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Date Posted: 09:01:26 12/22/03 Mon
Author: Kuzibah
Author Host/IP: 12.175.117.195
Subject: Re: New Holiday Fanfic (Part 3)
In reply to: Kuzibah 's message, "New Holiday Fanfic (Part 2)" on 09:00:10 12/22/03 Mon

Secret Santa III: Angel – Fast Away the Old Year Passes

“When Angel awoke on Christmas Eve morning and saw that it was nearly 11 AM, his first thought was that something so terrible had happened that no one had been able to get upstairs and wake him before they had all been killed in some spectacularly violent way. A quick call to Harmony soon eased his panic as she explained (eventually) that everything was fine, nothing the "gang" couldn't handle, and they'd decided to let him sleep in.

Relieved and pleased, Angel repaired to his bath to find the tub already filled to the temperature he preferred and the water scented with an herbal soak he had once tried in France in the late 1800s, but had never seen in America. A copy of the L.A. Times and two mugs, one filled with coffee and one with blood, were within easy reach.

Suspicious of some new plot, but nonetheless unwilling to let such careful preparation go to waste, Angel sank down into the bath. The soak was as refreshing as he remembered.

Afterwards, he dressed and went down to his office, still slightly amazed that no one had summoned him in a panic. There was the usual office buzz going on, and Harmony greeted him with a smile. He went into his desk and waited for the storm to hit.

By 5 PM, things were still quiet. No questions or requests for help. No dire threats to the survival of the world. Even Eve hadn't found a lame excuse to pop in and be annoyingly condescending. And best of all... no Spike. Not even a glimpse of that infuriating blond head, which was all the more amazing considering he'd become an almost permanent fixture, whining non-stop about his lack of status, funds, and lodgings.

As the office emptied, even the most dyed-in-the-wool evil-doers quitting early to enjoy the holiday, Angel allowed himself a sigh of relief at having had the whole day to himself, and decided to quit early.

He returned to his apartment, fully prepared to put it in order for the now-traditional Christmas party with his friends, only to find everything had already been arranged. Tasteful greenery decorated the tabletops and doorways, and white tapers glowed in every window. An attractive spread of food and drink stood on the sideboard, and Angel could smell spiced beef and a rich Christmas raisin cake. Quiet instrumental music was playing on the stereo.

Angel stepped into the room, trying to sense who had done this. He crossed to the CD player and switched it off just in time to hear the clatter of a spoon against a bowl, followed by an angry hiss.

He reached the kitchen in a flash, only to find a desperate-looking Spike trying to find another way out of the room. Three strides and he had the blond vampire slammed up against the enormous stainless-steel fridge, his hands twisted in Spike's t-shirt.

Angel drew back one fist, only to realize Spike was giving him no struggle. "Just what the hell," he asked instead, "do you think you're doing?"

Spike shoved Angel back. "I'm trying to help you," he said. "For Fred's Secret Santa thing. Wanker," he added for good measure.

"The best present would have been to leave me alone," Angel said.

"What do you think I was trying to do? Not my fault you came home an hour earlier than usual."

Angel felt his anger dissolve. He stepped back and turned slightly away, and ran one hand through his hair. "Okay," he said finally. "Truce. At least through tomorrow night."

Spike could not completely hide his relief. "Truce," he repeated. "For the season's sake."

Angel gave a curt nod and returned to the living room. He started the CD player again, then poured himself a brandy and lowered himself into one of the club chairs.

Spike puttered in the kitchen a few more minutes, then joined Angel in the living room. He took some brandy for himself, then moved to the window to gaze into the street far below them. "Doesn't quite seem like Christmas," he said. "Not with it feeling like Summer. Don't you think?"

"I was never really one for Christmas anyway," Angel said. "So it doesn't matter to me."

Spike nodded. "Yeah, I remember," he said. After a moment he asked, "didn't you wonder who ran the bath this morning?"

"Of course," Angel said. "But I thought..." he trailed off, and Spike turned towards him, curious.

"What?"

"I have... a benefactor. Every Christmas I get these anonymous gifts. I thought he might be doing it."

Spike gave a small smile. "Neat," he said. "what did you get last year?"

Angel looked embarrassed. "He skipped last year. I got the impression he was annoyed with me. But every other Christmas since I came to L.A. I've gotten these... wonderful things."

“Maybe he’ll remember this year,” Spike said, and turned back to the window. He and Angel were silent for a long moment, then Spike said, “the snowflakes on the streetlights? Irony, you think, or did they just not think about it?”

“Probably irony,” Angel said. “After movies, it’s L.A.’s number one export.”

Spike grunted an agreement. “That’s another thing that doesn’t feel like Christmas,” he said.

“I remember this was your favorite time of year,” Angel said. “When we were all together, you looked forward to it for months.”

“Well, yeah,” Spike said, turning to face him, now. “It was the two or three days a year you weren’t a complete asshole. Why wouldn’t I look forward to that?”

Angel’s expression got hard. “Maybe if you weren’t such a brat,” he snarled.

Spike opened his mouth to reply, then shut it a moment later with a snap. He took a deliberate breath, then said quietly, “I’m sorry. Forgot the truce for a minute.”

Angel regarded Spike sternly for a moment, then leaned back. “Come sit down,” he said, and warily Spike sat in the chair opposite. “Let’s begin again,” Angel said. “Thank you for the preparations you’ve done for me tonight, Spike. I appreciate it, and I know the others will, too.”

Spike nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Just trying to make Fred happy, is all.”

“I think it will,” Angel said. “I’m glad you thought of it. I picked her name, and I couldn’t think what she’d like. I ended up getting her some jewelry. It’s not really her, she’s not all girly like that, but I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“I think she’ll like it,” Spike said sincerely. “I think it bothers her sometimes that you lot seem to forget she is a girl. A few sparklies’ll let her know you notice from time to time.”

Angel smiled. “I hope so,” he said. “So what did you get?”

Spike shrugged. “Spa thingie,” he murmured. “Sort of poncey, but nice.”

"Who do you think got it for you?" Angel asked.

"I found out," Spike said. "Receptionist let it slip. Was the Watcher."

Angel nodded.

"What time does the party start?" Spike asked after a moment.

Angel checked his watch. "They should be arriving soon," he said, then his look grew thoughtful. "You know," he said, "all things considered, the Christmases with the four of us were some pretty happy times. In their own way, I mean."

"I always thought so," Spike said, and he gave a small smile. "Do you remember the one year, when we were snowed in, and you..."

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" Gunn shouted as he burst through the door. "Let the merriment begin!"

Angel and Spike both shot to their feet, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"Hi!" Fred called as she entered the apartment. "I brought cookies!"

"And I've brought the bubbly," Lorne added, holding up four bottles.

"Oh, is everyone here already?" Wesley said. "I only just got done downstairs."

"Nope, party's just getting started," Gunn said, taking one of the bottles from Lorne and popping the cork. Angel moved towards the bar to get out glasses, maneuvering around his guests as they began to load up their plates. By the time he had them situated, Spike had retreated to the window, once again staring out into the street.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[> Re: New Holiday Fanfic (Part 4) -- Kuzibah, 09:02:36 12/22/03 Mon (12.175.117.195)

Secret Santa: Epilogue – The Fire is Slowly Dying

The group took their seats, the humans balancing plates piled with food and tall glasses of champagne in their laps, and Fred smiled as she looked around the room. The Secret Santas had been revealed soon after they’d arrived at Angel’s apartment, and now the discussion of the various gifts was proceeding.

“That trip was far too extravagant,” Wes said to Gunn, his benefactor.

“I disagree,” Gunn countered. “You deserve it, I can afford it. What’s the problem?”

Spike, perched on the arm of Fred’s chair, brushed back her hair to admire her diamond earrings and pendant. “The poof has good taste,” he said. “They bring out the sparkle in your eyes.”

Fred blushed and lowered her gaze. “Thank you,” she said.

“A vintage, 1950’s cocktail set,” Lorne extolled to the room at large. “Once owned by the Dean-o himself! Who knew our little Winifred had such connections?”

“Speaking of connections,” Gunn said to Lorne, “that party you wangled an invite for me for? What a night! And I don’t care what anybody says. That J-Lo is a sweetheart!”

“Matt Damon might disagree with you, sugar pie,” Lorne said. “But tell me, what was Nicole wearing..?”

Angel caught up with Fred at the buffet table, as she was loading up her plate with seconds. “Wonderful idea,” he told her.

“I’m glad it worked out,” she said. “And thanks again for the jewelry.”

“My pleasure,” Angel said, surprised it was the truth.

- - - - -

The party had just broken up, and Angel had called for cars to return his humans to their respective homes. He and Spike, still in the midst of their Christmas truce, were cleaning out the living room. Angel swept food and empty bottles into a large trash bag while Spike loaded glasses and dishes into the dishwasher.

“It was a good party,” Angel said, and Spike grunted assent.

“You’ve good people,” Spike said. “Though I’ll deny that come Friday.”

Angel chuckled. “Of course,” he said.

Spike shut the dishwasher and started it just as Angel dropped the last bag down the trash chute.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Angel asked, as Spike gathered his things and headed for the door.

“Don’t know,” was the reply. “Probably nothing. Why do you ask?”

Angel shrugged. “I thought maybe we could…” Spike raised an eyebrow, and the older vampire trailed off.

“You don’t mean it,” Spike said, an edge of laughter in his voice, and Angel grinned.

“No, I probably don’t,” he agreed.

“See you Friday, then,” Spike said. “Or maybe after the weekend.” And then he was out the door.

Angel shut off the lights and entered his bedroom. On the bed was a large, red envelope. He immediately went and opened it.

Inside was a sheet of cream-colored paper, bordered in holly and poinsettias, with a letter typed in dark green ink.

“Happy Holidays to Our Friends and Family,” read the salutation, and Angel’s brow furrowed in confusion. He continued reading.

“It’s been quite a year for all of us,” the letter continued, “and we only hope that all of you have had as happy and prosperous a year as we have here on Pinewood Crescent.”

Angel felt his heart lurch, suddenly realizing the significance of this letter. He scanned down the page, reading certain sentences. “Our son… competed at state’s in cross-country and track… Gold in the 400 m relay, silver in the 1000 m… Graduated 19th in his class from Sanger High School… Started University in Sept… still undeclared but doing very well.”

Angel re-read those lines again, then read the whole letter, consoled by the portrait of a close, loving family. When he reached for the envelope to put the letter away, he saw a gold-wrapped package where there had been none before. He jumped, and looked around the room.

“Are you there?” he said softly, but there was no answer.

He reached for the package and tore off the wrapping. Inside was a small, cheap photo album, the kind one might buy in a drugstore, that would only hold a dozen or so snapshots. Angel knew what they were before he opened it, and he turned back the cover with reverence.

The first picture was a hospital baby portrait: Connor, newborn and freshly washed, dressed in a light-blue snuggly and cap. From the very first moment he was better off, Angel thought.

He paged slowly through the rest of the photos. There was Connor as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with Cheerios stuck in his hair. A birthday party, where he looked about four. His first day of school, little denim backpack at his feet. A formal portrait with his sisters. As a boy of ten, sitting in a rowboat holding a silvery fish on a line. A track meet, prom, high-school graduation.

Finally, another Christmas, with Connor looking more a man than ever, on a fireplace hearth with a decorated tree in the background. The shot was candid, as the boy wasn’t even looking up, instead engrossed in a sketch he was working on. Angel got the strong feeling that this picture had been taken a moment before the album had appeared on the bed.

Angel could feel the tears coming, and he clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut until he once again had control.


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