by Spike_1790

Memories of Christmas


“Spike? Are you awake? I can't sleep.”

Spike mumbled something indecipherable from under the nest of pillows and blankets he'd liberated from Xander's side of the bed.

“Spike!” Xander barked, prodding the snoring pile of blankets.

Spike growled. It was a sleepy little sound that reminded Xander of a kitten, not that he'd ever say that to Spike's face. No sir, no death wish here today.

“Spike I can't sleep.” On second thoughts, that death wish thing might need to be double checked, because waking up a sleeping vampire? Never a good move. “Tell me a story.”

“Sod off,” was the muffled reply. Xander prodded the blanket monster again and was greeted by scowling blue eyes. “If I tell you a bloody story, will you let me sleep?”  Xander nodded. “Fine. Once there was a boy called Xander who was a pain in the arse. Then he got chained up and gagged by a vampire called Spike, and Xander was never a pain in the arse again. The end. Happy now pet?”

Xander pouted, ignoring the twinge of arousal at the thought of being chained up by Spike. “No. Tell me a story that doesn't involve your bondage fantasies.”

“Fine. It was Christmas day, and it was trying to snow. Hard to snow properly through smog, but it looked pretty when we looked out the window. It was cold. Mum had the maid light the drawing room. Felt a little sorry for the girl, having to work Christmas, but if I were being honest, I was more concerned about mother staying warm, what with her being ill and all. We sat together by the fire, not saying a word, for hours. Mother was working on her embroidery. I was reading. We sat like that until it was time for lunch.

We had a cook. Her name was Betty. All our household staff worked that Christmas. Betty cooked the most amazing food. I'll never forget the smell of roast goose- reminds me of christmas every time I smell it. Not the same with ham or turkey, is it? Gotta do it right. We'll do that one year, you and me. We can have a proper Victorian Christmas.” Spike sighed, half out of longing for the future, half from the bittersweet memories of the past. Beside him, Xander's eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep yet. Spike took a breath and continued.

“After lunch, we retired to the drawing room again and exchanged presents. Mother gave me a scarf, and I gave her... I can't even remember. I remember that she was delighted with it, whatever it was. And that was it. I finished reading A Christmas Carol and mother nodded off by the fire for a while until it was time for bed. Nothing special, that Christmas. Not the best we ever had, but I won't forget it.”

Xander made a sleepy affirmative noise and began to snore softly. Spike smiled. “Of course, the next Christmas was spent partying with
Angelus, Darla and Dru. Now that was a riot. Quite literally,” he chuckled to himself. He snuggled back under the covers next to his lover.

Night XanPet. Merry Christmas.”

The End