Spike pushed the print outs across the counter and looked expectantly at Joyce. "What d'you think?" he asked. He pointed at the topmost sheet where there was a picture of a white gold cross, inset with a square cut garnet at its centre with four square diamonds around that. "I thought that one for Buffy, seein' garnets would be her birthstone... and there's earrings to match," he added, pulling away the top sheet to reveal the one underneath.

"They're lovely, Spike," Joyce began, though her hesitation was obvious.

"But? Too old-fashioned, you think?" The vampire sighed. "Never was much good at pickin' out pressies."

"They're beautiful... and timeless, but I really think that Buffy would prefer something less expensive rather than watch you get even thinner when you live on nothing but Marlboro for the next three months. There's no need to spend hundreds of dollars on us."

"Look, let's just say that I found myself a nice little weekend job. Not as I'd want to be doin' it all year 'round 'cause I need to be on call if evil's afoot... an' there's a fair bit of travellin' involved, but let's just say I don't need to be scrimpin' on the gifts this year."

Joyce eyed him with the same assessing gaze that she had once reserved for when Buffy had insisted that her homework was all finished. "This job doesn't involve looking after any eggs or carrying sealed packages over borders, does it?"

"No, Joyce. It's all above board."

"You're sure. Nothing immoral?"

If it were possible, Joyce would have sworn that the tips of Spike's ears reddened slightly. "Well, can't say that I'm the world's best judge when it comes to immoral," he stated, "but it doesn't harm anybody, an' it's all legal, taxed even... either that or the manageress's takin' a cut an' I don't think she's that good a liar." The vampire began to fumble through his pockets and, recognising the gestures, Joyce pulled an ashtray out of one of the wall cupboards and switched on the extractor fan.

"Alright, Spike," Joyce answered calmly. "I know you wouldn't disappoint us all by breaking any promises you might have made, just so you could spend more on Christmas gifts... or by having me launder your ill-gotten gains."

Spike looked no more uncomfortable as he lit up his cigarette, tossed a now empty matchbook into the ashtray and pointed to the print outs once more, and Joyce decided it was safe to accept his money. "So what d'you reckon?"

"I reckon," Joyce replied with a teasing smile, "that Buffy's going to be a very happy girl and that it might be an idea for you to wear a turtle neck to minimise the chance of scarring when she says thank you."

"What 'bout the rest?" Spike pulled aside the pages showing Buffy's gifts. "Bit needs a new ghettoblaster... or whatever they call them these days. Old one's got a rattle on the speakers. Figured that one would last her a while. Was goin' to order her a few proper CDs to go with it, but I didn't think you'd be too keen on the Sex Pistols' language.

Glinda's, I can get myself. Figured I might pick her up another kitten... now she's not in the same house as the Niblet, no more. Still don't know what the witches were playin' at not to put a lock on that weapons chest. I've got a line on a nice Himalayan should be ready for homing in about a week..." His voice tailed off as he realised Joyce was staring at the last sheet.

"You like it?" he asked, looking at the picture of the old-fashioned gold watch that he'd put to the bottom of the pile. "Reckon the 'Buy Now' price is maybe just a touch steep, but it might be as well to grab it at that, anyway... 'Least, that way you know you'll get it, 'cause it, well, it seemed right." Now the vampire definitely looked embarrassed. The watch was fairly large for a ladies' watch, almost an inch in diameter. Both case and face were a delicate, slightly pinkish gold except for where the twelve creamy-white enamelled circles at the edge of the face bore black Roman numerals. Its hands were also black but were curved and looped rather than being simply functional. The strap as it would be seen from the top of the wrist looked like strands of dark brown leather going sideways through the narrow loops at top and bottom of the watch face and doubling over, where a flatter strap would have gone through a loop, under the watch and out the other side. The double strand of round leather was then sewn into a flatter piece that was punched on one side and had a buckle on the other. "Probably used to have a gold strap to match the face, but the springs'd be long gone. Can't say that I don't maybe like the leather one better."

"It's absolutely lovely, Spike. I'm not sure Buffy—"

"S'not for Buffy. I mean, I know it's a bit of a cheek, like, askin' you to get your own present, but if I go to the watcher or his bint, it'll be out with the comfy chair an' here comes The Spanish Inquisition as to where the money comes from, an' I'd as soon he didn't find out. Harris isn't exactly an option I'd want to explore, an' the students don't have enough plastic between them to pay for Christmas dinner never mind get my pressies on top of theirs."

There was a ratchet of the tumblers falling into place as a key was stuck into the front door and Spike grabbed the sheath of papers, sticking it into one of the less used kitchen drawers along with an enormous wad of bills that he pulled from his duster pocket. He pushed the drawer shut just in time to return to his seat and nonchalantly tap some more ash into the ashtray as Buffy entered the room and wrinkled her nose at the smell.

"Sorry I'm late. The mall was a nightmare." She dropped a cluster of shopping bags by the counter and climbed onto the stool next to Spike's, her hand automatically reaching out for his as she leaned over to place a peck on his cheek. "We've still got time for a drink before we patrol, right?" she asked.

Joyce smiled and nodded. "And you will eat something that isn't frozen yoghurt when you get home," she insisted in her best mom voice.

"Yes, mom."

Joyce shooed the couple through to the living room with promises of drinks, making Buffy take her shopping with her, and set about straightening up and making a pot of coffee. She retrieved the money Spike had left to cover the online purchases she was to make on his behalf using her PC at work. She noted with some surprise, as she tucked them away in a pocket until she could put them somewhere more secure, that the bills were mostly fives and ones, with only an occasional ten or twenty. Spike's cigarette had been stubbed out, and she picked up the ash tray to empty it into the bin and rinse it, when the matchbook caught her eye. Emblazoned across its glossy black surface, in neon pink was the legend, 'The Fabulous Ladies Night Club', Oxnard.

Maybe she ought to suggest that the girls at work skipped the Italian restaurant this year and had a different Christmas night out. Buffy and the others might even want to come, too. Dawn was old enough to be left in the house on her own, if Giles wasn't available to watch her. They could probably hire a minibus.