Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But if I stayed off the Naught List this year, maybe Santa will put a Spike under my tree… "I Know What I Want for Christmas" is George Strait.

Rating: NC-17 (Well, there goes those Nice List hopes…)

Summary: Spike and Buffy stuck together for Christmas… (Can anyone say warm fuzzy holiday fluff?)

Spoilers: Up through "Hush"

Author's Note: This story takes place sorta between "Hush" and "Doomed," even though the beginning of "Doomed" is like five seconds after "Hush." So, it's in some imaginary block of time after the discussion Buffy and Riley have in her dorm room. And after that, it's all off-canon from there. And for this fic, Spike has yet to find out he can hit a demon, and he never moved out of Giles's apartment. He went back after Olivia left. Everyone clear on that? Good.

Also, this fic is total fluff. I felt like writing a warm and fuzzy holiday fic just cause. Hope you like it. :)

Feedback and Archiving: Feedback is the gift that keeps on giving. As for archiving, I usually allow it, just let me know before you post anything of mine. I like to know where my stuff is. Email: addie_logan@yahoo.com

Shameless Website Plug: I have lots of other stuff. Go read it: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/addielogan

Baby, It's Cold Outside

By: Addie Logan

*** *** ***

This the season for generosity
A time to give and to receive
My Christmas list consists of just one sweet dream....

I know what I want for Christmas this year
I hope my note got to Santa on time
I'm a little bit nervous,
It's kind of a big thing I'm asking for
I don't know if I deserve it but, boy, if I get it
I'll never ask for anything more
It shines, it's new
And it's the one wish that I wish would come true
This year for Christmas I just wanna be with you

We can build a little fire
We can sit and talk for hours
We'll just have fun
You can tell me what you did
Christmas morning as a kid
And we'll talk about all our Christmases to come

And if I hang a little mistletoe in every single doorway
I'm sure to get a kiss
And is it too much to ask for a snowman kind of snow
To complete this singular wish?
It shines, it's new
I know what I want and nothin' else will do
This year for Christmas I just want to be with you

*** *** ***

"He is not coming with us. It's ridiculous!"

Joyce Summers planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Buffy, it's Christmas. You can't just leave him all by himself on Christmas."

"Mom, he's a vampire. You know—all evil and unholy. I don't think they even celebrate Christmas. It's like Halloween to the uber-Fundamentalists, only in reverse."

"Spike is coming with us, and that's final."

"But, Mom…" Buffy whined.

"No 'but, Mom's,'" Joyce snapped, giving her daughter the one look in the world that could instill fear into the heart of the Chosen One. "You may be the Slayer, young lady, but I am still your mother, and we will do things in this household my way."

"Fine. You want to spend Christmas with Spike, you go right ahead—but count me out."

"Oh no. You are not going to get away with that," Joyce said, recognizing Buffy's ploy for what it was. Joyce knew Buffy wouldn't willingly leave her mother alone with a vampire, albeit a chipped one.

"I'm not spending Christmas with him."

"Then where will he go? Willow and Xander are both spending the holidays with their families, and Giles is going back to England."

"I know. We worked the Spike situation out already, so you don't have to worry about it."

"And how exactly did you 'work it out?'"

Buffy looked down, knowing her mother was not going to like what she was about to say. "We were gonna keep him chained in Giles's bathtub."

"What! Buffy, that's cruel!"

Buffy looked back up. "So what? Mom, it's Spike—the evil vampire who's tried to kill me how many times now? Do you really care that much about someone who has tried to kill your only child?" Buffy gave Joyce her best "pity me" eyes.

"I also remember him helping you save the world."

Buffy gaped for a moment before replying with, "Well, that was just to save his crazy girlfriend."

"Buffy, you wouldn't leave a dog chained to a bathtub for a week like you're planning to do with Spike. If anything, it's inhumane."

"Yeah, so is slaughtering half of Europe. Besides, I like dogs way better than I like Spike anyway. Even the yippie ones."

"Buffy! I can't believe you could be so cold! Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Not extending itself to evil vampires with bad bleach jobs?"

"Honey, you know how fidgety Spike gets. He'll be bored out of his mind chained up for that long."

"We'll leave a television in there. As long as he can watch Passions he'll be fine." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"And how will he eat?"

"You know, making sure an evil vampire can get blood—really not on the top of my priorities list."

Joyce could see she wasn't going to win Buffy over this way and decided to switch tactics. "What if he breaks free?"

"Huh?"

"What if he breaks free when all of you are gone? Then what?"

"They're really strong chains."

"Don't vampires have super strength? If he pulls at them for a whole week…"

"Yeah, but…" Buffy looked up at her mother defiantly. "So what if he does break free? He has that chip in his head, so it's not like he can hurt anyone."

"Do you have any guarantee that the chip won't stop working? What if he gets out, the chip breaks, and then he goes on a killing spree because you weren't there to keep an eye on him? Isn't that your duty as the Slayer—to make sure things like that don't happen?"

Buffy's jaw dropped. How could her old stand-by of "it's my sacred Slayer duty" be working against her? "That's not fair!"

"Isn't that what you're always saying—you're the Slayer, so nothing in your life is ever fair?"

Buffy knew her mother had her now—and that she had a point. What if Spike did find a way to pull off a killing spree while she was gone? Those deaths would be on her hands. She crossed her arms in front of her. "Fine, Spike can come. But don't blame me when it's the worst Christmas ever."

Joyce ignored the last part of her daughter's statement. "Great! Now let's go to the mall and buy him presents."

Buffy stared, eyes bugged, as Joyce walked out of the room. "Mom!"

*** *** ***

"I don't see why we had to wait until tonight to come up here. It was a waste of a day," Buffy said as she lugged her bags into the dark cabin. "I can't see anything, and it's cold."

"We couldn't exactly drive up here during the day with Spike in the car," Joyce said, turning on the lights.

"Why not? If he was a big pile of dust we wouldn't have to worry about what to do with him this week."

"Buffy! Spike is our guest, and we do not talk about wanting our guests to catch on fire."

"Yeah, Buffy," Spike piped up from beside her. "Don't want to embarrass your mother by making it look like she didn't teach you how to treat a guest."

"Mom! He's taunting me!"

"Well, he has a point, dear," Joyce replied.

"Ugh. I can't believe you two are ganging up on me."

"Well, we wouldn't be if you weren't being such a Scrooge." Joyce brought her things into one of the bedrooms and then came back out. She put her hand on Spike's arm. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchen, and I'll make hot chocolate."

Spike gave her a sweet, hopeful expression. "With little marshmallows?"

"Of course, honey."

Buffy threw her arms up in disgust as her mother walked off with the vampire. Why she didn’t' seem to realize Spike was no more than a bloodthirsty animal was beyond Buffy's realm of comprehension.

The Slayer sat on the couch, arm crossed in front of her, and pouted.

*** *** ***

"I'm sorry my daughter is being such a grinch," Joyce said as she sprinkled tiny marshmallows into Spike's hot chocolate.

"It's all right, Joyce. I did try to kill her a few times, after all."

"Well, so did that Angel, and she certainly didn't treat him like this." Spike smirked at the loathing Joyce put into saying the name of his grandsire. He'd always known that woman had good taste. "Besides, you're harmless now," Joyce continued. "There's no reason for her to treat you like you're the enemy anymore."

"I'm not harmless," Spike muttered, staring into his hot chocolate. "Soon as I get this chip out, I'm killing everyone in Sunnydale." He looked up sharply. "Oh, except you, Joyce. You're a real nice lady. I wouldn't bite you."

"I know, Spike." She paused for a second. "I don't feel afraid with you at all. I never did really, not even before."

Normally, Spike would hate to hear anyone tell him something like that, but not Joyce. It made him happy to know she trusted him. He liked the woman—she reminded him a little of his own mother. "I wouldn't hurt you." The next words were out of his mouth before he had any chance to stop them. "Wouldn't let anyone else hurt you either."

Joyce smiled warmly and gave Spike a motherly pat on the head. "I think you put too much into the whole 'being evil' thing."

"It's what I am."

"Maybe it's just what you were. You know, if you were a little nicer to Buffy's friends—didn't talk about wanting to kill them so much—maybe they'd be nicer to you, too."

"I don't wanna be nice to them. Stupid Scoobies. Ruined everything, they did. Things were fine until bloody Sunnyhell."

"Well, you know, Spike, you're the one who decided to come to Sunnydale. What did you expect them to do—just let you kill them?"

"Well, yeah. Would've been nice." He paused for a second, then added, "'Cept maybe for Buffy. She was always fun to have a good tussle with. Not like the other Slayers I fought. She's got a real fire to her, y'know. Puts it in every move she makes—every punch, every kick. Don't think I've ever met anyone quite like Buffy."

Joyce watched the vampire as he talked about her daughter, noticing the gleam in his eye. She'd been around enough to know what that meant and wondered if Spike was aware of it himself. "Are you sure you really hate her, Spike?" Joyce asked. "Maybe now that you can't kill people anymore, you could help her out. You might find you like not being evil."

"No, I like being evil. Besides, with this chip, I'm useless in a fight. All I can do is depend on the 'hospitality' of your daughter and her soddin' friends." Spike hung his head. "I'm pathetic."

Joyce patted Spike on the arm. "You're not pathetic. And even if you can't fight, I'm sure there are other things you can do. Buffy's always talking about needing to do research. I bet being a vampire for so long gave you all sorts of insights into the demon world that could help them."

"They don't need me for that. Xander's got himself a one-thousand year old ex-vengeance demon for a girlfriend."

Joyce frowned. "What is it with him and demon girls? Buffy's told me about some of his little dating fiascos."

"Anya's an all right bird," Spike said. "Speaks her mind. I like that in a person. Don't know what she sees in the whelp, though. Could do better."

"Xander's a good boy…for the most part." Joyce lowered her voice. "His home life's really bad, you know. Most of his behavior is defensive on his part, I believe."

"Yeah, I got to meet Mr. and Mrs. Whelp when Giles sent me away to spend 'quality time' with his lady friend. Anyway, they were worse than their little wanker spawn."

Joyce bristled for a second. "Giles has a girlfriend?"

"Did. I think they broke up when she saw a demon. Giles kept trying to call her, but she wouldn't talk to him." Spike grinned. "Watchin' them is almost better than the stories on the telly—especially Buffy and whatever her angst-ridden love affair of the moment is. You should've seen her when she realized she'd told the latest one about our engagement. Bloody priceless, it was."

"Buffy has a boyfriend? And wait—did you just say you're engaged? Did I miss something?"

"Slayer didn't fill you in on those little bits of info, huh? Don't know much about her latest other than he's got some nancy-boy name—Riley, I think. And as for the 'engagement,' it was just one of Willow's spells gone wonky. But yeah, for a day I was almost your son-in-law."

Even if it was only because of a spell, Joyce was surprised to think of Spike and Buffy ever being together. "Did you hate each other then?"

"No. Spell made us all lovey-dovey, with the kissing, and the whispering, and whatnot. The Slayer spent most of the day curled up in my lap." Spike stared back down into his mostly-empty cup of hot chocolate. "Bloody awful it was."

Joyce gave a knowing smirk. Spike's subtle body language was giving more away than he wanted it to. "I'm sure it was."

"She might have forgotten that one. Was saying something to the witch about a forgetting spell."

"But you didn't forget it seems."

"How could I? I was stuck with Buffy taste in my mouth for days."

Spike turned away from her, and Joyce could've sworn she saw a blush. Did vampire's blush? She stood up, patting Spike on the head. "You finish your hot chocolate, and I'm going to go get the groceries from the car. Don't want anything going bad—even though it's probably cold enough out there to keep everything frozen all night." Joyce shivered. "I love the mountains, but they remind me of just how much of a Southern California girl I am."

"I can get them, Joyce," Spike offered. "Cold doesn't bother me."

"That's so nice at you Spike," Joyce handed him the car keys. "The grocery bags are in the back."

Spike gave her a nod and started out the cabin. Buffy jumped up running after him. "Where are you going? And with my mom's keys?"

"I knocked her out in the kitchen, and now I'm stealing the car and making my escape." Buffy looked at him in horror, and Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm getting the groceries from the back of the car."

"Why?"

"Because it's cold and there's no reason for your mum to be out there."

"I don't believe you. You're planning something."

"Oh come on, Slayer. What am I going to do? Besides, kinda got a sweet setup here. Least it's not the Watcher's tub."

"I'm not letting you go out there alone."

"Fine. Come out with me. Freeze your skinny little arse off. See if I care."

"I'll be fine."

Almost as soon as they were out the door, Buffy's teeth started chattering. "You know, Slayer, you could go back in, I can handle the groceries by myself."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Spike."

"Suit yourself." Spike opened the back of the car, reaching in for the grocery bags. Buffy grabbed as many as she could, not letting Spike carry more than her. "Trying to prove something, Slayer?" Spike asked.

"Just get back in the house."

"Are you cold?"

"No." Buffy shivered.

"Right." Spike slammed the hatch shut. "Lead the way, Goldilocks."

"Call me that again, and I stake you," Buffy snapped. "And you're walking in front of me. I don't trust you behind me."

Spike sighed and walked back into the house, Buffy in tow.

*** *** ***

Buffy was silent throughout dinner, glaring at Spike as he shared a pleasant dinner conversation with her mother. Buffy couldn't believe that her mother thought Spike was sincere. Didn't she know that he'd rip her throat out in a second if he could? But no, she was treating him like some sort of honored guest. She'd even bought him Wheat-a-Bix for his blood, explaining that she'd asked Giles if Spike ever ate anything other than blood that she should keep around the cabin.

Catering to Spike? Buffy couldn't comprehend it. Finally, Buffy couldn't take it anymore. She stood up from the table, pushing her chair under with a resounding thud. "I'm going to bed," she announced.

"Oh, honey, I meant to talk to you about that," Joyce said. "You're sleeping on the couch."

"What!"

"Well, the sun comes in rather strongly through that window in the morning, and I think it would be safer for Spike if we put him in the small bedroom. There's only the one window, and it's easy to cover."

"I am not sleeping on the couch! I don't care if he bursts into flames in the morning and burns the whole cabin down, I'm sleeping in a bed, and that's final!"

*** *** ***

Buffy tossed and turned on the couch, unable to get comfortable. "Stupid vampire and his flammability," she muttered, yanking the covers with her as she rolled over again.

This was just all so wrong. This was her Christmas, dammit. She shouldn't have to spend it with Spike of all people. And what was the deal with Spike and her mother?

"Can't sleep, Slayer?"

Buffy sat up. "Spike! What the hell are you doing up?"

"Vampire, remember. Sorta nocturnal. Heard you tossing and turning out here, thought you might still be awake."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly stuck with the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements."

"Try sleeping chained to a bathtub," Spike replied. "Way I see it, I deserve a week in a bed."

"You don't deserve anything but a stake through the chest. And what's with you and my mother?"

"What?"

"You. My mom. What's up?"

"Nothing's 'up,' Slayer."

"Why did you get the groceries tonight?"

"I told you, it was cold, and it made more sense for me to get them. Least I could do with Joyce letting me stay up here."

"That's a nice thing to do."

"Yeah, so?"

"You're not nice. And tonight at dinner. You two were like…buddies."

"You're mother's an interesting lady to talk to. And after being stuck with you lot I'm grateful for adult companionship. Well, at least the kind that doesn't mutter 'oh dear lord' every other second and then go to consult a book." He gave Buffy his most irritating smirk. "Besides, I love watching how annoyed it makes you."

"I knew it! I knew you had some sinister motive behind your actions."

Spike shrugged. "Have to get my evil in somewhere, even if it's just making sure the Slayer has her knickers in a twist."

"I really, really hate you."

"Mutual." Spike winked. "Sleep tight, pet."

Spike walked into the bedroom, leaving a fuming Slayer alone on the couch.

*** *** ***

Let me know what you think of this one so far, and if you want more!

Buffy felt like she hadn't been asleep ten minutes when she heard her mother calling her. She grumbled as she rolled over. "What?"

"I need you to help me get a Christmas tree. There's a nice farm up the road, but I doubt I can get one home by myself. Some of that Slayer strength would come in handy."

"Can it wait until later?"

"I'd really like to start filling this place with some Christmas cheer," Joyce replied.

"We can't have Christmas cheer in a couple of hours?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"No. We're having Christmas cheer right now. Get up."

Buffy mumbled to herself as she got off the couch. "You know, this could be considered a form of child abuse. And I think that couch is really a medieval torture device in disguise."

"Get dressed, Buffy."

Buffy started towards her mother's room where she'd left her suitcases, then stopped. "Mom, we can't leave now. Spike will be in the cabin all alone."

"Honey, I checked on Spike this morning. He's fine—sleeping."

"That's not what I meant. If we leave, he could escape."

"Into broad daylight with no shelter from the sun for miles?"

"Okay, maybe he couldn't escape. But he could still do something evil."

"Like what? There's not really a lot of 'evil' to be done around here."

"He could…" Buffy frowned, searching for something to say. "He could loosen the top of the salt shaker so if we use it, all the salt will dump out at once."

Joyce raised an eyebrow. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Hey, that's pretty evil. Too much salt can kill you."

"Buffy, go get dressed."

Buffy grumbled as she made her way to the bedroom.

*** *** ***

"How's this, Mom?" Buffy asked under the strain of the six foot tall evergreen.

"Not quite right. Maybe a little more to the left?"

Buffy muttered under her breath, trying to ignore the assault of pine needles in her face as she moved the tree. "Is this good?"

Joyce scrutinized the tree. "No, that's too far. Go back right again."

Buffy sighed, the tree swaying as she almost lost her balance. "Here?"

"Almost. Move up a bit. It's too close to that back wall."

Buffy tried moving the tree again, but this time she stumbled. The pine came crashing down, pinning Buffy beneath, her arms sticking out from either side. "Buffy!" Joyce yelled, running over to her. "Honey, are you okay?"

"I've had worse," Buffy replied from under the tree. "Think maybe you can help me?"

Joyce attempted to lift the tree, but managed only to drop it back on Buffy, who grunted in pain. Spike walked out of the bedroom, surveying the scene with amusement. "Need help?" he asked.

Buffy lay under the tree, humiliation filling her completely when she heard Spike's voice. If there was one thing worse than being trapped under a Christmas tree, it was being trapped under a Christmas tree and having your mortal enemy see it.

"Spike! We didn't wake you, did we?" Joyce asked.

"Um, Mom, more important issues here than whether or not Spike got a good day's sleep."

Spike contained his laughter as he went over, easily lifting the tree off Buffy and setting it upright again. He made sure the stand was secure before turning back to Buffy, who was by this point covered in pine needles. "That's a nice look for you, Slayer."

"Drop dead, Spike."

"Too late, luv."

"Buffy!" Joyce snapped. "Spike just helped you! You apologize for being rude and tell him thank you!"

"Mom! I am not apologizing or thanking Spike!"

"You do it right this instant, young lady!"

Buffy hung her head, unable to look Spike in the face. "I'm sorry and thank you."

"Apology accepted, Slayer. And you're welcome."

Buffy glanced up slightly, the fury in her eyes quite clear to the vampire. He smirked.

"Um, Joyce—is there any way to the kitchen that doesn't pass the picture window? It's a bit sunny for my tastes at the moment" Spike asked.

"Oh! I didn't even think about that!" Joyce replied. "Spike, I'm so sorry! Are you hungry?"

"A little, yeah."

"Don't worry about it. I'll go heat you up some blood right now. How hot do you like it?"

"Ninety eight point six."

"Of course. I'll be right back."

"Mom! You can't go fix a mug of blood for a vampire. It's just…wrong. Spike can wait until he can do it himself."

Spike turned to Buffy, running his tongue over his teeth. "Nothing you haven't done, pet." He winked.

"That…that was a spell!"

Joyce looked over at her daughter, her hands placed on her hips. "Buffy, as I've said before, Spike is our guest—and right now, our guest is hungry." She turned away from Buffy and smiled sweetly at Spike. "I'll have it for you in a minute, dear."

"Thanks Joyce."

Buffy threw her hands up in disgust. As her mother left the room, she turned to Spike. "You know, this isn't cute."

"What, your pine-fresh look?"

Buffy glared, angrily picking the needles off of her. "No. You pretending to like my mom."

"I do like your mom."

"You said last night your were harassing me."

Spike smiled. "Added bonus."

"Well, you're laying it on a little thick."

"Your point?"

"Almost everything in this cabin is made of wood, Spike. Maybe you should think about that."

"You should watch the threats, Slayer. Mum wouldn't approve."

The vampire and the Slayer stared at each other, their narrow gazes locked until Joyce walked out from the kitchen, carrying a mug with her. The design on the outside appeared to be a frowning Scrooge, but as the warm liquid inside heated it up, the image changed to a smiling Santa. "Here you go, Spike."

"Thank you, Joyce," Spike replied, taking the mug. "I really appreciate it."

"You're very welcome. Anything else I can get you?"

"No, this will be fine."

"I'm going to take a nap," Buffy announced, heading towards her mother's room. "In a bed. You two have a nice afternoon."

"I just don't know what's gotten into her," Joyce said as Buffy shut the door.

Spike smirked, drinking his blood.

*** *** ***

By the time Buffy woke, the sun was down. She could hear Spike and her mother talking somewhere in the cabin, and she groaned. This would be bearable if Joyce would just let her keep Spike bound and gagged, but no. He was their "guest." Buffy figured it could have been somewhat funny if it wasn't so horrifying.

When Buffy entered the kitchen, she realized she had yet to know truly horrifying until that moment. Spike and her mother were…decorating Christmas cookies? "What are you doing?" Buffy asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Spike's helping me with the cookies," Joyce replied.

"But I always do that," Buffy said in a pitiful voice.

"Well, you decided to sleep the day away," Joyce replied. "But you can help now if you want."

Buffy grumbled, sitting down at the table. It was easy to tell which cookies Spike had decorated. The Santa with fangs and black icing ridges on its forehead was a giveaway. "You do realize he's making cookies of evil, don't you?" Buffy asked.

"I think they're cute," Joyce said. "Very creative." She stood. "Why don't you help decorate the rest of them, Buffy? I need to take a shower. I think I have flour in my hair."

"I'd rather decorate them with you instead of him," Buffy replied.

"I'll be back out in a little bit," Joyce said, ignoring her daughter's angry muttering.

As soon as Joyce was out of the room, Spike grabbed a gingerbread man and began very carefully drawing on a face with icing. Buffy frowned as she realized what he was doing. Pointed hair, fangs, and a prominent brow… She hated to admit it, but it was a rather good cookie likeness of her ex-lover. Spike finished by writing "Peaches" across the cookie man's chest, then looked up at Buffy, an evil gleam in his eye. He ripped the head off with his teeth, giving her a smirk as he swallowed it.

"That's it!" Buffy yelled, leaping up and tackling Spike to the ground. She pulled a stake out from where, Spike wasn't sure, and held it above his heart. "I've had enough of you," she growled.

Just then, Joyce rushed into the kitchen. "Buffy! What are you doing?"

"He made an Angel cookie! And then he bit its head off!" Buffy frowned. "And weren't you in the shower?"

"I was about to be when I heard a commotion in the kitchen. Buffy, staking guests is not appropriate either."

"But, Mom! Angel cookie!"

Spike looked up at Joyce, his expression the very picture of innocence. "Buffy Anne Summers, get up this instant. If I come out of the shower to find you've hurt Spike, you are going to be in more trouble than you have ever been in your life. Do you understand me, young lady?"

Buffy got up, the stake disappearing again. "Yes," she mumbled.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes!"

Joyce smiled. "Good. Now you two play nice." Joyce left the kitchen again.

"One of these days she's not going to be around to protect you."

"And one of these days this chip won't be around to protect you."

They glared at each other for a moment before both sitting down at the table and resuming the cookie decorating.

*** *** ***

"It was horrible, Willow. I had to decorate a Christmas tree with Spike." Buffy frowned, twirling the phone cord around her fingers.

"Was he a total meanie about it?"

"No! That's the worst part! He's like the sweetest guy in the world with my mom around. He's all 'oh, let me get that Joyce' and 'oh, I love to help, Joyce.' It's driving me insane. Granted, that's exactly why he's doing it, but dammit, it's working!"

"I'm sorry, Buffy."

"And do you know what he did today? He made a gingerbread Angel and bit its head off!" Buffy frowned at the sound coming from the other end of the line. "Willow, are you laughing?"

"Sorry, Buffy, but that's kinda funny."

"It was mean, and he's causing me emotional distress and ruining my Christmas!"

"Have you tried ignoring him?"

"What?"

"He's doing it for attention, obviously. If you don't give it to him, maybe he'll stop."

"Willow, it's Spike. He's so annoying it's physically impossible to ignore him."

"Then I don't know what to tell you, Buffy. What's he doing right now?"

"Watching It's a Wonderful Life with my mother."

"That's a scary thought."

"Tell me about it. Oh, did I mention I'm sleeping on the couch?"

"What?"

"Spike gets the bed. There's less sunlight in the bedroom, apparently."

"That does sound rather sucky. I know it doesn't help much, but I am sorry you're not having a good time."

"Thanks, Wills. And I'm sorry I've been bitch-a-lot Buffy, but grr. Spike has me totally at my limits. I don't think I've ever wanted to stake him so bad—and that's saying a lot."

"Just six more days, and you'll be Spikeless again."

"Oh believe me, I know. I'm counting down the seconds."

"It could be worse," Willow replied. "Your mom could be gone, and you could be stuck with just Spike."

"Oh god, Willow, don't say anything that horrible! Stuck up here with Spike—I'd end up like Jack Nicholson in The Shining." Buffy sighed. "Hey, I should probably go. Leaving Spike alone with my mom for too long creeps me out. I'm afraid I'm going to go out there and find them knitting stockings to hang over the fireplace."

"If that happens, call me and I'll work out some sort of emergency rescue."

"Thanks."

"And call me any time you need to vent a little. It helps with sanity-retention."

"Will do. Bye, Wills."

"Bye, Buffy."

*** *** ***

Buffy stood, tapping her foot as the phone rang. Finally, there was a click on the other line and a mumbled word that could've been "hello." "Willow! Thank goodness you're home!"

"Buffy, it's six o'clock in the morning. Where else would I be?"

"Did you do another 'will be done' spell?"

"Huh?"

"Did you do another spell?"

"No. Why?"

"Because my mother is leaving!" Buffy exclaimed. "I'm going to be alone with Spike—just like you said last night on the phone!"

"What! Your mother is going to leave you alone with Spike for Christmas?"

"Not for Christmas. Just for a day, she says. Some sort of emergency at the gallery. But that's a whole day cooped up in here with Spike!"

"Buffy, I swear, I didn't do a spell. It's just a really unpleasant coincidence."

Buffy sighed, able to tell that Willow was indeed telling the truth. "It's official. Someone up there hates me."

"Look on the bright side—with your mother gone, you can spend a night sleeping in a bed instead of the couch."

"I guess that's something," Buffy grumbled.

"Um, now that we've established I didn't do any magicks, can I go back to sleep?" Willow asked.

"Yeah. Sorry for waking you."

"It's okay. Bye."

Before Buffy could say anything, the sound on the other end of the line switched from her best friend's voice to a dial tone. Buffy sighed, hanging up the phone. Slowly, she walked to the living room where her mother was preparing to leave. "Do you have to go?" Buffy asked.

"Yes. I'm really sorry, sweetie, but it'll only be a day. You'll be okay until I get back. You'll have Spike to keep you company."

"That's the problem."

"Honey, he's not that bad. If you'd just give him a chance…"

"I am not giving Spike a chance. He is an evil, repulsive vampire. Maybe you don't see that, but I do."

"I'm just saying you should make the best of the situation, Buffy. Try not to be so negative."

"Not be so negative? I'm going to be stuck in here with my least favorite person ever."

Joyce slung her bag over her shoulder. "Be good, Buffy. Call me if you need anything." She kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"But, Mom…"

"Be good, Buffy!" Joyce said again before walking out the door and shutting it behind her.

Buffy slumped down on the couch. "Well, isn't this just the most craptastic Christmas ever."

*** *** ***

When Spike came out into the living room that afternoon, Buffy was sitting on the couch, staring into the lit fireplace. "Whatcha thinking, Slayer? 'Fire pretty?'"

Buffy whipped around, obviously startled by the vampire's presence. "Go away, Spike."

"Where's your mum?"

"She had to go back to Sunnydale for the day. Something for the gallery. She'll be back some time tomorrow. And before you ask, I'm not getting your blood for you."

"Mum wouldn't like it if she came home to find out you let the guest go hungry…"

Buffy gaped. "So you'd what, tattle on me?"

Spike's only response was a grin. Buffy threw her arms up. "Fine. I'll get your damn blood. But I'm not making sure it's heated to human body temperature!"

Spike grinned wider as Buffy stormed off to the kitchen. A nice comfy cabin and the Slayer fetching his blood… Spike decided it was the best Christmas ever.

*** *** ***

Chapter 3:
The Grinch, huh?"

Buffy didn't turn away from the television as Spike walked in the room. "Mom only brought Christmas movies."

Spike sat on the couch, making sure to keep his distance from Buffy. "I always liked the Grinch. Well, except for the ending."

"What would you prefer—a Whoville massacre?"

"For starters."

Buffy sighed, putting the movie on pause and turning to look at Spike. "Why are you out here? If you're hungry, the sun's down, so you can walk to the kitchen without bursting into flames. Otherwise, you really don't need to be anywhere but the bedroom."

"I got bored. Come on, Buffy, you can at least let me watch the telly with you."

Maybe it was a bit of the season getting to her, or maybe it was just the fact that every time he called her by her real name it threw her a little, but Buffy decided she could probably concede that much. "Fine—but no talking."

"Right. I'll be quiet."

"I meant immediately, Spike."

Spike muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "bossy little bint," but quieted down at the look Buffy shot him.

The two sat stiff and silent, both trying to pretend the other wasn't there, but their self-conscious body language made it clear that they were quite aware of the fact that they weren't alone—and who they were with.

Just as the Grinch handed Cindy Lou Who her glass of water and sent her off to bed, Spike sat straight up, glancing around. "Slayer, pause the movie."

"What…"

"Pause the movie, dammit! I heard something."

As the image stilled on the screen, Buffy perked up, trying to see if she could hear what Spike was talking about. "I don't…"

"Shh! There it is again. Scratching. You don't hear it?"

"No. And it's probably just raccoons."

Buffy started to restart the movie, but Spike reached out, grabbing her hand to stop her. Buffy felt a thrill rush through her at his touch, cursing herself for not having Willow actually do a forgetting spell. Memories of her "engagement" to Spike were still way too fresh in her mind. "What's the big deal?" Buffy asked. She snatched her hand away. "And don't touch me."

Spike sniffed the air. "Doesn't smell like raccoons. Smells demony. Grab yourself a weapon, Slayer."

Buffy squinted, trying to peer through the dark glass of the picture window. "Are you sure? I don't see anything."

"No, I'm making it up for a lark," Spike replied sarcastically. "Look Slayer, unless you want to be demon meat, I suggest you go check it out."

Buffy got up on the couch, figuring as untrustworthy as Spike tended to be, she didn't have the luxury of ignoring his warning. She went into the bedroom, coming back a few minutes later with both a sword and a stake. "Don't need the stake, pet. It's not a vamp."

"The stake isn't for it."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Right then. What else would I get for trying to help you than death threats?"

Buffy ignored him, walking towards the back door. "Stay here. If there's going to be a fight, I don't need you getting in the way."

"Fine. Have fun hacking up the nasty."

Spike sat down on the couch, staring at the paused television screen. He tried not to think about the fact that the Slayer was outside, facing who knows what. Maybe she'd get killed, and he could have the cabin to himself.

The sound of the Slayer's scream pierce the silence of the cabin, and Spike jumped to his feet. Buffy was in trouble. Before his brain could tell him he didn't care, he ran outside, only to find her pinned to the ground by a rather large, furry demon.

"Oi! Get off the girl!" Spike yelled, hoping to distract the demon. It only looked at Spike for a moment, before turning back to Buffy, its massive paw raised to strike her with glistening claws. Spike immediately slipped to game face, launching himself on the demon and knocking it off Buffy and to the ground, pummeling it as he landed on top.

Suddenly, Spike stopped in mid-punch, realizing that even as he beat the creature into oblivion, his chip wasn't making the slightest protest. His feral-yellow eyes sparkled as he realized he was free to inflict as much pain on this guy as he wanted. Spike hit it a few more times before snapping its neck, roaring in triumph as he did. He stood, wiping blood off his face and grinning as the demon turned to ooze and spread out across the snow.

It wasn't until Spike heard Buffy whimper in pain that he remembered where he was. His face shifted back to its human appearance as he went to her, kneeling down to look her in the eyes. "Are you all right, Slayer?"

"I think so," Buffy replied, even as she winced in pain. "It dislocated my arm."

"Come on, pet, let's get you inside. I can fix that up." Buffy nodded, her arm hurting too much for her to argue. Spike helped her to her feet, letting her lean on him as they went back inside the cabin. Spike got her to the couch, and then asked. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"There's one in my stuff, in Mom's room," Buffy replied.

Spike went to the bedroom and coming back a few moments later, kit in hand. He knelt down in front of Buffy again. "How'd that thing get the jump on you, Slayer?" Spike asked.

"What, you want to take notes for future use?" Buffy asked. She smiled a little as she spoke, and Spike smiled back.

"Just curious is all."

"I'm not use to fighting in ice and snow," Buffy admitted. She colored slightly, turning away from Spike's gaze. "I slipped."

"Good thing I was here to save you then."

Buffy looked up sharply, her eyes widening. "You…you did. You saved me."

Now it was Spike's turn to look away. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Slayer."

"It kinda is a big deal, Spike. I mean, me Slayer, you vampire—remember? You're not supposed to help me. Why did you do it?"

Spike thought about lying to her, giving some answer about how he wanted the honor of killing her for himself. He didn't. "I don't know. I just heard you scream, and all my thoughts went out the window. And then when I saw that thing hurting you, I knew I had to make it stop. Come on, I need to pop your shoulder back in place."

Buffy nodded, turning to grant Spike easier access to her injury. They shared a mutual cry of pain as Spike moved her shoulder back in place, Spike grabbing his head. "Bloody hell! You'd think they'd make it so the damn chip knew when I was trying to help you!"

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Spike opened the kit, pulling out a blue sling. "This is quite the full-service first aid kit you have here, Slayer," he said, helping Buffy get the sling on.

"Kind of a necessity in my line of work."

"I'd imagine so. You've got pretty nasty cut on your cheek."

"It got me with a claw."

Spike took out an antiseptic pad, cleaning and then bandaging Buffy's cut without a word. "He get you anywhere else?" he asked once he was done.

"No. You came in before he had a chance to do any real damage." Buffy looked up at him, worry suddenly creasing her brow. "Spike, how did you kill it?"

"Broke its neck."

"No, that's not what I meant. Your chip—shouldn't it have gone off?"

"I would've thought so, but…" A grin spread across Spike's face. "It was a demon! I can hit a demon!"

"You seem awfully excited about that."

"I can kill again!" Spike said with glee. "Granted, I never thought I'd be the type to run around killing my own kind like your poofter ex, but I'll take what I can get."

"So what, you're going to join the good guys now? Apply for Scooby membership?"

"Um, no. Trust me, I have no desire to join your little Slayer fan club. But hey, point me towards something demony, and I'll kill it." He grinned widely, obviously thinking of all the destruction and mayhem he was once again free to cause.

Buffy shook her head. She knew that all of this could have serious repercussions, but she was in no shape to sort them out now. "Wanna watch the rest of the movie?"

"Are you okay now?"

"It's not bad. With a little Slayer healing I'll be good as new before long."

"Glad to hear it."

Buffy looked at him, her eyes scanning his face for a moment before asking, "Are you?"

Spike turned away, clearing his throat. "How about finishing that movie?"

"Sounds good to me," Buffy replied, not anymore anxious than Spike to see where that conversation could lead.

*** *** ***

Three Christmas movies later, and Buffy and Spike had barely said a word to each other. As each one had finished, Buffy had put another one in, an unspoken agreement between them that another movie was better than discussing any of the events from earlier that night.

As the cute little girl found Santa's cane by the fireplace of her new home, Spike turned to look at Buffy, finding that the Slayer was curled up on the other end of the couch, fast asleep. He clicked off the movie, then picked Buffy up, ignoring the mew of protest she made in her sleep.

"Just carrying you to bed, kitten," he said softly, adjusting her so he wasn't putting too much pressure on her shoulder. Buffy settled down at that, nestling against him. Spike paused, breathing in the scent of her hair. He hated this attraction he'd always felt towards the Slayer, and he especially hated the way what had happened while they were both under Willow's spell had intensified it.

He knew, being what he was, that he shouldn't have saved her. He should've just kicked back, lit up a cigarette, and watched the bloodshed. But he hadn't. The moment he'd heard her scream, the only thought that had gone through his mind was that he had to save her. He hadn't even considered the chip when he'd jumped in to pull the demon off of her, his own well-being the furthest thing from his mind.

Spike frowned, suddenly full of self-disgust. What sort of demon was he? First getting chipped and now falling for the Slayer. He…

As soon as that thought went through his mind, Spike almost dropped Buffy to the ground as if she were made of crosses, the only thing keeping him from doing so being the thought that the chip may not like it. Falling for the Slayer? That couldn't be right. Sure, she was hot, and he could admit to himself that recently more of his thoughts had been about shagging her than killing her, but he didn't have any actual feelings for her. He couldn't.

Spike tried to call an image of Drusilla to mind, reminding himself of the only woman he was ever supposed to love. But as soon as he could see his dark princess in his mind's eye, she faded away, dark hair and pale skin replaced with warm gold.

He hurried into the bedroom, depositing Buffy on the bed before backing away. What he thought he was feeling—it couldn't be right. She was the Slayer, and he hated her. Wanted to kill her. Simple as that.

Spike went into the other bedroom, attempting to sleep, but finding it difficult with Buffy's scent still wrapped around him.

*** *** ***

Buffy was back in the living room again when Spike woke the next afternoon. He stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching her as she leaned against the arm of the couch, watching yet another Christmas movie. Spike recognized this one as that one where the kid keeps prattling on about wanting some sort of weapon. "How's the arm, Slayer?" he asked after a moment.

"Healing," Buffy replied, not looking back at him.

They were both silent for a while, and Spike could tell from the little he could see of Buffy's face that she was thinking about something. Finally, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

"You offering to get my blood, Slayer?"

"Yeah. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"But it kinda is a big deal," Spike said, echoing back the words she'd said to him the night before.

Buffy paused the movie and got off the couch. "It isn't really."

"Buffy…"

"I'll have your blood in a minute, Spike."

Spike sighed, running his hand through his tousled bleached curls as Buffy went into the kitchen, a wall of sunlight preventing him from going after her.

Why hadn't dealing with this Slayer been as simple as the other two?

*** *** ***

Buffy leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for Spike's blood to finish in the microwave. She kept running the events of the night before in her head, trying to sort them out, but never reaching a conclusion she liked.

She knew she'd fallen asleep on the couch, but when she'd woken up she'd been in the bed. The only reason she could come up with for that was that Spike had carried her to bed. Why would he do that? It's not like he should care if she woke up on the couch the next morning all uncomfortable.

And furthermore, why had he saved her in the first place—and then gone as far as to bandage her up. The Spike she thought she knew would've let her die, egging the demon on. She kept trying to find some bit of selfishness in his actions, but she couldn't. Even if he'd saved her just so he wouldn't loose the protection of her friends now that he was chipped, it didn't make sense that he would help her afterwards.

The microwave dinged, stopping any further thoughts Buffy could have. She took out the mug, curling the fingers of her good hand around the handle it and carrying it into the bedroom, where she found Spike sitting on the edge. "Here," she said, handing it to him.

"Thanks, pet."

Buffy blushed as Spike's fingers brushed up against hers. She jerked away as soon as he had the mug, looking down. She started to leave the room when she heard Spike speak.

"Buffy, about last night…"

"I don't want to talk about last night."

"I'm just as confused as you are about it, all right? You think you're freaked out because a vampire saved you? How do you think I feel, knowing I saved the bloody Slayer?"

"Why did you do it, Spike?"

"I told you, I don't know! I knew you were in danger, and I didn't like it."

Buffy looked at him, the sincerity in his features making her stomach flip. He was a soulless vampire. Soulless vampires did not save the life of the Slayer. Angelus would have… She shook her head, stopping that line of thought. But Spike was watching her expectantly, and she knew he wanted her to say something.

"Your roots are starting to show."

Spike blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your roots. They're brown."

"Well, yeah. Not like I've exactly had a chance for a touch up. Besides, it's bloody hard to do without a mirror. And that was a rather random statement there, Slayer."

"If you can't do it without a mirror, then how do you bleach your hair?"

"We weren't talking about my hair," Spike reminded her.

"We are now."

Spike sighed. If this is the way the Slayer wanted it, then fine. "I didn't say I couldn't, I just said it's hard. But most of the time, Dru would help me with it—when she wasn't totally off in her own little world."

"Do you, um, do you…" Buffy's next sentence came out in a rush. "Do you want me to do your roots?"

Spike gave her a puzzled look. "Have I gone barmy, or did you just offer to bleach my hair for me."

Buffy traced a circle on the floor with her booted toe. "Just 'cause you, um, saved my life last night."

"I put myself at risk for you, and you bleach my hair. Seems like an unfair trade to me."

Buffy's nervousness was quickly replaced with frustration. "Dammit, Spike, do you want me to or not?"

"Um, sure." He tapped his mug. "Just let me finish this, okay?"

"Okay. I'll go, um, find the peroxide."

Buffy left the room, leaving Spike temporarily alone with his thoughts and his blood.

*** *** ***

"Ow."

"Stop being such a baby."

"Well, it hurts."

"You've been doing this for longer than I've been alive, Spike. You think you'd be used to a little stinging by now."

"Well, usually I use Sweet N Low to take the sting out, but since somebody says she doesn't have any…"

"I'm not hoarding artificial sweetener just to cause you pain."

Spike tightened his grip on the towel Buffy had wrapped around his shoulders to prevent any dripping. "Yeah, well, you're probably still enjoying my suffering."

"Not as much as I should be," Buffy admitted. She worked the peroxide into Spike's hair, wishing for a fleeting second that she didn't have to be wearing gloves. Even though the rubber, his hair felt surprisingly soft, and she wanted to feel it against her bare skin. She shook her head. That was not a thought she should have concerning Spike.

"Buffy…"

"Don't, Spike. Just don't."

"But…"

Before Spike could say anything else, the phone rang. Buffy ran to get it quickly, glad for the distraction. Spike sighed, trying to ignore the painful tingling of his scalp as he listened to Buffy's end of the conversation.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm fine. Two more days, but…"

Spike could see Buffy through the open bedroom door, and he watched her now as she bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. The sight affected him more than he wanted to admit, and he had the sudden urge to grab her and kiss her hard.

"I understand, it's your job," Buffy said, speaking into the phone again. "No, I'm not upset with you, Mom, I just wish you could be back up here. I know. No, we're fine. I'm bleaching his hair. Seriously. Well, he had roots. Oh, he kinda, well, he…he saved my life last night."

Buffy looked almost in pain when she admitted that, and Spike smiled. If this was bothering him, at least it was getting to her, too.

"There was a demon, Spike killed it. Uh huh. Yeah. Apparently the chip lets him kill demons. Yeah, he's happy about that. No, we're not really getting along. Hey, I'm doing his hair—that's nice!" Buffy sighed heavily, and was silent for a while, as she listened to her mother. "All right, Mom. No, I don't think there will be anymore demons. I don't know. I'd call Giles, but… I'll be careful. If anything else comes, I'm sure Spike and I can handle it, so don't worry."

Spike raised an eyebrow at that, then smiled. Somehow, he liked the way that sounded…

"No, you just finish what you need to do at the gallery so you can get back up here. I will. Love you, too. Bye."

Buffy hung up the phone and turned back to Spike. "Mom's going to be gone for a couple more days. Apparently, whatever it is she had to do for work is taking longer than she expected. She also says hi. Oh, and she thanks you for saving my life." Buffy said the last part flippantly, not wanting to get back into that particular subject with Spike again.

Spike nodded. "So are you going to finish this, or am I going to have half brown roots?"

"Oh! Sorry." Buffy hurried back to him, picking up the peroxide again.

Spike smiled, the sting easier to ignore now. Spike and I can handle it… Was the Slayer letting him in to her life—and if she was, why did that thought make him so happy?

Spike shoved away any confusing thoughts, vowing to sort them out later. Right now, he'd just focus on how good it felt to have Buffy's hands in his hair.

*** *** ***

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