(no subject)
Part two of Tis the Season:
____________________
Sitting on a bench by the star-speckled moonlight, his head back and his eyes closed, Spike’s fingers were keeping the beat of music echoing out from one of the concert halls. Sounded like an opera crossed with something more modern, but his German wasn’t up to recognising it.
When the limit of his vocabulary extended to ‘liebe’, ‘schniedel’ and ‘scheisse’, it wasn’t likely he’d get much out of a rousing Christmas concert anyway, but it wasn’t about to stop him enjoying the music.
Herbert had wandered off somewhere to get them some kind of fancy fruity hot drink that a vendor was selling, and he was just enjoying himself. The thought made him grin. Enjoying himself on a dirty week away with his lover during the Christmas holidays. Not something he’d thought would happen to him.
“Ah, there you are, cheri.” Herbert’s voice made him look up. Sitting down, the elder vampire pressed a warm cup into Spike’s hands. “I thought you might have tried to escape in my absence.”
“Got distracted by the music,” Spike said with a sigh of feigned despair. “Bit of a bugger, really. Put a right dent in the escape plan.” He took a sip of the steaming fruit punch in the cup. “Oi, Herbie, you trying to get me drunk?”
With a virtuous look, Herbert took a leisurely sip from his own drink. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said.
Considering the amount of alcohol in the drink would have knocked an amateur flat in less than three mouthfuls, Spike raised his scarred brow. “You see how convinced I’m not?” he inquired, though he drank more, shivering at the warming sensation that ebbed through him.
“Mm.” Herbert eased closer and slipped an arm around Spike’s shoulders.
It was a sign of just how good the week had been that he didn’t grin uncertainly and shrug the arm away. Instead, he leaned into Herbert, wrapping his hands around his cup, exhaling a sigh that misted from the lingering warmth of his drink.
Tilting his head, Herbert kissed Spike’s temple lightly. “I suppose we really must set off tomorrow, if we are to have the castle ready for Dawn’s return.” he said.
“And I think the hotel manager’ll be chuffed that you won’t be around to make those waitresses swoon all over you again,” Spike noted with a wry grin. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Herbert smiled amiably. “I am merely being myself, cheri,” he said cheerfully. “If people choose to fall in love with me because I chance to smile at them, then that is entirely their fault.”
“The fact you’re an evil poofter helps,” Spike added, making the feeblest of squeaks of a protest when Herbert tossed aside his own drink to pull Spike’s face to his and kiss him hard.
“Oh yes,” Herbert purred, grey eyes glittering. “Exceptionally.” The tip of his nose brushed against Spike’s. “After all, it meant you ended up in my arms, did it not, my sweet William?”
Slightly dazzled by the smile, Spike felt his lips twitch in a helpless grin, and when someone wandered by, calling out something, he only managed to blink when Herbert looked away sharply, eyes flashing.
Herbert was watching a tall, heavily-built man with a shaved head and what looked like a generations-old leather bomber jacket stomping away through the milling people, a venomous look on his face. His lips had drawn back just enough to show his teeth, and Spike was surprised to hear the soft growl.
Peering after the man, Spike frowned. “What’s the show about?”
“I despise idiots.” Herbert’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes blazing.
“Well, yeah.” Spike put his nice, alcohol-laced drink down on the pavement and turned Herbert’s face back to his. The icy fire in Herbert’s eyes faded marginally as they met Spike’s. “You want to tell me what I’m missing so I can be all righteously snarly too? Or is it someone wearing a coat that’s out of fashion?”
“A narrow-minded idiot who I would never deign to share air with, darling,” Herbert replied softly, then kissed him. “Come, William. I have lost all taste for the outdoors this evening and we have that lovely bed for but one more night.”
Spike saw the bulk of a man look back at them and saw the distaste in his eyes. “Oh, right, one of those kinds, eh?” he murmured, rising and offering Herbert a hand out of sheer spite. He saw the man glare. It got worse when Herbert slipped an arm around his waist.
“You do not mind if I make a show, do you, cheri?” Herbert whispered against his temple before nuzzling his tangled curls.
“If it’ll rub that git’s face in it, feel free,” Spike replied, draping his own arm around Herbert’s waist. “And look. He’s got friends.” Smirking, Spike nodded to a shorter, stockier man and a skinny youth, both of whom were sporting shaved heads and were approaching the first. “Matching heads. How original.”
Through his coat, he felt Herbert’s hand curl beneath his ribs, kneading slowly, and knew Herbert was watching the trio of men. “I think we have made some enemies, my dear William,” he murmured. “All because your mouth is so delectable.”
Spike grinned. “Don’t you go blaming my mouth, you silly poof,” he said as they started making their way across the square and between traders and tourists. “Yours had a lot more to do with it than mine.”
“They must be quite jealous of our pleasant mouths,” Herbert noted airily, but Spike could feel the anticipation in the press of his hand and the closeness of his body. His lover was like a great big cat, prowling, waiting to strike, grey eyes gleaming.
“Yeah?”
“Mm.” Herbert shook his hair back over his shoulders, his smile feral. “It seems we are being followed.”
A glance at a metallic stand proved he was right, the distorted reflection showing the trio of men winding their way through the throng after them.
“Three big lads against skinny little things like us?” With mock-horror, Spike looked sideways at Herbert. “D’you think we’re going to make it out of here alive?”
“Do you think they will?” Herbert gave him a cold smile and Spike sighed.
“Herbie...”
Grey eyes flashed. “Darling, the big brute was terribly derogatory about us,” he said. “I think we would be doing the gene pool a favour by shearing such meagre creatures from the crop.”
“Herbie,” Spike repeated, holding his lover’s eyes. “No killing, right? Just a lesson.”
Herbert scowled petulantly. “I do not even want to repeat what he called you,” he muttered bitterly. “He deserves to be torn apart. And his friends deserve the same fate for such stupid hair-cuts.”
“Just a lesson,” Spike repeated again, voice calm, but blue eyes flashed gold. He saw the surprise in Herbert’s eyes, saw the faint twitch of one side of Herbert’s mouth and felt himself pulled hard against Herbert’s side.
“Cheri,” the whisper was a silken breath against his ear. “We are going to that alley and stalkers be damned, I am having you now.”
The shudder that ran down his spine was electrifying and he nodded wordlessly, felt Herbert’s arm shift, a hand sliding beneath his unfastened coat, fingertips stroking down the base of his back.
Funny how it seemed to take longer than ever to reach that alley, but when they did, he was whirled around and pinned up against the rough brick wall, Herbert’s mouth crushing against his fiercely, hungrily.
Groaning, he sank a hand into the loose spill of Herbert’s silky hair, his other hand clutching at Herbert’s scarf, pulling him closer, his own hips lifting against his lover’s of their own accord.
Herbert’s hand had negotiated past his belt and wrapped around his prick when he became aware of heartbeats growing closer, could hear the rapid pulses, could feel the prickle of eyes on him.
Something was said in German, and judging by the way Herbert’s hands stilled, it wasn’t something any decent mother would teach their toddler. Drawing back from Spike’s lips, Herbert gazed at a point further up the wall, expression strangely serene.
“Don’t do anything silly,” Spike murmured.
Herbert smiled innocently, then cast a reply over his shoulder.
Apparently, it was something silly.
With a roar of outrage, the stocky man barrelled forward and Herbert whirled himself and Spike around so the man’s fist impacted with the wall. A casual kick to the head knocked him to the ground, a second kick rendering him unconscious.
“Pardon me, cheri,” Herbert turned apologetically to Spike, withdrawing his hand from the front of his trousers.
Spike grinned faintly. “Go play,” he offered, leaning against the wall.
The broad, dazzlingly wicked smile was brilliant in the dimness of the alley. All too quickly, the scrawny youth was sprawled unconscious, bruised from neck to knee by a peppering of blows.
The largest of the three and the one with whom Herbert had chosen his quarrel was dangling inches above the ground, throat caught in Herbert’s hand, eyes bulging and colour darkening his face.
Whispering in German, Herbert’s eyes were alight with feral delight and his fingers tensed against the man’s meaty throat. Lips peeling back from his teeth, Herbert bared his fangs in a grin, his other hand flexing by his side.
Pushing off from the wall, Spike stepped over the inert man who had punched the wall so hard his hand was bleeding. The smell was making him twitchy. Hadn’t had fresh human blood in years.
“C’mon, Herbie,” he said quietly, laying his hands on Herbert’s hips and nuzzling his jaw over his shoulder. “Leave the bugger.”
“I’m hungry.” Herbert’s growl was low, dangerous.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed. “But we’re not going to kill ‘em, no matter how bloody dense they are.”
Grey eyes glanced at him and the man dropped to the level with them, eyes reduced to swollen slits, blood streaming from his nose. Spike’s tongue touched his own lower lip, his hands tensing at Herbert’s waist.
“You want to taste him, don’t you?”
“Don’t...” Spike whispered, fingers taut against Herbert’s coat.
“Deny it,” Herbert replied softly. “Lie to me.”
Pressing his forehead against Herbert’s shoulder, Spike drew a slow, quavering breath, his eyes shut. He felt Herbert’s arms shift, heard the muted sound of pain, smelled the fresh arterial blood.
“Oh God... Herbie, no...”
Pulling free from Spike’s hands, Herbert turned, silhouetted against the light at the end of the alley like an avenging angel, hair cast with scarlet hues from the lamps, his teeth darkened with blood.
Like a sacred offering, the man’s throat was proffered to him, laid open, glassy eyes staring at him in abject terror.
“Drink.”
Backing away a step, Spike shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I won’t.”
Herbert’s eyes flashed like quicksilver and Spike looked away, closed his own eyes as Herbert bit into the unfortunate man’s throat again, hard enough to make him choke out a cry.
He had turned half-away when he heard the dull thud of a body striking the ground, tried to ignore the memory of those petrified eyes, felt his body tense at the thought, only to be jerked around and forced up against the wall, hands pinned by his sides.
Opening his mouth to protest, Spike’s words were caught by Herbert’s lips, a torrent of scalding blood spilling over lips and tongue, making him gasp, making him clutch at Herbert, drinking from his mouth, fangs gashing, fingers clawing, heat hitting him as strongly as the alcohol had.
“You bastard!” he panted out, tearing his mouth away.
Herbert smiled down at him, blood splattered over his face and clothing. “Shut up, William,” he purred, pressing him against the wall again, his hand slipping between fabric and flesh.
With a faint groan, Spike pushed at him. “I didn’t want...”
“No,” Herbert interrupted silkily. “But you needed.” His hand moved and he leaned close, his voice soft against Spike’s ear. “Don’t worry, darling, it was a mere lesson for him.” A kiss touched Spike’s lobe. “A gift for you, my darling.”
Staring beyond him, Spike shivered. He could hear it now, the third heartbeat.
Not dead.
Not dead.
And when Herbert kissed him again, Spike didn’t turn away.
____________________
“Cherie,” A voice sing-songed next to Dawn’s ear. “Oh, Cher-iiiie...”
Grumbling, Dawn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Go ‘way. Sleeping.” She heard the huff of a sigh, then felt someone shifting close by. A cold tongue licked her from chin to temple. “Ew!” Suddenly wide-awake, she hit out at her assailant. “That was gross!”
Herbert grinned at her, catching her fist before it could hit him again and kissing her knuckles. “You should have woken up the first time, then, cherie,” he replied, eyes dancing. “You’ve slept for hours already.”
“Told you not to wake me until we got to...” She squinted through the windscreen of the Mercedes. “Oh... right. Castle.”
Herbert beamed and nodded at her. “I thought I would be kind and let you sleep without any manner of graffiti applied to your face,” he added. “After all, you looked much more freshly dead than I did.”
Sitting up and rubbing her face, Dawn winced as her back cracked. “Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep.”
“Do you want me to go over there and kill them all in vengeance?” Herbert offered, his eyes rounded innocently. She glared at him. “Perhaps some time next year, then, hmm, cherie?”
“If I wasn’t stuck in this damned seat, I would totally kick you.”
“I have no doubt,” Herbert laughed. “Come, darling. Father will be awaiting you.”
Scrambling out of the car, he was around the other side before she had even undone her belt, pulling the door open for her. She gave him a bemused look which made him grin all the wider.
“Okay... what’s happened?” she demanded warily, stepping down onto the gravel of the driveway. “Who died?”
“Nothing and no one, my dear, suspicious darling,” Herbert said with a broad grin.
“And you’re all smug-and-smirky why?”
He leaned close until his dancing eyes were close to hers. “I was naughty.”
“And this is new and exciting because?” Dawn watched him warily as he bounded to the back of the car and retrieved her small case and bag.
He bit his lower lip in a show of exaggerated innocence. “Because William looks a little different now,” he replied in a stage-whisper, then clapped a hand over his mouth as if he had uttered a blasphemy.
“So, you’re giddy like a school-girl on a caffeine-high because you gave Spike a makeover?” Dawn blinked at him, wondering if maybe she had missed a vampire-mood-translator thing somewhere in between sleeping and waking up.
“A little, yes,” he replied, laughing. “And some other matters.”
Taking her bag, she let herself get steered towards the doors, blinking at the wreaths that hung on each door, green and red washed with silver by the moonlight. “Uh, Herbert, who stuck the plants on the doors?”
“No idea, darling,” Herbert replied airily, opening the door and pushing it wide. “In you go.”
Unable to stifle the suspicious feeling, Dawn stepped into the hall, only to stop dead as something blazed with light, blinding her sleep-addled eyes. When things came into focus, she could see colour, lights and towering over it all, a tall Christmas tree which stretched at least ten feet upwards.
“Uh...”
She was given a little push forward, tottering into the main part of the hall. Not just a tree, she noticed with a blink of surprise. All kinds of decorations were strung everywhere, and lights, and streamers and things that looked green and prickly.
And standing on the staircase, arms folded over her chest, Illyria was waiting with Spike grinning beside her.
“Uh...” Dawn repeated, wondering if it would be totally bad to laugh at an ex-god.
Although she was clad in her usual armoured garb and had changed nothing of her appearance, Illyria had a scarlet hat with a white pom-pom jauntily propped on her head and looked like she was considering genocide for that fact.
“All right, Nibs?” Spike inquired, leaning against the banister.
Unlike Illyria, he wasn’t wearing a hat, but he was dressed up in clothes that looked like they had come from one of those kindsa shops that had shop assistants who glared at you if you asked for something for less than five hundred dollars.
“Yeah... what... what’s with everything?”
She felt arms slip around her from behind, felt the kiss against her silk collar. “We felt you should not miss out on Christmas celebrations, liebling,” Johannes murmured close to her ear. “And Herbert was rather... enthusiastic.”
“He gave me this foolish head gear,” Illyria said, blue eyes sliding to the beaming Herbert. Her fingers curled and uncurled by her side, as if she was considering putting the hat somewhere else entirely. “He claims it is traditional.”
“Oh, yeah, it is,” Dawn said, though her lips were twitching. “Totally traditional.”
“And this?” Johannes’ fingertips lifted her chin and she saw the pale pearls of the mistletoe hanging in the doorframe above them.
Dropping her bag at her feet, Dawn turned in his arms with a smile. “Hell, yeah,” she replied, grabbing him by the front of his waist coat and pulling him down to her, her mouth claiming his.
As her lover let his hands slip up her back, her own tangling into his hair, Dawn sank into his embrace entirely, shivering pleasantly at the touch of his lips on her.
However, she heard Herbert clap his hands and say, “Now, you remember that elf costume? I hear those are very traditional.”
And any chance of her romantic reunion remaining so were shattered when Spike exclaimed heatedly, “I’m not wearing sodding tights!”
Laughing against Johannes’ lips, she drew back and looked over her shoulder. “I love you guys.”
_____________________
“This one’s for you, ducks.”
Gazing at Spike, Illyria’s expression registered genuine consternation. “I do not celebrate your mortal customs.”
“Nor do we,” Herbert said. He was sprawled upon the chaise, chin resting upon his arm on the arm of the chaise. William had emerged from the foot of the smaller tree close to him, the large parcel in his arms, and he was grinning expectantly at the demon. “So, open your gift.”
Illyria accepted the package, staring at it. “Must a ritual be performed?”
Covering her mouth with a hand, Dawn giggled and von Krolock allowed himself a brief smile, reaching out to stroke his fingers through her hair. She was seated on her favoured cushion before him and her happiness was contagious.
“Nah, love,” William replied, grinning. “You rip it open.”
“And the destruction of this paper-work is not frowned upon?”
“We’re not all Wesleys,” the youngest vampire said with a snort. He scrambled back to sit in front of Herbert’s chaise, banging a hand impatiently on the low table in front of him. “C’mon! Open it up already!”
In a flurry of torn paper, Illyria’s parcel was open. She looked at her hands, then at William. “Should such satisfaction emerge from the destruction of meaningless papers?” she inquired.
“S’the spirit of Christmas, love,” William said, beaming. “Now, the box.”
Distracted by the warmth of Dawn’s skin against the back of his fingertips, von Krolock only looked up when his lover uttered a sound of surprise and awe at the large and deadly-looking sword that now rested in Illyria’s hands.
“My... that’s pointy.”
As if the heavy blade weighed no more than a feather, Illyria lifted it and swung it in several graceful curves through the air, blue eyes following the way the light played along the shimmering surface.
Replacing it in the leather sheath that matched her armour beautifully, the demon looked at Spike. “You have my... gratitude,” she said. “This weapons is more than adequate. I... appreciate it.” The shift of her lips could have been an approximation of a smile, but it was fleeting. “I feel pleasure for this.”
“Aim to please, your highness,” William said with a grin, touching his fingertip to temple in a salute.
“Well-chosen, cheri.” Herbert leaned forward to kiss the top of William’s head, drawing a contented smile onto the young vampire’s lips. “And now, something for you, if you will.”
From a recess of his clothing, a small box, neatly-wrapped, was withdrawn and dropped into William’s lap.
“Eh? Our holiday and my new wardrobe weren’t it?”
Herbert smiled and nuzzled his cheek. “What is money if you do not indulge and spend it occasionally?” he asked. “Open it.”
“It’s kinda tiny,” Dawn said, her own hand rising to claim von Krolock’s, their fingers threading together.
“I have nothing to compensate for,” Herbert replied with a wicked smile.
“Oi!” Reaching back, William swatted at Herbert’s leg, then returned to negotiating the paper from the gift. Within was a small, velvet-covered box and William stared at it, as if expecting it to attack him.
Sliding along the chaise, Herbert slipped an arm around William, leaning closer to whisper against his ear. “Open it, cheri.”
Von Krolock could see the subtle tremor in William’s hand as he opened the lid. He saw the blue eyes go wider by the instant, saw the flare of emotion, and there was no mistaking the meaning when the young vampire turned and kissed Herbert hard, clutching the box against his chest.
“I’m guessing that means good, huh?” Dawn said with a smile as she looked up at von Krolock.
“One would presume so,” Johannes murmured, claiming a brief kiss from her.
“You bloody sappy great poofter...” William’s voice was shaking almost as much as his hands been. The Graf saw his son reach down, take the box and withdraw the ring of gold, slipping it onto William’s unresisting ring finger.
Another kiss touched William’s lips. “Why so surprised, cheri?” Herbert said softly, his expression serious, but his eyes alight.
William seemed to have lost any words he may have used, his eyes bright with far more than just good-humour. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then shook his head, pressing his forehead against Herbert’s shoulder.
“Y’know,” Dawn murmured. “There are times when ‘awww’ just isn’t enough.”
“It is perplexing that such a minute fragment of metal can cause such a response,” Illyria said, watching the two younger vampires embracing one another. Blue eyes turned to von Krolock. “Is there a reason, Sorcerer?”
Von Krolock chuckled. “You said yourself you took pleasure from your gift, Highness, and it is mere metal forged,” he murmured. “For mortals such as we, who feel so intensely and fiercely, why then should a fragment of metal not cause a greater sensation of pleasure?”
Nodding gravely, the demon cradled the sword in her lap. “I have no piece of metal that I might give,” she said after a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay, Illyria,” Dawn said with a laugh. “If I’d’a known these guys were gonna go all Christmasy on us, I woulda brought something better than booze and chocolate from the airport.”
“So gifts are not necessary?”
“Nope.”
“But they are appreciated,” Herbert murmured, looking at her with a small smile as the younger vampire clambered up to sit on the chaise beside him. “Cherie, if you look under the tree, there is a gift from father for you.”
“No, there is not,” von Krolock corrected.
“Yes, there is,” Herbert said firmly.
Von Krolock gazed at his son. “No, there is not,” he said softly. “For her gift is presently resting behind the couch.” Both Herbert and William gaped at him, but he looked down at Dawn. “If you would like...”
“Like?” Dawn squealed and scrambled around the couch. “Omigod! It’s so big!” Her head poked up over the back of the couch he presently sat on, suspicion rife on her face. “Almost as big as that box Giles made me bring back for you...”
“Such a coincidence,” Johannes smiled lightly as she carried the box around and laid it on the table.
Though it was simply wrapped in the plainest of papers, Dawn broke the seals with a care most would reserve for handling a priceless treasure. Opening the folds of paper, she lifted away the white lid of the box. Within, she parted folds of tissue, her eyes going as wide as William’s had.
“Oh my God...” Lifting the dress from the box, she rose to her feet carefully, letting the skirt unfold, spilling like a rich, deep, bloody wave of silk against her body. As expected, the shade contrasted beautifully with her colouring, and the smile that lit her face warmed him.
“It is to your approval?”
“Approval?” she whispered. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone ever bought me.”
The Graf sighed. “Then I suppose you shall not want this?” he murmured, reaching into the capacious pocket of his waistcoat and withdrawing a box. Blue eyes stared at him in mute astonishment. “Mm?”
Reverently laying the dress down, Dawn bit her lip as she took the box. “All I got you was that dumb book from Giles and that liqueur stuff...” she mumbled.
“And your safe return, liebling,” Johannes murmured. He nodded to the box.
Depressing the catch, Dawn pushed the lid up. If the dress had taken her breath, this stole every other one of her faculties, her lips parting in awe, the response drawing a smile from von Krolock.
Rising softly, swiftly, he moved behind her, reaching around her to lift the golden pendant from the red velvet it nestled upon. “Lift your hair, liebling,” he whispered close to her ear, draping the chain about her throat.
Obediently, she drew her dark tresses aside, shivering as his fingertips grazed across her collarbone, smoothing the chain, the tear-drop sapphire amid the nest of diamonds glittering against her pale skin.
“S’been a shiny Christmas, eh, Nibs?” William said with a grin, looking up from his hands. He was twisting his new ring around his fingers and his eyes were alight. By his side, Herbert looked positively luminous with delight.
“Yeah,” Dawn replied, turning to look up at Johannes. “Thank you.”
Tilting her chin up with his curled finger, he kissed her lips softly. “You are welcome, my dear one.”
____________________
Sitting on a bench by the star-speckled moonlight, his head back and his eyes closed, Spike’s fingers were keeping the beat of music echoing out from one of the concert halls. Sounded like an opera crossed with something more modern, but his German wasn’t up to recognising it.
When the limit of his vocabulary extended to ‘liebe’, ‘schniedel’ and ‘scheisse’, it wasn’t likely he’d get much out of a rousing Christmas concert anyway, but it wasn’t about to stop him enjoying the music.
Herbert had wandered off somewhere to get them some kind of fancy fruity hot drink that a vendor was selling, and he was just enjoying himself. The thought made him grin. Enjoying himself on a dirty week away with his lover during the Christmas holidays. Not something he’d thought would happen to him.
“Ah, there you are, cheri.” Herbert’s voice made him look up. Sitting down, the elder vampire pressed a warm cup into Spike’s hands. “I thought you might have tried to escape in my absence.”
“Got distracted by the music,” Spike said with a sigh of feigned despair. “Bit of a bugger, really. Put a right dent in the escape plan.” He took a sip of the steaming fruit punch in the cup. “Oi, Herbie, you trying to get me drunk?”
With a virtuous look, Herbert took a leisurely sip from his own drink. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said.
Considering the amount of alcohol in the drink would have knocked an amateur flat in less than three mouthfuls, Spike raised his scarred brow. “You see how convinced I’m not?” he inquired, though he drank more, shivering at the warming sensation that ebbed through him.
“Mm.” Herbert eased closer and slipped an arm around Spike’s shoulders.
It was a sign of just how good the week had been that he didn’t grin uncertainly and shrug the arm away. Instead, he leaned into Herbert, wrapping his hands around his cup, exhaling a sigh that misted from the lingering warmth of his drink.
Tilting his head, Herbert kissed Spike’s temple lightly. “I suppose we really must set off tomorrow, if we are to have the castle ready for Dawn’s return.” he said.
“And I think the hotel manager’ll be chuffed that you won’t be around to make those waitresses swoon all over you again,” Spike noted with a wry grin. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Herbert smiled amiably. “I am merely being myself, cheri,” he said cheerfully. “If people choose to fall in love with me because I chance to smile at them, then that is entirely their fault.”
“The fact you’re an evil poofter helps,” Spike added, making the feeblest of squeaks of a protest when Herbert tossed aside his own drink to pull Spike’s face to his and kiss him hard.
“Oh yes,” Herbert purred, grey eyes glittering. “Exceptionally.” The tip of his nose brushed against Spike’s. “After all, it meant you ended up in my arms, did it not, my sweet William?”
Slightly dazzled by the smile, Spike felt his lips twitch in a helpless grin, and when someone wandered by, calling out something, he only managed to blink when Herbert looked away sharply, eyes flashing.
Herbert was watching a tall, heavily-built man with a shaved head and what looked like a generations-old leather bomber jacket stomping away through the milling people, a venomous look on his face. His lips had drawn back just enough to show his teeth, and Spike was surprised to hear the soft growl.
Peering after the man, Spike frowned. “What’s the show about?”
“I despise idiots.” Herbert’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes blazing.
“Well, yeah.” Spike put his nice, alcohol-laced drink down on the pavement and turned Herbert’s face back to his. The icy fire in Herbert’s eyes faded marginally as they met Spike’s. “You want to tell me what I’m missing so I can be all righteously snarly too? Or is it someone wearing a coat that’s out of fashion?”
“A narrow-minded idiot who I would never deign to share air with, darling,” Herbert replied softly, then kissed him. “Come, William. I have lost all taste for the outdoors this evening and we have that lovely bed for but one more night.”
Spike saw the bulk of a man look back at them and saw the distaste in his eyes. “Oh, right, one of those kinds, eh?” he murmured, rising and offering Herbert a hand out of sheer spite. He saw the man glare. It got worse when Herbert slipped an arm around his waist.
“You do not mind if I make a show, do you, cheri?” Herbert whispered against his temple before nuzzling his tangled curls.
“If it’ll rub that git’s face in it, feel free,” Spike replied, draping his own arm around Herbert’s waist. “And look. He’s got friends.” Smirking, Spike nodded to a shorter, stockier man and a skinny youth, both of whom were sporting shaved heads and were approaching the first. “Matching heads. How original.”
Through his coat, he felt Herbert’s hand curl beneath his ribs, kneading slowly, and knew Herbert was watching the trio of men. “I think we have made some enemies, my dear William,” he murmured. “All because your mouth is so delectable.”
Spike grinned. “Don’t you go blaming my mouth, you silly poof,” he said as they started making their way across the square and between traders and tourists. “Yours had a lot more to do with it than mine.”
“They must be quite jealous of our pleasant mouths,” Herbert noted airily, but Spike could feel the anticipation in the press of his hand and the closeness of his body. His lover was like a great big cat, prowling, waiting to strike, grey eyes gleaming.
“Yeah?”
“Mm.” Herbert shook his hair back over his shoulders, his smile feral. “It seems we are being followed.”
A glance at a metallic stand proved he was right, the distorted reflection showing the trio of men winding their way through the throng after them.
“Three big lads against skinny little things like us?” With mock-horror, Spike looked sideways at Herbert. “D’you think we’re going to make it out of here alive?”
“Do you think they will?” Herbert gave him a cold smile and Spike sighed.
“Herbie...”
Grey eyes flashed. “Darling, the big brute was terribly derogatory about us,” he said. “I think we would be doing the gene pool a favour by shearing such meagre creatures from the crop.”
“Herbie,” Spike repeated, holding his lover’s eyes. “No killing, right? Just a lesson.”
Herbert scowled petulantly. “I do not even want to repeat what he called you,” he muttered bitterly. “He deserves to be torn apart. And his friends deserve the same fate for such stupid hair-cuts.”
“Just a lesson,” Spike repeated again, voice calm, but blue eyes flashed gold. He saw the surprise in Herbert’s eyes, saw the faint twitch of one side of Herbert’s mouth and felt himself pulled hard against Herbert’s side.
“Cheri,” the whisper was a silken breath against his ear. “We are going to that alley and stalkers be damned, I am having you now.”
The shudder that ran down his spine was electrifying and he nodded wordlessly, felt Herbert’s arm shift, a hand sliding beneath his unfastened coat, fingertips stroking down the base of his back.
Funny how it seemed to take longer than ever to reach that alley, but when they did, he was whirled around and pinned up against the rough brick wall, Herbert’s mouth crushing against his fiercely, hungrily.
Groaning, he sank a hand into the loose spill of Herbert’s silky hair, his other hand clutching at Herbert’s scarf, pulling him closer, his own hips lifting against his lover’s of their own accord.
Herbert’s hand had negotiated past his belt and wrapped around his prick when he became aware of heartbeats growing closer, could hear the rapid pulses, could feel the prickle of eyes on him.
Something was said in German, and judging by the way Herbert’s hands stilled, it wasn’t something any decent mother would teach their toddler. Drawing back from Spike’s lips, Herbert gazed at a point further up the wall, expression strangely serene.
“Don’t do anything silly,” Spike murmured.
Herbert smiled innocently, then cast a reply over his shoulder.
Apparently, it was something silly.
With a roar of outrage, the stocky man barrelled forward and Herbert whirled himself and Spike around so the man’s fist impacted with the wall. A casual kick to the head knocked him to the ground, a second kick rendering him unconscious.
“Pardon me, cheri,” Herbert turned apologetically to Spike, withdrawing his hand from the front of his trousers.
Spike grinned faintly. “Go play,” he offered, leaning against the wall.
The broad, dazzlingly wicked smile was brilliant in the dimness of the alley. All too quickly, the scrawny youth was sprawled unconscious, bruised from neck to knee by a peppering of blows.
The largest of the three and the one with whom Herbert had chosen his quarrel was dangling inches above the ground, throat caught in Herbert’s hand, eyes bulging and colour darkening his face.
Whispering in German, Herbert’s eyes were alight with feral delight and his fingers tensed against the man’s meaty throat. Lips peeling back from his teeth, Herbert bared his fangs in a grin, his other hand flexing by his side.
Pushing off from the wall, Spike stepped over the inert man who had punched the wall so hard his hand was bleeding. The smell was making him twitchy. Hadn’t had fresh human blood in years.
“C’mon, Herbie,” he said quietly, laying his hands on Herbert’s hips and nuzzling his jaw over his shoulder. “Leave the bugger.”
“I’m hungry.” Herbert’s growl was low, dangerous.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed. “But we’re not going to kill ‘em, no matter how bloody dense they are.”
Grey eyes glanced at him and the man dropped to the level with them, eyes reduced to swollen slits, blood streaming from his nose. Spike’s tongue touched his own lower lip, his hands tensing at Herbert’s waist.
“You want to taste him, don’t you?”
“Don’t...” Spike whispered, fingers taut against Herbert’s coat.
“Deny it,” Herbert replied softly. “Lie to me.”
Pressing his forehead against Herbert’s shoulder, Spike drew a slow, quavering breath, his eyes shut. He felt Herbert’s arms shift, heard the muted sound of pain, smelled the fresh arterial blood.
“Oh God... Herbie, no...”
Pulling free from Spike’s hands, Herbert turned, silhouetted against the light at the end of the alley like an avenging angel, hair cast with scarlet hues from the lamps, his teeth darkened with blood.
Like a sacred offering, the man’s throat was proffered to him, laid open, glassy eyes staring at him in abject terror.
“Drink.”
Backing away a step, Spike shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I won’t.”
Herbert’s eyes flashed like quicksilver and Spike looked away, closed his own eyes as Herbert bit into the unfortunate man’s throat again, hard enough to make him choke out a cry.
He had turned half-away when he heard the dull thud of a body striking the ground, tried to ignore the memory of those petrified eyes, felt his body tense at the thought, only to be jerked around and forced up against the wall, hands pinned by his sides.
Opening his mouth to protest, Spike’s words were caught by Herbert’s lips, a torrent of scalding blood spilling over lips and tongue, making him gasp, making him clutch at Herbert, drinking from his mouth, fangs gashing, fingers clawing, heat hitting him as strongly as the alcohol had.
“You bastard!” he panted out, tearing his mouth away.
Herbert smiled down at him, blood splattered over his face and clothing. “Shut up, William,” he purred, pressing him against the wall again, his hand slipping between fabric and flesh.
With a faint groan, Spike pushed at him. “I didn’t want...”
“No,” Herbert interrupted silkily. “But you needed.” His hand moved and he leaned close, his voice soft against Spike’s ear. “Don’t worry, darling, it was a mere lesson for him.” A kiss touched Spike’s lobe. “A gift for you, my darling.”
Staring beyond him, Spike shivered. He could hear it now, the third heartbeat.
Not dead.
Not dead.
And when Herbert kissed him again, Spike didn’t turn away.
____________________
“Cherie,” A voice sing-songed next to Dawn’s ear. “Oh, Cher-iiiie...”
Grumbling, Dawn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Go ‘way. Sleeping.” She heard the huff of a sigh, then felt someone shifting close by. A cold tongue licked her from chin to temple. “Ew!” Suddenly wide-awake, she hit out at her assailant. “That was gross!”
Herbert grinned at her, catching her fist before it could hit him again and kissing her knuckles. “You should have woken up the first time, then, cherie,” he replied, eyes dancing. “You’ve slept for hours already.”
“Told you not to wake me until we got to...” She squinted through the windscreen of the Mercedes. “Oh... right. Castle.”
Herbert beamed and nodded at her. “I thought I would be kind and let you sleep without any manner of graffiti applied to your face,” he added. “After all, you looked much more freshly dead than I did.”
Sitting up and rubbing her face, Dawn winced as her back cracked. “Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep.”
“Do you want me to go over there and kill them all in vengeance?” Herbert offered, his eyes rounded innocently. She glared at him. “Perhaps some time next year, then, hmm, cherie?”
“If I wasn’t stuck in this damned seat, I would totally kick you.”
“I have no doubt,” Herbert laughed. “Come, darling. Father will be awaiting you.”
Scrambling out of the car, he was around the other side before she had even undone her belt, pulling the door open for her. She gave him a bemused look which made him grin all the wider.
“Okay... what’s happened?” she demanded warily, stepping down onto the gravel of the driveway. “Who died?”
“Nothing and no one, my dear, suspicious darling,” Herbert said with a broad grin.
“And you’re all smug-and-smirky why?”
He leaned close until his dancing eyes were close to hers. “I was naughty.”
“And this is new and exciting because?” Dawn watched him warily as he bounded to the back of the car and retrieved her small case and bag.
He bit his lower lip in a show of exaggerated innocence. “Because William looks a little different now,” he replied in a stage-whisper, then clapped a hand over his mouth as if he had uttered a blasphemy.
“So, you’re giddy like a school-girl on a caffeine-high because you gave Spike a makeover?” Dawn blinked at him, wondering if maybe she had missed a vampire-mood-translator thing somewhere in between sleeping and waking up.
“A little, yes,” he replied, laughing. “And some other matters.”
Taking her bag, she let herself get steered towards the doors, blinking at the wreaths that hung on each door, green and red washed with silver by the moonlight. “Uh, Herbert, who stuck the plants on the doors?”
“No idea, darling,” Herbert replied airily, opening the door and pushing it wide. “In you go.”
Unable to stifle the suspicious feeling, Dawn stepped into the hall, only to stop dead as something blazed with light, blinding her sleep-addled eyes. When things came into focus, she could see colour, lights and towering over it all, a tall Christmas tree which stretched at least ten feet upwards.
“Uh...”
She was given a little push forward, tottering into the main part of the hall. Not just a tree, she noticed with a blink of surprise. All kinds of decorations were strung everywhere, and lights, and streamers and things that looked green and prickly.
And standing on the staircase, arms folded over her chest, Illyria was waiting with Spike grinning beside her.
“Uh...” Dawn repeated, wondering if it would be totally bad to laugh at an ex-god.
Although she was clad in her usual armoured garb and had changed nothing of her appearance, Illyria had a scarlet hat with a white pom-pom jauntily propped on her head and looked like she was considering genocide for that fact.
“All right, Nibs?” Spike inquired, leaning against the banister.
Unlike Illyria, he wasn’t wearing a hat, but he was dressed up in clothes that looked like they had come from one of those kindsa shops that had shop assistants who glared at you if you asked for something for less than five hundred dollars.
“Yeah... what... what’s with everything?”
She felt arms slip around her from behind, felt the kiss against her silk collar. “We felt you should not miss out on Christmas celebrations, liebling,” Johannes murmured close to her ear. “And Herbert was rather... enthusiastic.”
“He gave me this foolish head gear,” Illyria said, blue eyes sliding to the beaming Herbert. Her fingers curled and uncurled by her side, as if she was considering putting the hat somewhere else entirely. “He claims it is traditional.”
“Oh, yeah, it is,” Dawn said, though her lips were twitching. “Totally traditional.”
“And this?” Johannes’ fingertips lifted her chin and she saw the pale pearls of the mistletoe hanging in the doorframe above them.
Dropping her bag at her feet, Dawn turned in his arms with a smile. “Hell, yeah,” she replied, grabbing him by the front of his waist coat and pulling him down to her, her mouth claiming his.
As her lover let his hands slip up her back, her own tangling into his hair, Dawn sank into his embrace entirely, shivering pleasantly at the touch of his lips on her.
However, she heard Herbert clap his hands and say, “Now, you remember that elf costume? I hear those are very traditional.”
And any chance of her romantic reunion remaining so were shattered when Spike exclaimed heatedly, “I’m not wearing sodding tights!”
Laughing against Johannes’ lips, she drew back and looked over her shoulder. “I love you guys.”
_____________________
“This one’s for you, ducks.”
Gazing at Spike, Illyria’s expression registered genuine consternation. “I do not celebrate your mortal customs.”
“Nor do we,” Herbert said. He was sprawled upon the chaise, chin resting upon his arm on the arm of the chaise. William had emerged from the foot of the smaller tree close to him, the large parcel in his arms, and he was grinning expectantly at the demon. “So, open your gift.”
Illyria accepted the package, staring at it. “Must a ritual be performed?”
Covering her mouth with a hand, Dawn giggled and von Krolock allowed himself a brief smile, reaching out to stroke his fingers through her hair. She was seated on her favoured cushion before him and her happiness was contagious.
“Nah, love,” William replied, grinning. “You rip it open.”
“And the destruction of this paper-work is not frowned upon?”
“We’re not all Wesleys,” the youngest vampire said with a snort. He scrambled back to sit in front of Herbert’s chaise, banging a hand impatiently on the low table in front of him. “C’mon! Open it up already!”
In a flurry of torn paper, Illyria’s parcel was open. She looked at her hands, then at William. “Should such satisfaction emerge from the destruction of meaningless papers?” she inquired.
“S’the spirit of Christmas, love,” William said, beaming. “Now, the box.”
Distracted by the warmth of Dawn’s skin against the back of his fingertips, von Krolock only looked up when his lover uttered a sound of surprise and awe at the large and deadly-looking sword that now rested in Illyria’s hands.
“My... that’s pointy.”
As if the heavy blade weighed no more than a feather, Illyria lifted it and swung it in several graceful curves through the air, blue eyes following the way the light played along the shimmering surface.
Replacing it in the leather sheath that matched her armour beautifully, the demon looked at Spike. “You have my... gratitude,” she said. “This weapons is more than adequate. I... appreciate it.” The shift of her lips could have been an approximation of a smile, but it was fleeting. “I feel pleasure for this.”
“Aim to please, your highness,” William said with a grin, touching his fingertip to temple in a salute.
“Well-chosen, cheri.” Herbert leaned forward to kiss the top of William’s head, drawing a contented smile onto the young vampire’s lips. “And now, something for you, if you will.”
From a recess of his clothing, a small box, neatly-wrapped, was withdrawn and dropped into William’s lap.
“Eh? Our holiday and my new wardrobe weren’t it?”
Herbert smiled and nuzzled his cheek. “What is money if you do not indulge and spend it occasionally?” he asked. “Open it.”
“It’s kinda tiny,” Dawn said, her own hand rising to claim von Krolock’s, their fingers threading together.
“I have nothing to compensate for,” Herbert replied with a wicked smile.
“Oi!” Reaching back, William swatted at Herbert’s leg, then returned to negotiating the paper from the gift. Within was a small, velvet-covered box and William stared at it, as if expecting it to attack him.
Sliding along the chaise, Herbert slipped an arm around William, leaning closer to whisper against his ear. “Open it, cheri.”
Von Krolock could see the subtle tremor in William’s hand as he opened the lid. He saw the blue eyes go wider by the instant, saw the flare of emotion, and there was no mistaking the meaning when the young vampire turned and kissed Herbert hard, clutching the box against his chest.
“I’m guessing that means good, huh?” Dawn said with a smile as she looked up at von Krolock.
“One would presume so,” Johannes murmured, claiming a brief kiss from her.
“You bloody sappy great poofter...” William’s voice was shaking almost as much as his hands been. The Graf saw his son reach down, take the box and withdraw the ring of gold, slipping it onto William’s unresisting ring finger.
Another kiss touched William’s lips. “Why so surprised, cheri?” Herbert said softly, his expression serious, but his eyes alight.
William seemed to have lost any words he may have used, his eyes bright with far more than just good-humour. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then shook his head, pressing his forehead against Herbert’s shoulder.
“Y’know,” Dawn murmured. “There are times when ‘awww’ just isn’t enough.”
“It is perplexing that such a minute fragment of metal can cause such a response,” Illyria said, watching the two younger vampires embracing one another. Blue eyes turned to von Krolock. “Is there a reason, Sorcerer?”
Von Krolock chuckled. “You said yourself you took pleasure from your gift, Highness, and it is mere metal forged,” he murmured. “For mortals such as we, who feel so intensely and fiercely, why then should a fragment of metal not cause a greater sensation of pleasure?”
Nodding gravely, the demon cradled the sword in her lap. “I have no piece of metal that I might give,” she said after a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay, Illyria,” Dawn said with a laugh. “If I’d’a known these guys were gonna go all Christmasy on us, I woulda brought something better than booze and chocolate from the airport.”
“So gifts are not necessary?”
“Nope.”
“But they are appreciated,” Herbert murmured, looking at her with a small smile as the younger vampire clambered up to sit on the chaise beside him. “Cherie, if you look under the tree, there is a gift from father for you.”
“No, there is not,” von Krolock corrected.
“Yes, there is,” Herbert said firmly.
Von Krolock gazed at his son. “No, there is not,” he said softly. “For her gift is presently resting behind the couch.” Both Herbert and William gaped at him, but he looked down at Dawn. “If you would like...”
“Like?” Dawn squealed and scrambled around the couch. “Omigod! It’s so big!” Her head poked up over the back of the couch he presently sat on, suspicion rife on her face. “Almost as big as that box Giles made me bring back for you...”
“Such a coincidence,” Johannes smiled lightly as she carried the box around and laid it on the table.
Though it was simply wrapped in the plainest of papers, Dawn broke the seals with a care most would reserve for handling a priceless treasure. Opening the folds of paper, she lifted away the white lid of the box. Within, she parted folds of tissue, her eyes going as wide as William’s had.
“Oh my God...” Lifting the dress from the box, she rose to her feet carefully, letting the skirt unfold, spilling like a rich, deep, bloody wave of silk against her body. As expected, the shade contrasted beautifully with her colouring, and the smile that lit her face warmed him.
“It is to your approval?”
“Approval?” she whispered. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone ever bought me.”
The Graf sighed. “Then I suppose you shall not want this?” he murmured, reaching into the capacious pocket of his waistcoat and withdrawing a box. Blue eyes stared at him in mute astonishment. “Mm?”
Reverently laying the dress down, Dawn bit her lip as she took the box. “All I got you was that dumb book from Giles and that liqueur stuff...” she mumbled.
“And your safe return, liebling,” Johannes murmured. He nodded to the box.
Depressing the catch, Dawn pushed the lid up. If the dress had taken her breath, this stole every other one of her faculties, her lips parting in awe, the response drawing a smile from von Krolock.
Rising softly, swiftly, he moved behind her, reaching around her to lift the golden pendant from the red velvet it nestled upon. “Lift your hair, liebling,” he whispered close to her ear, draping the chain about her throat.
Obediently, she drew her dark tresses aside, shivering as his fingertips grazed across her collarbone, smoothing the chain, the tear-drop sapphire amid the nest of diamonds glittering against her pale skin.
“S’been a shiny Christmas, eh, Nibs?” William said with a grin, looking up from his hands. He was twisting his new ring around his fingers and his eyes were alight. By his side, Herbert looked positively luminous with delight.
“Yeah,” Dawn replied, turning to look up at Johannes. “Thank you.”
Tilting her chin up with his curled finger, he kissed her lips softly. “You are welcome, my dear one.”