, newly fresh and clean under its coating of icy decoration, and felt the vampire tingles on her neck. She turned slowly to find Santa gazing at her from the park entrance. When he didn’t move to approach, Buffy began walking towards him. Her heart was pounding – whether from nerves or excitement, she couldn’t have said. She stopped a few feet away and stared into the familiar blue eyes gazing back at her from under the white trim on his hat. Where she would have thought to see chubby red cheeks above the white beard, defined cheekbones gave the final lie to the disguise.

Still, he didn’t speak or make a move towards her, so Buffy decided to play the game.

“Santa Claus?”

The figure nodded and cocked his head expectantly. Buffy held out the paper she’d scribbled on before coming outside.

“I’ve added something to my list,” she whispered. “Something important.”

Silently, he took the paper from her, their woolen gloves just brushing each other as he did so. He glanced at the paper, then back to her face.

“So, little girl,” he rumbled. “Is this a ‘would like’, a ‘want,’ or a ‘need’?”

“All of the above?”

She gazed up at him, blinking at the wet flakes falling onto her eyelashes. He thought she resembled a Christmas card angel – her face surrounded by the snow-covered fur, her cheeks pink and her eyes glistening.

Santa waved his hand at their surroundings. “Already got you the last item on the list, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.”

They stared at each other for another few minutes, then he surprised her by offering a red, fur-trimmed arm.

“Would you join me in a walk around the closest thing to a winter wonderland that this part of England has to offer?”

She nodded silently and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, smiling slightly when he pressed his arm against the padded side of the suit. Without another word, they began to stroll through the park, pausing every now and again to admire the way the snow had settled on the bare tree branches, or to watch a confused pigeon pecking at the cold, wet white stuff on the ground. When they had walked entirely around the small park, he paused by a snow-covered bench.

“Sit for a bit, love?” he asked quietly.

Buffy nodded again, grateful for her warm coat that protected her butt from the cold bench. Even though Santa had cleared the bench with his gloved hand, it was still damp and chilly. She sat down primly, being sure to keep the coat underneath her legs, and waited for him. Instead of sitting, he began to pace in front of her, clearly trying to work his way up to saying something. It reminded her of the night so many years ago when he had tried to think of a way to tell her that she was “The One”.

Finally, when he just continued to pace back and forth, turning the wet snow into dirty slush beneath his boots, she said, “Spike…”

“Santa!” he almost growled. “I’m just Santa.”

“Santa,” she repeated obediently. “Come and sit with me. Please?” she added when he hesitated.

With a sigh he sat down beside her, close enough for the well-padded suit to be touching her coat, but not so close that he could be said to be invading her space. He stared at his clenched hands while Buffy stared at him, searching under the beard and hair for the vampire she hadn’t seen in so long. Finally, with a soft sigh, she asked, “So, how did you make snow?”

“Weather fairy owed me a favor,” he mumbled.

“I love it,” she whispered, taking his gloved hand in hers and pulling it into her lap. “And I love my coat, and my sweater and my perfume and the dinner you didn’t stay to watch me finish…”

“Really? Did you really like them?” His lips twitched in just the hint of a smile as he struggled to keep the hope from his voice.

“I really, really did – do. They were wonderful.” She played with his limp fingers for a minute, bending them back and forth and twining them together. “Do you want to know how I figured out it was you?”

He peered at her from under bushy white eyebrows.

“How?”

“Because I couldn’t think of anyone else who knows me well enough to get me all those perfect gifts. And as soon as I realized that, I knew it had to be you. I was gonna call you, but…”

“But?”

“But I didn’t know if you wanted me to know, and I didn’t want you to go away again if you didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t have done that to you, love. Not now that I know…”

She waited, then when he didn’t finish the sentence, she said quietly, “Now that you know what? That I missed you? That I cried over you – twice? That I wasn’t lying?”

He shook his head. “Never doubted that you’d miss me. You’d told me as much already, hadn’t you? But you thought I was gone. Had done your mourning and moved on…I didn’t want to complicate your life.” He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Not sayin’ that I wouldn’t have been there in a heartbeat for a seriously loud conversation if you’d still been seein’ that Immortal pillock; but, you weren’t. Had yourself some Watcher fella, and then some rich bloke, and then….”

“And the fact that I didn’t stay with any of those men very long didn’t give you a clue?”

“Damage was done by then, wasn’t it?” he asked with shrewd perception, smiling sadly when she gave a reluctant nod. “You were too brassed off at me to want me back, so stayin’ away seemed like the best thing to do. Figured sooner or later you’d find somebody – or the great poof would get his soul anchored and come riding in on his white horse…”

“He did,” she said softly. “A couple of years ago.”

“That right?” He kept his voice carefully neutral. “And...?”

“And, I did the same thing I did when he came to Sunnydale to give me that amulet.” When Spike just waited patiently for her to continue, she added, “I lied.”

“You lied? About what?”

“About being cookies. I told him I still wasn’t done. But I was – am. Have been all along, I …I just couldn’t tell him, you know?”

“You can explain cookies to me later – what was it you couldn’t tell him?” His voice trembled in spite of his best attempts to keep it flat and uninterested, and the fingers she’d been playing with were suddenly rigid in her hands.

“That I loved you too much to give up the chance that… That I wasn’t ready to settle for somebody else. Not yet.”

“You told Angel that bein’ with him would be settling?”

“No, dummy. That’s what I just said. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was waiting for his stupid grandchilde to come to his senses, so I lied and told him that I still didn’t know what I wanted.”

“But it was a lie?” He raised his other hand and turned her face towards his.

“Big lie,” she whispered, leaning towards the mouth dipping down to hers.

The kiss lasted only as long as it took Buffy to dissolve into giggles over the way the nylon “hair” of the beard and mustache kept getting into her mouth. With a rueful laugh, Spike pulled away and brushed a snowflake off her nose.

“Sorry, love. Santa doesn’t do a lot of snoggin’.”

“Let’s go.”

He raised an eyebrow in silent query when she pulled him to his feet.

“My place. I have another prezzie to unwrap.”