On the Sixth Day of Christmas… Six Geese A-Laying
30th December, 2001
6. On the Sixth Day of Christmas… Six Geese A-Laying
30th December 2001
This time they were in a modern open-plan apartment, comfortably, if conventionally, furnished in muted beige. In one corner, an artificial Christmas tree glittered with white lights and silver baubles, topped off, by a large silver star. An Angel-free zone, Spike was relieved to see. Daylight filtered through blinds at the large windows, and glinted on the arms of a large ceiling fan bedecked with silver tinsel.
Spike took an unconscious step away from the bands of light crossing the floor, paused, frowned and cautiously slid his foot forward. “Hey! I’m not cooking!”
“You are not in this dimension. The sunlight cannot harm you.” Illyria walked over to the tree. She rested a finger on a branch, watching curiously as it shivered beneath her touch. “This green does not live. It is a facsimile?”
“Plastic,” Spike said distractedly, still engrossed with the novelty of being touched by the shafts of unfiltered sunlight. It was warm; he’d almost forgotten - necro-filtered sunlight was cold. “Modern thing. No mess an’ all. Plus you get to use it again, year after year.”
“Thus do your traditions become sullied. Your gods should punish those who desecrate their festivals.”
“The old gods gave up years ago, Blue. We got a whole new set now.” He patted the large television playing quietly to itself in one corner. “So - Xander’s place.” He walked slowly around the room. “There’s my old room.” He gestured to one of the doors. “Well, not so much a room as a broom cupboard, but I called it home. And this one is Xander’s bedroom. Not that it saw any real action…” As he spoke the bedroom door opened and Anya emerged carrying an ugly, red glass vase.
“Well, I’ll be… never thought I’d see her again,” he said softly.
Anya walked over to the sofa and sat down, placing the vase on the glass-topped coffee table. She looked at it appraisingly. “If that cost more than $5, I’m a monkey’s uncle,” she said to herself. She picked up a notepad and pen and scribbled something. “Oh, crap!” She frowned. “We’re down on that one.”
A key scraped in the lock and the apartment door opened. “Honey, I’m home!” Xander grinned across at Anya.
“Hi, honey!” Anya turned and smiled up at him. “Good day?”
“Oh, not so bad. We got confirmation of the new job over at the mall and we’ve got sign-off over at the Henderson’s place. So when the guys start back after the holidays, we’ll all be busy little builders.” Xander crossed the room and bent down to kiss her.
“Bloody hell! It’s like an episode of the Brady Bunch!” Spike grimaced. “Any second now a bunch of nauseating brats will come running in with some improbable and boring sob story that can only be solved with hugs and ‘I love you mom’s and… and apple bloody pie. Oh and I’ll bet there’s a dog. Something cute and scruffy.”
“You are using metaphor. I do not understand your reference. Apple pie?”
“The Great American dream. Love, marriage, family and the happy ever after. Except of course, these two never made it. That arse,” he pointed a finger at Xander, “he dumped her at the altar.”
“Altar? She was to be a sacrifice?” Illyria examined Anya with increased interest.
“Well, if she’d gone ahead and married him, as good as, yeah.” Spike sneered. “Imagine bein’ shackled to that for life. Lucky escape is what she had.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Not that she saw it like that. Poor kid was ripped apart.”
Illyria examined Anya, head tilted. “She appears whole now.”
“I mean,” Spike explained with exaggerated care, “she loved him, he dumped her. Broke her heart.” He glared at Xander. “Always thought he was a stupid git. Turns out he was a heartless stupid git.”
Xander sat next to Anya and loosened his tie, easing his collar away from his neck. “So, what you been up to?”
Anya held up her note pad. “I’ve been making a list of what everybody gave us for Christmas.”
“That’s nice, sweetheart. So we can send them all thank you notes?”
“No, silly!” Anya nudged him with a smile. “So I work out how much each person spent and whether we spent more or less on them. I’m hoping that I got my calculations correct and we came out of this in credit. And then I can work out how much we will need to spend on each person next Christmas, allowing for inflation, so that we will be sure of not ending up out of pocket.” She gave Xander a triumphant smile. “See?”
Xander looked at her bemusedly, then shook his head. “You’ve been… I’m not sure the whole spirit of Christmas and joy of giving thing necessarily has to be cost effective, Ahn.”
“You know, you need to keep account of the cost! It gets to Christmas and everyone’s all la-la-la, just a little gift here and a little gift there and before you know it you’re up to your eyes in debt and then along comes the bailiff to take away your first-born to sell into slavery to pay what you owe!” Xander gave her a bewildered look. “It happened to one of the matrons in my village! Do you want to lose our first-born to troll slave traders?”
“I think you’ll find there’s a lot less of the first-born-taking-away these days. Of course, they could take your car, which many would consider worse.”
“But this profligate wasting of money on gifts is a scandal! And even the church encourages it. You’ve heard The Twelve Days of Christmas, right? I worked out how much the gifts must have cost in today’s market and it was over $17,000! Some man spent $17,000 dollars on his true love and what did she get? Birds and miscellaneous farm workers and… and performers! What the hell was she supposed to do with all those birds? I suppose the six geese a-laying might have been useful for the eggs and all,” Anya conceded. “But then there were the milk maids and musicians and… lords! I mean, ten lords a-leaping? What use would they be? And why are they leaping? Did anyone think to ask that? And they sing this in church!”
“I don’t think it’s meant to be taken literally…” Xander shook his head. “It’s just a song, Ahn.”
“Well, it’s an incredibly stupid song! Small children will hear that song and it will raise their expectations for expensive gifts of livestock.”
“Well, commercialism is all part of the Christmas experience, I guess. And it’s not all bad.” Xander shrugged. “On the plus side, remember how busy the Magic Box has been…”
“That is true.” Anya was slightly appeased. “We do a fine trade in solstice and Yule ritual paraphernalia. But that has nothing to do with Christmas! Without Christmas we could make a great deal of money at this time of year and not have to spend any of it!”
“Why is this creature so concerned with money? It would appear to be her primary motivation.”
“Not exactly - but Anya’s got a different attitude to most mortals. Let’s call it refreshing honesty. ‘Course she wasn’t always a mortal. Had a couple of spells as a Vengeance Demon, too - bloody good one by all accounts. Gave it all up for love of monkey boy there.”
“She had the power of vengeance and she gave it up for this…” Illyria’s voice was pure disdain “...feeble creature?”
“Yeah, find it hard to understand myself. Givin’ up the power and the fun and the mayhem for love?” He snorted - then hesitated. “At least… for him,” he added uncomfortably. “I wonder what happened to them. Bet the silly bint forgave him after the Hellmouth and took him back. Personally, I’d rather have snuffed it than spending a lifetime dyin’ of sheer boredom...”
“Christmas isn’t just about the money.” Xander had clearly decided to try distraction tactics. “Season of goodwill and all. Peace on earth…”
Anya looked at him in disbelief. “Goodwill! There was very little goodwill at your parents’ house on Christmas day, with the arguing and the fighting and the plate throwing! And just because your mother didn’t like the sweater your Cousin Carol gave her, there was no call to reduce it to shreds with the electric carving knife. She could have returned it to the store and exchanged it for money or services. And your Uncle Rory made suggestions to me that were highly inappropriate considering I’m betrothed to his nephew. And quite possibly illegal in many States. You know, if he carries on like that, I can see your Aunt calling on the services of one of my former colleagues any time now.”
“OK! OK! Forget the goodwill.” Xander kept on with the distraction tactics determinedly and snuggled closer to Anya, kissing her on the neck. “How about… it’s all about love… love’s free…”
“Love!” Anya pushed him away with a pout. “Do you know, this was one of our busiest times of year? Post-Christmas vengeance is big business! Do you know how bad a woman who’s been dumped feels when she’s watching families and couples all being big with the Christmas cheer? You throw in having to endure her mother’s comments over Christmas dinner about her never being able to keep a man and you can hear the scream for help from dimensions away! And then there are the inferior Christmas gifts. I’ve dolled out many a vengeance for poorly chosen rings.”
“Anya.” Xander turned her around to face him and took her face in his hands. “I promise you, when we’re married it’ll all be different. You - you’re my hope for a better future. No more spending Christmas Eve in the yard, no more drunken fights, no more family arguments over the undercooked turkey…”
“I’m not much with the cooking.” Anya bit her lip. “I can’t promise I can do any better than your mother. Although I don’t think I would have tried flambé-ing it with the bottle of brandy…”
“That was… spectacular.” Xander conceded. “We’ll manage - together. I think I'm in for a future filled with many exciting ... and quite possibly strange Christmases, and I'm not interested in facing them without you around. You and me will make our own Christmas spirit.” He kissed her gently. “Now, about the free love…”
She smiled up at him. “I love you Mr. Xander Harris.”
“And I love you, soon-to-be-Mrs. Xander Harris.”
“Oh, please…” Spike groaned.
“Shall we have sex now?” Anya sighed happily and leaned toward Xander seductively.
“Not convinced I wanna stay around for that one.” Spike watched in disdain as Xander drew Anya into a long kiss, and then with sudden interest as Anya drew back with a smile and pulled off her jumper. “Oh, but I don’t know…” he murmured appreciatively.
“Mortals set much store by this emotion they call love. It is a chimera. They seek to find perfection in another as flawed as themselves. They are doomed to fail.” Illyria watched the entwined couple dispassionately. “But this one was a demon. I would expect better.”
“Demons can love - we’re not immune.” Spike looked down at Anya. “We make mistakes too.”
“Then you are fools.” Illyria said dismissively. “You are like them - less than animals. You waste time and energy on the unnecessary and disregard what is important. It is no wonder your race are but puny insects on a putrefying shell of a world.”
“Well, you might call it putrefying but we call it home.” Spike shrugged. “You really don’t get it, do you? Love is what makes us better than animals.”
“I tire of this argument.” Illyria interrupted him imperiously. “This ‘love’ has no place in my philosophy. You wallow in this emotion like swine in mud. It is a pointless indulgence.”
“It’s not an indulgence. It’s a human necessity. Food, drink, love - it’s what it’s all about. Mind you, I guess this time of year we do tend to overindulge. Oh, no…” Spike held up his hands as Illyria’s stare intensified; he was beginning to recognise the signs. “Not again. Look, I’ve had enough of this. Don’t know what you’re expecting to learn or why you’re doing this, but enough is enough. I won’t be used like… like some sort of preschool teaching aid for a has-been God. Stop it now.”
“You presume to command me?” Illyria’s already ice-cold glare dropped by several degrees more.
“No. I’m asking you… nicely.”
“My will shall be done. I will understand.” She closed her eyes, straining to focus, her normally impassive features etched with lines of effort.
“You won’t, alright! You haven’t got the bloody capacity to understand you stupid…” Spike growled with impotent frustration as time and space again eddied around him at Illyria’s command “...blue BINT!” he howled as their next destination snapped into focus.
6. On the Sixth Day of Christmas… Six Geese A-Laying
30th December 2001
This time they were in a modern open-plan apartment, comfortably, if conventionally, furnished in muted beige. In one corner, an artificial Christmas tree glittered with white lights and silver baubles, topped off, by a large silver star. An Angel-free zone, Spike was relieved to see. Daylight filtered through blinds at the large windows, and glinted on the arms of a large ceiling fan bedecked with silver tinsel.
Spike took an unconscious step away from the bands of light crossing the floor, paused, frowned and cautiously slid his foot forward. “Hey! I’m not cooking!”
“You are not in this dimension. The sunlight cannot harm you.” Illyria walked over to the tree. She rested a finger on a branch, watching curiously as it shivered beneath her touch. “This green does not live. It is a facsimile?”
“Plastic,” Spike said distractedly, still engrossed with the novelty of being touched by the shafts of unfiltered sunlight. It was warm; he’d almost forgotten - necro-filtered sunlight was cold. “Modern thing. No mess an’ all. Plus you get to use it again, year after year.”
“Thus do your traditions become sullied. Your gods should punish those who desecrate their festivals.”
“The old gods gave up years ago, Blue. We got a whole new set now.” He patted the large television playing quietly to itself in one corner. “So - Xander’s place.” He walked slowly around the room. “There’s my old room.” He gestured to one of the doors. “Well, not so much a room as a broom cupboard, but I called it home. And this one is Xander’s bedroom. Not that it saw any real action…” As he spoke the bedroom door opened and Anya emerged carrying an ugly, red glass vase.
“Well, I’ll be… never thought I’d see her again,” he said softly.
Anya walked over to the sofa and sat down, placing the vase on the glass-topped coffee table. She looked at it appraisingly. “If that cost more than $5, I’m a monkey’s uncle,” she said to herself. She picked up a notepad and pen and scribbled something. “Oh, crap!” She frowned. “We’re down on that one.”
A key scraped in the lock and the apartment door opened. “Honey, I’m home!” Xander grinned across at Anya.
“Hi, honey!” Anya turned and smiled up at him. “Good day?”
“Oh, not so bad. We got confirmation of the new job over at the mall and we’ve got sign-off over at the Henderson’s place. So when the guys start back after the holidays, we’ll all be busy little builders.” Xander crossed the room and bent down to kiss her.
“Bloody hell! It’s like an episode of the Brady Bunch!” Spike grimaced. “Any second now a bunch of nauseating brats will come running in with some improbable and boring sob story that can only be solved with hugs and ‘I love you mom’s and… and apple bloody pie. Oh and I’ll bet there’s a dog. Something cute and scruffy.”
“You are using metaphor. I do not understand your reference. Apple pie?”
“The Great American dream. Love, marriage, family and the happy ever after. Except of course, these two never made it. That arse,” he pointed a finger at Xander, “he dumped her at the altar.”
“Altar? She was to be a sacrifice?” Illyria examined Anya with increased interest.
“Well, if she’d gone ahead and married him, as good as, yeah.” Spike sneered. “Imagine bein’ shackled to that for life. Lucky escape is what she had.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Not that she saw it like that. Poor kid was ripped apart.”
Illyria examined Anya, head tilted. “She appears whole now.”
“I mean,” Spike explained with exaggerated care, “she loved him, he dumped her. Broke her heart.” He glared at Xander. “Always thought he was a stupid git. Turns out he was a heartless stupid git.”
Xander sat next to Anya and loosened his tie, easing his collar away from his neck. “So, what you been up to?”
Anya held up her note pad. “I’ve been making a list of what everybody gave us for Christmas.”
“That’s nice, sweetheart. So we can send them all thank you notes?”
“No, silly!” Anya nudged him with a smile. “So I work out how much each person spent and whether we spent more or less on them. I’m hoping that I got my calculations correct and we came out of this in credit. And then I can work out how much we will need to spend on each person next Christmas, allowing for inflation, so that we will be sure of not ending up out of pocket.” She gave Xander a triumphant smile. “See?”
Xander looked at her bemusedly, then shook his head. “You’ve been… I’m not sure the whole spirit of Christmas and joy of giving thing necessarily has to be cost effective, Ahn.”
“You know, you need to keep account of the cost! It gets to Christmas and everyone’s all la-la-la, just a little gift here and a little gift there and before you know it you’re up to your eyes in debt and then along comes the bailiff to take away your first-born to sell into slavery to pay what you owe!” Xander gave her a bewildered look. “It happened to one of the matrons in my village! Do you want to lose our first-born to troll slave traders?”
“I think you’ll find there’s a lot less of the first-born-taking-away these days. Of course, they could take your car, which many would consider worse.”
“But this profligate wasting of money on gifts is a scandal! And even the church encourages it. You’ve heard The Twelve Days of Christmas, right? I worked out how much the gifts must have cost in today’s market and it was over $17,000! Some man spent $17,000 dollars on his true love and what did she get? Birds and miscellaneous farm workers and… and performers! What the hell was she supposed to do with all those birds? I suppose the six geese a-laying might have been useful for the eggs and all,” Anya conceded. “But then there were the milk maids and musicians and… lords! I mean, ten lords a-leaping? What use would they be? And why are they leaping? Did anyone think to ask that? And they sing this in church!”
“I don’t think it’s meant to be taken literally…” Xander shook his head. “It’s just a song, Ahn.”
“Well, it’s an incredibly stupid song! Small children will hear that song and it will raise their expectations for expensive gifts of livestock.”
“Well, commercialism is all part of the Christmas experience, I guess. And it’s not all bad.” Xander shrugged. “On the plus side, remember how busy the Magic Box has been…”
“That is true.” Anya was slightly appeased. “We do a fine trade in solstice and Yule ritual paraphernalia. But that has nothing to do with Christmas! Without Christmas we could make a great deal of money at this time of year and not have to spend any of it!”
“Why is this creature so concerned with money? It would appear to be her primary motivation.”
“Not exactly - but Anya’s got a different attitude to most mortals. Let’s call it refreshing honesty. ‘Course she wasn’t always a mortal. Had a couple of spells as a Vengeance Demon, too - bloody good one by all accounts. Gave it all up for love of monkey boy there.”
“She had the power of vengeance and she gave it up for this…” Illyria’s voice was pure disdain “...feeble creature?”
“Yeah, find it hard to understand myself. Givin’ up the power and the fun and the mayhem for love?” He snorted - then hesitated. “At least… for him,” he added uncomfortably. “I wonder what happened to them. Bet the silly bint forgave him after the Hellmouth and took him back. Personally, I’d rather have snuffed it than spending a lifetime dyin’ of sheer boredom...”
“Christmas isn’t just about the money.” Xander had clearly decided to try distraction tactics. “Season of goodwill and all. Peace on earth…”
Anya looked at him in disbelief. “Goodwill! There was very little goodwill at your parents’ house on Christmas day, with the arguing and the fighting and the plate throwing! And just because your mother didn’t like the sweater your Cousin Carol gave her, there was no call to reduce it to shreds with the electric carving knife. She could have returned it to the store and exchanged it for money or services. And your Uncle Rory made suggestions to me that were highly inappropriate considering I’m betrothed to his nephew. And quite possibly illegal in many States. You know, if he carries on like that, I can see your Aunt calling on the services of one of my former colleagues any time now.”
“OK! OK! Forget the goodwill.” Xander kept on with the distraction tactics determinedly and snuggled closer to Anya, kissing her on the neck. “How about… it’s all about love… love’s free…”
“Love!” Anya pushed him away with a pout. “Do you know, this was one of our busiest times of year? Post-Christmas vengeance is big business! Do you know how bad a woman who’s been dumped feels when she’s watching families and couples all being big with the Christmas cheer? You throw in having to endure her mother’s comments over Christmas dinner about her never being able to keep a man and you can hear the scream for help from dimensions away! And then there are the inferior Christmas gifts. I’ve dolled out many a vengeance for poorly chosen rings.”
“Anya.” Xander turned her around to face him and took her face in his hands. “I promise you, when we’re married it’ll all be different. You - you’re my hope for a better future. No more spending Christmas Eve in the yard, no more drunken fights, no more family arguments over the undercooked turkey…”
“I’m not much with the cooking.” Anya bit her lip. “I can’t promise I can do any better than your mother. Although I don’t think I would have tried flambé-ing it with the bottle of brandy…”
“That was… spectacular.” Xander conceded. “We’ll manage - together. I think I'm in for a future filled with many exciting ... and quite possibly strange Christmases, and I'm not interested in facing them without you around. You and me will make our own Christmas spirit.” He kissed her gently. “Now, about the free love…”
She smiled up at him. “I love you Mr. Xander Harris.”
“And I love you, soon-to-be-Mrs. Xander Harris.”
“Oh, please…” Spike groaned.
“Shall we have sex now?” Anya sighed happily and leaned toward Xander seductively.
“Not convinced I wanna stay around for that one.” Spike watched in disdain as Xander drew Anya into a long kiss, and then with sudden interest as Anya drew back with a smile and pulled off her jumper. “Oh, but I don’t know…” he murmured appreciatively.
“Mortals set much store by this emotion they call love. It is a chimera. They seek to find perfection in another as flawed as themselves. They are doomed to fail.” Illyria watched the entwined couple dispassionately. “But this one was a demon. I would expect better.”
“Demons can love - we’re not immune.” Spike looked down at Anya. “We make mistakes too.”
“Then you are fools.” Illyria said dismissively. “You are like them - less than animals. You waste time and energy on the unnecessary and disregard what is important. It is no wonder your race are but puny insects on a putrefying shell of a world.”
“Well, you might call it putrefying but we call it home.” Spike shrugged. “You really don’t get it, do you? Love is what makes us better than animals.”
“I tire of this argument.” Illyria interrupted him imperiously. “This ‘love’ has no place in my philosophy. You wallow in this emotion like swine in mud. It is a pointless indulgence.”
“It’s not an indulgence. It’s a human necessity. Food, drink, love - it’s what it’s all about. Mind you, I guess this time of year we do tend to overindulge. Oh, no…” Spike held up his hands as Illyria’s stare intensified; he was beginning to recognise the signs. “Not again. Look, I’ve had enough of this. Don’t know what you’re expecting to learn or why you’re doing this, but enough is enough. I won’t be used like… like some sort of preschool teaching aid for a has-been God. Stop it now.”
“You presume to command me?” Illyria’s already ice-cold glare dropped by several degrees more.
“No. I’m asking you… nicely.”
“My will shall be done. I will understand.” She closed her eyes, straining to focus, her normally impassive features etched with lines of effort.
“You won’t, alright! You haven’t got the bloody capacity to understand you stupid…” Spike growled with impotent frustration as time and space again eddied around him at Illyria’s command “...blue BINT!” he howled as their next destination snapped into focus.