SYNOPSIS: Angel goes to Buffy's for Christmas, and brings along a little surprise.
DISCLAIMER: < snort >
IMPROV: #32: roll -- cracker -- stupefy -- chunk
PAIRING: Buffy/Angel, but it sticks with canon.
RATING: PG
TIMELINE: Christmas Day 2001
SPOILERS: Everything up to "Dad" and "Wrecked," I guess.
DISTRIBUTION: My site (), Fanfiction.net, everyone else who has my work is welcome to this too.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I haven't written a Christmas story in a few years, and was decorating the tree the other day when I realized I just had to. I don't know what I expected when I started writing, but I don't think this was it. I'm happy with it, whatever the case. It's un-beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. Happy holidays!
FEEDBACK: It's like sex; it's not important until you aren't getting any.
DEDICATION: To Molly, one of the coolest chicas out there, because I absolutely adore her and her amazing stories. Jules, because I love her dearly and the poor thing is set to give birth any day now, adding another member to her soccer team. Or is it little league? I can never keep track. :) And last but certainly not least, to all my fellow fans: happy holidays!

The doorbell rang as Buffy was putting the finishing touches on the Christmas cookies. She glanced at the clock and frowned. Xander and Anya were half an hour early -- a rare occurrence for the two of them. The dinner was nearly done, golden turkey in the oven, potatoes heating on the stove, vegetables steamed and ready to be served, rolls cooling on a plate, cheese and crackers laid out already. Dawn was sitting at the counter, doing everything she could to pretend she was helping while immersing herself in what looked suspiciously like the latest issue of Cosmo.

"Don't get up," Buffy muttered, loud enough for Dawn to hear. She wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving streaks of flour in her wake, as she walked around the island, snatching the magazine away from her younger sister as she went by.

"Hey! I was reading that!" Dawn protested, swiveling around on the bar stool.

Buffy breezed out of the kitchen, tossing the magazine down on the table in the dining room. "And now you're not. Go find something that doesn't talk about fifty positions to drive your man wild," she hollered over her shoulder. "Will, back me up here!"

Willow poked her head out of the living room, where she was busy with last minute gift-wrapping. "Dawnie, we've talked about this. You're not old enough to be reading that kind of stuff."

"Buffy was reading those cheesy romance novels of hers when she was my age!" Dawn shouted from the kitchen.

"Yes, but I'm me. You're you, and you're not allowed to read Cosmo until I say so," she said as she wrenched the door open, about to chastise Xander and Anya for taking her advice and leaving the house early for once. The words died away unspoken as she met Angel's gaze. Quickly taking in the baby seat and huge bags he was juggling,. The carrier was covered with a light blue blanket, blocking whatever was inside it from view.

"Merry Christmas, Buffy. I'm not too early, am I?"

"No," she said, still eyeing the covered baby seat as she remembered her manners and stepped aside so he could enter. "Only literally."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I didn't want to get caught in traffic but it actually wasn't too bad -- one of the seven signs of the Apocalypse, I'm sure. Plus, Cordy and Wes and Gunn all left earlier than I thought they would, so I figured I'd get a jump on things and be early for once," he said, stooping slightly to press a warm kiss to her cheek. Straightening, he strolled past her into the foyer of her home, his trademark black duster replaced by a deep gray sweater. Buffy was still recovering from the shock of the greeting as she closed the door and eyed him.

"It's fine. I'm just glad you were able to make it," Buffy replied, nervously chewing her lip. She had almost forgotten that she had invited him back in October when they had seen each other, and even though he had told her he would definitely be there she had had her doubts, thinking he'd probably be spending the holiday with his associates. Not that she wasn't glad he was there; she was. She was very, very glad.

Angel shifted the bags in his arms and Buffy, figuring they were probably heavy, quickly went over to relieve him. She avoided the baby seat, not quite understanding why he was carrying it.

Willow spoke up, her voice muffled by the closed living room door. "Is it Xander? Don't let him come in, Buffy, I'm doing his gift now!"

"No, it's not Xander," Buffy said as she placed the packages on the floor, realizing how close she was to Angel as she looked back up and was greeted with his broad, cotton-encased chest. Startled and feeling extremely awkward, she backpedaled, moving away quickly to avoid the temptation to do something crazy. Like jump him.

"It's me, Willow," Angel called, breaking their gaze to look at the curtained glass doors.

A moment of silence, then a squeaky, "Angel?"

"I invited him," Buffy called, wincing at the lame tone of her voice. She took a deep, calming breath, and looked back up at Angel with an apologetic smile. "Did I forget to mention it?"

"I never got the memo," Willow teased.

Angel smiled at her and she took a second to study him, noting the way he carried himself, confident and yet alert, always listening, the predator in him always aware of everything.

"You okay?" he asked, breaking Buffy out of the daze she'd slipped into.

"Fine," she replied with a small smile. She pointed at the covered baby seat. "Present? Because Dawn's sorta grown out of the doll phase."

He seemed to falter a bit, making Buffy immediately regret her offhand comment. "No," Angel said, his voice tight.

The blanket made a noise before he could continue, instantly attracting Buffy's attention. It sounded like a baby gurgle, which immediately formed a million questions in her mind. Before she could start shooting them off, Dawn wandered in from the kitchen, a huge smile breaking across her face as she saw Angel.

"Angel!" she cried, jogging over to where the vampire stood with her sister. "I'm so glad you came!" Throwing her arms around him, she hugged tight before breaking away and noticing the carrier. "What's in there?"

The baby seat whimpered and Angel set it down on the floor, kneeling beside it and peeling back the blanket to reveal a tiny baby boy with pale skin and dark eyes. Dawn squealed in delight and dropped down next to Angel, peering at the baby. Buffy was frozen in place, staring at the tiny child who had Angel's eyes and Angel's nose and Angel's forehead and...oh God...

"This is Connor," Angel said softly, his voice full of what could only be described as fatherly pride.

"He's adorable!" Dawn cried, reaching a hand down to brush the baby's cheek. Connor stared at her intently, waving his little arms in the air at the attention.

Buffy had yet to say a word, and Angel looked up at her in concern. She stood staring at the baby in shock, her arms unconsciously wrapped around her middle, protecting herself.

Finally she found her voice again. "Demon spawn?" she croaked, trying to make light of an impossible situation.

Angel shrugged. "Close. He's my son."

Buffy honestly didn't know how it was her legs held her up. She went numb, shocked at the revelation. It was impossible. Vampires couldn't have children. There had to be an explanation, there HAD to be one because vampires were dead and couldn't reproduce and oh God he had a SON...

"But...I...I don't understand," she whispered, tightening her arms around herself, blocking out the cold that was sliding through her veins. "How did you...I mean, how did it..."

"I don't know," Angel answered truthfully, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. He was ready to catch her if she fell, and if the slight sway of her body was any indication, there was a very real chance of that happening. "Darla--"

"Darla?!" Buffy repeated, her voice a high-pitched squeak. "But that's impossible. She's--"

"She got brought back to life," he told her, exhaling an unneeded breath. Looking back at his son, he tried to find traces of Darla in the baby's precious face. There were only a few very subtle ones. Connor was a spitting image of his father.

Buffy suddenly sank to the ground, the grace with which she did so no doubt due to the Slayer in her. "You know," she said, her throat dry, "*polite* people warn you before they say things like that. They offer a chair. Or excessive amounts of alcohol."

"This is our house, Buffy," Dawn reminded her sister.

Willow spoke up from the living room doorway, where she'd caught the last part of the conversation. "Hey, Dawnie, I need your help in here. A...an ornament fell off the tree, and I don't know where it goes."

"It's not like we have it mapped out," Dawn muttered, then sighed loudly. "*Fine*. I can take a hint." She stood and walked off, brushing by Willow. "You always make me miss the good stuff!"

With an awkward smile, Willow closed the door, giving Buffy and Angel privacy. Angel turned back to see Buffy reaching a tentative hand out to Connor, brushing the very tips of her fingers against his soft cheek. Her eyes widened when she realized he was warm. "He's...he's human." She raised her head, looking up at Angel again.

"I know," Angel said, sighing. "We've been trying to figure out why that is. His parents are vampires and yet he's alive. So far, we haven't found anything."

Buffy sank back onto her heels, then sat heavily on the floor. She looked so lost and small in her jeans and baggy sweater, staring at the baby but not really seeing him. "Where's Darla?" she asked softly.

"She's dead," he said, leaning down to unstrap Connor and carefully lift him from his seat, cradling him in the crook of his arm. "For good this time." The baby snuggled into his father's arms, giving a happy little baby sigh that broke Buffy's heart.

"How did she die?" Buffy asked, then added, "wait, she was brought back? Seems to be a lot of that going around now. And here I was thinking I was special."

Angel chose to ignore her comment as he gently rocked the baby. She obviously wasn't ready to talk to him about her death, which was understandable. From the looks of things, she wasn't exactly dealing with it well. He let it slide, instead briefly telling her about Darla sacrificing herself for the baby. He hadn't thought Buffy could get any paler. He was wrong.

"Buffy," he said, then again when she didn't respond. "Buffy." She looked up then, her eyes empty and so full all at once, needy and hurting and sadder than he'd ever seen them. "Buffy, if it's too much...I can go."

"No," she whispered, sliding closer to him, reaching out again to touch the baby. She wondered how what was supposed to be a peaceful, joyous evening filled with star-topped trees and egg nog and presents could turn into something else before it had even begun. "No, I want you to stay. I want you both to stay."

"If you're sure..." he trailed off, watching her carefully as she slid one finger into Connor's hand. The baby's fist tightened around it reflexively, tethering her to the world when she felt as though she'd drift away. Large tears gleamed in her eyes but did not fall as she stared at the child holding her finger in wonder.

"Angel...he's so beautiful," she breathed, a genuine smile slowly curving her lips. She didn't meet his gaze as she gently extracting herself from Connor's grip and moving back a bit.

"Are you two done?" Dawn shouted from the other room. "I want to hold the baby!"

Breaking apart, Buffy smiled and slowly stood, holding her arms out. Angel returned her grin as he too stood and placed the baby in her arms. "You can have a turn after me," Buffy said as she walked into the living room, Angel right beside her.

"Oh Angel," Willow breathed, stepping up to Buffy. "He looks just like you!"

"Big forehead and all," Dawn giggled.

Angel grinned as he moved to sit next to Buffy on the couch, taking in the cheery room. The Christmas tree stood in the corner, glowing softly with pale white lights and adorned with ornaments. Most were store bought, but there was a fair chunk of the tree that displayed homemade ones. Large candles covered the end tables, and three stockings hung on the mantle below the thick Christmas-y evergreen display.

He frowned on closer inspection of the stockings, seeing Willow's name written across one in loopy lettering. "Willow, aren't you Jewish?"

The redhead grinned, pulling up a rocking chair. "I am, and we already celebrated. Big Hanukah fun was had."

"Yeah, we lit the menorah and everything," Dawn put in.

"And what would Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg say if they knew their only daughter was celebrating Christmas?" he teased, his eyes straying to Buffy and his son.

Willow smirked. "Well, considering that said only daughter is also a Wicca-practicing lesbian who turned down Oxford to stay in Sunnydale, I don't think they'd have any breath left to say anything," she returned.

"All good points," Angel acknowledged. Buffy was busy rocking the baby in her arms, staring down at him, her face unreadable, and Angel felt something indescribable at the sight of the woman he loved holding his child. Connor was staring right back at her, sucking lightly on her finger, his little cheeks hollowing with effort.

A short silence followed before Willow asked, "So, how's the business?"

"Suddenly a lot busier since Connor's come," Angel said, leaning back. "A baby born of two vampires is huge on the black market. Not to mention everyone else who wants to dissect him or sacrifice him or just kidnap him. Whatever happened to sending flowers or balloons?"

"I hear kidnapping is big these days," Dawn said, peeking around Angel, impatiently trying to tell her sister she wanted a turn. "We read this one thing in class that--"

"You know, I really should take you out of that school and send you someplace where you have to wear a plaid skirt and your teachers' names all start with 'Sister,'" Buffy teased. "They're polluting your mind."

"Buffy, what time are Xander and Anya coming?" Willow asked suddenly, craning her neck to glance at the clock. Buffy looked too and gave a little gasp of shock.

"Way faster than it's going to take me to look presentable," she said. Almost reluctantly passing the baby back to his father, she stood. "Will, I need you to check on the food. The smoke detector hasn't gone off yet but it's been shoddy lately and I'm not taking any chances. Not that I think my food is burning, plus there's the distinct lack of the smell of charred food coming from the kitchen, but I'd feel better having someone watch it. I'll be right back down." And with that she flew out of the room, reminding her friends of the old Buffy, the one they saw so rarely now. It was refreshing and heartbreaking all at once.

"Pass over the kid," Dawn demanded as Willow scurried off to the kitchen to check on dinner. Angel carefully placed his son in Dawn's arms, positioning them so she supported his head properly.

She began updating him on the last few months, and Angel listened while he glanced around the room, appreciating the cheerful atmosphere. The presents under the tree had been wrapped with care; the Christmas cards they'd received were displayed proudly on the mantle around the evergreen, holiday CDs were stacked near the stereo and a few books rested on the coffee table. The women had obviously thrown themselves into the decorating, maybe hoping to take their minds off the past months and all they had been through. He was glad Buffy had something so normal to focus on, she looked like she needed it.

Soon enough Buffy returned, her jeans and sweater replaced by a red slip dress that accentuated her curves without flaunting them, her hair pulled up and out of her face with a fancy barrette. She had also touched up her makeup, and she managed to quite effectively stun Angel with her quiet, maturing beauty when she entered the room, putting on her earrings.

"They're not here yet, right?" she asked, glancing around the room anxiously. Dawn, who had passed Connor back to his daddy when the baby had started to fuss, rolled her eyes at her sister.

"Does it look like they're here?" The doorbell rang then, and Buffy spun around and went to answer it. Dawn shook her head at her sister's back, turning to Angel and saying, "She probably snuck out and got an espresso while she was getting ready."

Any comment Angel could've made never got out because Xander and Anya entered the living room at that exact moment, arms laden with gifts. Xander took one look at Angel sitting on the couch with the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms and turned to Buffy. "What's Dead Boy doing here, and why's he playing with Dawn's old doll?"

Angel sighed. "He's not a doll, Xander, he's my son."

Xander stopped short, staring at Angel as though he'd sprouted another head. He turned to Buffy, utterly stupefied, and asked, "He's got a kid?" then looked back at Angel and demanded, "you've got a kid?!"

Willow came into the room and saw him, smiling as she walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We were right there with you, Xand. Although our mouths managed to stay closed."

"But...but...vampires can't make with the procreation," Xander sputtered.

"A two hundred and fifty year old vampire has a child and me, an eleven hundred year old ex-demon, does not? Well that doesn't seem very fair," Anya said. She quickly put a hand on Xander's arm when he moved to protest, resembling a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "Don't worry, honey, we won't be procreating for a long time. I'm too young and beautiful to be changing poopy diapers."

A short silence followed, and then Dawn broke it with a cheery, "Who wants nog?"

Buffy and Angel exchanged an easy amused look. It was going to be an interesting evening.

*~*

They sat on the couch together hours later, the lights adorning the tree mingling with the flickering candles to create a dimly homey atmosphere while the sounds of 'The Nutcracker' wafted softly from the speakers. Connor slept in Angel's arms once again, the vampire reluctant to put the child down on his first Christmas. Buffy had long since changed into her flannel pajamas and sat huddled against the arm of the couch, watching Angel interact with the baby.

The dinner had gone off surprisingly well, Xander even managing to act civil (after Anya had threatened to take away sex if he didn't behave) towards Angel. They had exchanged gifts and drank eggnog and taken lots of pictures, documenting their first Christmas as "adults," as Willow had put it. Dawn had passed out as soon as Xander and Anya had left, and Willow had helped with the dishes and then left Buffy and Angel alone.

"I'm glad you came," Buffy said softly, sipping at the hot cocoa she had made.

Angel looked up at her, smiling as he replied, "Me too. I had a great time tonight."

"Good. And I'll be getting Connor's gifts in the mail as soon as I buy out Baby Gap," she told him.

"Buffy, you don't have to--"

She silenced him with a look. "I know. I want to." Seeming to debate with herself for a moment, Buffy finally crept over to him, awkwardly perching herself on her knees next to him. Angel reached for her, careful not to jostle the sleeping infant, and Buffy waited only a moment before snuggling into his side. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the baby powdery smell of the newborn mingled with Angel's own unique scent, firmly imprinting it in her memory. He leaned his cheek against her hair, luxuriating in the feel of her in his arms again.

They had both put aside both their past and current situations for the night, knowing their time together could be better spent than digging up the ghosts of the past. Buffy did not tell him that she had looked to lose herself in Spike, and Angel spared her from the details of his complicated relationship with Darla. Both knew now was not the time for such things, but they also knew they *would* be discussed one day.

After this perfect evening they had shared, things would change between them. They meant too much to one another to go back to the way things were. They would keep in touch. They had to.

Buffy nuzzled Angel's chest, draping her arm across her middle so she could snag his fingers in her own. His tightened around hers instinctively, and she looked down at the sleeping child again. He was a miracle, and regardless of the contempt she held for his mother and the overwhelming sickness she felt when thinking of Angel sleeping with Darla, she was so glad he had graced Angel's life. There was no one who deserved it more.

Looking back on the evening later, she wasn't sure what possessed her to suddenly blurt out, "Do you know what watching you hold him does to me?"

Angel stiffened against her slightly, more out of surprise than being appalled. "Buffy," he murmured, hugging her to him more, not sure what else to say. She didn't give him a chance to dwell on it.

"Angel, I wanted so badly to give this to you," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. "I...oh god, why am I telling you this?" Buffy shook her head once and spoke again before he could respond. "No, I know why. I left a lot unsaid last time, and I can't do that again. I wanted to give you a baby, Angel."

His heart broke at her quiet admission, and he gave her shoulders a squeeze. "You gave me enough, Buffy."

"But I wanted to give you it all," she told him, a bit hysterical. "It's...well, it doesn't matter much now, does it? Story of my life and all that. More irony added to the life of one Buffy Summers." Buffy looked up at him then, her eyes deep and penetrating. "I'm happy for you, Angel. If anyone deserves this, it's you."

Angel was silent, staring at her, wishing he could take away all the pain he saw, the pain that radiated through every cell of her body. He could feel it inside her, saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She was still so confused and lost and it was Christmas and he'd be damned if he couldn't take her mind off of things for at least a night. He brushed a kiss against her forehead and whispered a choked, "Thank you," into her hair.

She wiped at the tears in her eyes but made no attempt to move away from him. "Merry Christmas, Angel."

He released her hand to reach up and affectionately tug on the necklace he'd given her, a little guardian angel with silver wings and a garnet stone in its center. She raised her head and met his lips in a tender kiss, a move that caused the tears slipping down her cheeks to spill out with more vigor. They kept it light, lips barely brushing together, before breaking apart again. Buffy snuggled back into his side and they stared at the lit tree in the corner.

"Merry Christmas, Buffy," Angel murmured into her hair.

They sat together on the couch for a long time, watching the lights on the tree twinkle. At least for a little while they could pretend things were okay.

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