“Spike…  All of a sudden you’re doing Christmas?”

“No.”

“Oh.  Then, this…  In the stocking.  This isn’t from you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But if you don’t do Christmas…”

“You do.”

“Yes, I do, but…you don’t.”

“Good lad, keep up.”

“This is bad.”

“Oh, that’s charming.  I go out of my way to…”

“No, I mean…  I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why?”

“I don’t do Christmas.”

“You always come to the parties.”

“Free booze.”

“And dinners.”

“Free food.”

“And, as for trying to catch the girls under the mistletoe…”

“How about we agree I semi-do?  I semi-do Christmas.  For the perishables, the aqua vitae, and the seasonal rejection.”

“You may semi-do Christmas, but you totally bought me this and…”

“Well…bought might be a little…”

“Wait, wait.  You didn’t buy?”

“I s’pose, in the loosest sense I…I…  No.”

“You stole this.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“So you did buy this.”

“Didn't say that either.”

“Spike.  Did you, or did you not, steal this?”

“It might have accidentally fallen into my pocket as I…”

“You stole this?  I’d rather you didn’t do Christmas at all than start stealing again.”

“Whad’ya mean, start stealing again?”

“You stopped.”

“Did I?”

“You promised me.”

“I—  Hang on.  Was I drunk when I made this promise?”

“No, you were…you were…  Yeah, totally drunk.”

“See, that’s your problem.  Never trust an intoxicated vampire.”

“That isn’t the best thing to tell me as you drain the bottle that was supposed to last until New Year.”

“Like it?”

“Like what?  The fact I now have to find the time to go out and buy…”

“Your pressie.”

“Buy my pressie?”

“Like.  That.”

“You mean…  Like.  This?”

“That.”

“Y’see, right here, a problem presents itself.  Liking it would entail a scary degree of assessing the contents, and…”

“Get on with it.”

“You mean…”

“Open it.”

“Open—  You really expect me to…to…open it?  Knowing you as I unfortunately do, and especially after being told never to trust an intoxicated vampire?”

“I’m not drunk, Pet, I’m a little…merry.  Like Christmas. But without the blatant commercialism.”

“You liked it enough when you were drinking the results.  Besides…  Where’s your t-shirt?”

“My, er…  Why?”

“Until that goes back on I don’t think you have any right to throw around aspersions about blatant commercialism.”

“What are you on about?  Or maybe just…what are you on?"

“Displaying your assets like an unscrupulous—  See what I mean!  The whole…fingers trailing suggestively across magnificent vampiric pecs.  Blatant commercialism.”

“No, that would be blatant advertising.”

“Commercials, advertising…”

“Even drunk I can tell the difference, what does that say about…”

“You said you weren’t drunk.  You’re allegedly…”

“Merry.”

“Yes, and…and…”

“Magnificent, eh?”

“…t-shirt, Spike.”

“T-shirt.  Right.  T-shirt.  Where did it go?”

“If you weren’t drunk you wouldn’t need to ask.”

“Semi-drunk.”

“’Kay…  You were twirling it around your head about…here.”

“I wasn’t twirling.  Vampires don’t do twirling.”

“Like they don’t do Christmas, huh?”

“Semi-do.”

“You let it go and…following the estimated trajectory…”

“Semi-twirling.  Same action as taking an axe to the Bishop of Chipping Sodbury.”

“It’d be somewhere…around…  The tree.  Ah.  Great.  The fairy is wearing a burka.”

“Shall I…?”

“No.”

“I could…”

“No.  One thing I’ve learnt over the years, is that you’re never more dangerous than when you’re trying to be helpful.”

“That’s…  I’m hurt.  Truly.”

“Truly?  Truly truly?”

“Not especially.”

“Figures.  Anyhow, you don’t want to be trying this in your condition.  Pass me that chair.”

“Your condition is rapidly catching up with my condition.”

“Three beers are…”

“’Nuff said for a lightweight like you.  You need steps.”

“Simply pass me…”

“How about I just give the tree a shake?”

“No, I don’t think…  Spike.  Spike!  SPIKE!  Don’t shake the—”

“Umm…”

“You…you…”

“Whoops?”

“Gimme that branch.”

“Branch?”

“The sharp pointy wooden thing in the hand you’re hiding behind your back.  I have an urgent need for its sharp wooden pointiness.”

“The gap won’t show.  Not if I turn the tree like…”

“Spike, don’t…!  Put my fucking tree down this minute before you—  Spike!  Don’t let it…  …  You.  Asshole!”

“Interesting angle.  Like…modern art.”

“Look…look what you did to my fairy.”

“…”

“Don’t you dare laugh at my fairy.”

“Least I can reach my shirt now.”

“Oh.  Joy.”

“I’ll just…put it on, shall I?”

“Do.  Make sure you—  Mind the other wing!  Ah, no.  Look what you did to her.  What do I do now?”

“Change her name to Stumpy?”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Stumpy was the eighth dwarf, y’know.  Lost in the re-writes.”

“That isn’t funny either.”

“Sorry, Love.”

“And don’t call me that!  No wonder people think we’re…”

“Let ‘em think what they like, so bloody what.”

“I can’t get a date, Spike.  All I get are offers for threesomes, me, the boyfriend, and…”

“Why don’t you say yes?”

“I guess I could prop what’s left of the tree up against…”

“Why don’t you say yes?”

“Pretty hard to have a threesome when they’re a one, and I’m a one, and between us we’re only adding up to a twosome.”

“Least you’d be getting…”

“No, I wouldn’t.  ‘Cause for some reason these same people think I’m unavailable as a one, due to the way my over-possessive non-boyfriend glares at them.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all you can say?  I have blue balls and all you can say is ‘Oh’?”

“Well…  Glaring’s a bit off.  It’s more of a…a…”

“Yes?”

“Casual, optical…  One-foot-out-of-line-and-I’ll-fucking-skin-you-alive.”

“Spiiiiike.”

“I protect my own, it’s instinctive.”

“I’m not…”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll…”

“You’ll what?  C’mon, what?  Huh?  Huh?”

“That red nose on Rudolph doesn’t look too stable.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just a tweak and—  Oof!”

“Put.  The Reindeer.  Down.”

“Do you know what people would think if they walked in and found you sitting on me?”

“Thanks to you they already think it.  Gimme the reindeer.  And stop doing that.”

“What?  This?”

“Quit wriggling, will ya, and just hand over…”

“That’s not wriggling.  Wriggling’s more…”

“Will you…”

“This on the other hand, the non-wriggling, is more of a…rub.  Niiiiice rub.”

“Uh…uhhhhmm…  Spike…”

“Move back a couple of inches, Pet, that’d really hit the spot.”

“Wha…!  No, I’m not gonna…!  No, absolutely not.  I’m not, all right?  No.  N.  O.  No.”

“Mmm, that’s…”

“’Bout here?”

“…very…  Stimulating.  Now, you hold Rudolph, and I’ll find something else to play with.  Something other than his nose that’s red and shiny.”

“Oh, sure.  What makes you think I’d let you—  Hold on, it’s kind of a tricky zipper, a couple of the teeth broke.  It needs…  Okay, you take Rudolph and I’ll…”

“And here, ladies and gentleman, we witness Rudolph, a tragically deformed reindeer, rejected by his pack-mates for looking like a total twat…”

“Hey, Rudolph’s cute.”

“Here we witness Rudolph, a downtrodden beast with a facial disfigurement like a neon fart, galloping across the plain of the vampire’s belly and attempting to mount the treacherous peak of Xander’s Knob.”

“Will you quit that?  How can I do this if I’m being interfered with by a reindeer?”

“A second ago you thought he was cute.”

“I think Gremlins are cute but it doesn’t mean I want them orienteering my crotch.  Especially when I’m…”

“Bloody zip.  Here, hold Rudolph.”

“Why, what are you—  AhnoSpikefuck!  These are my favourite pants.  These were.”

“Don’t you rip the wrapping off your pressies?”

“That implies I’m—  Uh…Spike…”

“And what a very generous gift it turns out to be.”

“Maybe you…uh…shouldn’t…  Oh.  Oh.  …  That’s…”

“Just there, eh?  A touch…just…there.  And you’re hard enough to cut glass.”

“Oh, God, you shouldn’t know that.”

“Want to hear something saccharine enough for Christmas?”

“No.  Yes.  Ah, Spike…  You…  I…  Spike, I…”

“I know.  Me too.  And I could come just from watching your beautiful face.  In fact…”

“Let me…”

“No.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No, really, you don’t have to.  You know I’ll get off when you do.”

“But I want to…”

“Later.”

“Later’s impossible.  We’ll have company and I won’t be able to touch you for hours and…”

“Stop worrying about that.  Think of…this.”

“Ohhh, for—”

“Breathe, Love.”

“Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”

“Xander.”

“Fuck.”

…

“Oh my God.  Look what I did to Rudolph.”

“Poor little sod.  Crushed by your passion.  Don’t know how you’ll explain this to the Nibblet.”

“Dawn?  Why Dawn?”

“She chose it, didn’t she.  Her contribution to your first Christmas here.  She’ll be bound to ask…”

“No, she won’t.  I’ll…I’ll…hide it.”

“There are bits of him everywhere.  She’s going to tread on a hoof, or get pranged by a rogue antler; accidentally booting that detached hooter across the room so it ricochets off the fireplace and into Rupert’s Ovaltine will be a dead giveaway.”

“Then I’ll – I’ll blame you.  The tree, the fairy, Rudolph…”

“Look what you did to my t-shirt.”

“What I—  Ah, shit.  Change it!”

“There isn’t time, they’ll be here any second.”

“But…but…but…  Okay.  I get it.  The damn vampire’s still evil.  What do you want?”

“And it’s my favourite t-shirt.”

“How can you have a favourite t-shirt when every single t-shirt you own is identical to all the other t-shirts you own!”

“I even named this one.”

“Arghhh!  What, Spike?  What do you want?”

“Well, maybe…maybe if you…promised to wear your pressie for me later.”

“Wear?  That present is tiny.  More than that, it’s teeny.  What could possibly fit in there that I can—  Second thoughts, I probably don’t want to know.”

“Not much to a thong, eh?  Scrap of material.  Laces securing the front – silky – y’know the type that will glide open at the merest brush of a fingertip.  Very appealing but no real substance.  Bit like…”

“You.”

“Lucky we’re not sober or I’d’ve been insulted by that.”

“I’m sober enough to—  You got me a thong?  A thong?”

“Black satin.  Good quality too.  I only steal the best for my…”

“Fuck.”

“You think there’s time?”

“No way.”

“Blimey, look at how this stain is drying.  Bit obvious, eh?  Everyone’ll know what it is.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“And from where it is they’ll know…”

“Shut up.”

“…you were on top…”

“Shut up.”

“…and I was helpless, even blameless…”

“Shut up.”

“…for once.”

“Shutupshutupshutup!”

“Want me to shut up, Love?  You only had to say.  Here, is that them at the door?  I thought I heard…”

“All right!”

“All right?  Nah, that was too easy.  Where are you—  Come back and…  Who are you phoning?”

“Wills?  …  Yeah, it’s me.  …  No, not so happy so far.  Bit of a problem, actually.  Is everyone still at yours?  …  But you could get them there?  …  I have to cancel, no choice.  …  ‘Cause everything was going pretty well until the undead struck, drank my household dry, brought down the fricking tree, and we don’t call him Spike the fairy slayer for nothing.  …  Uh-huh.  Ms Bramble Goblinglow.  Wingless.  …  I know!  Luckily, Cosmos Morning-Dew never made it out of the box.  …  Ha!  You really could—  Oh.  No, hold on, better not.  It might be funny for five minutes but if he had wings he’d be bound to flap a candle over and burn down what’s left of the house.  …  Yeah, better get onto that.  Give them my love, and tell them tomorrow’s still on if Spike hasn’t found a way to kill me with his brand of seasonal cheer.  …  You too.  Bye.”

“Xander…”

“Forget it.”

“But I was…”

“Fuck off, Spike, leave me alone.  I’ll be in my room, don’t come calling.  I mean it.”

“Honestly, I was…  Only joking.  Xander?  …  Xander?  …  Oh…bollocks.”

…

“Spike.”

“Don’t start, I’m sorting this.  I’ve nearly fixed the tree and I’ll go out and stea—  Buy you another wretched fairy.  Fucking whipped, aren’t I, and I was only having a joke.”

“Spike.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I don’t want you pissed off, I want you…”

“Naked?”

“Happy, I was going for, but…”

“Turn around.”

“Naked.  You’re…  Sweet bloody…”

“How about…semi-naked?”

“…”

“You like?”

“It’s a…um…good…fit.”

“It stretches.  Fortunately.  And feels nice.  The satin.”

“It may feel nice, Xan, but I promise you it looks better.  Can I…”

“Sure.”

“You don’t want to put up a fight?”

“I can honestly say it wasn’t a fight I was thinking of putting up.”

“Mmm…  You’re right.  It feels very nice.”

“Now it’s on, you wanna…take it off?”

“What I want…  What.  I.  Want.”

“What?  Want me to guess?  ‘Cause I doubt it’d take too long.”

“You know…”

“Can I help you off with that shirt?  And those pants?  Okay, the boots may not have a stain but they can go too.”

“Xander.  You know, don’t you.  That they all know.  Everyone knows.  From the minute you moved me in.”

“They haven’t a…”

“Be honest.”

“Do I know they know?  …  Yeah.  I know.”

“Good.”

“But it’s more fun pretending we can fool them.  Everything about our way is more fun.”

“It’s not because…”

“Because?”

“Because you regret it.  Us.”

“Is that how I sound?  I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I don’t regret us, I never do, I—  You know how much I—  …  I don’t regret a thing.”

“Thank you.  I love you too.”

“I know.”

XXXXX

“Now…about these threesomes…”

“Forget it, I’m not sharing you with anyone, ever, evereverever.”

“Might be fun.”

“You want fun, I’ll show you fun.  Wait for me to get the camcorder and I’ll show you it in widescreen.”

“Xander…”

“Hey, why the serious face?  I thought you liked us in widescreen.”

“Say it.  Just once.  Forget all your daft superstitions and say it.  It’s all I want for Christmas.”

“You don’t do Christmas.”

“I do…enough.”

“You busted the fairy.  You made me crush Rudolph.  You have me dressed like a cheap whore.  And as for the tree…”

“Yeah, all right, you’ve made your point.”

“Come back here.”

“…”

“Spike…  I wouldn’t have it – you – any other way.”

“You mean it?”

“Oh, yeah.  I love you.  I love you with all my heart.”

XXXXX

“I knew that.”

“Ah, Sweetheart, are you…”

“No!  Just…something in my eye.  Scrap of Rudolph probably.”

“Poor baby.  You need to be distracted?”

“Might help.”

“’Cause it turns out I have something for you after all.  You hold…this lace.  And I’ll hold…this one.  Now…”

“Mmm, Love.”

“Surprise!  Well…maybe not a complete surprise.”

“Thank you, Love, it’s just what I needed.  It’s even the right size.”

“I’m glad you like it.  Although, essentially, it’s the thought that counts.”

“And I can guess what you’re thinking.”

“Um…  Merry Christmas, Sweetheart?”

“Or…maybe I can’t.”

XXXXX

“Actually…  You can guess exactly what I’m thinking.”