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Our scene opens in a car park on the outskirts of Bristol. A sharp wintry gust chases the litter around the lampposts and generic landscaping as we travel slowly towards the front of the local branch of a national DIY chain.
As we clip through the wall, entering the cavernous building and traversing the aisles, festive music plays tinnily:
When we’re skating in the park, if the storm cloud paints it dark, then your rosy cheeks gonna light my merry wa-ay!
A distinguished looking older man is browsing, humming along while he examines the merchandise.
Now the frosticles appear, and they’ve frozen up my beard, so we’ll lie by the fire till the sleep simply melts them all awa-a-ay! Well, I–
“Rupert,” a dark-haired woman said, appearing at the man’s elbow.
Rupert spun around to face her, stuffing the item he’d been examining back onto the rack.
“Yes, darling?”
She brandished two match pots at him and crowed, “I was so right. Spring Morn is way better than Primrose Patch.”
Squinting at them, he said, in conciliating tones, “Well, why don’t we get samples of both and try them out before deciding, Jenny?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What were you looking at?”
“Me? Oh, erm, nothing,” he said. “Just browsing.”
Jenny tried to peer round him, but he blocked her.
“We still haven’t got that slug repellent, have we?” he added. “Why don’t we go and look over there? A-and we do still really need some gloss paint, and another packet of nails. And a hedge trimmer. The one my father left in the shed looks lethal–”
“We’ve been through this, babe,” Jenny pointed out. “I thought we agreed that we were gonna wait till the Boxing Day sale to get the big, expensive purchases.” She grinned. “‘Cause I, for one, am looking forward to boxing my way towards some bargains.”
Rupert sighed. “Jenny, I told you that’s not why it’s called–”
Something clearly occurred to Jenny, and she said wryly, “So that’s a ‘no’ to my attempt at a slug repelling spell, then, Rupert?”
“I have every faith in your magical abilities, Jenny. I just think that it makes sense to invest in a mundane back up in case the spell is a dud or, or, it, say, causes the thing you’re trying to remove to multiply exponentially, to choose an example at random. That’s all,” he answered.
“I’m never gonna live that mould removal spell down, am I?” Jenny sighed.
“Not while there’s breath in my body, darling,” he said, a half-smile tugging at his mouth.
Jenny scowled. “I was trying to make sure you got your security deposit back.”
Rupert leant down to kiss her cheek. “I know, dearest. Your efforts were greatly appreciated. But I think it was the perpetual smashed windows, broken furniture, and irredeemable staining that were the real flies in the ointment.”
“Yeah,” she said ruefully. “And now we’re in charge of a whole house. I hope we can get it looking kinda presentable by the time the kids show up, even if we can’t decorate properly for the holiday.”
“We do have some decorations,” Rupert observed.
“Rupert, I am not using those horrible seventies things you found woven into that massive spider’s web in the attic.”
He opened his mouth, but Jenny interrupted, “Or those antique-looking baubles I found in the cellar. I’m pretty sure those have got lead paint on them.”
“Fair enough,” Rupert said. He added, with a shy sideways glance at Jenny, “Perhaps, if we get the bathroom and the kitchen and the guest rooms and the garden reasonably sorted before Christmas, we can think about getting some cheap bits and bobs…”
“I’m really not sure that’s gonna be doable, babe,” Jenny said reluctantly. “It’s less than three weeks away now, and there’s still so much to do—” Then, taking in their surroundings, she said, “Wait… Rupert, is that what you were looking at?”
He shifted awkwardly. “Well, I mean, yes. But, but not with any serious intent, a-all right? Just, just browsing, I promise. I’m well aware we’ve got more important things to think about – and to buy – before we start frittering our resources away on fripperies.”
Jenny bit her lip, considering. “I’m sure we could spring for some small bits, if you really want to–”
“Jenny, it’s fine, honestly,” he assured her. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need any gaudy baubles to have a perfectly nice Christmas with you and the children. Not when there’s so much else we could be spending our money on, hmm?”
“Okay,” Jenny said, after a lingering look. “Just as long as you’re sure…”
“Christmas is all about family,” Rupert said firmly. “That’s what matters most to me: a nice, quiet, peaceful day, spent with the people I care about. No festive tat is ever going to compete with that.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jenny said, smiling up at him. She stood on tiptoe, leaning up for a kiss.
When they broke apart, she added, “You do know Dawn’s coming, right, Rupert? So, the chances of it being all that quiet and peaceful are actually gonna be kinda limited. Especially because she’s gonna want to tell us all about her new boyfriend.”
“Ah, yes, Chad,” Rupert said, shuddering theatrically.
Jenny grinned. “What can I say? You can take the girl out of America…”
Rupert chuckled affectionately and slipped an arm around Jenny’s shoulders as they turned towards the pest control section.
The day before Christmas Eve, Jenny was back in the store, looking for some vital last-minute supplies to help deal with the infestation of Dendron demons they’d found behind the potting shed. Also, some emergency chairs, after the existing dining chairs had turned out to be cursed, somehow.
So, it totally wasn’t part of her plan to stop dead at the end of the Christmas decorations aisle.
Jenny thought about their budget. About their carefully devised plans for fixing up the house Rupert had inherited from his dad, which were already behind schedule thanks to Rupert having to disappear every couple of weeks to go collect a newly called Slayer from an exciting international location (and, once, Milton Keynes). She remembered their very sensible agreement that they wouldn’t buy presents for each other this year given their many other financial commitments and instead just enjoy the season together after a really hellish couple of years.
She thought about Rupert’s face. The way he’d said it was fine that they weren’t going to be able to decorate for Christmas. That he was a grown man. That he just wanted to spend the day with his family. And, Jenny knew, he had meant every single word.
But she also knew that she’d been looking at the face of a man who really, really wanted to buy some shitty Christmas decorations. A man who wanted a Christmas where he didn’t have to worry about being mature, or seeing the bigger picture, or saving the world. She knew all about Rupert’s not-so-secret love for holidays, and she was well aware that his childhood Christmases hadn’t exactly overflowed with warmth and whimsy.
There’s always next Christmas, the sensible part of Jenny’s mind chided her as she found herself drawn to the spot where Rupert had been standing.
She ignored it. She was only going to look, anyway.
The racks were empty, but the labels suggested that a day or two previously they’d have hosted an array of oversized inflatable festive figures: Santas and reindeer and snowmen and Christmas trees and elves…
Exactly the sort of cheesy, whimsical crap that appealed to Rupert. Exactly the sort of thing his dad would never have allowed within ten miles of the Giles residence.
Jenny crouched down, trying to see if anything had survived the last-minute rush. Just, you know, out of curiosity.
Way, way at the back, actually under the shelving unit, she could just glimpse some plastic packaging.
She reached for it.
Her arm was too short.
Fortunately, a previous shopper had apparently decided against a Squeaky Clean™ All-Purpose Broom in favour of some festive merchandise.
Jenny grabbed the broom by the bristles and dragged the handle across the floor under the shelving.
“Ha!” she said triumphantly, snagging the mystery item and pulling it towards her.
When she finally got her hands on her prize, it turned out to contain a giant inflatable snowman. Eight feet tall when fully inflated, it said. Well, they had the outside space now, and Jenny knew the perfect spot for this. There was a huge muddy boot print across the front of the packet, but it also bore a yellow clearance sticker. Reduced to £9.99 – a Christmas miracle if ever Jenny had seen one.
She briefly weighed the possibility that Rupert would be annoyed with her for buying him a present in direct contravention of their agreement – what if she made him feel guilty that he hadn’t gotten her anything?
But Jenny knew Rupert well enough by now to know that he’d almost certainly have found some kind of technical loophole so that he could at least give her something. And Jenny didn’t at all like the thought of confronting that scenario empty-handed.
Rupert deserved a present, she thought fiercely. Rupert deserved a nice Christmas and all the little treats she could get away with. He was so good, and she loved him so much and he worked so hard at everything–
At this point, Jenny realised she was instinctively heading straight for the tills, clutching the inflatable snowman tightly, and she remembered that she had other things to get, too.
Rupert also deserved proper equipment for demon extermination and a chair to sit on after he’d finished slaving away over their Christmas dinner, after all.
In the early hours of Christmas morning, Jenny lay awake in the dark, moonlight sneaking in through a gap in the curtains, the country silence broken only by the sound of Rupert’s deep, slow breathing.
Try as she might, she couldn’t sleep. They’d done their best to get the house into a fit state for the Scoobies’ arrival. Since this had involved, among other things, a truly heinous amount of flatpack furniture, Jenny ought to be tired; she ought to be slumbering away like Rupert.
Instead, she kept turning arrangements for the Big Day over in her mind. The children would arrive mid-morning-ish for a couple of days of (hopefully) fun and food and relaxation. Rupert was all over preparations for a big Christmas dinner with enough leftovers to satisfy even the hungriest Slayer, and Jenny had planned a couple of games to dispel any remaining post-Sunnydale awkwardness.
She’d also sorted the sleeping arrangements. Buffy and Willow would share the biggest guest room (freshly painted in Primrose Patch, much to Jenny’s chagrin – it had matched the woodwork better), Xander would be sleeping in the room next to that (assuming the bed, which had been missing at least two screws, didn’t collapse), and Dawn would have the back bedroom (where, hopefully, her sleep wouldn’t be disturbed by the foxes that insisted on treating the back lawn like a WWE ring).
Gifts for each of the children were waiting downstairs. Because while she and Rupert were perfectly happy to forego presents themselves, neither of them was prepared for their kids to go without. And now Jenny was fretting over that, too. What if Xander didn’t like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt she’d picked out for him? They’d all grown up so much – what if he thought it was too ‘little kiddie’ for a guy who’d faced off against the First Evil? What if Dawn thought the leather satchel they’d chosen was lame? Faith hadn’t been able to make it, and, although she’d promised to come for a visit in the new year, Jenny had mailed her a little festive something, just in case. What if it didn’t arrive in time? What if–
Jenny sighed and rolled over to look at Rupert. He had absolutely no right to be sleeping so peacefully when she couldn’t. It was outrageous that he could look so cute and relaxed. It was making her feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy. Which was just so unfair.
She thought about his present, currently tucked away at the back of her side of the wardrobe, and smiled to herself. He was going to be so happy when she gave it to him–
The only problem was that, what with one thing and another, Jenny hadn’t actually had chance to wrap the goddamn thing up.
And the more she thought about it, the more she thought that just presenting Rupert with an uninflated snowman would be kinda… uninspiring. It would have been much better if she could have inflated it and had it already in place, but the busy-ness of the last couple of days had created even fewer chances to do that.
Unless… a voice at the back of her brain supplied. Unless you did it now…
Jenny turned this idea over. Maybe it was the exhaustion and lingering paint fumes, but the more she thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. She couldn’t sleep, and it made sense to use this time when Rupert wouldn’t catch her to get it set up for him. Plus, it would take her mind off her worries about tomor– later today.
It would mean getting up and going out into the cold, dark garden, though.
She looked at Rupert again, taking in his excellent face, and how tired he was, and thinking about how much she loved him, and how hard they’d been working, both on the establishment of the New Council and this extended DIY project.
Jenny made up her mind and slipped from the bed.
Twenty minutes later, Jenny was much less sure that this had been a good idea. Using the headtorch Rupert had bought for patrolling, she’d retrieved the snowman from its hiding place and carried it out to the spot she’d had in mind in the garden, no problem. It really was freezing out here, though, and Jenny was shivering despite the coat and boots she’d pulled on over her pyjamas and fluffy socks.
The main problem, though, was that her bargain basement snowman hadn’t come with a pump. And, Jenny was realising, it was actually really difficult to blow up an enormous inflatable using only the breath in your lungs – especially when your teeth would not stop chattering.
After her thirteenth attempt, Jenny was beginning to think this wasn’t going to work. The best she’d managed so far had elicited only a slight flop in one of the rounded, mittened hands.
And then she’d accidentally let all the air out again when her cold fingers slipped on the valve.
Jenny sighed to herself. She knew that they’d owned a pump for their airbed. Unfortunately, she also knew that both those things had been smashed into smithereens thousands of miles away. That really only left her with one option.
She sighed again and went to grab her phone, returning to the garden to make her call.
The sooner she got this sorted, the sooner she could go back to her nice, warm Rupert.
Unfortunately, that meant waking someone else up.
She dialled Willow’s number.
It rang for what felt to Jenny like an eternity, while she jiggled up and down on the spot, willing Willow to pick up.
“Msfgj?” a voice said eventually.
“Willow?” Jenny whispered.
“Mmmm?” came the sleepy response.
“Willow, wake up,” Jenny hissed urgently. “I need your help with a spell, and I don’t wanna end up cursing my own toes off again so I kinda really need you to be fully compos mentis this time, okay?”
“’m gettin’ there,” Willow protested.
Jenny could hear rustling and other sounds which suggested Willow was getting out of bed and heading downstairs.
“’k,” Willow said eventually. “Whaddaya need?”
“Have you got any spells for, like, inflating things?” Jenny asked.
There was a pause, then Willow ventured, “Jenny, this isn’t for, like, a, you know, a sex thing, is it?”
“Wha– No, Willow, it isn’t a sex thing,” Jenny retorted. “Why would I be calling you at three in the morning – or at all, actually – about a ‘sex thing’?”
“Okay, okay,” Willow soothed. “It’s just… why are you calling me at three in the morning?”
“For an inflating spell,” Jenny said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Well, yeah, but why?”
“Just– Can you help me or not?”
“Sure,” Willow said reasonably, “I just kinda have to know what you need it for.”
“Um… Would you believe me if I said that it was a matter of life and death?” Jenny improvised. “’Cause we’ve got some real world-saving shenanigans going down over here–”
“Honestly, no, actually,” Willow interrupted apologetically. “You’re still a really crappy liar.”
“Fine!” Jenny conceded in some exasperation. “It’s a giant inflatable snowman. Happy?”
“Jenny,” Willow said, affectionate and amused.
“I know, I know. I’m really sorry for waking you up, okay?” Jenny sighed.
“I thought you and Giles had decided not to do Christmas presents this year?”
“I just wanted to do something nice for him,” Jenny confessed.
“And I’m gonna help, okay?” Willow promised. “I totally agree that Giles deserves a cute, festive surprise, so I am only gonna claim one favour from you in return for making me miss out on my beauty sleep. Deal?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine, deal,” Jenny agreed.
“Cool,” Willow said brightly. “Okay, so, I’ve got just the thing for this. Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll text you the incantation.”
“Awesome. Thanks so much, Willow,” Jenny said, hugely relieved. “I owe you one.”
Once Willow had sent the details, it took Jenny four tries to get the spell to catch. But once she’d managed that, it was just a case of bolstering the pegs provided with a couple of fastening spells to make sure the inflatable stayed where she’d put it. Piece of cake.
She stood back to admire her handiwork.
Standing before her was, as promised on the packet, an eight-foot-tall snowman, complete with black top hat, carrot nose, stripey scarf and three buttons. He swayed slightly in the wind, smiling amiably.
Jenny had to concede that he really was kind of cute.
Mission finally accomplished, she crept back to bed and slid under the covers.
As she was getting settled, Rupert half woke up and shifted, throwing an arm over her.
“Y’re cold,” he said.
“Sorry, baby,” Jenny whispered, attempting to wriggle away. “Went to the bathroom.”
“C’mere,” he mumbled, drawing her close.
Thank the goddess for her selfless human radiator, Jenny thought as she drifted off to sleep, curled up in his arms.
Christmas Day had officially begun in the traditional Calendar-Giles manner: a lie-in, leisurely sex and then an enormous fry up. Now, Jenny was reclining on the sofa, homemade mince pie in hand, log fire blazing in the hearth, all warm and contented. The kids would be here soon, and then this evening there’d be an equally enormous Christmas dinner, and almost all her favourite people would be under one roof. And she hadn’t had to so much as look at a paintbrush, or a screwdriver, or a trowel.
Jenny was just wondering if she’d have time for a second round of festive sex with Rupert before the kids arrived. They somehow hadn’t made love in front of the fire yet, she’d realised this morning, and that was just such a waste–
Right on time, here was Rupert. Before she could open her mouth, however, he said, “Um, I know we said we weren’t going to do this, but it’s been such a busy few months a-and you’ve been working so hard, that, well, I just couldn’t let today pass without giving you something,” he glanced up nervously at Jenny. “So, er, merry Christmas, darling.”
He handed her a neatly wrapped parcel.
Jenny glared at him. (Sure, she’d expected this, but appearances had to be maintained. They’d had an agreement.)
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I love you very much, Jenny, and I feel lucky every day to have you in my life. Even more so after the trials of the last couple of years. I’m very grateful to be here with you, after everything. You make me very happy, darling, and I, I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“You don’t have to apologise for giving me a present,” Jenny said, softening, “it’s just that we did agree we weren’t gonna do presents this year, didn’t we, Rupert?”
“I think what we actually agreed was that we weren’t going to buy each other presents this year,” Rupert said, eyes sparkling. “And, um, I didn’t actually spend any money on this, so technically, Jenny, I didn’t break any rules.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Sophist.”
Rupert smiled, one of his excited, crinkly-eyed specials. “Open it!”
“Seriously, babe, thank you,” Jenny said, smiling indulgently as she started on the wrapping paper. “And, for the record, I love you very much, too. There’s definitely no one else I’d rather spend three days assembling flatpack furniture with. I kinda think that if we can do that without killing each other it, well, bodes really well for this new adventure.”
Her illicit present turned out to be a lovely soft sweater which Rupert had clearly knitted himself, in a gorgeous burgundy colour that actually looked kind of familiar–
“I made it with the yarn from the jumper of mine that proved so attractive to those Subtemen gremlins in the pantry,” Rupert explained. “Waste not, want not, my grandmother always said.”
“Thank you so much, Rupert,” Jenny said happily, leaning in for a kiss. “This must have been so much work and it’s so soft and cosy-feeling!”
“You’re very welcome,” he said warmly. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Jenny replied. She slipped the sweater on. Just oversized enough for maximum snuggliness, it was like being wrapped up in a big, warm Rupert hug. “I love this, too.”
Rupert looked very pleased with himself. Time to show him that two could play at this Christmas-present-agreement-infringing game.
“And,” she said slyly, “Because I know you, I’ve got a little surprise for you, too. Come on,” she said, standing up and heading for the kitchen.
Rupert followed obediently, just like he always did.
“It’s outside,” Jenny explained, slipping on her boots. Rupert followed suit.
Once she’d unlocked the back door, she turned to Rupert again.
“Close your eyes,” she commanded playfully.
Rupert’s brow furrowed, but he did as he was told.
“Good Rupert,” Jenny teased, taking his hands in hers and helping him out of the door.
He was smiling, too, now, even though Jenny could sense his puzzlement.
On impulse, she leaned in and snuck another kiss, soft and adoring and a little teasing.
“Trust me, baby,” she murmured, pulling away.
Rupert’s eyelids fluttered but he didn’t open his eyes. He was so good for her, every time, Jenny thought with a familiar swell of smitten joy.
“I do,” Rupert said. “Always. Completely.”
She was really glad he had his eyes shut. He did not need to see the goofy, lovesick smile on her face. Even though, judging from his expression, he definitely knew it was there anyway. Asshole.
As she guided Rupert carefully towards his surprise, Jenny felt a flash of anxiety: what if he didn’t like it? It was a bit late now to take it back, and it was really too big to play off as a joke.
He would like it, she told herself firmly. He’d been looking at it or something very much like it and hadn’t wanted her to see. That was pretty solid evidence that he had at least a passing interest in giant inflatable festive novelties.
“Okay,” she said once she’d positioned him to her satisfaction. “Open your eyes.”
The snowman was worth every penny. Jenny promised herself right there that she was going to buy Rupert a stupid, whimsical Christmas thing every year, just to replicate his reaction.
She could see instantly that he loved it. The soft gasp as he took in their new addition, the way that big, unselfconscious schoolboy grin spread across his precious face, the fact that his eyes lit up…
And then he seemed to deflate slightly. And she recognised that, too. Hot on the heels of happiness came the guilt of having forgotten – even for a second – about his Calling, and the shame of having liked something – even for a moment – that was childish and silly and frivolous.
“Jenny, you shouldn’t have,” he said softly.
“It was on sale, and it was way less effort than knitting a whole goddamn sweater,” she shot back defensively. “And it made you smile – like, real big! It was worth every penny.”
Taking her hand, Rupert said, “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, Jenny. It’s a lovely idea, and–” he bit his lip and continued, “a-and I, um, well, I do really like him– um, it. It’s just–”
“It’s just nothing, Rupert,” Jenny insisted. “I know you love holidays and all the associated garbage – we decorated the apartment and Magic Box together every time, remember? And it wasn’t all for the benefit of the kids and the customers, was it? But all our holiday garbage is in a big crater on the other side of the planet. So, I wanted to do something nice for you for exactly the same reasons you wanted to do something nice for me, okay? I love you so much and things have been really stressful, and you deserve a silly, fun break from real life, okay?”
He was looking at her with wide, adoring eyes.
“So, we’re going to try that again, okay?” she said firmly. “Look at your snowman and tell me what you think.”
Rupert turned his gaze back to his present. After a few moments, he said quietly, “I love it. Thank you, Jenny.” A couple of moments more, and he giggled. “Look at the way he wobbles in the wind!”
He turned suddenly, catching a surprised Jenny in a tight hug. She could feel him smiling against her hair.
“I love it,” he said again. “He’s so jolly! And his hat and scarf are very smart, too! Thank you,” he added happily as he let go of her.
“No problem,” Jenny said, grinning like an idiot again and not caring at all. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
“Thank you,” Rupert said warmly, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer. “Merry Christmas to you, too, sweetheart.”
“You can stop saying ‘thank you’, now, Rupert,” Jenny said wryly, slipping her arms around his waist.
“But I like it very much!” he protested. “No one has ever gone to such lengths to make my Christmas magical.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.
“I’m not sure ‘lengths’ really applies to rummaging around under some shelves for, like, ten seconds,” Jenny said doubtfully.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Rupert said sagely. He gave her another kiss. “I’m very lucky.”
“Me too,” Jenny murmured.
After a moment, she said, “I think we should call him ‘Snyder’.”
“Absolutely not, Jenny,” he said.
“Why not? I think it’s a good name,” Jenny insisted.
“He’s a cheerful, friendly, happy snowman. He has nothing in common with that dubiously sentient toenail clipping,” Rupert sniffed.
“Fine,” Jenny conceded. “What about ‘Spike’?”
He shook his head. “Too soon.”
“You’re making this so difficult,” Jenny complained.
“Well, he’s my snowman. I think I should be able to choose his name.”
“Go on then,” she challenged, twisting to look up at him.
“All right. Erm…”
“And you can’t call him ‘Shakespeare’ or anything highbrow like that, okay,” Jenny cut in.
“I wasn’t going to call him ‘Shakespeare’,” he retorted. “How about, um, ‘Slade’?”
“Like the band?” Jenny said doubtfully, twisting back to look critically at the snowman. “I don’t think he really looks like a Slade, Rupert.”
“I think you might be right, actually,” Rupert agreed ruefully.
“How about ‘Sunnydale’?” Jenny suggested. “We could call him ‘Sunny’ for short.”
“You can’t have a snowman called Sunny, Jenny,” he protested.
“Let’s see what the kids say, shall we?” Jenny said archly, as she let go of him and turned back to the house.
Rupert sighed and followed. He had a feeling that this would generate considerable debate over Christmas dinner.
As he reached the threshold, he looked back at the snowman, unable to suppress a smile.
His eyes widened and his smile grew into a grin as the first flakes started to fall. It wasn’t going to be heavy enough to impede the children’s arrival, but it really did satisfy the childish part of him that had always wished–
“Jenny!” Giles called, transparently delighted. “It’s snowing!”
As Giles pulls the door shut behind him, we pan out, taking in the house, and the garden, and the little village in the green and pleasant landscape, pulling smoothly back among the snow flurries, the whole scene laid out before us like a snow globe on a tourist’s mantelpiece.
Even at this distance, we can just make out a small white blob: the smiling snowman at his station, ever ready to bring Christmas cheer, goodwill, and peace to all.