They made it through desert and back into the living room for presents, though Buffy was convinced Xander, Willow and Anya were watching her every move. Dawn wasn't paying any attention, spending her time bantering with Spike, who seemed perfectly content with her company – when he wasn't making nice with her father.

Xander fell into his customary role as Santa, dispersing the packages beneath the tree. "Lookie, here's another one for Dawn…from William."

He raised an eyebrow at Buffy as he passed over the small flat square. She ignored it. Of course Spike had brought presents; he wouldn't look like a perfect boyfriend if he didn't. There would likely be one for her, as well. She'd open it, make nice, then give it back to him later. Sure enough, the next one was hers, a book-shaped package.

Pulling away the wrapping paper revealed a copy of Nineteenth-Century Romantic Poets. With a frown, Buffy flipped open the cover…and discovered "Property of Buffy Summers" written on the inside front cover in her own handwriting. How and why had he managed to grab one of her books from UC Sunnydale?

"N'Sync! Thank you!" There was nothing feigned in Dawn's squeal of delight or the way she threw her one good arm around Spike.

Spike grinned broadly as he returned the hug. "I seem to recall someone saying they had a certain appreciation for the group…though I can't understand why."

Dawn wrinkled her nose at him and he wrinkled back before she turned to settle on the floor in front of the couch, leaning comfortably against his leg. Spike put out a hand and gently stroked her hair, provoking a bit of a panic reaction in Buffy that she struggled to keep down. He spent plenty of time with her while you were gone. He seems to really like her. Not surprising that she might like him back. Buffy hadn't missed the large sprawling "Spike" on Dawn's cast, one of the first signatures to appear there.

There were gifts from Giles, presents to remind them they were in his thoughts. Hank presented several boxes to his daughters, as well as an envelope to Buffy. This she opened last, a profound sense of relief filling her at the sight of the check. I can finish paying off the plumbers. "Thanks, Dad."

"I thought you could use it. There are still some things we need to discuss, though, such as medical insurance for Dawn. We'll do that tomorrow."

She tried to keep smiling, tried not to think about how profoundly uncomfortable that conversation was going to be. Swallowing, she nodded, really feeling the need of a good slay at the moment.

"I think that's all the presents," Xander said cheerfully, settling down to open his stack.

"No, I still see two under the tree." Anya craned her neck. "Are they for me?"

Reluctantly, Xander reached out to pick up the gifts. "They're for William. From Dawn and Buffy."

She so did not get Spike a Christmas present! Who could have…Dawn. Of course. Dawn probably was the one who procured Buffy's book for Spike so he could present it as his own. Now, though, her friends were looking at her as if they desperately needed to have her head examined as Spike carefully removed the wrapping paper. "'The Ramones' Greatest Hits Live' Thank you, Dawn. I didn't have that on CD."

"I know." Dawn looked smug. "Open Buffy's present."

With a glance in her direction, he slid his finger under the fold of the wrapping paper to break the tape that held it in place. What could Dawn have gotten him? Probably something that would make her and the rest of the Scoobies twitch, payback for some sisterly insult, most likely.

The box was slim and, once opened, revealed a red and black speckled scarf. "It's very nice," he said, examining it with a hint of a suspicious look as he lifted it up.

"She said she worries about your neck getting cold when you go out at night." Dawn's grin was pure evil. Xander choked on his eggnog.

"How…thoughtful." He leaned across the couch to brush his lips against her cheek. "You don't know how I appreciate this."

There was amusement in voice, and she wished he didn't find this situation so funny. "I wanted to get you something useful," she managed, glad that her father's presence prevented Spike from attempting more aggressive signs of affection. She really didn't want to have to have the furniture in the living room repaired again, and the cost of a Spike-sized hole through the window was more than her budget could bear.

A flash, and she realized Sabrina had brought out a camera. "That was just perfect, you two. Now squinch in closer together. I want another shot."

Buffy did as bid, scooting ever so slightly toward Spike. He seemed no more enthusiastic than she did, especially when Sabrina added, "Put your arm around her waist."

Even as she managed a smile, Buffy could see Willow whispering something to Xander, then heading upstairs. "We should get everyone together," Sabrina said once she'd taken several shots of the pair. "Gather around the couch."

"Willow wants to get some shots, too," Xander said as he settled on the arm of the couch. "I think she wants a record of this for posterity."

"No!" The objection came from Spike, not Buffy. "I don't take very good pictures," he offered lamely.

It suddenly occurred to Buffy that while Spike might enjoy making her uncomfortable with his game of "let's pretend," he might not want photographic evidence of the event. After all, "William" wouldn't be in keeping with his "Big Bad" image. "I think you take nice pictures," she purred, the blackmail possibilities multiplying in her mind.

"Really?" There was a note of hope in his voice as he turned his head toward her. She'd seen that light in his eyes before, all the times he'd desperately sought her attention. She almost felt guilty. Almost.

"Got it," Willow crowed triumphantly as she re-entered the living room, digital camera in hand. Spike's gaze shifted toward her, then back to Buffy. The light dimmed. "I see."

"Everyone squeeze together," Sabrina commanded as Willow took up position next to her. "Big smiles."

Flashes went off, and they were commanded to hold still so they could be captured once more. "Hank, why don't I get one of you with the girls by the tree?"

Spike was off the couch quickly, stalking purposefully toward Willow. Buffy caught his arm. "Come on, William. Why don't you get in the picture, too?"

"I just want one of you and Dawn with Hank first," Sabrina said. "We'll get William next."

As Willow had managed to duck behind Xander and Anya, Buffy let go, knowing Spike would have some difficulty getting to the camera without rousing suspicion.

The picture taking continued for some time, various groups being formed and reformed. Several shots captured the Summers family for immortality, Spike reluctantly being dragged into several. Dawn even managed to get one with him, the one moment when his reluctance lifted.

"Buffy, why don't you and William stand in front of the tree? I have just a few shots left, and I'd like to get the two of you together."

Suddenly, Buffy found she'd lost her taste for this game. While shots of Spike with the family were one thing, her and him was not something she wanted preserved. It began to sink in that her father would go back to LA, and Sabrina would probably have prints done of these pictures. Spike would become part of the family history. In a few months, she'd have to invent an excuse for why they'd broken up, claim he'd returned to England. It wasn't going to be fun.

Reluctantly, she stepped in front of the tree. Spike slid in behind her, slipping his arms around her as she leaned back and let her head drop back against his shoulder.

Sabrina snapped the picture, then frowned. "Come on. Smile, you two. You look like something depressing just happened."

Yeah. I'm trying to fool my father by presenting a vampire as a boyfriend, and Spike's humiliating himself to do it for me. We're a pretty sad pair.

"One little smile?"

Spike leaned down, his mouth close to his ear. "I've got your back, Slayer," he whispered, so softly that only she could hear. She looked up in response, eyes wide. He was smiling down at her, the same calm smile she'd seen so often since she'd been pulled back here.

At that moment, both Willow and Sabrina's cameras flashed, capturing the moment in time.

"Oooh! Nice one, Will." Xander chuckled as he looked down at the display on the back of her camera. "We should send that one to Giles."

Buffy broke the pose to stride toward her friends. "Very funny. Let me see."

For a moment, Willow hesitated, almost as if she was weighing her camera's possible continued existence. Then she laid it carefully into Buffy's outstretched hand. It was a good shot, Buffy had to admit, nicely frame with the tree behind the two of them. He was looking down and she was looking up, a tentative smile on her face.

She felt him behind her, looking over her shoulder. Her finger moved toward the button that would delete the image from the camera's memory, but only hovered there. Abruptly, her throat tightened and she shoved the camera into someone's hands – she wasn't certain whose – and she headed for the kitchen, head down.

A judicious application of hot water and dishwashing detergent to dirty plates served as a distraction, or so she hoped, plunging her hands into the steaming liquid without bothering with the gloves. Her eyes burned and she blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears. Why did she even bother trying to pretend holidays were normal? Nothing in her life was normal.

The kitchen door swung open behind her with a whisper. She tensed. She didn't wants questions, concerns or little pats that everything would be alright. Things weren't "fine"; they hadn't been fine for months and she didn't know if they ever would be again.

"Buffy? Spike sent me in to see if you were okay?"

Dawn's voice was tentative and Buffy tried to bring the howling voices insider her under control. "I'm surprised he didn't come himself," she said, reaching for a dishtowel and turning to face her sister as she dried her hands. "Wouldn't that have been more in keeping with this whole plan the two of you concocted?"

Dawn winced. "I didn't know it would get out of hand. I expected Xander to freak, but he actually seems to be enjoying embarrassing Spike."

"Xander doesn't like Spike. He never has. None of them do." She tossed the dishtowel onto the counter and stared at her sister. "Why this? Why go to Spike at all, much less come up with such an insane plan? Dad's managed to make himself missing from our lives for some time. If he's come back because he's decided that now he has to be a parent, do you really think my having a boyfriend is going to stop him?"

Her words were striking home; Dawn's crumbling face was evidence of that. She knew she should stop, but the words were flowing and Buffy felt the need to let them out. "And Spike, of all people. Do you think I enjoy sitting there, pretending like things are wonderful between us? Do you think he enjoys it?"

"Yes." Dawn's voice was small. "He likes you – a lot better than Riley or Angel ever did."

It was on her tongue to tell Dawn that it wasn't about how much Spike's feelings, but she stopped. Spike's feelings did matter, and that was part of what was making her so uncomfortable. "I'm surprised Willow and Xander aren't in here," she said, changing the subject to safer ground. "They're usually the first to see if I'm okay."

"Before he sent me in, Spike told them to leave you alone. Said you needed your space."

For which she was grateful. She wanted him gone, out of her life, but lately he was the only one who seemed to understand what she needed. The whole concept made her uncomfortable. "Well, at least he's perceptive sometimes. We'd better get back in, or Dad might come looking for us."

She started for the door, but stopped as her hand touched the smooth wood. "Dawn, things…things aren't very good between Spike and I right now. That's one of the reason's I'm not happy about this."

"I didn't know."

Looking back, Buffy found Dawn watching her with her head tilted to one side, her good arm gripping the other above the cast. There was a stubborn set to her chin, an air of "you might have told me." It also told Buffy that Spike had given her younger sister no hint of the problems between them. "Is that why he hasn't been coming by? I mean, just after you came back, he was by here every night."

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons. I think he knows I don't want him around."

"Well, I do. Spike's cool, and he's smart, and he doesn't talk to me like I'm stupid or a little kid. I don't understand why he can't come by or I can't visit him just because you decided you're fighting. You trusted him when Glory was around. Why not now?"

"Because…Dawn, I'm not going to go into this. It's something Spike and I have to work out. I don't want you talking about it with anyone else, either," she warned.

With that, she pushed through the door and back into the dining room, knowing she would have to deal with that situation sooner or later. She hoped it could be later. Right now, she just needed to get through the next forty-eight hours until Dad headed back to Los Angeles.

Mayhem hadn't broken out in her absence; in fact, she was glad to see Willow and Tara actually speaking to one another. Maybe there was hope on that front after all. Xander and Anya were speaking with Sabrina. Actually, Anya was talking to Sabrina, while Xander listened with a fairly pained expression his face. Buffy heard the word "weddings" and decided to move as far away as possible.

Only Spike and her father were missing, but Buffy heard voices in the room off the living room her mother had used as an office. Standing just outside the doorway, she realized the two men were deep in conversation, with her father doing most of the talking. Spike had perched himself on the edge of the desk, his expression thoughtful. She'd seen that expression before, could almost hear the wheels turning as he listened. He was analyzing everything Hank was saying, weighing possible scenarios. She shifted and his eyes slid past her father to meet hers, the corners of his mouth turning up.

Hank must have noticed the gesture, for he turned. "There you are. William and I were just having a little conversation."

"So I noticed." Despite the hint of a smile, Spike's expression was serious and she wondered just what they'd been talking about. All she'd heard was that her father wasn't happy about Dawn's accident or Willow and wanted to make sure Dawn had proper coverage in case anything else happened.

"I was trying to convince him to come along to dinner tomorrow. The Hilton does offer up a fairly good meal."

Spike shook his head. "I thank you for the offer, but sounds like you and Elizabeth have a great deal to discuss and I would simply be intruding on family."

"Sure I can't convince you? Well, then hopefully I'll see you on my next trip up." He offered his hand. "Nice meeting you, William. Buffy, I'd better gather up Sabrina and head back to the hotel. Tomorrow at one, right?"

Buffy agreed, glad to be getting her father out the door. It would end at least one set of weirdness when they were gone. Even so, the goodbyes didn't go quick enough for her taste, especially with Sabrina insisting she couldn't go without giving "Buffy's William" a goodbye hug. At last, though, they were gone, and the Scooby Gang could safely flop on the couch. "Man, that was one strange evening."

"And we've had some strange ones," Willow added to Xander's sentiment. "Think it went okay, Buffy?"

Buffy shrugged, idly beginning to pick up stray wrapping paper and ribbon. "I don't know. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Tomorrow's going to be a pain, though. We have to talk about finances and adult things like that." Looking about, she realized Spike wasn't present. "I'll be right back, guys."

He was out on the back porch, leaning on the rail and looking up at the sky. Every once in a while, a puff of breath would escape, almost like smoke rings. "I thought vampires didn't breath," she offered as an opening.

"We don't. However, I found out early that being able to pull air in order to smoke really annoyed certain poofy grandsires, so I worked at being good at it." He grinned. "Real good."

There was ground she didn't want to tread on. "I noticed you and Dad were talking again."

"Gathering intelligence. He wanted to find out more about me, but I managed to make certain he was the one who spilled. Don't think you have to worry about packing up to move south, pet. He's making some motions for some reason, but he doesn't actually seem that enthusiastic. I think one reason he latched on to me is that your 'boyfriend' gave him a reason for you to stay here."

His tone was crisp and businesslike, as if they were discussion the latest demon threat. "He'll make some argument about the Nibblet, but since he's apparently already looked into insurance that covers her up here in Sunnydale, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Take his advice about Joyce's gallery; you don't know a thing about art and he's apparently got a manger in mind, someone his lawyers suggested."

It was a lot of information; too much information. "He told you all this?"

Spike shrugged. "He wanted to know how serious I was, make certain his little girl was taken care of. The rest was easy, almost like he's eager to get you off his hands."

Which was consistent with Hank Summer's behavior over the past few years. Buffy had to wonder when she'd become burden. "So did you tell him?"

He frowned. "Tell him what?"

"How serious you were?"

The words slipped out, but she wanted to know, wondered just how far he'd gone, what lies she might have to cover tomorrow.

Pushing himself up from the rail, Spike moved closer to her, so close that she felt herself start to twitch a bit uncomfortably, wanting to be away. Ice blue eyes looked down, devouring her. "I told him I was very serious," he said softly, "but that you needed time." One corner of his mouth twitched up. "He told me to be persistent."

Her father had given Spike his blessing? She shivered and turned away, intent on walking back into the house.

"Buffy."

She stopped at the sound of his voice. "I don't like him," she heard Spike say. "Joyce deserved better. You deserve better."

Surprised, she turned back, half-expecting him to have drawn closer, fishing for a kiss. He was standing where she'd left him, all trace of a smile gone. She wanted to say something, but the words didn't come and she scurried inside.

Anya and Xander were make preparations to leave, wrapping themselves in coats and mufflers. "Great evening, Buffy. You need moral support tomorrow, give us a call."

"Xander says that since we're thinking of using the Hilton for the reception, it would be natural for us to drop in when you're eating with your father." Anya grinned. "I still have some friends who do vengeance spells. Maybe just one to make Sabrina's breasts sag."

Xander stopped, staring at his fiancée in disbelief. "Anya, I thought you liked Sabrina."

"I do, but I don't think she likes Buffy, so I figured just a small vengeance would be appropriate. Surgery would fix it."

Buffy sighed. "Guys, I don't think Christmas is the right time to talk about vengeance spells."

"Score one for the Buffster. Tara, can we give you a ride?"

Tara, shrugging into her own coat, shook her head. "It's not that far. I'll just walk back."

"Nonsense. Won't hear of it. I'll walk you back myself, protect you from the nasties."

To everyone's surprise, Tara actually agreed, favoring Spike with a smile as he collected his gifts. He draped the red and black scarf jauntily about his neck, causing Xander to shiver a final time as he and Anya headed out the door.

"We'll talk?" Willow said, her voice hopeful.

Tara managed to give will a bit of the smile she'd just given Spike. "Well, we are in some of the same classes next semester, so, yeah, we can talk."

It was enough for Willow, and Buffy was glad to see the red-head look happier than she had in some weeks. She was glad Tara had agreed to come.

Dawn gave Spike one final hug. "Thanks for the album."

Spike hugged back. "Glad to, Nibblet. And don't think I don't know who picked out this scarf."

"Easy. You always like red and black."

"I know what I look good in. Ready, Tara?"

A chorus of goodnights and he was out the door. Buffy hesitated for a moment, then her feet moved, carrying her across the threshold. "Spike!"

Tara was already down the steps, but he paused where he stood on the porch. Breath coming a little quicker from the sudden movement, she tried to find the right words. "I wanted to thank you for the present."

He shrugged. "Dawn grabbed one of your books for me. Didn't figure you'd actually want me to give you something."

"No, not that. I mean, being here. What you did tonight. Putting up with everything. Thank you."

There were times she could easily read the emotions across his face, but this wasn't one of them. He was an odd amalgamation of Spike and William at the moment, glasses tucked away and the swaggering attitude back in place. She couldn't peg him, couldn't guess which way he was going to jump.

To her surprise, he reached up and lightly tapped her nose with his forefinger. "Merry Christmas, Slayer."

With that he was down the porch steps. "Come on, Tara. Contrary to popular belief, vampires do get cold. At least, this one does."

Standing on her porch as the pair walked into the night, Buffy didn't feel cold. She felt warm. Confused, but warm.

Back to Part 1

On to Episode 1: One Saturday at the Magic Box