Cookies and Cards

"Willow, look!"

Willow stopped as Buffy clutched her arm and pointed. The display was artful, she had to admire the way the store had arranged the bags of flour and sugar, the piles of chocolate chips and nuts that just screamed to be combined into plate after plate of cookies. Very seductive.

"Will, that’s what we should do, we should bake cookies for gifts!"

Willow stared at Buffy as though she’d grown a third eye.

"You want to . . . bake?"

Buffy nodded. "Uh-huh. C’mon Willow, it’ll be fun. Look at all these bags of chocolaty goodness just waiting to be transformed. And besides, we’ve been shopping all day. There’s no way we’re ever gonna find personal gifts to send to everyone and I’d hate to give all those girls something boring like generic bath gel."

Willow shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to ease her aching calf muscles. Holiday shopping was the worst, especially when your list included about two dozen slayers you barely knew.

"Alright, but Buffy, um, you will sort of let me, you know, supervise?"

Buffy whirled around, her mouth a perfect O of disbelief. "Willow, what are you suggesting? That I can’t bake?"

As Willow gaped and tried to think of tactful way #43 to explain to Buffy that her culinary skills left much to be desired, she saw the smirk break through.

"Alright faker, grab a basket, let’s stock up."

"You know you make the best cookies, Will."

"Yeah, though guilt seems to be a necessary ingredient," Willow snorted.

They counted out bags of supplies and wandered further to the dairy section to obtain butter and eggs.

"Has Xander called?"

"No, not in the last week or so. He did send an e-mail yesterday."

"How are things on the Cleveland Hellmouth? Faith keeping it under control?"

"Sounded like."

Buffy contemplated the merits of butterscotch chips as Willow eyed their full cart. "Um Buffy, there’s a limit to how chips ahoy we can get."

"Right, right." She placed the bag back on the rack as they headed to find vanilla.

"So did Angel call this week?"

Buffy sighed. "Yeah he did. Like clockwork. It’s so weird though. He calls every week now, makes small talk, asks how things are, nothing big really, and then hangs up. It’s kind of sweet, I guess."

Willow eyed her speculatively. "I’d have thought you’d have been glad to have things better between you guys, Buff. You don’t talk for years, then he shows up with a shiny trinket to save the day and starts calling you again. Isn’t that what you always wanted, Angel? Even if you can’t really have him and you both have some, well, interesting histories now and there’s that whole ‘he runs an evil law firm’ gig."

Buffy colored slightly and had to giggle as Willow’s straight faced recitation. "Yeah, I mean I thought that was what I wanted. Except we can’t seem to really communicate, it’s all just small talk and chatter about the weather nowadays. I think he wants to know something or ask me something but he never does. Like he’s all fishing around about stuff." She heaved a sigh. "One could never accuse Angel of being simple, that’s for sure."

Willow laughed. "Yeah, I thought boys were complicated after Oz and Xander, until I switched to girls. Kennedy was a piece of work. I don’t think anyone’s simple when it comes to affairs of the heart."

Buffy noted the absence of Tara’s name, but decided not to comment. Willow had healed, but there was always a tenderness about the subject of Tara and the events surrounding her passing that even now made it difficult for good times to be recalled.

"Wiser words were never uttered Willow." She glanced at the cart’s overflowing fullness. "Okay, we’re stocked, let’s make this cookie magic happen."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you girls all done with your holiday shopping?"

Buffy dropped the Asda Wal-Mart bags on the smooth countertop and beamed at Giles. "We’re commandeering the kitchen Giles. Willow and I are going to make Christmas cookies."

At Willow’s harrumph, she hastily added. "And Hanukkah cookies."

Additional harrumph. "Um, Winter Solstice cookies?"

Willow nodded. Buffy turned back to Giles. "We’re making seasonal cookies and then we’ll put them in tins and send them out as gifts."

Vivid flashbacks of an equally determined Buffy madly stirring mashed potatoes and wrecking his kitchen on another holiday filled his brain. "Buffy, are you sure that’s a wise . . ."

She interrupted him with a tsk as she grabbed his arm. "Absolutely. We’ll be in and out in a flash and you’ll have some tasty treats in your stocking as well. And we promise to clean up."

Giles sighed the sigh of the resigned. "Very well then. Dawn asked me to pass on to you that she and her new friend Andrea would be studying late for their finals at Andrea’s home tonight. She said she’d left you a message, but you’d discussed it last night."

Buffy checked her cell phone. "Oh she did, well that’s good. Andrea’s nice and Dawn studying is never a bad. She was going to spend the night, if Andrea’s mom okayed it."

Giles nodded. "I imagine she explained in the message. I did want to let you both know as well that we’ll be having a dinner guest if he arrives in time."

Willow called from the pantry she’d disappeared into. "Is it another one of those old retired Council people?"

"I fit that description Willow."

She reemerged smiling. "No you don’t. Neither old nor retired. You’re our active duty Giles."

"Thank you. Our guest is connected but he’s in much the same position as myself. You do remember Wesley Wyndam-Price, don’t you Buffy?"

Buffy looked up from the bowls she was sorting. "Of course, who could forget Mr. Stiff Upper Lip?"

Willow snickered. "Oh Buffy, are you in for a surprise. You remember when I went and got Faith from LA? Wesley is all scruffy and kind of a hottie now."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, not that I . . ."

Giles interrupted. "While debating the relative merits of Wesley’s "hotness" before and after his sojourn in Sunnydale is quite fascinating in a Teen Beat sort of way, he’ll shortly be dropping round for dinner and I’d like for us to be prepared to discuss the plans for the new Council with him. His mother mentioned there had been some incidents in LA that may have caused him to rethink his decision to work with Angel, and he’s taken some time off to come over and visit. He could be quite a valuable asset to our team."

"Got it, Giles, you want us to be on our bestest behavior with Wesley so he’ll sign on to trying to get this thing off the ground again. Can do."

"Excellent. I’ll leave you to your endeavors now, do clean up when you’re done."

"Yes Giles," they chorused as he walked out.

"Well that’ll be strange, seeing Wesley again. It’s been years now. Say he is pretty yummy?"

Willow nodded. "Yup. I can still appreciate a fine specimen and he is one. I got the impression he might have a thing for Fred, you know the scientist that works with them?"

Buffy nodded. "Kind of. Like I said, Angel’s always pretty vague when he calls. He never really says much about what they’re doing or who he works with. Wonder if he’ll be mad if we recruit Wesley away from him?"

"Probably. Must have been something bad if Wesley’s thinking about leaving - he seemed so devoted to Angel last year."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow and Willow laughed. "No, not devoted like that." She frowned, "At least I don’t think so - cause you know Fred and all. But he seemed convinced they were fighting the good fight."

Buffy surveyed the supplies now all spread out and ready to be assembled. "Well, enough about them, we’ll wine and dine Wesley tonight and see if he can tell us more about what’s going on in LA. Now, where do we start?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Willow dusted her hands. "Alright, I think that’s the last bowl mixed. Let the baking begin." She looked down at her top covered in flour. "Oh, Buffy, can you start putting them in the oven while I go get changed?"

"Sure Will. Now what do I do again?"

"Just put them in and watch them carefully. The time’s on the recipe over there. When they’re done, pull them out and let them cool for a little while and slide the next sheet in."

"Okay."

That sounded simple enough, Buffy thought as she watched Willow trot from the kitchen to go change. She slid the first pan in, shut the door and glanced at her watch. About ten minutes. This should be the easy part.

She began to straighten up, collecting the used bowls and spoons and measuring cups that littered the kitchen. No doubt Giles would insist they eat out tonight with Wesley, but it wouldn’t hurt for the kitchen to be all spotless. Would prevent the pained sigh as he looked over the destruction of his home. She searched around and found the stopper, plugged the sink and began running water.

As her hands sunk into the sudsy water she glanced around. Giles had so been holding out on them all those years in Sunnydale. That little bachelor pad he’d had, cozy as it had been as Scooby Central, had nothing on this place. She and Dawn’s jaws had dropped when they’d taxied up and Willow had laughed at their reaction. Giles had blustered something about family and his grandfather having a lucky turn in the market to explain away the rather imposing home. It wasn’t a mansion, but there was definitely way more room than there had been in their cramped little house. And there were horses. And Giles rode. That had wigged her.

She finished the first sink full and rinsed them off, setting the items in the draining bowl before picking up her watch. Oh, it was time, ten minutes exactly. She opened the oven and slid the tray out with the mitt. Umm, chocolatey goodness. Now they just needed to cool.

She grabbed the next tray and turned back to insert it into the oven. Time for a sample. She levered a corner of one cookie off the pan and snagged it. Okay, good, not burnt underneath. Looked very golden brown. Now for the test. She popped the bit in her mouth and chewed. Hmm. Almost crunchy. Kind of dry. Not bad, but not the usually soft and gooey cookies that Willow would share. But she’d followed the directions hadn’t she?

She walked back over to the counter and looked at the recipe lying there. Bake at 350 degrees for 9-10 minutes. Maybe she missed the time a little. Well the dishes were done, she’d watch more closely this time. She pulled a chair across the room and positioned herself in front of the warm oven.

This was comfy. In fact this was one of the first peaceful Christmas holidays she could remember in literally years. Maybe back in high school? Course even then there was that whole thing with the First trying to drive Angel mad. Come to think of it, the First had ruined two holidays for her, that year with Angel, with the dreams and the biting and the near suicide, then last year with . . . Spike.

She stared at the oven and watched as the cookies plumped just a bit. She tried not to think about him too often, about the whats and the whys and the maybes and the could have beens. He was simply gone in a blaze of glory. A small half-snort-half-sob escaped her. So like him to be dramatic like that. Couldn’t just go poof like a normal vamp, had to do it in a big way. And manage to shut a Hellmouth and save the world in the process.

Sometimes, late at night, when she let her mind drift in those moments before sleep would come, she wondered where he was. Heaven? That place where she’d been, where there was peace? Or had his sacrifice mattered? Was he in one of the hells that Angel had experienced? Tormented?

She shook herself out of the path her mind was taking and turned back to the task at hand. Spike was gone and dwelling on that and all the attendant unanswered questions would only lead to badness. Instead she’d concentrate on the mundane, on the cookie dough.

Baking cookie dough. That reminded her of Angel. Gee Buffy, maybe need to expand your circle of conquests a bit? She seemed to be on a circuit from Vampire Lover 1 to Vampire Lover 2 and back again. What was it she’d told him? <i>I’m not done baking.</i> Which had been true. She’d felt about as raw last May as she ever had in her life, unsure that anything would turn out, that the world would still be there, that reality would survive, that they had a hope of winning.

And now? Well, things were more settled. All the new Slayers had been returned to their homes and a small core group had begun work on the next step, some way to manage and fill the place of the Watcher’s Council, without making the same mistakes. She knew that this rather extended stay with Giles was a resting place for her while that happened, and that one day she’d need to move on. To working with the Council perhaps. Or maybe go back to school. Or something. She didn’t know.

So maybe that was why she held back in those weekly conversations with Angel. For all her life being immensely better than it had been back then, with a greater understanding of what being a Slayer was and the lift of the burden of being the only Chosen One, she still wasn’t done baking. Still very much a work in progress.

She glanced at her watch. That was nine minutes exactly. Unlike her, these cookies were done. She grabbed the mitt and pulled out the next batch. There. Golden brown. She grabbed the next tray and slid it in, then turned back for a quick sample. She chewed thoughtfully. They were still so dry and crispy. She growled with frustration and threw down the spatula just as a freshly attired Willow entered the room.

"Geez Buffy, there a cookie monster in the house? What’s the matter?"

"I give up Will. Baking and Buffy are unmixy. I acknowledge this, I bow to your superior culinary skills. Just make the others come out alright, okay?"

Willow frowned and checked out the finished pans, surveying the cookies before breaking off a piece. "What’s the matter? These look fine." She sampled a bite. "They’re a little crunchy, but that’s okay."

Buffy paced over to the plate. "But that’s just it Willow. Your cookies are always warm and gooey and soft. That’s how cookies should be, not hard and crumbly. I don’t want them to be brittle. Nobody wants brittle cookies."

Willow peeked into the oven. "You’re just overbaking them a little, Buffy. It’s no big. We’ll just take the next batch out a little earlier."

Buffy grabbed the recipe off the counter. "But Willow, I was following the directions! Exactly! It says 9 to 10 minutes."

Willow laughed. "I know Buffy. But the secret to really good cookies it to not overbake them. Come here."

They bent and watched the rising cookies. "See how the edges are getting firm, but it still looks a little soft in the middle? That’s when you take them out."

"But they aren’t done!"

"No, but they’ll finish afterwards."

Buffy started to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Giles entered the kitchen, polishing his glasses, a sure sign of confusion. "Willow, was that Buffy that just ran by in tears?"

"Uh-huh. Giles, can you watch the cookies for me?"

"Oh dear, I knew this was a bad idea."

"Just don’t let them burn."

Willow raced from the room and up the stairs. "Buffy, let me in. What’s wrong?"

A teary eyed Buffy opened the door and through a series of sniffs, snobs, and hiccups managed to communicate something about overbaking and Spike and love.

"And now I’ll never have the chance to tell him, to really make him believe me, Willow. He thought I was just being nice and maybe somewhere inside I thought I was, giving him what he wanted. But it was true. I just kept telling myself I couldn’t really love anyone cause I wasn’t me yet, but I guess that’s not how it works, is it?"

Willow shook her head. "No Buffy, it’s not. You’re right, you can’t love someone without knowing who you are a little bit. But loving someone helps shape who you become. Angel shaped you. Riley shaped you. Spike did too." She pulled her into a hug, tears filling her eyes. "It’s hard Buffy, I know. But Spike wouldn’t want you to do this, to cry and make yourself all sick."

Buffy tossed back her hair and sniffled. "You sure about that?"

Willow laughed. "Well, probably would do his ego good, but no. As weird as it seems to admit it, he loved you in that insane all-consuming kind of way, enough that he would want you to go on with life. Remember what he did, don’t forget what he gave you, but don’t let it consume you. It doesn’t help."

Buffy regarded her best friend with solemn eyes. "How’d you get so wise Willow?"

Willow shook her head. "You don’t want to know. Not a road I recommend. Now dry your eyes and change. We have a potential Watcher to recruit."

~~~~~~~~~~

"So Wesley, how are things in LA these days? This venture with the law firm, Wolfram & Hart is it? How is that going?"

Wesley grimaced. "It’s been a challenge Rupert, but I do think we have accomplished some good. It’s a balancing act however. It doesn’t help that our conduit to the Senior Partners is often less than forthcoming in her messages."

"You have a direct link to the Senior Partners? Really? That’s fascinating."

Buffy studied the menu as she half-listened to Wesley and Giles chatter on about things. She’d been surprised by Giles’ insistence that they try to bring Wes on board, she’d never thought Giles liked him much. But she had to agree with Willow, the years in LA had changed him, he wasn’t the priggish Watcher who’d plagued her senior year. And apparently he’d been quite the success in Watcher school or whatever they called it. Giles had mentioned that he might be just the person to head up a new Watcher’s Academy.

She glanced at Willow who seemed quite into the conversation as Wesley recounted some Aztec demony thing Angel had recently fought with wrestlers. Huh? That sounded strange. Maybe she should tune back in.

"So it’s been quite complicated. And then of course there’s been the whole Spike situation, quite complex, though I’m sure Angel has filled you in on that already."

It felt as though all the blood had just drained from her head, as though she’d just hit the peak of the highest roller coaster and begun the plunge that sent your stomach straight to your toes, as though she was underwater and swimming for the surface.

"Wesley. What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

He turned to the completely pale Buffy who was now gripping the edge of the table, puzzled by the blank looks on all their faces for a moment. Then comprehension dawned.

"I should have guessed. Angel does have some problems being forthright when it comes to Spike, doesn’t he?" As he watched the tension on her face as she waited for more explanation, Wesley remembered Spike’s declarations about the Slayer and realized the feeling was apparently mutual. He reached for her hand. "Buffy, Spike was returned to us as a ghost. We’re not sure how or why, it’s connected to the amulet used to close the Hellmouth, but he’s with us in LA. He’s tied there however, can’t leave the city."

"Is he . . ."

"He’s still a vampire, but a bit incorporeal. He can’t touch things unless he concentrates and then only for short periods of time."

"But it’s him?" Her voice was small as she held her breath.

Wesley nodded. "I believe so. I never met him before, you know, but those that have seem to agree that it is indeed William the Bloody. Angel is convinced."

Buffy stood up. "I have to go to LA."

Giles looked startled. "Now? Buffy, I agree this is certainly news and I understand that you may wish to see Spike, but let’s not be hasty."

She shook her head. "No, Giles. I realized something important this afternoon and thought my chance was gone forever. I don’t care if he is a ghost. I have to see him."

Giles sighed resignedly. "Could you just call him first? Chat a bit? He may feel . . . differently now, Buffy, than you are expecting him to." He glanced to Wesley. "He can speak on the phone, can he not?"

"I imagine he can, if someone holds the phone for him."

"There, why don’t you just call him Buffy?"

Wesley fumbled for a moment and retrieved a cell from his pocket. "Here, Wolfram & Hart has furnished these rather expensive devices, I believe they’ll make international calls. Hit 4 to dial the main number and Harmony will locate Spike for us."

"Harmony works with you guys? Anyone else I should know about hanging out in LA these days? Seen Dru around? Any of Spike’s other exes?" Willow shot her a warning glance and she tried to smile politely as she took the phone and sat back down.

"I’m sorry, just a little nervous." She listened for a moment to the small device. "Wesley, I don’t think it works, there a weird buzzing noise, then a recording about the circuits being tied up."

He took the phone and tried again. "Strange, there must be some sort of disturbance. How about I’ll continue trying and let you know as soon as I get through?"

Buffy slumped, defeated. She knew this was the most sensible plan, but she felt the need to do something dramatic, something amazing and over-the-top. Spike had to still love her, didn’t he? That was like the one constant thing about him, he loved her. Even after, well, everything. She took the menu again and tried to focus. She’d get through this meal, then she and Willow had some planning to do.

+++

"Buffy, I don’t know if this is a good idea. Are you sure you shouldn’t just wait and see if Wesley can get through? Just talk to him a bit?"

Buffy looked up from the case she was packing. "Nope. I’m going to LA. I’m not good with the phone thing Willow, with words at all, and I don’t want to do this with an audience while someone hangs around and hold the phone for him." She made a face. "Especially not if it’s going to be Harmony. Or, come to think of it, Angel. Now that would be awkward."

"Maybe they could put him on speaker phone?" At the glare she received, Willow backed off. "Okay, okay, I got it. You need to see him in the flesh. Or in the ectoplasm. Or in whatever Spike’s made of these days."

"It’s not just that Willow. I need him to know, I need to do something to prove to him that I love him. I can’t just say it and expect him to believe it. Besides, tried that already, didn’t work."

"But there were extenuating circumstances, impending death and all." Willow laughed at the glare that deepened on Buffy’s face. "Alright already, who am I to stand in the way of true love? Though you realize this is probably ten times worse than the no touchy thing with Angel?" She grabbed a blouse and ignored the icy stare. "I’m just saying, incorporeal won’t be leading to many happys for the Buffster."

"Thank you for channeling Anya there, Willow. It’s not about that." She blushed a little as Willow raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay, maybe a little about that." As Willow raised her eyebrow even higher she laughed. "Okay, Wesley said he could touch things if he really concentrated."

"But is that what you really want Buffy? I know you loved him, but can you love him now?"

Buffy stared at her mid-fold, puzzled. "Of course Willow, remember the whole big epiphany today, I love him."

Willow patted the bed. "I know you love him, Buffy, but I guess what I’m asking is if this is just a thing."

Buffy sank down next to her, still confused. "A thing?"

Willow blew out her breath. "Buffy, Spike is back and that’s pretty much a miracle. So you get your second chance. And that’s great. And you’ll see him and it’ll be all moonlight and roses and rising music, right? Cause Spike pretty much worships the ground you walk on and you’ve had this epiphany and all and it’ll be this big thing."

Buffy blushed. "Um, well, I hope so."

"Okay, but what about the next day, and the day after, and the year after? What if he stays a ghost? Or even if there’s some way to make him corporeal again, he’s still going to be a vampire. You know what that means Buffy."

Her voice was icy. "What Willow? That I’m some sort of freak? Or pervert for loving something I’m supposed to kill?"

Willow gently laid her hand on Buffy’s shoulder. "Sweetie, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I just mean that you have a chance right now to have something resembling a normal life." She gestured around at the room. "I mean, I know working for the Council is a little James Bondy and undercover and all, but you don’t really have to be an active-duty Slayer anymore. You could have picnics in the park in the sunlight, the white picket fence, marriage, kids."

Buffy was still listening, so she took a deep breath and continued. "But Buffy, Spike can give you love, but he can’t give you those things. You’ll be in, at best, a very unconventional relationship with someone who’ll never grow old while you age, who can’t give you children, who’ll never see the light of day. All I’m saying is don’t just rush into this unless you can live with that. He’s earned that I think."

Buffy was quiet for a long moment and Willow began to wonder if she’d made a mistake in saying anything at all. Way to kill the big moment, there. Then Buffy tackled her in a huge hug that landed them both on the bed.

"Thank you Willow. I needed to hear that. You’re absolutely right - this isn’t some game and I shouldn’t even consider going if I’m not willing for him to be the long-haul guy."

She righted herself and resumed packing.

"So you’re still going?"

Buffy nodded. "Normal’s way overrated. Besides, I tried that with Riley and it didn’t work, you know?" She shrugged. "It would be great if Spike were a guy I could marry and have babies with and all that other stuff I thought I’d never get to do. But he’s not. So I’ll take what I can get, because Willow, he’s the one."

Willow laughed. "Buffy, you still know this is nuts?"

"Running off to declare my affections for a ghostly being who recently saved the world? Uh-huh, kind of like <i>A Christmas Carol</i>, but without the Scrooge. Or maybe I’m the Scrooge."

"Nah, Angel’s the Scrooge. Besides I don’t think Scrooge got with any of the ghosts, Buffy, they were just guides."

She wrinkled her brow. "Oh, right, guess that doesn’t really work does it. How about <i>It’s A Wonderful Life?</i>"

"You’re Jimmy Stewart?"

"No Spike is. Well, you know, he was all savey of people and at the end he got his reward after something really bad happened, so I’m kind of like his reward after he went through the dying and stuff?"

Willow patted her back. "Sweetie, stop watching the Christmas marathons. Just go for it. And remember, you’re warm chewy Buffy and you’re ready to be eaten." She cringed. "That analogy’s always going to sound a bit dodgy isn’t it? Anyway, you’d better go. They said the ticket would be waiting at the counter."

"You’ll watch Dawn? I called her, she knows where I’m going."

"I promise. She’ll be fine. Now go."

~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy slipped out the door and into the waiting taxi as Willow quietly locked the bolt behind her and turned to tiptoe back up the stairs.

"So she went anyway?"

Willow jumped and eeped at the site of Giles in the doorway, holding a glass of something amber colored and looking resigned.

"She couldn’t not go Giles."

He thoughtfully swirled the liquid. "No, I suppose not."

"Did Wesley decide?"

"He said he’d give our offer some consideration."

"Good. Giles?"

"Yes Willow?"

"She’ll be okay. In fact she’ll be better than okay, she’ll be happy. And remember what he did for us. He’s not what you wanted for her, but he’s a good man."

He nodded and sat down the glass. "He’s not a man Willow. But despite that, perhaps he is what she needs."

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike leaned back on the small couch. Wesley’s office was unoccupied for the time until he returned from the motherland and paternal visit he was making, so it seemed as good a place as any for him to camp out, least until he could figure out the next step.

He shifted, then curled back the other way. Well, this would be the downside of being solid again, could actually feel the cricks forming from the awkward position.

After the third shift he gave up and slid to the floor. Least there was carpet of a sort, he’d slept on worst.

He stared at the ceiling tiles and counted the small cracks as he thought about what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Whatever link had been between him and that tacky bit of a shiny accessory was gone, he was certain about that. He’d made the trip out into the desert with no problems.

He could definitely feel again. And that was good. Aborted seduction of Harmony aside, he didn’t regret seizing the tactile sensations of the world again, the smell of warm blood, the feel of it running down his throat as it curled through his body, making him feel warm and flush for the first time since . . .

Since he’d last seen her. Held those small fingers in an embrace that had lit a fire that burned him clean through Heard her utter a platitude but the look in those wide eyes had made it worthwhile, even as the pain surged through him and ate everything away to darkness.

He closed his eyes and blocked out the moonlight coming thorough the conveniently tempered windows. Not that the moonlight was a problem, but it did make it safe to enjoy it without worrying about waking up as ash in the morning.

The nagging swirls of thought resumed as soon as he closed his eyes. Maybe Angel was right. Maybe he had no destiny. Maybe he was just trying to keep up with dear old granddad and find some way to one up him at last, instead of always taking his seconds. Dru. Buffy. Having a soul.

No. That wasn’t how it had been. Angel had never crossed his mind with her, when he realized he loved her. And even when he went for the soul, the poofy one hadn’t entered into the equation. It was only after, when he realized what he’d done, when he’d felt the weight of the soul, that he knew why Angelus had left them all those years ago.

He gave up on the concept of sleep and headed for the window to look at the brightly lit skyline. Alone here in the quiet of the dark, he could acknowledge the harsh truth, that he didn’t know his destiny.

It hadn’t been Dru, though she’d been a guiding star, his dark princess who had wooed him as a replacement for the one she couldn’t have. It hadn’t been Buffy. He knew at least before he died that he’d earned something from her. Respect and even trust. But never love, never more than a comrade in arms, a trusted second in command.

But maybe it had been to sacrifice himself to close the Hellmouth. Maybe Dru and Buffy and the strange lure of Sunnydale which pulled him back again and again had all been to bring him to his destiny at that time and place. And for all his throwing it up to Angel that he’d saved the world just to get a rise out of the broody one, he was proud. If you had to go, that was the way to do it.

He found himself back on the couch staring at the ceiling again. Then why was he here? If that was his destiny, he’d been there, got the gold coin and finished the ride. Was it too much to ask to rest in peace? What did a reformed vamp have to do to redeem himself these days?

"Actually, we thought there might be something you wanted even more."

Spike’s eyes flew open to see a glowing white-robed creature seated on Wesley’s desk. Vaguely familiar.

"Cordelia?"

"Well, after a fashion."

"But weren’t you all comaed up? And you cut your hair?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Consider me an astral projection from another time and place. And do you like the shorter look?"

"It’s different, pet, could get used to it."

"Thanks for the ringing endorsement there. Anyway, the Powers," she glared momentarily skyward, "have a unique sense of timing. Apparently you and I have both been play pretties for the big boys for a while now, but there some balancing to be done."

"Is there now?"

"Yeah, and apparently at least one of them likes to think he’s Santa. So Spike, I’m here to make you a offer and give you a choice."

"There’s a catch, isn’t there?"

She shrugged her glowing shoulders. "Isn’t there always?"

"Suppose so. Well, let me hear the details, luv and we’ll get on with the choosing."

"Not that simple, blondie. I’m supposed to do some vision things and show you the past, present and the future."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, the big guy’s a Dickens fan?"

"Right on the money."

"Can we not skip it pet? I remember the past all too well, I’m right here in the present and I’m guessing the future won’t be exactly the real thing anyway."

"True, but there are a few things you may need to remember before you make your choice."

Spike sighed. Wasn’t like he was exactly busy. "Very well. Lead on then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike opened his eyes and looked around at the party. Then down at himself. Then at the party again.

He groaned. "Cordelia?"

"Right beside you, though no one else can see me."

"Why on earth did you bring me back here?"

"Because you need to remember what it feels like to be human."

He shuddered. "Not my finest hour."

"Just go, mingle." She gave him a little push and smirked at the scowl that seemed quite inappropriate on the mild-mannered William’s bespectacled face.

"Ah, William, how are you this evening, your mother well?"

He managed to mutter something vaguely understandable as he surveyed the crowd and tried to place himself. Ah yes. The Oglethorpe’s Christmas gathering, the last holiday before he died. He’d still been mustering his courage to attempt to even stutter a greeting to Cecily at that point, pining away for her and writing verse that literally only a mother, and apparently Angel, could love.

After a polite word to his guests, he made his way to a small sofa in a corner and watched in a bit of a daze. If the purpose in this was to make him remember his inadequacies as a human, then they were succeeding admirably. William, before Dru had found him in that alley, had been a frightful git. He turned and found Cordy perched beside him.

"Why William, don’t you want to chat anyone up? Show off your conversational skills to the lovely Miss Addams?"

"Sod off. I’ve seen enough. Not sure the point of this though, I’m already glad Dru vamped me if that’s what you’re after."

"Are you indeed William? Then you should enjoy this next bit."

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a rush of darkness and when he opened his eyes again he was in another beautifully appointed room that was unfamiliar until he turned his head.

"My beautiful knight, there are fairies dancing tonight."

His breath caught as he watched the twinkle in Dru’s eye as she grasped his hand and pulled him to the door of the hotel suite. He remembered now. Their first Christmas truly alone, just him and Dru without either Angelus or Darla revolving around them and each other in the twisted family structure they’d created.

Angelus had deserted them after they’d met up in China and Darla had pronounced herself finally sick of Angel and his spawn. The sights and sounds of the Orient had grown old when he’d heard rumor that a new Slayer had been sighted in London and he’d determined he wanted a taste of merry old England again. They’d arrived back in London just a few days before Christmas and the first order had been straight out of the Angelus play book, the seduction of a young wealthy couple who’d made the error of inviting in the charming creatures.

He followed Dru as she led him out into the lamplit street. If he remembered correctly, they’d literally bathed in the blood of their victims this night, it had been such carnage. He’d managed to snag a pretty girl in a pretty dress for Dru, and she’d played with the girl for hours before draining her. He’d taken down one or two blokes stupid enough to follow Dru into an alley and unlucky enough to be met by the matching his and hers fangs.

Plump with blood, Dru had asked for a party and they’d dolled up in the finery of the dearly departed they’d slaughtered and made their way through the London nightlife. By sunrise, they’d been nestled together in the bed, bodies strewn around the room.

He found himself on the street with her, near where they’d found their first victim of the evening. Dru gave him a wink as she approached the man and suddenly the thought of the evening he was about to relive, the debauchery and butchery that had seemed the height of his existence at that time made him want to retch as the soul twisted inside.

He turned away and found Cordelia next to him, oddly out of place on the London street in her modern garments and bobbed hair.

"Seen enough? The show’s hardly begun, Big Bad."

"Just let it be gone."

The darkness engulfed him again and then it was another holiday, the most recent in fact. Cordelia perched on the edge of the cot as she surveyed the Summers’ crowded basement.

"Cozy little nest. Treated you right, huh?"

He ignored her for the moment as he waited for what was coming. And there she was, her face serious and set as though etched in stone with the burden she was carrying that he’d only made worse. He wanted to just stare at her, drink her in, remember the curve of her cheek, the soft shadow of her eyelashes against her skin as she looked away from him, then met him with those deep hazel eyes. Eyes that seemed to echo the few words she’d given him, that she believed in him, that she would rescue him, that he was hers.

He bit his lip and sank further down, ignoring the pain in his ribs that he knew were splintered from the vicious kicks he’d taken. Seeing her like this again hurt more than he’d thought, knowing how it would end, knowing that he would get so very close, be by her side, be the one she let her hair down with and trusted to find comfort in his arms, but never the one she could truly love. No, that privilege was reserved for Angel, and for all his bluster he knew that was reality. She wasn’t his destiny.

She said nothing, methodically checking his injuries and changing bandages, his wounds not healing with the usual speed. Her touch was light, not really a caress, but if he closed his eyes he could pretend, for just a minute, that it was something more. He could hear her heartbeat a little faster, thought she must be watching him as her hand stilled on his chest, her job completed, no reason to touch his cold flesh any longer. For the briefest moment she lingered, then he heard a little sigh and she was gone without a word.

As the steps died away, he slowly levered himself up and looked at the glowy one hanging out on top of the dryer. "Are we done here yet?"

She nodded and there was a swoosh and blackness and suddenly he was back where he was before, sitting in Wesley’s office.

"Now no offense to you Queen C, because I’m certain you were just following orders, but as far as a this is your life went, ‘m not sure I got the big revelation there. ‘Sides knowing I was a git, got turned, was evil, got a soul and let myself be a sacrificial lamb. Not really news there pet."

"But what’s the thread William?"

He tilted his head back and counted the tiles again. "That I should stay away from women?"

Cordy quirked a smile. "You’re on the right track. You’ve been a fool for love all your life Spike. Tomorrow morning you’re going to have a choice. Are you willing to be a fool for love again? Are you willing to give up the one thing that makes you unique, that makes you powerful and special, if it’ll give you the love of the woman you desire most?"

He stared at her, his heart sinking. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head. "No more exposition. You’ll be receiving an envelope in the morning. What’s inside will make it possible for you to have something you’ve always wanted, but it will take away something you’ve reveled in. Every reward has its price."

He swallowed hard. "What will I lose?"

Cordelia smiled. "What are you willing to give up?" And then she was gone.

Spike blinked and shook his head. Had that otter’s blood given him a bad turn? Had he been hallucinating? And what had she meant? He was going to get an envelope that would give him his heart’s desire? What the hell did that mean?

He noticed a stir of activity outside the office and realized the night had passed by in whatever haze he’d been in. He might as well see what was up with the denizens of Wolfram & Hart. He stretched and straightened. Likely just an overactive imagination and the aftereffects of whatever that thing that had made him solid again. Messed with his head a bit probably.

He strolled into the main lobby and was surprised to see a perky Harmony, sans bloody eyes, firmly seated behind the desk.

"Good morning Blondie Bear, I’m sorry about yesterday."

He shrugged, "Don’t worry ‘bout it, spell, you know," he motioned in the air with his hand, "can’t be held responsible for that sort of thing."

She smiled coyly. "We can always try again. I think I could convince Angel to give me an extra long lunch break."

He shuddered a bit. Harm had looked quite good at the moment yesterday, but that was not a field he wanted to plow again. Was that what the dream had been about, some sort of soul guilt for trying to shag Harmony? Did the soul require some sort of emotional commitment before he could have a bit of fun?

He started as Harmony tapped his arm and handed him a cup. "Thanks, pet, and the offer’s appreciated, but I’m thinking I need some time to reacclimatize and all."

She shrugged. "Whatever. Oh and you got more mail, guess I don’t have to open this one."

He froze. "Mail?"

"Uh-huh. Looks like a Christmas card. Wow, you’re getting really popular Spikey, they’re gonna have to get you an office or something."

He took the proffered green card shaped envelope gingerly, as though merely touching it would cause some sort of cosmic reaction and turned to head back to the relative sanctuary of Wesley’s office.

"You’re welcome, Blondie Bear."

He tossed up a hand in a vague show of thanks and then slammed the door behind him. He was not shaking, no he was not. He sat at Wesley’s neat desk and eyed the card laid in the center of the blotter.

No return address, postmarked somewhere in California, but smudged a bit, he couldn’t make out the name of the town. Bright green, with a jolly winking Santa peering from the top corner on the stamp.

<i> What’s inside will make it possible for you to have something you’ve always wanted, but it will take away something you’ve reveled in. Every reward has its price.</i>

She’d be right, he was a fool when it came to love, always wanting the wrong girl, the one that was just out of reach. So this little envelope could give him his heart’s desire? Well that didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out, now did it? Buffy.

But did he want her no matter what the cost? He’d been willing to die for, to be her toy, to let her use him and abuse him. But through that all he’d never really had her. So what more could he lose? He thought about the scenes he’d been shown with Cordelia, the ignominy of his life as William, the tingle and glory of being on top of the world with his Dru, even if their actions now made him sick. He had an idea he knew what he’d have to give up. So was Buffy worth being an ordinary man again?

He sipped his mug slowly and stared at the envelope as though enough concentration would make it suddenly reveal its secrets.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy couldn’t help but be a bit in awe as she walked into the large and modern lobby of Wolfram & Hart, currently being festooned with greens appropriate to the season. Apparently evil could afford a pretty hefty rent payment. She so played for the wrong side. She approached the central desk where a blond sat pecking away efficiently at a keyboard.

And then recognition dawned. "Harmony?"

The competent secretary froze, took one quick glance up and then disappeared underneath the desk.

Buffy peered over the edge at the high heels poking out. "Harmony? Is that you?"

A muffled voice floated up. "If it is me, are you going to stake me?"

While she was sorely tempted to say yes, she’d come to far to let one air-brained vampiress stand in her way.

"No Harmony. No staking. I just need some information."

Harmony cautiously slid from under the desk. "I know what you want."

Buffy raised an eyebrow and waited.

"You’re after my Blondie Bear again, aren’t you?"

"Your Blondie Bear?" For a second Buffy’s blood froze. Had she been wrong to come all this way, assuming she’d be welcomed with open arms? Spike had had a thing with Harmony. And Buffy had to admit, she hadn’t let herself go, was spiffily attired, nails done, hair just so. She suddenly was acutely aware of her own rather bedraggled multi-hour flight appearance, clothes rumpled, hair flat, makeup a thing of the past as she’d come straight from the airport. Maybe this had been a mistake.

Her courage was waning and she was about to turn on her heels when she heard Harmony mutter something under her breath about that, "Slayer loving freak," before brightly smiling at Buffy.

"He’s in Wesley’s office, right through that door."

Buffy started to pursue the Blondie Bear issue, but decided Harmony was unlikely to be forthcoming, as she’d already turned and devoted her concentration to the screen again, pointedly ignoring the Slayer.

She thought she caught a glimpse of a dark head as she walked by one office with a wall of glass but she refused to pause. Time enough to deal with that later. She stopped by the door Harmony had pointed out and softly knocked.

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike looked up as the soft rap sounded through the office. He’d been about to reach for the envelope, but this at least postponed his decision. Maybe it was Fred, too girly of a knock for Charlie there. She was always good for a sympathetic ear.

"Come in."

The door opened and then closed as he reached for the envelope and looked up. "Fred, I need a spot of advi .. ."

He froze, the bright green fluttering from his fingers as Buffy walked towards him.

"Merry Christmas Spike."

For a long moment he thought he might have lost his tongue but managed to recover it.

"So, Slayer, pop round to see old Angel, give him a bit of Christmas fun?"

He winced as soon as the words left his mouth and regretted them even more as he saw the look of pain on her face.

Buffy swallowed hard. Yes, definitely Spike. She drank in the vampire on the other side of the room, recognizing vulnerable written all over his face. She could do this. She stopped on the other side of the desk from him.

"No. I haven’t seen Angel. Well, I think I sort of saw him, if that’s his office back that way, but I haven’t seen him, seen him." She bit her tongue. Way to babble Buffy. Not the way she’d planned this at all.

She’d mentally rehearsed in the plane. Even though she’d pondered Willow’s comments and resolved she would be in this for the long-haul, it wasn’t wrong to want a big dramatic reunion was it? He’d see her and they run towards each other in one of those old movie slow-motion embraces and she’d declare her love and he’d kiss her and then things had taken a rather steamy turn in her imagination, making for a rather entertaining image. No, this was not the way she’d planned.

She took a deep breath, mentally recited, I am warm and chewy, I can love, and started again. "I just found out you were back. Wesley, he had dinner with us and he told us you were here, that you’d come back as a ghost."

"So you came for the freak show? Sorry to disappoint luv, Spike’s all back in action again." His face rippled and changed and his golden eyes pierced her as he finished, "Still a vampire."

And it suddenly hit her how very much she’d missed him. All of him, even that part. Missed the fierceness of that face when he’d fought with her, missed the blue of his eyes as he shook off the demon visage and dared her to press forward. He apparently wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

Warm and chewy, warm and chewy.

"I didn’t come for the freak show, Spike. I came for this."

Before he could move, she’d skirted the desk and framed his face with her hands as she kissed him for all she was worth, trying to put every ounce of emotion that she’d couldn’t express into the meeting of tongues and lips and teeth. He was shocked for a moment but responded, pulling her against him almost on instinct. She ran her hands down and beneath the cotton of his t-shirt and somehow the next thing he knew she was sprawled on the desktop underneath him and he was licking the line of her arched neck as she moaned his name with abandon.

And with her blood pulsing under his tongue, her soft body cradling his hips, her hands urgently gripping him, his ears filled with the sweet music of her harsh breath, he froze. What was this if not another round of the freak show? Buffy’d heard he was back and had decided she was ready for another round of the rough and tumble and he was falling right in line. He disengaged her hands and pulled away, stepping back and clutching the envelope that lay on the desk.

Was that what Cordelia had meant? That this envelope would somehow magically transform Buffy’s lust for him into something more? Could he live with that? Was this how the Powers rewarded someone?

She slowly sat up, all tousled hair and bruised lips, that slightly pouty look that did him every time gracing her face. One hand clutched the front of her unbuttoned shirt in a way that still revealed the curve of one creamy breast, while the other propped her up in a pose that spoke of their recent abandon.

"Spike?"

He realized he was trembling now, the envelope in his hand almost a siren’s lure. One rip and he would have everything he ever wanted. She would love him, adore him, he’d never be lonely again. And that was worth anything he had to sacrifice, wasn’t it?

His finger went to the flap to wedge open the paper when it finally dawned on him. The price was higher than he’d thought, more than just giving up something of himself, because he could do that, for her. But if he opened this envelope, if she declared her undying love for eternity, it would never be real. He’d always know her love was artificial.

And that was too high. He tossed the envelope to the floor and turned away, as her voice drifted to him.

"Spike. I’m sorry. I messed up."

She watched the shrug of his shoulders and wondered if she’d been wrong when she’d told Willow she was ready. She clearly wasn’t close to done. Or maybe she was overdone. Forget warm and chewy, she was just dry and brittle. She’d botched this completely. If she could only start over, she’d start by saying . . .

"I love you, Spike."

He was half turned but she could hear the sharp intake of breath as he processed her words and she smiled. This was what she needed to do. He needed to understand this was different than what had been between them before And then the words began to flow easily, as though a dam had burst.

"I love you. Not because you saved the world, or saved me, or even because you got a soul. I love you because you’re Spike, who’s sweet and snarky and loves my family and drives me mad and does stupid things and eats strange foods and who saw the real me when no one else really could. And I thought I wasn’t ready and then I realized that maybe I’m not done, but maybe I’ll never be and we’ve both got second chances and I don’t think we should waste them."

She stopped her mad tumble as she realized he was in front of her again, grasping her chin as he met her eyes. He remained silent as he searched her gaze, and it crossed her mind that it was odd that at this moment she was the one who couldn’t stop talking, while he didn’t seem to have a thing to say.

As the silence grew and he continue to regard her with unfathomable eyes that she couldn’t read, eyes that had always been so clear to her before, she felt the tingle of fear start again. Maybe he didn’t want her like that anymore. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe she was too late. She turned her head and began buttoning the shirt which she was suddenly acutely aware of being open.

"Spike, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just barged in here and assumed anything. I just, I hoped, I . . ." She didn’t know what anymore. She just knew she couldn’t be there.

His hand closed around her fingers as she fumbled with a button and stilled their movements.

"Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean that?"

"Yes."

"You love me, just as I am?"

She nodded. "Just as you are Spike."

And her heart skipped a beat as she watched his face light up with one of the most beautiful smiles she’d ever seen.

"I love you too, Buffy."

She felt her grin grow to match his as she beamed. "Really? Still?"

He nodded as he pulled her closer. "Never stopped."

Their lips met again, slower this time, almost reverently as he pulled her close. And then his fingers began to button her top, despite her frown.

"Hey now, what’s this?"

She looked at him with a troubled expression. "But I thought, that you know . . ."

He smiled innocently. "No. What did you think, my sweet?"

She blushed and he was hard pressed not to rethink the decision he’d just made.

"That we’d um, make love, what with the declarations and all and the loooong time since we’ve, you know, or well since I’ve . . ., course I don’t know about you . . . "

He thought he’d best sidestep that last bit. "I just thought we might try to find somewhere besides a desk. I think we can do better than last time, don’t you? Maybe try for an actual bed?"

She smiled. "Oh, yes. Let’s go."

She eagerly hopped off the desk and pulled him in for another series of kisses that threatened to dissolve the plan until she pulled away panting for breath. "Yes, let’s go now."

He was reaching for the duster he’d draped over the back of the small couch when he heard her exclaim, "Oh Spike, I think you’ve got a Christmas card, who’s it from?"

He turned just in time to hear the rip of the paper and see her open the card. The flash of light blinded them both.

Buffy blinked and looked up. "What was that?"

He started forward, cursing lightly under his breath as he grabbed the card and stopped dead. "I . . . I think I have a heart beat."

She laid her head on his chest and listened to the thrum. "A heartbeat." She looked up at him in wonder. "Spike? You’re alive?"

He opened the card, adorned on the outside with the same winking Santa as on the stamp and scanned the handwritten message.

His suspicions about the bits and pieces from the night were confirmed. He’d lost his unlife, his immortality. That was the price he’d paid. But he hadn’t bought her love. That was real.

Buffy was a few beats behind him as she read. "Santa Claus is one of the Powers that Be?"

"Believe it’s a bit of a joke on their part, love."

"And they have plans for us?"

"Looks that way."

"And you’re human?"

He nodded. Was this suddenly going to wreck everything? Clearly the Powers weren’t that all knowing. And hadn’t he once said she needed a little monster in her man?

She tackled him onto the couch and began kissing him frantically. He managed to catch snatches of something about a white picket fence and picnics in the park and finally a bit that made his newly rejuvenated heart skip a beat.

"You want to have babies?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh. With you. But I expect a ring first, mister."

Well, he had a time limit now didn’t he? No point in wasting it. "What do you say we get out of here? Vegas isn’t all that far with the right car. You ever ridden in a Viper?"