Los Angelos, CA
Wednesday December 19th, 2001
8:43 PM
In a brightly lit LA bar five seemingly normal patrons sat among a crowd that was anything but. A brown haired mousy looking woman in her mid-twenties sat at the "head" of the round table, a thin man with brown hair who exuded "Englishness" sat to her right, while a young woman stylishly short chestnut locks sat to her left, next to her was another woman, this one with light brown hair cut even shorter with random bits spiked with colored gel and an urban-slick African American man in his early twenties was in-between her and the Englishman, almost as a peace-keeper. They all winced as a brown and purple tentacled demon crooned out 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" off key. "And there's still a week to go. I don't even want to be within a block of this place two days from now." Gunn shook his head.
Iza shrugged philosophically. "I've heard worse."
"You worked here Israel." Cordelia said wryly and finished off her martini.
"I'm pretty sure we've all sang worse up there." Wesley smiled, knowing that in his case it was true. "We are the champions? I still can't believe we were that drunk."
"Speak for yourself." Iza took a sip of Guinness. "If I want an oracular device I'll just lay out a Tarot spread or something and save myself the humiliation." The twenty-something magus snorted. "I don't see why people are always so eager to see their future anyway."
"Hey!"
"You're a seer 'Delia, that's different. Maybe I'm just being jaded anyway. I had as much of a rep as a gutter mage as I did as a hi-- anything else and I ended up refusing to do readings for a while because I got tired of the reactions when I did real ones. All most of them want is slick, pretty, happy lies." She touched a small pouch around her neck. "I wasn't cut out to be a con artist and that's what they want for that."
"All too true." Loren pulled a chair up to their table, a pink cocktail clashing with his green skin. "It's damn hard to tell the truth and still get them to listen. This time of year it's steering people clear of the holiday blues- Not an easy task believe me. You don't get many like him." The Host jerked his head towards the stage where the demon was winding down his caterwauling. "No repressed family issues, just genuine holiday cheer. You don't see that very often." He stood. "If you'd excuse me, I'd better get back to telling fortunes. Merry Christmas to all you dolls."
"And a happy New Year and all that Loren. See you around." Iza raised her glass.
"Speaking of the holidays, Virginia has a party planned this Sunday. You're all invited of course." Wesley took a sip of his Scotch.
"Sunday! What kind of party are we talking here? I've only got five days to get a dress!" Cordelia glared at him.
"I wouldn't mind knowing that myself. If it's 'impress the business' I probably won't show. There'll be bound to be people whose radar I want to stay under." Israel smiled glumly.
"I'm sorry. That never even crossed my mind."
"Don't be. I'm probably being paranoid. Besides they all would have heard by now anyway. It's just..." She shrugged and stared into her stout. "It's Christmas and I'm not home, not really. I should be getting locked with the guys or getting dragged off to sing carols at the orphanage. And if I was in Gotham, none of that would be happening this year anyway, you know?" She dragged her hands through her hair, wincing as they caught at the spikes. "Sorry I'm being such a depressing bitch today."
"Like the man said, it's that time of year." Gunn shrugged. "Speaking of which anyone doing anything for the holidays?"
"Just me, the ghost and a video of 'It's A Wonderful Life'." Cordelia sighed.
"Virginia and I are planning a quiet evening at home."
Fred shook her head glumly.
"Nadda, of course. You?" The ex-assassin said with forced cheer.
"I don't know. Definitely going to hook up with the posse, but after that..." He shrugged again, a bit depressed himself. This was a time for family, but if they were gone or you weren't on speaking terms or you were planning on killing one of your two living relatives it made things tough.
"Ye gods and little fishies, we're pathetic. Except Wes, Gunn and I guess Delia." Israel put her elbow against the table and propped her head against her hand. "Jimmy Stewert and Clarence and all that is pretty much traditional Christmas stuff."
The struggling actress/seer fell silent, then exploded. "My parents didn't even invite me home for Christmas. They didn't even call to say we weren't doing anything this year or ask what my plans were. I haven't heard from them in months. It's like I don't exist to them anymore." She flushed and called for another drink.
"That's shitty of them." Iza sighed. "Hell, you mind if I invite myself over Christmas Eve?"
"God no! Dennis is great and all, but spending Christmas with your invisible ghost room-mate isn't much better than spending it alone, you know? Anybody who wants to come over is invited. Just make sure you drag Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding along. I'd feel guilty if he was moping around that big hotel by himself and I know Conner won't remember it, that wouldn't be much of a first Christmas." She stopped and turned to Iza, horrified. "Oh God, I'm just making a TV dinner."
"What! Christ, girl, you are so not eating like that for Christmas. I'll make dinner. Least I can do. Anyway, I miss having a real kitchen."
Everyone stared blankly at her for a moment. "You cook." Wesley was the first one to say what they were all thinking in a flat tone of voice.
"Of course I can fucking cook." Jennings stared back at them like they were insane.
"You, Israel Jennings, the top Gotham professional killer and amateur magus, miss having a homey little kitchen." Gunn spoke this time.
"I'm not all Martha fucking Stewert, thank God, but I know my way around a kitchen." They were afraid she would talk about insinuating herself into a kitchen to poison someone. Her explanation almost disappointed them. "I've had to eat my own cooking for a decade now, I've pretty much gotten the hang of it." She shot them disgusted glances. "Morons."
"Sorry-- You just don't strike any of us as the domestic type." Cordelia shrugged.
"I'm not. Eating is just something you need to do, therefore cooking is. And it's just stupid to not figure out how to make stuff you'll actually eat." She was actually defensive about it.
They began to laugh.
"What?"
Elizabeth Anne Summers, known as Buffy to her friends and the Slayer to the things that go bump in the night, grimaced at the crowded mall. She had once liked last minute Christmas shopping, but since the last fight with Glory she hated to be crowded. This year everything had been bought and wrapped two weeks before the big day. Dawn, however, hadn't. So Buffy was braving the mall on the Saturday before Christmas, waiting for her younger sister.
She glanced at her watch and left the food court, throwing away the remnants of a Gloria Jean's iced mocha. Dawn was fifteen minutes late. Perfect. She so wanted to have to search through the mall for her errant baby sister. Luckily she didn't have to look very hard. The young brunette was chatting to a handsome boy about her age at the entrance of a nearby store. They were smiling nervously at each other.
Had she ever been that young? She walked over to them. "Buffy! I must have lost track of time. I ran into Sean--" A quick look of distress crossed the girl's face, it was obvious she didn't want to leave just yet.
"It's okay. I figured it was just something like that. I need to pick something up from the book store, so why don't you meet me there when you two finish up."
"Sure."
There was, of course, not a damned thing she needed from the book-shop. It had just been an excuse to let Dawn and the young man talk a bit. She had presents for everyone but Spike and she didn't have much time for light reading. She walked into the Walden Books, feeling a bit lost. She was glad for her sister, but at the same time jealous. Now that Glory was taken care of, Dawn had a good chance at a normal life. Before long she'd have a boyfriend-- one with a pulse and that didn't get off on by being feed off of. She sighed bitterly.
It had been more than six months since she had found Riley in that fang bar. She should have talked about it with someone, but she couldn't bring herself to say a word. The only one that even knew was Spike.
Spike who had tried to kill all of them God alone knew how many times. Spike who had broken them apart for Adam. Spike who hadn't told Glory that Dawn was the key, even under unspeakable torture. Spike who had held her as she cried after she had found out about Mom's tumor, holding a rifle she had never asked about. Spike who had gotten her drunk after Riley's betrayal and then told her that everything would be all right when she finally broke down and sobbed. Spike who claimed to love her.
Why was she even thinking about him? He was being manipulative at worst and had transferred his desire to kill her into a desire to fuck her at best. That was all and she didn't care anyway. He may not be an enemy at the moment, but he wasn't an ally either. "Bullshit. He's a friend." She whispered to herself. In a messed up left-handed way, but a friend none the less.
As if her life wasn't complicated enough. The odd thing was that he simplified things so much. Even with her family it seemed like being the Slayer defined her, and everyone just did their best to pretend otherwise. That wasn't true at all, but that was how it felt right now. It was like an elephant sitting in the middle of the room- everyone saw it but no one could bring themselves to mention it. With Spike it was what she was, not who she was. He called her 'Slayer' more often than not, but it was like a nickname she had picked up somewhere along the way, not a job title. He said they were alike. Sometimes she could almost believe it.
Buffy shook her head. She went through stages where she wanted to... She didn't know what she wanted to do, not that she would admit to herself. But she had to do something and soon. He was a friend and she'd better start treating him as such.
She knew one way to show it, given the season and all, but what the hell did you get an hundred and fifty odd year old vampire for Christmas?
Cordelia looked up from the paper at the knock at the door. It was a friend, since Dennis was already undoing the chain, but there was a muffled noise on the other side. She grabbed a baseball bat she kept in an umbrella stand and jerked open the door. Israel stood hunched over, desperately trying to keep a grip on a multitude of grocery bags, including one that she was keeping from slipping by biting on the edge of the brown paper. "Oh God, is that supposed to be Christmas dinner?!"
She stood staring for another moment until Iza made a mumbling that could probably be translated as, "Stop staring and grab a fucking bag!" Cordelia quickly did so.
"I over did it, I know. Look at it this way, you won't have to cook for a long time."
"There's only three of us that'll actually eat. Angel can't and Conner's too little. Iza, there'll be leftovers if we invited Gunn's whole posse."
Iza shrugged sheepishly. "I miss having a kitchen."
Then their eyes met and both women grinned. "We won't have room here."
"Not here, but we have a friend that owns a hotel."
The Slayer walked through the graveyard, nearly sleeping through a patrol. The few people that were out were in large groups, caroling and such, which made for slim pickings for the vamps. Things would go back to normal in a week or so, after New Years, but for now she didn't have to do much more than make an appearance. Which meant she didn't feel the least bit guilty about ditching the patrol for a while. She smiled at the weight in her pocket and turned towards the crypt.
She didn't get that far. "It's too bleedin' warm Slayer." There was harshness in the voice, but it was forced, masking a wistful note. The vampire was perched on a tall monument, looking past the wrought iron fence.
Buffy raised an eyebrow. Somehow she had figured that he would be in the crypt or out and about. But then for all she knew he considered the cemetery his yard. There'd certainly been less trouble with this one since Spike had moved in again.
He made a show of staring back at her, then laughed. "So, what brings you out slumming? Let me guess-- Something big and nasty is hanging about and you washed up Big Bad to tell you all about it." The bitterness was clear in his voice, then he sighed. "It doesn't matter. You're here, might as well pull up a pew." He gestured towards the graves. "I wouldn't turn away the company." Spike took a swig from a flask before stashing it back in his coat.
"Scoot over then." She climbed onto the stone with prenatural grace and elbowed him gently.
"Bloody hell. I'm moving. Happy?" He made a face. "What do you want already?"
She nearly winced. "Am I really that bad?"
"What?" That had been the last thing the vampire had expected.
"Do I really just come around when I want something?" She shook her head. "I've been a jerk lately."
"What?"
"I'm trying to apologize, so would you stop saying 'what' like that."
"What in bloody hell do you need to apologize for?" He was confused, which translated itself into irritation.
"You've been there for me this past year with everything going on and I've been... Treating you like you were still an enemy half the time." She shrugged. "I don't deserve friends like you."
"Yeah, your karma can't be that bad."
"That isn't what I meant!" She pushed him as he laughed, then he shoved her back lightly. "Keep this up and I won't give you your present."
"You got me a present?" This was a total shock. "You really didn't need to do that."
"I wanted to C'mon, let's go to the Bronze or something." She hopped off of the gravestone and looked up at him.
"Not there, but you're right. This scene is kind of dead."
Oh, you are so getting hurt for that one."
They ended up breaking down and going to the Bronze anyway. Spike complained cheerfully half the time. A third of the crowd was under age, the band, despite its best efforts, was pop than punk and the drinks were watered. Still, there was something about the place. Or maybe it was just memories.
Spike winced as the Electric Morays tried to play 'Janie Jones' with little success. "That's sacrilege, that is. This lot could turn 'Venus of the Hardsell' into watered down top forty pop. It's bleedin' pathetic."
"Don't be polite, tell me what you really feel." Buffy had drank just enough beer that she thought this was terribly witty and began to laugh.
"Well, this is a nice change." He smiled.
"Hmm?"
"You buzzed and laughin'..." He trailed off.
"Instead of hammered and weepy?" Her eyes turned slightly more serious. "I've never really thanked you for that."
"For getting you smashed?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I would have done that anyway. I just wouldn't have had anyone there for me."
"No one should have to go through what Riley pulled on you, or Drusilla did to me alone." Spike shrugged. "I'm sure that sounds weird coming from me, but..."
"You really think that? Even the Slayer?"
"Especially you." There was a sad smile on his face as he reached across the table to brush a lock of her hair out of her face.
She looked away. "Um... What you've been saying about how you're in love with me and all, it's very flattering, but I really can't deal right now and it's weird enough being friends with you, but I don't want to lose that..."
"Then I'll back off. But how I feel isn't going to change and I'm not going anywhere." He shrugged. "I'll take what I can get."
"I'm sorry Spike, really."
"S'alright. At least I'm not beneath you this time." Another sad smile. "You know I lied through my teeth that night. I told the truth and all, but left out more than enough out so you'd have to misinterpret it completely."
"About killing Slayers or about you?"
"Both. Mainly about me."
"So Slayers don't automatically have a death wish and you weren't some bad ass from the wrong side of the tracks."
"Your average Slayer doesn't have anything or anyone but her mission and her Watcher. And most Watchers seem to think of the Slayer as some kind of weapon, not as a person. It isn't so much a death wish, more that most of them don't have anything to live for." There was a kind of pity in his voice. "As for your other question, I was from very much the right side of the tracks, though the coffers weren't as full as some and the family name wasn't what it used to be. Though it always seemed to me that we had more black sheep than white. I was a nice enough lad though. I wasn't a bad ass, I was a bad poet."
"You wrote poetry?" This was something she never would have guessed.
"No, I wrote drivel. Like a million other lovesick fools before me."
"What was her name?"
"I don't even remember. She was beautiful enough, I suppose, but in hindsight not worth writing poems about. Even bad ones. Shallow as hell."
"Maybe you're a good poet, but you didn't have anything to write about, so that's why they sucked."
"Sweet of you to say so, but I bit." But he could smile about it now.
"You know when we fought Glory and I jumped so Dawn wouldn't die..."
"You did, or almost. I saw her. Except the clothes she looked exactly like she did when she came for me. Nice bird. I saw a couple other people, but I didn't recognize them. Did you tell any of the others?" Spike took a long drink of his whiskey.
"No, I haven't told them. And I did. I died, again. They talked to me. Death said the other two were her brothers, Dream and Destiny. They talked about how important I was and there was something I had to do. I got the impression that I really died and I'm something else now. I'm not even sure if I'm me anymore or if I'm human..."
"You're you." There wasn't any doubt in his voice as he replied. They fell into an awkward silence.
The music became canned as the Morays scurried off and the next band set up. Who ever was in charge of the stereo felt obliged to put in an unhealthy dose of Christmas music, but someone had snuck in Elvis Costello and the Chieftains doing the St. Steven's Day Murders, so Spike could cope with it. They didn't catch what the new band was called, but they were good. They weren't trying to be anything, they didn't need to. It was pop, but with an edge to it and they covered more than a few punk and New Wave songs. "Want to dance Buffy?"
She gave him a hard look, remembering the other times he had said that to her.
"Nothing like that meant, just a friend asking a friend, do you want to dance because the music is good."
"Why the hell not." She smiled and stood up. "Oh, I almost forgot, your present!" She fished a book sized package out of her jacket pocket and held it out. "Go on."
"Gee, a book." There was a bit of sarcasm in his voice, but it wasn't serious. She made a face and he made one back at her and opened it. "A Riot of Their Own... The Clash! How did you...? I was thinkin' about liftin' this one!"
"Good thing I bought for you then. But it was complete blind luck. You like it?"
"Do I like it? It's the Clash, the best band ever, period. Of course I like it."
"Didn't they have that really cheesy video, the one with the 'stereotypical Jew and Arab' driving around in a convertible?"
He shot her a look. "Let's just dance."
Virginia's Beverly Hills mansion was elegantly discreet. One noticed it, but not enough to wonder who it's owners were or where they got their money any more than any of the others in the neighborhood.
After all, her family hadn't gotten this far in the game with out figuring out that to secede you needed to avoid most attention. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. The ballroom was crowded with the elite of LA's magic community. Well, at least they considered themselves to be so, and Virginia wasn't about to tell them otherwise and risk losing their business. She was, after all, very accustomed to her lifestyle. "Smile at the nice people Wesley. They don't bite."
"Of course dear. Who are they, though?"
"Clients. Father," her voice was strained at the mention of him, "Always threw these things and it's kind of expected. I don't particularly care for them, but networking is networking." She shrugged, then put on her hostess face more firmly. "How lovely of you to come..."
They continued to greet various clients for a few minutes, until a hush went over the crowd. It parted silently and nervously for three figures. The quiet was broken as those on the edge began to whisper nervously to their neighbors. "Is that..." "But no one here has..." "The nerve..."
The man that was standing next to Virginia and Wesley sniffed loudly. "Really, what are they doing here, acting as if they belong? I suppose they're useful enough, but they're not at all our sort." He shook his immaculately groomed head in disbelief. "Who on earth would have invited the vampire in?"
They didn't even need to exchange glances. "I was starting to think that you wouldn't show." Wesley threw his arm chumily around the vampire's shoulder.
"Cordelia, you look divine! But where is Israel? And Fred?" Virginia didn't give them time to answer the question. "What am I thinking! Angel, this is Umberto Morelli, one of my best clients. Umberto, this is Angel," The vampire smiled very nicely, with cold politeness, "Charles Gunn," the young man nodded gravely, "And Cordelia Chase." Cordy gave him her best casting director smile. "They're Wesley's business partners and close personal friends of ours."
"Um, charmed, I'm sure. Well, I'm sure you'll want to talk, so I'll just go mingle..." He scurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
Virginia allowed herself a small smirk. "The look on that stuffed shirt's face was priceless..."
"I take it that Iza decided not to risk it then? But where's Fred?" Wes said in a more serious tone of voice.
"Risk what?" His girlfriend turned to him.
"She's trying to keep a low profile and to keep the talk about her being in LA to a bare minimum. Why I don't know. I'm sure that everyone she's worried about has already heard she's here by now." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "And Fred's baby-sitting Conner, we tried to talk her into coming since Iza wasn't and could watch him, but... I don't think she likes this kind of stuff much."
"Israel's trying to protect us." Angel spoke softly. They all turned and stared at him. "She knows that Wolfram and Hart know she's working with us, but she doesn't want them to know she's friends with us. In her way of thinking and she thinks theirs, associates are expendable, but friends aren't."
"And she wants them to think she doesn't care if we get killed?" Cordelia looked confused. "I'm so not comfortable with that."
"Makes sense to me. She doesn't want to make us targets. Only problem with that line of thinking is that we already are and have been since before she showed up." Gunn snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. "Not exactly rational of her and she's usually very even if she goes out of her way to make it look otherwise."
"I was talking to her this afternoon. Most of her friends in Gotham died a couple months before she moved out here."
"That would explain why she's so down." Angel said quietly. "I got the impression that they were more like family to her."
"Just not like her family."
The conversation dimmed a bit and the subject gradually changed to something less grim. "I love your dress Cordelia, and the jewelry is outstanding." She wore a short scarlet sheath (knock-off, last season designer and she could barely afford that these days), matching shoes and a stunning but not overdone emerald necklace with matching earrings.
"You're just being nice about the dress... But doesn't the jewelry rock! Iza lent them to me. I figure you've got the red and green so it's Christmas-ey, but not too much."
Angel gave them a look. "That's a hell of a loan. They're real."
The actress's face went blank. "They are?" Somehow the thought that Israel had money had never crossed her mind.
The vampire nodded gravely.
"Wow."
Their little clique broke apart and they began to mix and mingle, Cordelia seeking out anyone with the slightest thing to do with show business. In an hour or so the crowd hushed again.
The late arrival wore an elegant spill of copper that left one shoulder and most of her back bare. One arm was sleeved and the other naked. It reached the floor, but a slit ran most of the way up the leg on one side. Her only jewelry was a multitude of small silver and gold hoops in her ears and a delicate silver chain that disappeared beneath her neckline. The almost ethereal effect was contrasted by a large, ornate and almost stereotypical tattoo on her right shoulder blade. It took them all a moment to realize that it was Israel.
"Israel, I didn't think you could make it..." Virginia managed to let her hostess instincts overwhelm her shock.
"Neither did I, but..." The older woman shrugged. "Lovely party." She snagged a glass of bubbly and took a tiny sip. By then the others had crossed the floor to join them. "Make sure I don't have too many of these." She said to Gunn sotto voice. "I don't want to revert to type and ruin Virginia's shindig."
"Right. And how many is too many?" Gunn asked.
"If I start acting like I'm more than slightly buzzed, cut me off-- past that you won't have a chance. You probably won't have to and I'd probably deal anyway, but better safe than sorry. Me and a... friend used to crash these kind of parties, blend in for a while, then get drunk and pick fights. Tons of fun."
"You're a weird chick Israel. Nice tat by the way. Didn't know you had one."
The tattoo was a large cross decorated with roses and wolves heads. "Five years now."
The crowd gradually lost interest in them and settled back into it's old pattern.
Monday December 24th
4:42 PM
Cordelia was almost afraid to go into the kitchen. Iza's idea of cooking was... Well, pretty normal except for playing punk music way too loud and doing something like ten things at once. Israel wasn't someone whose way you wanted to get in, but still, she ought to do some work. She took a deep breath and stepped through the door.
Angel was chopping vegetables at the end of the counter, looking harried. "But you don't eat..." He shrugged sheepishly. Conner was in a bassinet thing on the counter nearby cooing at all the noises and smells. Cordy shook her head and turned towards Iza. "Give me something to do and for God's sake, change the CD."
"Potatoes, smush with the masher thingie. What's wrong with the Ramones?"
"Beat on the brat with a baseball bat doesn't exactly resound with holiday cheer." Angel drawled.
"And your taste in music is, what, a couple centuries out of date?"
"And yours is apparently a couple decades old..." Cordelia said as she diligently smushed the potatoes.
Iza stuck out her tongue as she rushed from one side of the kitchen to the other and began to sing along with the next track. "... the boys are in the back-seat, they generate steam-heat..."
Cordelia and Angel exchanged pained glances. "We're begging you here..."
"They don't like our music Conner buddy. Fine. We can listen to sickeningly cheerful Christmas music. What have you got?"
"They're by the stereo." Cordelia said absently.
"Gotcha. Let's see... Manhime Steamroller, yuck... Nat King Cole, maybe... Ohh, the Bells of Dublin. That'll do nicely." Iza put in the CD and resisted the temptation to skip directly to the track with Elvis Costello.
A knock at the door cut through the opening notes, then Loren let himself in. "Hey Loren, you're a bit early."
"Well, I figured that was better than late. You'll probably need a chance to introduce me to the rest of your company and convince them I'm not evil."
"You're probably right. I did sort of get the impression that Gunn's lot can be a bit 'shoot first, ask questions later'. I don't see why you're always so worried about this kind of thing though. People usually just think you're a mutant."
"That's just as bad to a lot of people." He shrugged. "But I'm sure we have more cheerful things to talk about." The Host smiled and handed her a bottle of wine.
"Why thank you. And since you're here so early, you get to help in the kitchen."
"Lucky me."
The Summers household was likewise a flurry of domestic activity. A turkey was roasting in the kitchen, Joyce was finishing up the last touches on the rest of dinner, Buffy was rearranging the living room to make more room, Dawn was watching the Grinch (the real one with the voice of Boris Karlof) on TV, Giles was pouring out eggnog, Xander and Anya were setting the table, and Willow and Tara were arranging centerpieces and lighting candles.
Buffy glanced over at the witches and frowned. "Is everything all right? You two seem a bit bummed."
"I'm s-sorry..." Tara stuttered a bit. "It's just..."
"We had dinner with my Mother about a week ago. Hanukkah. She was--" Willow cut herself angrily. "She didn't say anything, but she was all 'how could you'. I mean she has nothing to do with me most of the time, she barely did when I still lived at home, but she... I wasn't even expecting her to understand right off like Kitty and Pete did, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "The family you chose is more important anyway, and that's you guys."
"I'm so sorry Will."
"I really want to thank you again for having me over Joyce." Giles said as he was sent into the kitchen to fetch silverware.
"Don't mention it. I didn't like the idea of you spending Christmas alone." She smiled. "I'm sure you'd rather be in England, but you're always welcome here..."
"That's very kind of you. I really don't mind not being in England, though. I haven't much family left, no one certainly, and none of them are on speaking terms with me. There are friends of course, but I haven't been that close with most of them in years."
"What about Olivia?"
"Things didn't work out. She... She couldn't except that things like vampires are real even if she knows now. She broke it off."
"I'm sorry, I hadn't heard. Things like that are always hard."
Anya came in search of the silverware. "What's taking you so long?" She gave the two of them an odd look and shrugged. "Oh, Joyce. I wanted to thank you very much for inviting us. I didn't want to spend Christmas with Xander's drunk relatives again." She took the forks and left again.
"That's one strange girl." Joyce shook her head.
"That she is, but Anya has adapted remarkably well I think."
Introductions had gone quite well after the posse got over the shock of seeing a green guy that looked almost stereotypically like a demon in the lobby. In fact they got on with him better than they did with Angel. Conner was a big hit though. Then again, how could anyone not like such an adorable baby?
They had managed to get the old dining room into useable condition, though it was nowhere near its long ago glory. A jumble of tables were pushed together in a long uneven line and covered with makeshift table cloths.
A girl in the posse, Teena, forced Iza to sit down and took over getting everything to the table. It seemed like everyone had brought 'a little bit of something', so the tables were soon full.
Israel and one of the guys, Shawn, were discussing firepower and a few yards away Fred had come far enough out of her shell to talk shop with Marco, who had modified Gunn's truck. A group of young women cooed over Conner and Angel hung at the edge of them, obviously wanting to hold his son again. Wesley and Virginia showed up just before dinner, Wes smiling sheepishly and Virginia loaded down with presents-- mainly for Conner.
They finally all sat and began to haphazardly pass things around till Teena cleared her throat loudly. "Really people, this ain't any old meal, this is Christmas Eve dinner! I'm sure that the lady that made most of this lovely meal or our host would like to say grace." She turned towards Israel, then Angel.
Iza gave her a helpless look and shook her head.
Angel cleared his throat. "It's been a very long time since I've sat at a table like this. This is a celebration of miracles and..." He paused and looked around, debating whether or not to say something. "You all know that for many years I was the worst of the worst. God decided to return my soul, to give me another chance, though heaven knows I don't deserve it. It's been hard at times, but I've been trying to live up to that ever since. And if that wasn't a huge enough gift, I've gained friends and a family of sorts here. And now I have a miracle of my own." He smiled down at Conner. "I couldn't have asked for more when I was alive, even if I would have had the sense to. I'm not very good at this kind of thing, but I'm just trying to say that this is the most... I don't know..." He looked away for a moment. "I'm very honored to celebrate the Eve of Our Savior's birth with all of you."
"Amen to that." Teena said, rescuing him from having to say anything further. She got a chorus of Amens back. A few people, Angel and -oddly enough- Israel included, crossed themselves before they began to pass food around the table and dig in.
Joyce finished saying grace and turned towards Giles. "Would you care to do the honors?" She held up the carving knife.
He stood, smiled and took it from her and began to carve. "Would you like white or dark meat Joyce?" The serving of the turkey was almost formal and then everything slipped into a more casual sort of ceremony, passing dishes and talking.
Once dinner was nearly over Anya began to whisper something to Xander, who shook his head at first, but then appeared to agree. The two of them stood. "Anya and I have an announcement to make." All heads turned towards them. "It actually happened a little while ago..." His girlfriend snorted. "Okay a long while ago, Anya. But we'd like you all to know..." While he was talking Anya fished in her pocket and then held out her hand palm down to them. Xander never got to finish his sentence.
"Oh my God!"
"Check out the rock!"
"Get out!"
"Congratulations..."
"This is great!" Willow popped out of her chair and bear hugged Xander and then Anya with less overkill. Nearly everyone followed suit in crowding around the couple. Before long Xander was at the edge and the women were ohhing and ahhing over the ring, mainly to humor Anya.
Giles cleaned his glasses and smiled. "I rather think we're a bit out of our league at the moment. Why don't we see if we can't find some wine for a toast and let them chat for a bit."
"We brought over some champagne." The two men walked into the kitchen. "This is kind of unbalanced." Giles raised an eyebrow. "I mean we're the only male Scoobies, unless you count Spike."
"I suppose we are rather outnumbered." Giles laughed as he searched for wine glasses. "As long as they're on our side though."
Joyce popped her head through the door. "Why have you two run off?"
"Just getting supplies for a toast." Giles replied. "Let's see, how many goblets do we need? Seven, no eight? We can put soda or something into one so Dawn doesn't feel left out."
"Actually, I think it would be all right if we gave her enough for a toast. I thought we already had some wine and glasses out though."
"Anya and I brought champagne." Xander grinned goofily. The three of them carried out the glasses and with much ado opened the bottle. The champagne was poured and given out. Dawn held her glass with the over done dignity of a young person allowed an adult thing for the first time.
"To the happy couple."
"To Xander and Anya, Goddess bless."
"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Harris."
Dinner, desert and presents somehow stretched out for hours. When most of the nibbling had finally slowed down Teena took charge again, organizing teams to take turns clearing the table, putting away the few leftovers and doing dishes. "Is it just me, or is she as much in charge of the posse as Gunn?" Cordelia said to Iza as they took their turns washing and drying.
"She is in charge, she just lets him head up the whole killing vampires part of it." Iza smirked and took a close look at the two of them. She turned towards the young woman from the posse who was trying to figure out who had brought what dishes. "Are those two...?"
"No, but they ought to be. I keep telling her, 'Teena, he don't think about anything but killing those fang faced bastards half the time unless he has to. He ain't gonna notice you as anything but 'a good leader' unless you make it real clear."
"Meaning beat him over the head with it." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Preoccupied with fighting forces of darkness and stuff has nothing to do with it. He's a guy. If there's nothing there they'll see something, but if there is and you want them to they might as well be blind." The other young woman laughed and nodded.
Iza grinned. "Why don't the three of us take some action."
"What you got in mind?"
"Dunno..." Iza glanced around and saw Gunn at the other end of the kitchen and Teena nearby, but facing away from him. "Whoa! That was a Look!"
"I told you, she's into him."
"No, other way around. Looks like it's mutual. I say we give them a couple of weeks and if they haven't worked things out, we start plotting. If push comes to shove, I'll just threaten to ask her out for him."
"That wouldn't work." The girl snorted.
"Yes it would, 'cause he knows I would. I'm evil like that."
"Yeah, but it's kind of unsuitable." Cordelia protested.
"You just want to plot."
"Well, there is that..." The three of them began to laugh hysterically.
Angel walked by to the stove and gave them a look. He ended up just shaking his head and getting a bottle without saying a word.
"Is he hungry again? I thought you just feed the sprog?" Iza shook her head, mystified. Babies were more unfathomable than any spell to her.
"He isn't and I did. I'm just getting a bag ready to bring him to midnight mass." He smiled sadly. "You know, I haven't gone in years."
"Obviously."
"I guess, but if I don't touch anything that's been blessed I'll be fine. Besides I want Conner to grow up a good Catholic, so there's no better time to start than the present."
"I'd offer to come with you, but I'd be more likely to sleep through it than the sprog." She smiled.
He grinned at that, having done that many times when he was alive. "I noticed at dinner, you crossed yourself. Are you...?"
"Catholic? I'm not really anything. But when I was on the street there was this Catholic church that gave good handouts and would give you a place to crash without pushing you to get into the system too hard. And later a friend of mine, he was the bar-keep at my local, used to drag a bunch of us along to sing carols at an orphanage and to mass every year." She shrugged. "I guess I picked up a few things."
"If you want to come with I wouldn't mind the company. Fred's coming too"
"Why not, I can use all the brownie points I can get."
Spike stood at the base of the tree in her front yard, looking in. They were all gathered in the living room, laughing and making merry. She stood at the fringe, happy now, but still not quite able to connect to with them, though you could only see it if you knew what you were looking for. She laughed at something Tara said and ruffled Dawn's hair. He lost of how much time he spent watching, mainly her, but the rest of them as well. He was hungry tonight, but not for blood, and not even for her, well not just her. All of a sudden she looked out the window, straight at him. She wouldn't want him here with the others.
The moment Buffy saw him out the window she slipped away to go out and invite him in. If the rest of them didn't like it, they could just deal. By the time she reached the porch all that remained to prove he had been there at all was a few fresh cigarette butts by the tree. He had already fled into the holiest of nights.