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Christmas Eve, 2005 – somewhere in rural New Hampshire:
Giles hummed happily as he poured himself and Jenny another mug of mulled wine each.
When he returned to the living room and handed Jenny hers, she thanked him and said fondly, “You’re such a sheepdog, aren’t you?”
“I-I’m not sure what you mean, dearest,” he said taking the seat next to her on the sofa.
“Just, you really like having all your… flock, or whatever, under one roof, don’t you?” she clarified, putting her novelty-slippered feet in his lap. “All the kids rounded up and safe and sound and fed and watered and tucked up in the same place.”
Not entirely sure how to respond to this, Giles stalled, “‘Flock’ makes me sound like a vicar, Jenny.”
“Quit stalling,” she said, smiling wryly. “It’s not a criticism, anyway. I like having them all, here, too. It’s way too long since we were all together like this.”
“Well, sheepdogginess aside,” Giles replied, “I agree wholeheartedly with that.”
Jenny smirked. “You’ve spent way too long with the kids. 1997 Rupert would have bitten off his own tongue before making up a word like ‘sheepdogginess’.”
“Well, 1997 Rupert was far too uptight about a number of things,” he conceded.
“Wow,” Jenny said, her voice dripping with sarcastic awe, “you really have grown as a person over the years. Anything else on the ‘I was wrong’ list I ought to know about?”
“Keep that up and I won’t get you any more mulled wine,” he admonished her.
Predictably this did not work.
“Rupert, I’m an independent woman. I buy my own shoes. Get my own mulled wine.” Jenny pondered this. “That ought to have been in the song, too.”
“Perhaps they should do a festive version, then they could incorporate that one,” Giles suggested.
“Aaaand who actually sang the song, Rupert?”
“Destiny’s Child,” he said immediately. Almost as if someone(s) had spent the better part of a decade grilling him on pop culture trivia.
“Well done, England,” Jenny said proudly.
“Do I win some sort of prize?”
Jenny considered. “Um. Your prize could be that I’ll go get the next round of mulled wine top ups?”
Giles looked at Jenny’s mug and said disbelievingly, “You’ve gone through that whole mug already?”
“Only because you made it so good!” she protested.
“Well, you found that particular recipe online, so I think this counts as a team effort,” he pointed out.
He drained his own mug and held it out to her. “Go on then. Top me up. It is Christmas, after all.”
“That’s it, babe,” Jenny said. “It’s what Jesus would have wanted. Or something.”
On her way back from the kitchen, Jenny almost tripped herself up by accidentally standing on the back of one of her racing-car-shaped slippers. The sound she made, like a startled pterodactyl, elicited a round of snort-giggles from Giles.
“Don’t you dare,” she threatened him as she righted herself and made her way over. “Stop laughing at me or I’ll drink yours, too.”
“Duly noted, sweetheart,” he said, suppressing a smile. “I’m very impressed that you managed not to spill any.”
“Practice,” Jenny said smugly. “And you should know by now that I’m a woman of many talents.”
“Indeed you are,” Giles agreed, leaning over to kiss her softly on the cheek. “It does make me rethink actually giving you a new pair of ludicrous slippers tomorrow, however.”
Jenny looked dismayed.
“I simply have an extremely vested interest in my wife not severely injuring herself due to her frankly impractical taste in footwear,” he explained apologetically.
“They keep my feet warm!” Jenny argued. “And they’re so cute and fun! Plus, it’s a tradition! And you’re so good at finding fun pairs. That’s natural talent, right there, Rupert.”
“I think I have rather excelled myself with the choice this year,” he confessed.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yes. I think you’ll like these even more than the shark ones I bought you two years ago.”
“Well, there you go then,” Jenny said, visibly delighted. “You gotta go through with it if this is a Better-Than-The-Sharks Scenario. That’s just science, Rupert.”
He regarded her fondly. “All right, I never could refuse you anything. Why should I start with novelty slippers?”
“Excellently reasoned, Mr. Giles,” Jenny said, squeezing his hand affectionately. “I cannot wait to see what you’ve come up with.”
They were silent for a while, just leaning into each other and sipping their wine.
“It really is nice to have everybody together again,” Giles said eventually.
“Definitely,” Jenny nodded. She added, “Kinda bummed that everyone’s gone to bed so early, though.”
“I do know what you mean,” Giles sighed. “Still, we’ll be able to spend lots of time together over the next few days, so that should be lovely.”
“Yeah, it’s just… when did they all get so grown up?” Jenny mused. “I remember when it was us putting the kibosh on Scooby party plans on the grounds of needing to go to bed at a halfway sensible hour. They should at least have had the decency to help us with this wine.”
“Hmmm,” Giles said, with a kiss to Jenny’s temple, “I suppose the jetlag offers some excuses for Dawn and Buffy, at least. And, and Willow and Xander did have a long drive. They’re probably just saving themselves for the future festivities.”
Jenny’s brow furrowed. “‘Future festivities’. ‘s really hard to say!”
“Is it?” Giles asked, turning the phrase over in his mind. “Future festivities, future festivities, future feshtivities, future feshtivitieieies—” He stopped and smiled ruefully. “Ah, yes, point taken.”
“And we’ll definitely have to make sure the kids enjoy the ‘feshtivities’,” Jenny said, smiling and then snuggling closer. “Make it extra special this year ‘cause it’s been so long – and we don’t know when we’ll all get the chance to be together again.”
“We’ve already sorted the presents, and we’ve planned an excellent menu, and we’ve decorated thoroughly – what else did you have in mind, Jenny?” he asked.
She thought about this, looking around the room as if for inspiration. Her eyes alighted on her red thermal leggings, drying by the heater after an afternoon of vicious snowball fighting.
She looked back at Giles and grinned. “Got it. But I’ll need something from you to pull it off.”
“What is it?” he asked cautiously.
Jenny leaned in to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling. She pulled back and fixed him with a Look. “This is serious, Rupert, okay? Are you gonna help or not?”
“Of course,” he said repentantly. “It’s such a, a delightful, amusing idea – I’ll just go and get what you’ve asked for, darling. The children will love it, I’m sure.”
“Awesome,” she said happily. “The kids are gonna lose their minds.”
Later, on their way to bed, Jenny tripped on the top step and nearly toppled back down the stairs. She just managed to grab Giles’ sweater to save herself.
He turned in alarm to check on her and nearly fell himself.
He held her gaze for a moment before they both dissolved into helpless giggles.
Jenny pressed both hands to her mouth in an effort to muffle the sound, but Giles was too busy gazing at Jenny – at her bright, laughing eyes and flushed cheeks – to do anything about his own.
A door opened and Dawn’s head popped out.
“’s goin’ on?” she asked grumpily.
“Nothing,” Giles said immediately. He tried to pull himself together. “Everything’s fine, Dawn. Sorry to have woken you.” He gestured at Jenny. “Jenny tripped, that’s all.”
Dawn regarded the pair of them for a long moment, before favouring them with a “Hmmm…” and a final glare before disappearing back into the room she was sharing with Buffy.
They heard Buffy’s sleepy query and then Dawn’s explanation as she shut the door, “’s fine. They’re wasted and on their way to bed, that’s all.”
Jenny and Giles locked gazes again. Another round of giggles threatening, they hastened into their own room, which was mercifully at the other end of the landing from the children’s rooms.
When they’d closed the door behind them, Jenny relinquished her hold on Giles’ sweater and hit him playfully on the shoulder.
“‘Jenny tripped’?” she demanded with mock indignation. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you nearly falling, too! Then we’d both have gone plunging down the stairs.”
“Don’t know what you mean, darling. A Watcher is always perfectly poised,” he said with mock pomposity, dipping his head to claim a kiss.
As they broke apart, Jenny glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“We should be getting to bed,” she whispered. “Or Santa won’t pay us a visit.”
Giles felt another fit of the giggles bubbling up, and he could see the same impulse in Jenny’s eyes.
“No,” he said with would-be sternness. “If we start that again we’ll never get to sleep.”
“Killjoy,” Jenny said, giving him an exaggeratedly disappointed look. “Bed time it is, then.”
She kissed Giles again softly. “Night, England.”
“Good night, Jenny,” he murmured.
Fifteen minutes later, they were both sleeping soundly, Jenny nestled snugly against Giles’ side.
The following morning, Jenny joined Giles in the kitchen just as he was filling the kettle.
“Morning,” she murmured sleepily.
“Morning,” he said, turning to give her a kiss. “Merry Christmas, darling.”
Jenny smiled. “Right back atcha, Rupert.”
“I thought you might be able to have a bit of a lie-in this morning, Jenny,” he fretted. “It’s the school holidays, after all, and we were up rather late last night—”
“Are you kidding?” she said, smiling as she slipped into a chair at the kitchen table. “I want to see the kids’ faces when they find our surprise!”
“Ah, yes,” Giles said, putting the kettle on. He glanced at the ceiling. “Rather looking forward to that myself. I’m sure they’ll be delighted with it.”
“Oh, they’re gonna love it,” Jenny asserted, “no doubt about that. I kinda can’t believe we’re up before them, though,” she added. “How much sleep do they need?”
“I’m sure they’ll be with us before long, dearest,” Giles assured her. “They probably need a restful break. And I’m sure that, when they do join us, they will be overjoyed with the surprise.”
“Uh huh,” Jenny said happily. “We’re so good at Christmas.”
An hour or so later, however, Jenny’s faith in their Christmas abilities was starting to waver somewhat. Scooby after Scooby had come downstairs, each well-rested and excited for the day ahead, and each had trooped into the living room before gravitating towards the kitchen, where Rupert had started preparations for breakfast.
So, here they all were, gathered around the kitchen table, laughing and joking and catching up together, and…
And not one of them had mentioned The Thing Jenny and Giles Had Set Up in the Living Room.
Every time one of the kids opened their mouth, Jenny kept hoping that they were going to rectify this scenario. From her surreptitious glances at Rupert, she could see that he was slightly perturbed by this, too.
Jenny was just beginning to consider dropping some unsubtle hints, when Buffy asked, “What is going on with you guys this morning?” Buffy asked. “You got anything you wanna tell us?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Giles said loftily.
“Oh, you so do,” Buffy retorted. “You’ve been giving each other little looks, and chuckling away when you think we’re not looking, and you,” she said, pointing at Jenny, “keep glancing at the doorway like you’re considering making a break for it. So, I’m gonna ask again: anything you wanna tell us?”
Jenny and Giles exchanged looks.
“Not exactly,” Jenny said pointedly.
“Oh my god, you’re pregnant!” Dawn exclaimed. “I knew it!”
“Woah, there, Dawnie,” Jenny said, holding up a hand. “I’m not— We haven't— I mean, that’s not it.”
“Yeah,” Xander said holding up the empty mulled wine pan, “JC wouldn’t have been chugging the grown-up beverages so enthusiastically last night if she knew she wasn’t riding solo.”
“Thanks, Xander,” Jenny said, rolling her eyes. “Definitely not pregnant. Or planning to be any time soon. You guys are trouble enough as it is.”
There was a chorus of “hey’s!”
“So… what is it, then?” Xander asked, head cocked to one side. “If it’s not a mini-Calendar-Giles, what’s got you two all giggly?”
“You mean you really haven’t noticed anything… different this morning?” Giles said innocently.
The Scoobies exchanged cautious glances.
“Nope,” Willow said, answering for them all.
Jenny and Giles looked at each other, clearly a little disappointed.
“Not even in the living room?” Jenny said, turning back to the kids.
They stared at her for a long moment, trying to remember if anything had seemed different. Then there was an unseemly scramble to be the first into the living room to check. Jenny was pretty sure she saw Dawn try to trip Xander.
Jenny and Giles looked at each other again, and this time it was full of excited anticipation. They hurried after the kids, eager to see their reactions to their efforts.
They found the kids standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the little tableau they'd arranged the night before: Jenny’s red thermal leggings sticking out of the chimney, stuffed to the brim with scrunched-up newspaper, ending in Giles’ big, black winter boots, dangling over the unlit fire.
“Well?” Giles asked eagerly when nobody said anything.
The kids exchanged looks again.
“It’s Santa!” Jenny said excitedly into the spreading silence. “And he got stuck in the chimney! Don’t you guys get it or whatever?”
“Oh, I think we got it all right, JC,” Xander said. “Just a little hazy on the ‘why’.”
“‘Why’?” Jenny echoed, starting to look a little downcast. “It’s cute, and fun, and, and festive, that’s why, Xander.”
“Oh, okay, then,” he said. After a beat, he added “So, uh, breakfast? I thought last night I heard promises of a full English from our very own fully English friend, and—”
“Don’t you like it?” Giles cut in, sounding distinctly crestfallen.
“I mean, it’s not really a case of liking exactly—” Willow began, soothingly.
“It took us ages to get it to stay up there,” Jenny muttered, a disappointed pout threatening, as they all turned and headed back to the kitchen.
“And you did a really good job!” Willow hastened to add. “A-and it’s really nice that you guys thought to do this. It’s just… I’m not sure you’ve chosen the right audience, you know?”
“Well, if we can’t deliver well-meaning festive fun for you lot, who are we supposed to be delivering it for?” Giles complained, picking up his spatula again.
“We’re not sixteen anymore, guys,” Buffy sighed, rolling her eyes with affectionate exasperation. She thought for a moment then added, “And, actually, even sixteen is probably a little too old for this kinda shenanigan.”
“You guys really were wasted last night, huh?” Dawn said, wryly amused.
“We just wanted to do something, well, nice for you, to, to celebrate us all being together again,” Giles said, rather defensively.
“And we weren’t wasted,” Jenny objected. “Just… a little tipsy. Right, Rupert?”
“Yes,” he said indignantly, “perfectly in keeping with the, um, spirit of the season.”
“Exactly,” Jenny continued. “We’re not even hungover. And we’ve been much drunker than that. I mean, that was nothing compared to that one time we–” She stopped suddenly, noticing Giles’ frantic hand signals. “Oh, um, yeah, maybe not one for Scooby ears,” she finished lamely.
“Thank god you guys have got so much better at that over the years,” Dawn put in.
“Drinking?” Giles asked, puzzled.
Dawn shook her head. “Knowing what’s for Scooby ears.”
“I mean, it could still use some work. Plus, you definitely need some practice on what’s for Scooby eyes,” Buffy said affectionately. “I did not need to see you guys making out under the mistletoe yesterday evening.”
“It’s mistletoe,” Giles protested. “That’s what it’s for. And we had no idea you were there.”
“Plus,” Jenny added, “we weren’t making out. That was super tame compared to—”
“You know, you’re really just proving my point,” Buffy interrupted wryly.
“It’s funny, really,” Xander mused. “You guys still think we’re kiddie enough to enjoy that little diorama in the living room but you also kinda expect us to deal with, uh, scenes of an adult nature.”
“Yeah,” Dawn agreed, “which is it?”
Giles opened his mouth to answer, when there was a thunder of Faith feet on the stairs. From the sound of it, she jumped the last four entirely and then only just avoided careening into the mirror on the wall opposite. Giles winced in sympathy with her knees.
Her footsteps headed towards the living room and Giles had just opened his mouth to shout that they were all in the kitchen when Faith yelled, “Holy shit! Oh man!”
“Faith?” he called. “Everything all right?”
“Hell yeah!” she said, grinning as she appeared in the doorway. Turning to the Scoobies, she added, “Did you guys see the set up in the chimney?”
“Um, yeah,” Buffy answered, glancing uncertainly at the Scoobies.
“Isn’t it the funniest thing?”
The Scoobies exchanged another look.
“The whole ‘Santa got stuck in Jenny and Giles’ chimney’ deal?” Faith clarified when no one seemed willing to bite.
“I think we kinda thought it was dumb,” Dawn said with an apologetic look at Giles.
“Dumb?” Faith echoed. “I think it’s the cutest freaking thing I’ve ever seen.”
She turned incredulously to Giles.
“They didn’t even notice it until Jenny gave them a clue,” he said, an edge of disappointed petulance to his voice.
Faith looked shocked. “They didn’t even— You guys have no sense of fun, you know that right?”
“What I know,” Buffy said wryly, “is that Giles and Jenny had way too much mulled wine last night and let the fact that they still think of us as ‘the children’ exert an undue influence over their actions - even though we are all now in possession of fully developed frontal cortexes.”
“We thought it would be fun,” Giles muttered.
“It is fun,” Faith insisted. “I mean, I never really had a shiny happy Christmas as a kid but I know festive fun when I see it, G.”
“I always said you were a woman of taste and discernment, Faith,” Jenny said.
“Hey, does that make us not women of taste and discernment?” Willow asked, gesturing to herself, Buffy and Dawn.
“In this particular case?” Jenny answered slowly. “I’d have to say a resounding ‘yeah’, Will. Sorry.”
“Let this be a lesson to all of you to be sure you show us the proper appreciation for our efforts to inject a bit of whimsy into your lives,” Giles said with mock severity. “I’m going to give Faith an extra sausage as a reward for her stellar taste.”
“I thought I was going to get an extra sausage?” Jenny said, in tones of injured outrage.
“Ah, it’s cool, Jen. Definitely happy to let you have this one. Thanks, G, but I’ll pass,” Faith said, patting Giles on the shoulder. “We all know there’s only one person here you really wanna give your sausage to, anyway.”
The Scoobies made elaborate ‘ew, gross’ noises, while Jenny choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken before dissolving into helpless cough-laughter. Giles, ears pink, turned back to the stove to start plating up.
As they sat down to eat, Faith said, with a cheerful stab at a Cockney accent, “Gawd bless us, every one!”
When they all stared, she added, “What? Can’t a girl catch up on her seasonal reading without gettin’ judged?”
Giles looked at her pointedly.
“Fine,” she conceded with a smirk. “I watched the Muppets’ movie. And skimmed the Wikipedia page. Sue me. Let’s hear your Old London accent, G.”
All eyes turned to Giles.
“Very well,” he sighed. He cleared his throat and then said chirpily, “Gawd bliss us iv’ry one!”
There was an appalled silence.
“How was Faith’s better?” Buffy asked incredulously.
When Giles started to protest, Jenny cut him off with a pat on the shoulder. “You’re good at other things, babe.”
“Well, the sentiment was right, anyway,” Giles said.
Jenny considered this. “What is the sentiment of that particular line when translated to a non-denominational, twenty-first century context? Kind of a ‘hope everybody has good health and good fortune – at Christmas and beyond’?”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Giles said, smiling warmly at her.
“Yep,” Faith put in. “Health and fortune always winners in my book. Let’s all of us have some of that, yeah?”
“I’ll raise a mug to that,” Xander agreed. “Then let’s eat, drink, and be merry!”
“Yeah,” Jenny said, taking in the table full of her favourite people. She grinned and caught Giles’ eye. “Let’s.”
(They were dragons. With wings that lit up.)