Spoilers: ATS S5 and my Bloodline Series
Author’s Note: My ideas for the Bloodline Universe are running out, but after watching the DB/JM interview and noting the speculation about how they (Angel and Spike) would celebrate Christmas, an idea was born.
Thanks to Ghostsforge and Souless_Angel for their help.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles, California, The Ventrue Lair, December 16, 2005
Sprawled in a chair in the great room of the Ventrue’s lair, Spike alternately stared at the ceiling and then the floor. His boredom was only matched by his uneasiness.
“Will you stop that!” Nic snapped at him from across the room. “You’re getting on my last nerve.”
“I’m not doing anything, so shut your gob!” Still weakened from being lit on fire by the Tzmisces, Spike could only fire back with his mouth.
“That’s the problem; you’re not doing anything.” Nic set aside the newspaper he had been reading, studying his nephew with worry. Spike had spent the last couple of days in Scion’s lair, and the ride back to the States driving them all crazy with his inability to sit still. Since they had arrived back in LA, he had done nothing but lay around.
“Hate it here.” Spike shifted around in his chair.
“The Ventrues are our allies. Staying with them is the safest place in LA for us.”
“It’s boring and being here with them gives me the willies.” Spike put a hand up to feel his head. Not being able to look in the mirror, it was the only way he could gauge how his hair was growing out.
“You mean him, don’t you?” Nic asked knowingly. “Judelin.”
A moment of contemplation before Spike admitted with a slow, “yeah, whenever I’m around him, I’m torn between wanting to throw punches at him, or. . . .” He broke off, realizing that he was about to admit that a part of him wanted to have another sexual encounter with the Ventrue High Master.
“Don’t sweat it.” Nic advised, as he picked up the newspaper. “I think we all have ambivalent feelings about him.”
“Figures.” Spike said with disgust. “Him and my Sire, they both have some kind of secret sex appeal. Must come with the job.”
“Maybe.” Nic shrugged. “But who cares. Having sex appeal doesn’t make up for all the aggravations of being a High Master.”
“Right.” Spike agreed, as Nic, again buried himself behind the newspaper. Minutes passed while Spike decided he was tired of staring at the ceiling and the floor. “So what’s up with the Tzmisces? We haven’t seen hide or hair of them since we got back to LA.”
“Because of the Christmas holiday.” Entering the room with Angel at his side, Judelin heard Spike’s question. “All hostilities have been temporarily halted until after the new year.”
“What the fuck?” Swinging his feet to the floor, Spike sat upright. “The Tzmisces celebrate Christmas? Don’t they know they’re bloody vampires, which automatically makes them anti-Christians, or actually, anti-any-kind-of-god.”
“Anti-god?” Judelin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Since we vampires are demigods ourselves, how can we be anti-god?”
“Alright.” Spike scowled at the Ventrue High Master. He knew that pursing the anti-god line of thought would only get him into a big theological debate. Something, he knew he should avoid. “But how can they celebrate the birth of Christ?”
“Birth of Christ?” Now it was Djoser, who came into the room. “You’re discussing the birth of a man, who never existed?”
“Never existed?” Spike turned his attention to his brother. “Are you daft? There really was a Christ. Not sure about this whole son of God thing, but he obviously was some kind of Higher Being.”
“There is no empirical evidence that such a man existed.” Djoser stated with conviction.
Opening his mouth, Spike was about to tell his brother that he was a stupid git, but Judelin spoke before he could get the words out.
“Christ most definitely existed.”
Switching sides Spike now turned to argue with Judelin. “How would you know? And don’t tell me that you were there at his Crucifixion.”
“As a matter of fact, I was.” Judelin said, giving Spike an amused look.
“Ri-ight.” Spike didn’t bother to hide his disbelief. “You and every other vampire.”
“I was there.” Judelin stated again, as he sat down in the nearest chair. “The Tzmisces’ High Master’s Grandsire was also there, and that’s why they have the practice of honoring the Christmas holiday.”
“I can’t believe that I’m hearing such rot.” Spike did an eye roll with an exaggerated sigh. “You expect us to believe that Tzimisce High Master’s Grandsire was a mate of Christ, and because of that they celebrate Christmas.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call them mates.” Judelin said with consideration. “But the Tzmisce High Master did hold Christ in great respect; thus, their tradition of observing Christmas.”
“For once,” Angel eyed Judelin speculatively, “I have to agree with my Childe. The story you’re telling us is pretty far-fetched.”
Judelin raised his hands in a gesture of what-more-can-I-say. “I swear on the blood of Cain that I’m telling the truth.”
“Got any proof?” Spike asked, enjoying the novelty of actually having a slight advantage on the Ventrue High Master.
“Proof?” Surprised by such a question, Judelin could only stare at Spike with bafflement. “What kind of proof do you want? I could describe to you the Crucifixion in detail. Would that suffice?”
“Nah.” Spike shook his head. “Too tedious and boring.”
“Physical proof.” Djoser had sat down beside Spike, his dark eyes filled with suspicion and distrust.
“Physical proof?” Judelin frowned. He wasn’t accustomed to being not believed.
“Yeah, like,” Spike considered for a moment, “Christ’s autograph or something.”
“William!” Spike’s comment elicited an exclamation from Angel, a glower from Judelin, a surprised look from Djoser, and a snort of laughter from Nic.
“Wot?” Spike’s expression was pure innocence. “He asked, and I. . . .” The doors of the room banged open cutting him off.
Irritated at the intrusion, Judelin stood up with annoyance. “What is this?” He demanded as a couple of minions entered the room struggling with a gigantic pine tree.
“And a happy holiday to you too, my old friend.” Following the minions in, Scion entered and greeted Judelin with his usual toothy smile.
“Scion.” Judelin sighed, reminding himself that his long-standing friend was very old and very powerful, so it was always prudent to indulge him. “Why are you here and what is that?” He pointed to the pine tree.
“It’s the holiday season.” Scion explained. “Christmas. Christmas tree.”
“You’re a demon.” Judelin said, as the rest of Scion’s family trailed in, along with Eamon, who had heard the commotion and had come to see what was going on. “Since when do you commemorate Christmas? Did not think that you were such an admirer of Christ.”
“Christ, Smist.” Scion waved his hand around, as he nodded his head in greeting at Angel. “Nowadays, Christmas can be a secular occasion. Doesn’t have to have anything to do with Christ.”
“All right.” Judelin conceded. “But with the exception of the Tzmisces, most of us vampires do are best to ignore the Christmas holiday. So if you want festivity, you came to the wrong place.”
“After you and your family left,” Scion looked over at Angel, “my O was feeling rather down.” He turned and waved in the direction of his human lover. “So to cheer him up, I brought him here and figured that all of you,” his eyes swept over the vampires, “could celebrate Christmas with us.”
“Scion.” Judelin spoke slowly and deliberately. “Not only do we not observe Christmas, but with the war, this really is not an appropriate time to be. . . .”
“Heard a rumor.” Scion interrupted. “That the Tzmisces are negotiating with the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart. If Wolfram & Hart decide to join your war, the balance would certainly be tipped against you.”
Glancing over at Angel, Judelin tried to hide his dismay. “I am assuming that you heard this. . .rumor from a reliable source.”
“Very.” Scion answered. “Never cared much for the Wolf, Ram, and Hart. There were upstarts millenniums ago, and they’re still full of themselves. So, for a dear friend,” he gave Judelin a wink, “I might consider joining the war. Of course, I’d probably be more inclined after a rousing holiday party.”
A moment passed as the vampires in the room, exchanged knowing looks. They understood Scion perfectly.
Nic was the first to break the silence. “Ho ho ho.” He stated his expression deadpan.
“Hold on.” Spike spoke up. He understood that Scion was manipulating them, and that in the end they would concede to him, but Spike’s philosophy was, never go down without a fight or at least a protest. “I’m not sure I want to be doing any poofy Christmas cele. . . .”
“I think that as far as the gift giving, we can exchange names.” Scion spoke, ignoring Spike.
“Gifts?” Spike stopped his complaining. “There’s going to be gifts?”
**
December 18, 2005
“So we’re in agreement, I’ll get Shaun the combination telly and DVD player, and you’ll get O the video game system.” Eamon was going over the Christmas shopping plan with Spike. “You should also buy a couple of movies and video games to go with the television and game system.”
Spike could only give his cousin a disgusted look as he peered over at the clock. Sunset would be soon, and then it would off to the stores. “Being kind of generous, aren’t you, mate? Let them buy their own movies and games.”
“Well, let’s see.” Eamon rubbed the side of his face, pretending to be in deep thought. “Our arses were already saved by Scion and his brother, and if we want our arses to continue to be intact, we need to be in the good graces of said Scion. Being magnanimous in our gift giving to their human lovers would not hurt our cause.”
“I grant you that Scion and his brother are powerful demons, but they’re only two. How much help can they be against the Tzmisces and the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart?” Spike said gloomily. “Bloody war! Can’t even enjoy my first Christmas.”
“You’re being too pessimistic, Childe.” Entering the room, Angel looked unusually jovial. “You should enjoy your first Christmas and have fun.”
“What’s with you?” Spike eyed Angel suspiciously. It was out of character for his Sire to be cheerful and very out of character of him to be using the word fun.
“I believe that Scion has already made up his mind about whether he’s going to join the war. This whole Christmas celebration is just his way of letting us know who’s in charge. The Tzmisces are thinking that with the Senior Partners victory will be theirs soon but little do they know.”
“Right.” Spike continued to stare at Angel, half expecting his Sire to suddenly rub his hands together and cackle evilly. “So you’re saying that Scion and his brother trump the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart? What fantasy world is your head in?”
“You don’t understand.” Angel said. “As strong as the Senior Partners are, they don’t match the strength of two Old Ones.”
“Old Ones!” Spike and Eamon spoke simultaneously. “They’re. . .bloody. . .how. . . .” Half thoughts spewed out of Spike’s mouth. “You know they’re Old Ones for a fact? How?” He finally managed to form a coherent sentence.
“I had my suspicions three years ago, when we met Scion for the first time. I had Lorne read him then, and he concluded that Scion was powerful and very old. But I got more verification yesterday.”
“Verification?” Spike sniffed the air, trying to ascertain if the man in front of him was an imposter, or if there some kind of magic mojo affecting Angel, because his Sire was certainly acting strangely. “Verification from who. . .oh, you mean the ol’ Leather Queen. What? Did you bring her here, and she had a tearful reunion with her old mates?”
“Well, that‘s not exactly how it transpired, but it’s the general idea.” Angel said with a smile. His mood fit the festive time of year. Finding out that their new allies were ancient, demonic gods tended to make the world look brighter.
“Right then.” Spike still had reservations. “But that guarantees nothing. Illyria didn’t exactly make mincemeat of the Senior Partners, and she too was an Old One, so what makes you think that Scion and, and. . . .” He racked his brain, trying to remember the name of Scion’s brother. “And. . .”
“Synn.” Eamon supplied helpfully.
“Scion and Synn.” Spike had to smirk. “Sounds like a ditty. Scion and Synn,” he said with a sing-song voice, “two ancient demons who are kin.”
“William.” Angel frowned in disapproval, as he instinctively glanced around the room. The whole building was filled with demons and vampires, who could hear through walls and doors. “Our very lives depend on the good will of these two Old Ones, so I’m telling you to watch your mouth and show respect!”
“My old goat of a Grandsire was totally batty when it came to these Old Ones.” Spike mumbled. “Some of that must have rubbed off on his thick-as-bricks Childer.”
“What did you just say, boy?” Angel sat up straighter, his good mood beginning to evaporate.
“That I will be respectful to the two Old Ones.” Spike spoke loudly, as if Angel were hard of hearing. “And that I’ll also buy movies and video games for their humans to go with the video sy. . . .” He trailed off as a thought occurred to him. “And just who is going to pay for all of this? You got any money?” He turned to Eamon.
“You can have my credit card.” Angel answered before Eamon could speak, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “But then,” he looked up at Djoser, who entered the room, “the three of you need to do something for me.”
“You’re coming with us?” Spike asked Djoser with obvious annoyance. His brother would be grunting and groaning with censure at everything they said or did on their shopping spree.
“I have to buy a gift for Nic.” Djoser was none too pleased about having to celebrate Christmas in the first place, and to top things off, he had to traipse around the stores of LA with Spike and Eamon.
“You drew Nic’s name?” Spike gave Djoser a you-lucky-bastard look. “He’s an easy, cheap buy. A pack of smokes, a bottle of booze, and a blow-up doll should suffice.”
“The two of you,” Angel addressed Spike and Eamon, “will obey Djoser.” He handed his oldest a credit card. “And while you’re out, you’ll buy a present for Connor from me. Nothing extravagant; we don’t want to cause his. . .his parents to be suspicious.”
“Bloody hell.” Spike jumped up, and stomped to the door with displeasure, while grumbling to himself. “Have to tromp around looking for gifts for two humans, and now we got to look for something for Baby Poof. Thought this whole Christmas thingy was supposed to be fun.”
**
“My bloody feet hurt.” Spike complained loudly, as he and Djoser waited for Eamon, who was inside a video game store. “Why don’t you go and get the car?” There had been no parking anywhere close to the stores, so the car had ended up parked a good mile away. “You can pick us up at the door here.”
“Why don’t you?” Djoser said with a dark frown on his face. Usually indulgent with Spike, he had lost all patience, having just endured four hours of hell, shopping with his younger brother.
“Cause I just told you,” Spike spoke even louder,” my feet hurt. And it’s about bloody time.” He yelled crabbily at his cousin, who had finally existed the store and was approaching them. “And where’s the game?” He stared on Eamon’s empty hands.
“There was one left.” Eamon plopped himself down by Spike with a sigh. “And I had it in my hands, when some crazed woman grabbed it from me.”
“A woman took it away from you?” Spike couldn’t believe his ears. “What kind of prancing poof are you?”
“She had fingernails like talons. Look what she did.” Eamon held up his hand, so Spike could see the nail marks.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Spike swore. “Christmas shopping is about as dangerous as fighting with the Tzmisces. So now what are we going to do? Try another store?”
“Nah.” Eamon shook his head. “Don’t think there’s another copy of the new Resident Evil game in the greater Los Angeles area. You’ll have to give up the one Amazon just sent you.”
“Right.” Spike said with a depressed air. “Sacrifices. War effort. But O better let me play it with him. So now where?” He turned to Djoser. “The gun store to buy Nic his bullets and then home?” The home was emphasized with a hopeful tone.
“We still need to buy a gift for Connor.”
“I told you.” Spike didn’t add the word git, although he wanted to. “At the gun store, while we’re buying Nic his ammunition, we’ll get him a handgun.”
“I don’t think our Sire would want a handgun for Connor. His human parents would not approve.”
“His human parents wouldn’t approve.” Spike repeated in a mocking voice. “Idiot twink remembers who he is now and still chooses to live like a mortal.”
A moment passed as the three vampires considered their options. “Guess we better go through the stores again. See if we can find something.” Eamon stood up with a sigh.
“Fucking hell.” Spike grumbled, as he slowly got to his feet. “This whole Christmas thingy is becoming a bloody pain!”
**
December 24, 2005
Hauling their Christmas presents downstairs to put under the tree, Spike and Eamon had spent a good part of the day, trying to figure out how to wrap them.
“Your Sire still annoyed with you?” Eamon asked, as he navigated the staircase while carrying a television set and video game system.
“Kind of. He wasn’t too thrilled with the gift certificate from Wal-Mart we bought for Connor.”
“Maybe you should have gone with the handgun.”
“I told Djoser that, but the stupid pillock wouldn’t listen. The boy lives here in LA. Who in LA couldn’t use a gun?” Spike’s logic was sound, as the two reached the tree and carefully placed the gifts under it.
“So you never celebrated Christmas before?” Eamon asked. “Not even as a human?”
“Nope.” Spike pretended to be totally engrossed in studying the Christmas decorations that filled the great room of the Ventrues’ lair, while he quickly repressed unhappy memories.
“You know,” Eamon sensed Spike’s shift in mood, “being allied with Scion, this. . . .” He waved his hand around. “Could be an annual thing.”
“Thanks for such a happy thought.” Spike gave his cousin a sour look. “Speaking of Scion,” he quickly took the opportunity to change the subject, “if he and his brother are these Great Old Ones and have been around since the Beginning, why aren’t they like, ruling the world?”
“Because all empires will eventually fall, even ones ruled by gods. There are no exceptions.” The always suave Synn walked in, holding two punch glasses filled with a red liquor. “Punch, especially made with you in mind.” He handed the glasses to Spike and Eamon. “And a Happy Christmas to both of you.”
“Human blood.” Eamon sniffed the punch. “We’re not allowed to drink human. . . .”
“Judelin knows.” Synn interrupted. “My brother and I insisted. It’s our gift to you.” He said, as he turned to leave the room.
“Fucking hell.” Spike muttered softly, watching Synn walk away from them. “This is all we get? After everything we bought for their humans? Bloody Christmas sucks.”
**
December 25, 2005
One eye cracked open, as Spike slowly began to regain his senses. Lifting his head slightly, he saw he was lying on the floor unclothed and covered in discarded Christmas wrapping paper and ribbons. Demon, human, and sex smells filled his nostrils.
“Blo-ody hell!” He mumbled, as he put a hand to his head. Sparks of memories of the night before flashed through his mind, but nothing concrete. Peering around the great room, he noted the numerous unconscious bodies lying around and the Christmas tree that was now tipped on its side. “What the fuck did those Old Ones spike the punch with?” He asked out loud, as his head seemed to vibrate from the thumping inside. Raising himself up on his elbows, he scanned the room, his eyes trying to focus on the various bodies. He was searching for family.
“William.” A naked Angel seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
“Sire.” Spike sighed with relief. This sight of Angel relieved an inexplicable anxiousness that was growing in him. “Guess we really tied one on last night?”
“You guess?” Angel crouched down beside his son. “You don’t remember?”
“Not much.” Studying Angel, Spike realized that his Sire seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the Christmas celebration.
“Too bad because the dance number you did even had the Old Ones enthralled. Both said they never seen anything quite like it.”
“Very funny.” Rubbing the back of his head, Spike wondered if Angel was serious or not. “Where’s Djoser?” He asked, once again scanning the room.
“He’s in no danger, Childe.” Angel reassured despite his puzzlement. “Why are you so worried?”
Spike could only shrug his shoulders. He had no idea.
“Come.” Standing up, Angel held out a hand. “Let’s clean up and find our bed. It will be much more comfortable than this floor.”
“Right.” The strong arm of his Sire brought Spike easily to his feet. “Bloody punch.” He muttered. “The one part of Christmas that was fun and it’s all fuzzy.”
**
Epilogue
A long, hot shower had dulled the rhythmic beating in his head. Feeling clean and less wool headed, Spike fell into bed beside Angel. “Did you have any of the punch?”
“A small glass. But after I saw Synn make the punch, I knew it was something to take only in small doses.
“You could have warned me.” Spike turned on his side, so he could glare at his Sire.
“Warn you?” Angel gave Spike a puzzled stare. “I thought you looked for any opportunity to get, I think the word is, pissed.”
“Yeah, well.” Spike couldn’t argue with Angel’s reasoning, but he could still grumble. “Gave me a headache.”
“Poor William.” Angel was still in a festive mood. Christmas spirit? Or the joyful vision of taking on Wolfram & Hart again backed by three Old Ones and the oldest vampire in existence? Using a thumbnail he opened a vein in his chest. “Come, Childe.” He opened his arms in an invitation. “Drink from me. It will take your pain away.”
Rolling over, Spike didn’t need a second invite. Taking his time, he used his tongue to lap the area completely before his fangs dropped, and he sank them into a nipple.
Stroking Spike’s head, Angel lie back contentedly. “Hope your first Christmas was a good one, Childe.” He whispered.
Sweet sire’s blood filling his mouth, Spike began to revise his opinion about Christmas. May it wasn’t so bad after all.
****
Finis