Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s the property of the people who do. I’m not writing this for personal gain.

*** *** ***

Christmas and vampires had never really been something that went hand in hand. All that peace on Earth goodwill to men rubbish had bordered on the nauseating, and its only real benefit had been enough holiday “spirits” made people easy pickings. And carolers were better than delivery.

But Spike was no longer a vampire – not in the strictest sense of the word anyway – and these days, Christmas had a much different meaning than it used to.

He looked down, smiling at the arms reaching for him, tiny hands flexing in the air as if they could draw him in.

Which, to be fair, they could.

“All right, princess, it’s star time.”

The little girl giggled as Spike lifted her up, then dipped her over the couch where the star – not an angel ­– lay so she could pick grab it. Upright again, she bounced on his hip as he brought her over to the Christmas tree then lifted her over his head. She nibbled her bottom lip, her face suddenly set in serious determination as she carefully placed the star atop the tree.

“Perfect, Annie,” Spike said, kissing the top of the six-year-old’s head as she lowered her trembling arms.

“Lights now, Daddy. Lights!”

Spike turned around, grinning as his four-year-old son ran into the room, dressed in his brand-new Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer footie pajamas. Buffy followed closely behind, and she gave Spike a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling. “You heard the man. Make with the lights, Daddy.”

“Yeah, hold your horses, you impatient lot,” Spike replied. “I’ve gotta make sure it’s all hooked up right.”

Anne spoke up from where she still sat in Spike’s arms. “Mommy says I learned to be impatient from you, Daddy.”

Spike gave a quick glance to his wife and watched as she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “She did, did she?”

Anne nodded. “Uh huh. And she said one of these days you’re gonna pace so much you’ll fall right through the floor.” She frowned. “Can you do that for real?”

“What do you think?” Spike asked her, his eyebrow arched.

Anne thought about it for a moment before she giggled. “Nooo.” Her expression turned to a mischievous grin that reminded Spike way too much of her mother. “It might be funny if you did, though.”

Spike pretended to be shocked for a moment before he tickled her with his free hand, making the little girl squeal. “Might be funny, huh?” He set her down. “Off with you. I’ve got lights to do.”

Anne ran over to where her mother and brother had since taken a seat on the couch, grabbing hold of Buffy’s hand and leaning over to whisper, “I hope Daddy doesn’t hurt himself again like last year.”

“I heard that,” Spike groused, though he was thinking along the same lines himself. He was fairly certain he’d taken care of the issues of the previous Christmas, but that was a smell he knew he was not forgetting any time soon…

Spike checked and rechecked the connections, even as he was acutely aware of four blue eyes nearly identical to his own – and one pair of bemused green – watching his every move. Finally, he held his breath and flipped the switch.

The lights came on. Nothing caught on fire. He remained un-electrocuted.

Spike relaxed as Anne and Will got off the couch and ran over to the tree, clearly delighted by the finished product.

Buffy made her way over to Spike and slipped into his arms, leaning against his chest. Spike kissed the top of her head, then glanced back over at the kids, watching as Anne took Will’s hand in hers as they both stood mesmerized by the blinking lights. “Look at them,” he whispered nodding towards the children.

She smiled and snuggled closer against him. “We did make adorable little rugrats, didn’t we?”

“We did. They’re especially adorable when they’re quiet.”

Buffy snorted. “Which is just about never. This is clearly a Christmas miracle.”

“Nah, they’re just mesmerized by shiny things. Much like their mother.”

Buffy smacked the arm wrapped around her waist. “I knew you would say something in retaliation for that ‘impatient’ thing. Just waiting for your moment, huh?”

“With you, love, always.”

Buffy turned around, draped her arms over his shoulders, and kissed him. Spike wondered if there would ever come a time when he would stop being in awe that this was his life – that he could stand by a bloody Christmas tree of all things with Buffy in his arms and their two kids close by.

“So,” Buffy said, giving him a quick peck on the lips before she pulled back completely, “are you still planning to take them shopping tomorrow, or have you finally developed a healthy sense of self-preservation?”

Spike chuckled. “I’m taking them. I can’t very well send you to help them pick out your Christmas gifts. Besides, it can’t be any worse than dealing with that horde of Shrieking Mylernian Beasts who tried to nest in Highgate last month.”

“Funny, but I could’ve sworn you said the only thing that could be worse than fighting those off was taking two children under the age of ten Christmas shopping.”

“No, I believe I said the only thing that could be worse was if someone crossbred one of those buggers with Kennedy, but close.”

Buffy snorted. “Don’t give the universe any ideas, Spike.” She moved out of his arms and turned to the kids. “All right, bed time. If you’re going with Dad tomorrow I don’t want him to have to deal with any lack-of-sleep triggered meltdowns.”

Spike bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as he watched the completely predictable response to Buffy’s announcement. Will quietly toddled over to his mother and took her hand, wiping at his tired eyes. Anne immediately began to pout.

“But I’m not tired. I don’t like going to bed at nighttime, Mommy.”

“Yes, I know, my little bat-child, but you’re going to bed anyway,” Buffy replied, hands on her hips. Sometimes it creeped Spike out a little to hear just how well she’d perfected “Mom Voice.”

“I’m not a bat,” Anne said, her arms crossed over her chest and a mini-Buffy pout firmly in place.

“Well, whatever you are, you’re going to bed,” Spike said, stepping in. He picked Anne up and slung her over his shoulder. “I’m with your mother on the no sleep-deprivation meltdowns. You’re little monsters when you’re well-rested, you don’t need any help from exhaustion.”

Anne shrieked, but didn’t struggle as Spike carried her into her bedroom and dumped her on the bed. She crawled up to her ruffled pink princess pillows and got under the blankets, though she immediately turned and gave her father her most pitiful look. “Not even a bedtime story?”

Before Spike could respond, Will ran into the room, climbed into his sister’s bed, and thrust a book at their father. Spike laughed and took it from him. “I guess this means I’m outnumbered.”

“We’ll be good for shopping, Daddy,” Will promised, his wide, blue eyes making him look every bit as innocent as he claimed.

“Not worried about you, little man,” Spike replied, earning him an indignant snort from his daughter that made him wonder for not the first time if she was actually no more than a tiny clone of her mother. He shook his finger at her and she grinned, the twinkle in her eye making Spike wish those child leash things worked on her. The one time he’d tried, she’d gnawed right through it…

“All right, let’s see what I’m reading here,” Spike said as maneuvered himself between the two children, then looked at the cover of the book. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas. And I suppose I’m to do the voices, too?”

“Yes,” Will said in a tone that was way too definitive for a four-year-old. “Do the scary Grinch.”

“All right, but only because it’s you two.” Spike settled back against the bright pink ruffles and started the story, the two children listening to him intently as he did. He glanced up towards the doorway, winking at Buffy when he saw her standing there, watching them.

She mouthed, “I love you,” and Spike grinned at her.

The meaning of Christmas had definitely changed for him these days…

*** *** ***

Buffy sipped her hot chocolate with a smile, curled up against Spike on the couch, the only light in the room that of the flashing colored lights on the tree. “It does look good, honey,” she said as she lowered her mug. “Way better than last year.”

“Well, last year I did fry myself,” Spike pointed out. “That has to give me some sort of pass for the lights not looking their best.”

“What about the year almost all the lights were on one side of the tree?”

“I don’t see you hanging the lights, Slayer.”

“Can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because that’s men’s work there,” Buffy replied with a grin. “The man hangs the lights. It’s one of the laws of Christmas.”

“Oh really? And who put the lights on the tree when it was just you Summers girls then?”

“We’d pull some man in off the streets.”

Spike chuckled, even as he shook his head. “You know, you’re really lucky I have a thing for crazy women.”

“And you’re lucky I’m willing to put up with a man who took seven years to learn how to put lights on a tree.”

Spike replied with a cocky grin, “Oh you know I’ve got plenty of husbandly skills to more than make up for that.”

Buffy knew she could tease him more, but right then, she’d rather savor a precious kid-free moments with her husband. She set down her mug then took his, the look in her eyes keeping him from protesting the sudden lack of chocolate. “You have lots of husbandly skills,” she replied as she climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and putting her hands against his shoulders.

He ran his hands up the side of her thighs then dipped them beneath her red sweater, caressing her back. “No complaints then?” he asked before leaning in and nipping at the side of her neck.

“You…oh god…so know the answer to that.”

She could feel Spike smiling against her. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.”

“You just want me to stroke you ego.”

He moved his mouth up and bit down on her earlobe. “Could stroke my cock if you’d rather.”

“Spike! The kids…”

“Are asleep. Trust me. I’ll hear them in time if they wake up. You know that.”

“What if you don’t? If they walk in and find their parents having sex under the Christmas tree, they’ll be scarred for life.”

“Then you better be really quiet, baby,” Spike said, his tongue curling against his teeth. He swallowed her squeak with a quick kiss when he stood up and carried her over to the tree, laying her down against the rug.

Buffy looked up, watched the lights flashing on the tree mere inches away, and shook her head. “There’s something very wrong about this.”

“Why?” Spike asked, rocking back onto his knees. “See, I’m thinking I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas and now I get to unwrap my present.”

“Yeah, and this is sooo getting you on the naughty list.”

“Better make it worth it then.” He gave her a stern look. “And keep it down or I’m shoving the garland in your mouth.”

Buffy laughed, even as she replied with, “Don’t you dare.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you quiet some other way,” he said as he covered her body with his and kissed her. A soft moan escaped her as she brought her hands up to tangle in his hair, keeping him close against her.

Finally, Spike pulled back, his hands caressing her as he moved to take off her sweater. He paused for a moment, listening for the sounds of deep sleep elsewhere in the flat, then slid down her jeans, leaving her in her underwear. He sat back on his haunches, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at her spread out for him, the lights from the tree playing against her bare skin.

Spike knew he couldn’t really drag things out – not where they were – but he wanted to worship her, show her how beautiful she was to him.

Buffy raised herself up on her elbows and frowned when he made no more moves towards her after taking off her clothes. “There’s stopping. Why is there stopping?”

“I…” Spike swallowed as he brushed her hair off her forehead. “You’re gorgeous, love.”

“Yeah?” She flashed him a mischievous grin. “Then make with the ravishing already. No fun in just unwrapping your present and not playing with it, so hop to it.”

“My present is bossy.”

“Your present is going to be cranky if the kids wake up and you didn’t get her off.”

“Right then. Wouldn’t want that,” Spike said right before he grabbed her hips and roughly tugged her to his mouth.

Buffy bit her lip hard as he began to lick her through the silk of her panties, his nose bumping against her clit. In seven years of marriage – the majority of which they’d spent as the parents of young children – he’d gotten damn good at jumping right to what she needed.

He growled against her, managing to drive her completely insane even with the barrier of silk between his tongue and her pussy. Spike moved his mouth up slightly, nipping at her clit, and Buffy’s eyes rolled back in her head, her hand darting out and narrowly missing the ornaments on the tree.

He nipped at her again, harder this time, and she came with a strangled gasp.

But it wasn’t enough, and she licked her lips as he moved back again and unbuttoned his jeans to pull his cock out into his hands. Spike yanked her underwear down, leaving it dangling on her ankle as he lined himself up with her entrance and pushed forward.

Buffy had no illusions about this being slow lovemaking. Spike had clearly taken what she’d said to heart, and his hard, rough strokes were just what she needed. She scratched at the floor, her hand finding purchase with the tree skirt and she dug in, red fibers embedding themselves beneath her nails. She was close, so close… If he would just…

He shifted slightly, just enough to change the angle of his thrusts, and Buffy leaned up and bit down on his cotton-covered shoulder to stifle her moan of release.

Spike cursed softly with a harsh puff of breath and came moments after her.

For several moments, Buffy lay still on the floor, panting as she struggled to get her breathing back to normal with Spike stretched out on her. He breathed against her ear, turning his face every now and then to nuzzle against her.

Finally, he pulled back, his eyes darkening with lust again as he took in the sight of her – bare except for her bra and the panties still on her ankle, her thighs damp and glistening in the low light – and she wasn’t surprised when he got to his feet only to grab her, sling her over his shoulder, and carry her off to their bedroom.

It looked like it wouldn’t be the kids who were tired tomorrow after all…

For once, her home was quiet.

As much as Buffy loved her family, she had to admit sometimes it was nice when they made themselves scarce. Between the throngs of teenaged girls she dealt with every day and the chaos that tended to go on at home, Buffy was grateful for the rare moment of peace.

Of course, in what she had long ago accepted to be her lot in life, the peace didn’t last long.

Buffy was startled by frantic pounding on the front door, and she hurried to answer it, fearing apocalypse. Instead, she was almost knocked over as Anya rushed into the flat, brandishing a newspaper, which she shook in the air, mere inches away from Buffy’s face.

“Santa Claus has come to town!” Anya exclaimed, her eyes wide with what looked suspiciously like panic.

“Um, yeah. It’s December. He sorta does that every year,” Buffy replied, taking a step back.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Not that Santa. The real one, the one where the legend started. Only he doesn’t come by your house to leave presents. He comes by your house to eat your children.” She shook the newspaper. “I have a child, Buffy! Santa could eat her.”

“I’m not going to let anything eat Rebecca,” Buffy assured Anya. “But what makes you think Demon Santa is here in London?”

Anya opened her paper and shook it again, her red-tipped nail tapping against an article. “Here.”

Buffy took the paper from her and started to read it, though Anya gave her summary before Buffy could even get through the first line. “Three children have gone missing this week. In every single case, the house was locked, and there appeared to be a trail of soot leading from the chimney to the child’s bed, and in the child’s place was a lump of coal. That’s his MO, Buffy.”

“So he what, turns the kids into coal?”

Anya rolled her eyes. “No. That’s just his calling card. He kidnaps kids, twelve to be precise, and then takes them back to his lair until it’s time for his feast.”

Buffy quickly scanned over the article and saw everything Anya had recounted was indeed correct – and majorly weird. She knew at one time she wouldn’t have put much stock in Anya’s theories, but in recent years she’d found the ex-vengeance demon to be an invaluable source of information. After all, centuries as a demon had made for some great networking, and Anya knew pretty much everyone. Including, it appeared, Santa Claus. Or, at least, demon Santa Claus.

“Okay, so he’s not going to eat the kids until he has twelve, right?” Buffy asked as she folded the paper closed.

“No. Every few years, he has to feed, and it has to be a meal of exactly twelve children. But kidnapping twelve kids at a time is pretty hard, especially if you’re so hellbent on the whole down the chimney, leaving coal thing, so he takes one at a time and keeps them locked up until he has all of them.”

“Okay, well, at least I still have time if he needs nine more before he can start feasting,” Buffy replied.

“Are you going to send some of the girls out after him?” Anya asked.

“No,” Buffy answered with a shake of her head. “I’ll take this one personally. This is too important to delegate – there’s kids in danger. I’ll get Spike to go out looking for him with me as soon as he gets home. Could you take Will and Anne for a bit?”

“Of course,” Anya replied with a smile, glad to be helpful. “Rebecca’s been telling me she wants Anne over to bake cookies with. Or, you know, biscuits, since she apparently learned the word for them from her father. I never know when she’s suddenly going to come over all British.”

Buffy bit back her smile at Anya’s completely tangential comment. That was another trait she’d once found annoying that had somehow become more endearing than anything else over the years. She did, however, try to direct the conversation back to the important stuff by asking, “Do you know how to kill Santa Claus?”

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, Buffy frowned. Even for her, this was weird…

“Oh, yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Anya replied with a beaming smile. “And you’re gonna like this one, too – a stake through the heart.”

“Oooh…I do like that. I’m totally good at the whole stake through the heart thing. I’ve got it down.”

“It has to be a stake made from ash, though. The tree, not little burnt up bits.” Anya frowned, contemplating that for a moment, then said, “I guess a stake made of ashes wouldn’t do any good. It would just fall apart. And get your hands really dirty.”

“I think I’ve got a few ash stakes,” Buffy replied. “And if I don’t have any in here, I know there’s some downstairs. Anything else you know that can help me, Anya?”

Anya was smiling again, and Buffy knew it meant a lot to her to feel useful. “Yep. See, he casts a glamour over the entrance to his lair, so no one can see it – unless you’re wearing a garland of mistletoe and chestnuts.”

Buffy cocked an eyebrow. “Mistletoe and chestnuts?”

“Yep. They have both hanging up in the cafeteria. Some sort of festive decoration. Really, I thought it was pretty ugly when they put it up, but I guess it’ll come in handy now.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, letting herself slide into Slayer mode, “you go downstairs and snag the mistletoe and chestnuts, I’ll dig up some ash stakes, and when Spike gets home, we can go kill Santa.” She frowned. “And I really can’t believe I just said that.”

“Don’t be fooled by that whole jolly, eye-twinkling nonsense,” Anya replied, her tone and expression both gravely serious. “Santa Claus is a cold-blooded child killer.”

“Not gonna be fooled by the jolly twinkling,” Buffy assured her. “Santa is so getting a stake to the heart.”

“Good,” Anya said with a nod. “And I’m off to pilfer decorations.”

As the door shut between Anya, Buffy sighed. Of all the things to do at Christmas…

“Well, Slayer,” she muttered to herself, “Merry Christmas.”

*** *** ***

Spike was beyond exhausted. He’d spent all day trying to keep up with the kids, a task that seemed impossible even with vampire speed. And he certainly hadn’t made anything easier on himself by letting them have sugar…

By the time he was following the two bounding children down the hall to their flat, all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

Which is precisely why he was not at all surprised to come home to find Buffy obviously gearing up for a fight.

The children were either oblivious to the stakes laid out on the counters or too used to them to pay them any mind as they ran into the kitchen to regale their mother with tales of the day, speaking so quickly and over each other that Spike knew Buffy had no idea what they were saying despite her genuine show of interest.

Spike shoved the bags he’d been carrying into the closet before joining his family, eyeing the stakes. “Vamps?”

Buffy looked up at him. “Not quite. Kids, you’re going over to play with Rebecca for a bit, okay? Mommy and Daddy have to work.”

Spike could tell from Buffy’s body language and tone of voice that there was something she wanted to shield the kids from, and he decided to hold his questions until they were gone. Whatever it was, it must be bad for her to be jumping right into it now.

“I’m going to get them ready to go over there if you want to rest for a bit,” Buffy said, earning her a look of gratitude from Spike. He knew there was a reason he loved his woman.

“I’d appreciate it, pet,” he replied.

Buffy knelt down to kid-level. “Did you two monsters wear Daddy out today?”

“We were good!” Anne insisted. “I didn’t run away at all, even when something looked fun, and Will and I both held Daddy’s hands the whole time.”

Spike ruffled his daughter’s hair. “They were good – if a bit energetic.”

“We can’t help that, Daddy,” Anne said with an eye roll. “We’re kids.”

“You’re definitely that,” Buffy replied as she wrapped her arms around both the children and pulled them to her. Spike saw a sheen of tears in her eyes and gave her a questioning look, his head cocked to the side.

Buffy shook her head, letting him know it was more or less okay and they’d talk about it later. Then she kissed both Will and Anne on top of their heads and let them go. “All right, let’s get you two looking presentable.”

As Buffy took the kids off to clean up, Spike went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed staring up at the ceiling as he wondered what exactly had his wife so upset. He’d expected his worrying to keep him from getting any rest, but the next thing he knew, Buffy was leaning over him, waking him with a kiss. He reached up and tangled his hand in her long hair, keeping her against his lips for a moment before he let her up. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“About an hour,” Buffy replied. “Are you too tired to go on a patrol with me? I can go get Emma if you’re…”

“No, I’m fine,” Spike replied. “I think that did the trick.” He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already rumpled curls. “What’s up, Slayer? You had stakes, but you said it’s not vamps…”

“No, it’s not. It’s, um, well…it’s Santa Claus.”

Spike blinked. “Wait…am I still asleep, because I’m pretty sure I just heard you say you want me to go help you slay Santa.”

“Yeah, I know, pretty crazy even for us, but Anya says he’s actually a child-eating demon, and it looks like he’s here in London, making with the kidnapping. After talking to her, I looked it up in the library, and sure enough, the demon’s in the books. If Anya’s right and he’s in town, then he’s already snatched three kids on his way to gathering twelve. He won’t actually eat them until he has all twelve, so we need to hunt him down, find the missing kids, and kill Santa before he can ruin Christmas.”

Spike shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. “This shit only happens to us, doesn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, at least we won’t have to tell the kids we’re heading out to kill Santa. Can you imagine the therapy bill on that one?”

“On top of what they’ll already be paying?”

“Yep.” Buffy leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “Anything happening to kids these days, it hits me really hard. Ever since Anya told me she thought Santa was in London on a kidnapping spree, all I’ve been able to think about is how I would feel if anyone ever took our babies. I’d be a mess, Spike. I don’t think I could handle it. And there’s three families going through that right now because some demon came into their homes and took their children while they were sleeping.”

“I know, kitten,” Spike said, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “I feel the same way. But we’ll find the demon, kill it, and get the kids back to their families in time to open presents from a Santa of the non-demon variety.”

Buffy smiled slightly. “You always know just what to say.”

“I try,” Spike replied, kissing her again. “Now let’s get up and save Christmas.”

“Okay, that just sounds weird,” she said, though she stood up. “Honestly, I think when we’re done, I’m going to need therapy.”

“As opposed to before this when you didn’t?” Spike asked, eyebrow arched.

“Ha ha, Spike,” she replied, though she was smiling slightly.

Spike stood up and took her hand. “You know I love you when you’re crazy.”

“That’s because you have some bizzaro fetish,” Buffy replied. “Really, it’s weird.”

“As weird as having a job that requires you to hunt down Santa armed with wooden stakes?”

She gave him a dirty look. “I’m not answering that.”

Spike laughed, unable to keep from kissing her again, on the lips this time. “Come on, pet. We’ve got an evil jolly elf to slay.”

Buffy took his hand and together they walked out of the bedroom.

“Spike, really, could you stop being so distracted? This is serious, you know.”

“I know it is, love,” Spike replied with a sigh, “But really, Buffy, you have mistletoe hanging over your chest. How can that not be distracting?”

“It wouldn’t be distracting if you’d learn to concentrate on something other than my boobs, dear.”

“You ask too much of me sometimes. You know that, don’t you?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but according to the directions she’d obtained from a locator spell, they were close to Santa’s hideout. She looked around, then came to an abrupt stop when she saw it. “There.”

“In the alley?” Spike asked, squinting when he saw nothing.

“Yup. I guess this mistletoe and chestnut thing actually works. There’s a forest at the end of the alley.”

“A forest?”

“Yeah.” Buffy frowned. “It’s all dark and foreboding.” She paused for a moment and shrugged. “Oh, well. Let’s get this over with. The quicker we do this, the less time there is for Anya to accidentally blurt out to the kids what we’re up to.”

“Would she do that?” When Buffy simply gave him a look, Spike sighed and mentally answered his own question. “Right then. Point me towards the woods, Slayer.”

Buffy took his hand as she walked towards the strange rift. A shiver passed through them as they entered the woods, and Buffy quickly turned to make sure London was still there.

It was. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Spike peered out over the dark, snowcapped trees, his fingers still entangled with Buffy. “You know, I liked these sorts of scenarios much better when I was the creepy thing lurking in the woods.”

“Okay, now I’m the one thinking naughty thoughts.” Spike looked at her in surprise, and Buffy smirked. “You, me, alone in the woods – with the hunting and the capture? You know that would be hot.”

“Forget about getting home in time to save the kids from knowing the horrible truth about Santa. Let’s hurry this up so I can take you home and fuck your bloody brains out.”

Buffy ran her hand up his arm, caressing him through the leather. “I’m lucky I married such a sweet talker.”

“Yeah, you just wait until we kill Santa, and I’ll show you sweet talking.” Spike paused. “You know, I think that may be the weirdest thing I’ve ever said.”

“Nah, I’m sure you’ve said weirder. I mean, y’know, you’re weird. But it probably still makes the list.”

“Like attracts like, baby,” he teased, giving her a kiss on her temple before he grew serious again. “So what’s the plan, pet? Because I’m thinking wandering aimlessly around the magical demon woods trying to hunt down child-eating Santa is probably not the smartest game plan.”

“Yeah, that does sound a bit like the set up for some demonic version of the Odyssey. Only with less water and more trees,” Buffy replied.

“See, I was thinking more Wizard of Oz.” When Buffy stared at him blankly, Spike elaborated. “You know, the trees? With the grabbing and the apple-throwing? Please tell me you’ve seen the bloody Wizard of Oz.”

“Not as many times as you, apparently.”

“Well, Dru loved it, so…” Spike stopped abruptly at the daggers his wife was throwing at him with his eyes. “Right then. Plan for finding Santa.”

“Well, now that you’ve effectively ruined The Wizard of Oz for me forever, I… Oh, path.”

Spike blinked. “Huh?”

“Path,” Buffy said, pointing off a ways in the distance where there indeed appeared to be a path. A red and white striped path, as a matter of fact.

“Follow the candy-cane road?” Spike asked.

“You’re not getting laid tonight.”

“Yeah, figured as much.”

Still, Buffy didn’t let go of him as she started towards the path, and Spike smiled when she gave his hand a little squeeze, letting him know she wasn’t really upset with him at all.

They walked through the path silently, both keeping their free hands wrapped around a stake. It grew darker the deeper they got into the woods, and Buffy stayed close to her husband, trusting his preternatural eyesight to lead the way. She really hoped the path was genuine and not some sort of trap because she was soo not in the mood.

When she had just about come to the conclusion they were in fact being led on a path to nowhere, the woods began to lighten. They stopped right at the edge of the tree line, staying out of sight as they took in what they’d found.

A cluster of small buildings, all decorated in red, white, and green, was set in the middle of a snowy clearing. Wreaths adorned candy-cane shaped street lamps, while a large, fully-decorated Christmas tree stood in the middle of it all.

“It’s Santa’s Village of the Damned,” Spike whispered, getting a smirk from his wife.

“He’s got to have the kids in one of those buildings,” Buffy said. “Shouldn’t be too hard to get them out and kill one demon.”

Within seconds the words being out of her mouth, Buffy decided she should probably never speak again, unless maybe she enjoyed jinxing herself. One of the doors opened, and several short, squatty demons wearing what looked like red pajamas filed out.

“Balls,” Spike said in a grumbled whisper. “I should’ve known.”

“You’ve seen those things before?”

“Yeah. Once, in Germany. Long story that involves Drusilla and a lot of drinking, so I’ll spare you, but anyway, they’re tomtin. I’d heard before that they were most likely the basis for the myths about Santa’s elves, but I didn’t think they would actually be Santa’s elves.”

“So the elves are evil, too? God, what’s next, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Deathdeer?”

“Would you be surprised at this point?”

Buffy sighed. “No. So, tomtin – you’ve faced them before. Trouble?”

“Nasty little buggers. Big on the disemboweling.”

“Oh great. Just what this Christmas needed to make it even more extra special. Disemboweling.”

“Well, on the plus side, they don’t need anything special to kill them. Just a regular stabbing does the trick.”

“Yay regular stabbing. So are we doing this?”

“We’re doing this.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, just like he did before every battle they went into. If anything could make him feel like he could take on the whole sodding world, it was a kiss from Buffy.

As soon as they left the woods, the tomtin spotted them, which surprised neither Spike nor Buffy.

They also seemed to quickly figure out they were in over their tiny heads.

As Buffy and Spike dispatched with the tomtin who had rushed them first, the rest scatted back into the woods, shrieking in a language neither of the two intruders understood.

However, no sooner were they rid of the tomtin than did Buffy and Spike develop much larger problems.

They heard him before they saw him, his booming battle cry shaking the whole village and sending Buffy stumbling back into Spike’s arms.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Buffy groused as Spike helped her steady herself on her feet again. “Is there anything about Christmas this demon isn’t going to ruin?”

The demon stomped through the snow, narrowing his dark, beady eyes at Buffy and Spike. Other than the fact he was indeed wearing a red suit trimmed with white fur and had a long, white beard, he looked nothing at all like the Santa Claus Buffy had grown up with. His skin was gray and wrinkled and his teeth were long, sharp yellow fangs, glistening from beneath his matted beard. Pointed ears stuck out from beside a red and white cap.

“Who dares disturb me on this night?” he hissed, his demon eyes flicking over Buffy and Spike.

“That would be me,” Buffy replied, her arms crossed over her chest with her stake gripped tightly in her right hand. She nodded her head towards Spike. “And him. We’re here to take the kids you stole back to their homes.”

“You will not disturb my feast!” demon Santa announced.

“Yeah, that feast isn’t gonna happen,” Buffy replied. “Because you, Bad Santa, are going to die.”

“I don’t think so, little girl. You might be too old to eat, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be on my naughty list.”

“No, see, you’re not going to be making that list or checking it twice this year,” Buffy said, lifting her stake.

The Santa demon hissed in response, and then charged at Buffy, holding up his fang tipped hands. She raised the stake, but he was quicker than she expected, and with a sudden turn, she found herself pressed into the snow, her stake out of her hand and Santa looming over her.

“Now’s the time to tremble in fear, little girl,” demon Santa hissed through dripping fangs.

Buffy rolled her eyes and counted in her head. As soon as she hit three, Santa was lifted off of her and tossed into the trees with a roar to rival the one the demon had bellowed a few minutes earlier.

“God, you’re sexy when you’re saving me,” Buffy said as she stood up and wiped the snow off her. Then, she pouted. “Now I’m all wet. Stupid demon.”

“He’s about to be a dead demon,” Spike snarled as he tossed Buffy an extra stake he’d had in his duster. “It makes me cranky when demons who aren’t me knock you down.”

“Yeah, not one of my favorite things either,” Buffy said, moving closer to Spike as they watched the woods for movement.

Soon, Santa emerged, his eyes flashing with anger as he came towards Buffy and Spike. “How dare you?!” he yelled, shaking snow from the trees. “Naughty, naughty children! But you will not ruin my Christmas feast! Fly to me, Rudolph!”

“Oh, no. Please no,” Buffy groaned. “He really is going to ruin Rudolph for me, isn’t he?” She looked up in the sky and saw a red light in the distance, though it was rapidly approaching. Knowing she had to move quickly, Buffy ran towards Santa again.

Seconds before she reached him, he touched his finger to the side of his nose, then disappeared.

“What the…” Buffy stopped when she heard cackling, and turned to see Santa now standing several feet away. This was not the best new development…

Before she could try to make a move again, a giant beast landed in the snow. Buffy supposed it bore some resemblance to the reindeer from her beloved animated special, only it was three times as big and significantly meaner looking.

And Rudolph’s nose did not so much as glow red as breathe fire. Rudolph the Fire-Breathing Reindeer… Not what she’d been looking forward to dealing with.

Demon Santa leapt onto Rudolph’s back and the reindeer immediately took to the skies, flying away too fast for either Buffy or Spike to have a chance to catch him. Santa’s cackling followed behind him until he was well out of sight, and Buffy slumped in defeat.

“I can’t believe I just got my ass handed to me by freaking Santa Claus.”

Spike put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “To be fair, love, neither one of us were counting on him having reindeer reinforcements. Or for him to be able to do that weird little teleporting trick.”

“Damn wily red-suited bastard.” Buffy turned around quickly, almost knocking Spike over. “Do you think the kids are here in the village?”

“I hope so,” Spike replied. He took her hand. “Come on. If they are, we’ll find them.”

They walked closer to the small buildings, both keeping their eyes out for any more tomtin – or giant, fire-breathing reindeer for that matter. Suddenly, Spike came to an abrupt stop.

“Spike, what’s…”

“Shh. I think I heard something,” he replied, stopping her from saying anything else. He closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment before he opened them again and smiled. “This way,” he said, tugging on Buffy’s hand.

She followed him to one of the buildings, breathing a sigh of relief when he opened the door to reveal three frightened children huddled inside. Buffy crouched down, peering in at the kids. “Come on, it’s all right. We’re here to take you back to your families.”

One little girl who looked too much like Anne for Spike’s liking crawled out first, asking as she stared up with big, blue eyes, “You can take me back to my mummy?”

“We sure can, sweetling,” Spike replied, and the girl suddenly jumped at him, throwing her tiny arms around him in a fierce hug.

The two other children filed out then, and Buffy really wished this could be the end of their showdown with Santa Claus.

She knew she wouldn’t be so lucky.