4. On the Fourth Day of Christmas… Four Calling Birds, by Cass

28th December 2003

“Die, creature of the night!” The snarling words greeted Spike as the disconcerting shifting of time began to centre on their destination. Off guard and disorientated, he crouched into fighting stance, warily searching for the direction of the threat.

As his surroundings came into clearer focus, he glanced quickly around, taking in the slightly shabby decoration, the mismatched assortment of furniture and the eclectic collection of objects arranged haphazardly on shelves and tables. It was all vaguely familiar. Come to think of it, the voice had sounded familiar, too. He straightened up.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Andrew, do you have to?” A long-suffering female voice focused his attention on the sofa.

He felt a disconcerting tug in his chest, a sudden overwhelming rush of affection. “Nibblet.” he said softly.

She was sitting on the sofa, legs tucked underneath her, flicking through a magazine. She’d cut her hair, he noticed, the long, straight tresses trimmed to a sleek, shoulder-skimming bob. He could hardly believe the change a few short months had made in her. The leggy, awkward child he’d helped break into the Magic Box, the broken girl he’d guarded and fretted over during the long months following Buffy’s fall from the tower, the uncertain teenager who had struggled to find her place among the potentials – they had gone. Little bit was all grown up. He felt an absurd surge of pride.

Illyria examined Dawn coolly. “This is the one that holds your affection. She was your lover?”

“No. No!” Spike frowned at Illyria. “She’s… Buffy’s sister. She’s a friend, is all. Or she was a friend… a sort of friend…” his voice tailed away. If you hurt my sister at all... touch her... you're gonna wake up on fire. He winced.

Illyria watched the play of emotions on his face with detached interest. “She looks a feeble creature to instil so much feeling.”

“Well, it just shows what you know.” Spike glared at her.

Illyria’s gaze shifted. A spark of interest flashed in the coldness of her eyes. “This one plays the game. It is like the other - pointless and annoying. Yet still he plays.” She tilted her head at the screen, examining the luridly coloured picture intently. “Where is the Crash Bandicoot?”

Spike dragged his eyes away from Dawn. He looked in the direction of Illyria’s gaze and snorted. “Pointless and annoyin’. Yeah, just about sums him up.”

Andrew concentrated hard on the screen in front of him, controller grasped tightly in his hands, thumbs working rapidly. “I am The Demonslayer, bright lord of the kingdom of Garth. Evil cowers before me! Ha! Take that! Oh.” He looked at the television in disbelief. “Hey! That’s no fair! A blue dragon always trumps a werewolf!” He put down the controller with a pout. “They killed my army.”

“He has an army?” Illyria looked at Andrew with more interest. “One such as this, commands a legion of warriors?”

“Only in his imagination.” Spike shook his head. “It’s a game, Bluebell. Not that many people really have armies and dragons at their disposal. Present company excepted.”

“He considers the destruction of armies a game?”

“Yeah. It’s fun when it’s not real, you know. Or maybe you prefer it when it is.” Spike added.

“Oh, good. You’re dead.” Dawn sighed. “Maybe we could do something else then? I’m kinda bored.”

“Mmmm…” Andrew frowned distractedly. “Hey, maybe if I use the Gem of Orcadia…” he picked up the controller again and once more focused his attention on the screen.

“Andrew, I’m bored…” Dawn whined. Spike grimaced. Maybe she wasn’t so grown up after all.

There was a moment silence, then Andrew gave a whoop of delight. “That’s it! I should’ve thought of it before! Take that, denizens of the dark lord!”

“He takes great delight in such a trivial and pointless thing.” Illyria tilted her head at Andrew curiously.

“Well, it’s fun.” Spike shrugged. “You know, fun?”

Illyria looked at him blankly.

“Well, maybe not.” he conceded.

There was a knock on the door. Dawn looked at Andrew. “That’ll be for you again.” She folded her arms.

“Shouldn’t think so.” Andrew’s attention was focused on the screen.

“Well, it was the last time someone came calling. Caprice and Isabella, and that Maria. ‘Can Andrew come out and play?’” Dawn simpered. “Don’t know what they see in you.” She muttered.

“Me neither.” Spike grunted. “Don’t suppose the boy knows what to do with one bird, let alone three of them.”

“Try your puny werewolves on my dragon now, you traitor…” Andrew growled at the screen. Dawn shook her head. “If this is another of your girlfriends...”

“Buon Natale!” The door opened on a dark haired woman dressed in an expensively tailored black coat, which was open to reveal a dangerously low cut dress. “I am so glad I caught you at ‘ome!” She smiled expansively at Dawn.

Spike peered past Dawn. “Hey!” he said in surprise. “That’s what’s-her-name. I recognise the…” his eyes were drawn inexorably to her well-displayed cleavage. They heaved as she breathed, magically remaining gravity defying, despite no obvious support. He shook himself and dragged his eyes away. “Well, whatever. What the hell is she doing here?”

Dawn gave the woman a puzzled frown. “Umm… hello?”

“And ‘ello to you, too! My name is Ilona. I am the niece of Signora Gambino - your concierge, si? So, my aunt she is thinking, you are new to Roma, and maybe you do not know so many people and you are missing your family – so far away from home at this time of year – is so sad! She worry, you know? But she ‘as gone back to her village for the ‘olidays and cannot be here herself, so, I come to visit and say ciao and bring you a leetle Italian hospitality!” She held up the bag.

“Oh! Right!” Dawn gave her a bemused smile.

“My aunt, she mentioned me, no?”

“No… I mean, yes!” Dawn shook her head.

“So. I can come in maybe?” Ilona tilted her head with a smile.

“Sorry! Of course! Please…” she stepped aside to let Ilona enter the apartment.

“Well, that’s believable, I don’t think.” Spike snorted. “She’s the CEO of Wolfram and Hart!”

“CEO?” Illyria tilted her head at Ilona.

“Head honcho. Like Angel, only…” his eyes wandered back to Ilona’s chest. He smirked. “…different. Can’t see her being the type to make social calls. Leastways, not unless she’s after something.” He moved closer to Ilona. “Keepin’ a careful eye on you, pet.” He told her breasts.

“You lust after this CEO.” Illyria observed dispassionately.

“No!” Spike frowned at her, then shrugged. “Well, yeah… she’s got certain… attractions.”

“Attractions?” Illyria examined Ilona carefully. “Your race wastes much energy in this process of attraction. It distracts from what is important.” She turned away. “Why would the Wolf, Ram and Hart concern themselves over this insignificant creature?” Illyria peered at Dawn more closely.

“That, as they say, is the question.” Spike narrowed his eyes at Ilona.

Ilona came inside and looked around appraisingly. “Oh, you have a very nice apartment. You have made it very nice.” She took off her coat and put it and her bag down on the floor. She turned to Andrew with a smile.

“Buon Natale!” She spread her arms, walked over to the sofa, bent and kissed him on each cheek. The manoeuvre brought her cleavage into very close proximity to Andrew’s face and he froze, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, an alarmed grin firmly in place. “And you are…?”

The question hung on the air for an inordinately long time. Andrew’s glazed gaze was fixed on Ilona’s breasts and showed no sign of moving any time soon. The ability to speak seemed to have deserted him.

“Andrew.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “His name is Andrew.”

“Andrew.” Ilona purred. “Is very good to meet you.”

Andrew gave a nervous giggle and earned another eye roll from Dawn.

Ilona’s gaze swept around the apartment, as if searching for something. “So, there is another, I think? A blonde girl…” She turned back to Dawn.

“Buffy… my sister.”

“Ah, si? Boofy! Is an… unusual name. So, Boofy she is not ‘ere?” Ilona’s voice was carefully neutral.

Spike watched her expression closely. “She’s after Buffy.” he narrowed his eyes at her. “Bet that’s what it is. Checking out how the land lays with the new slayer in town.”

“She’s out.” Dawn thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans and gave the trademark pout. “With her ancient woobie.”

“Woobie?” Ilona looked at her with a puzzled frown.

“Boyfriend… I suppose.” Dawn translated. “Creep.” She muttered under her breath.

Spike grinned. “That’s my girl.”

“It pleases you that this one does not care for her sister’s…” Illyria hesitated. “Woobie.”

“Oh, yeah.” Spike gave a tight smile. “Pleases me mightily. Little bit’s a good judge of character – better than her sister, as it turns out.”

“Then this Buffy is the one for whom you have feelings.” Illyria examined Dawn more closely. “You care for this one because she is her sister.”

“No.” Spike frowned. “Not that. Look, I watched out for Dawn once, while Buffy was… away. She needed takin’ care of.””

“Why would you care for her? She is not your kin.”

“I made a promise.”

“To your gods?”

“No, not exactly. To Buffy. Look, bluebell, it’s… kinda complicated.” Spike shook his head. Not going there, not now. “Anyways, it wasn’t just the promise. The little bit – you said she wasn’t kin, and yeah, OK, she wasn’t but she’s the nearest thing to a little sister I’ve had. I looked out for her because…” he shrugged uncomfortably “I cared, OK?”

“There is little logic in your argument. Protecting this one was of no benefit to you.”

“I wasn’t out for benefit.” Spike glared at her. “It isn’t always about what you get out of it.”

“Woobie.” Ilona gave a throaty chuckle. “I must remember that word. You Americans, huh? Always making the new words! Woobie.” She chuckled again and glanced around the apartment. Her eyes fell on the carved wood nativity scene sitting next to a small, colourfully decorated Christmas tree. It was Dawn’s current pride and joy, and she’d flirted outrageously with the stallholder to get the delicately painted figure for a good price. “Oh! You have made il presepe! Bello!” Ilona picked up one of the figures. She gave a puzzled frown. “But this angel, he is unlike any angel I have seen before.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “That’s because he’s Obi Wan Kenobi. Andrew made the wings.”

“Gabriel fell into the candle. He kinda got charred.” Andrew gave a sheepish grin.

A fleeting puzzled frown creased Ilona’s forehead. “Ah, si? He was trying to be Icarus, maybe?” She laughed. “You are a very clever and resourceful man I think, Andrew.” She replaced the figure gently.

“He makes a very fine angel.”

Andrew glowed.

Dawn glared at him. “He would probably have survived if you hadn’t scrubbed him with the nail-brush.” She muttered.

“No matter!” Ilona picked up a glazed vase from a shelf. “Ah, si bella! Very pretty. This pottery, she is made in my local village. It make me think of ‘ome!” She replaced the vase on the shelf, positioning it carefully, and turned with a smile. “Now.” She crossed back to the sofa and sat next to Dawn. “Is time for presents!

Spike examined the vase suspiciously. “Hey! She’s put something in the corner!” He peered at the shelf more closely “Some sort of little electronic gizmo. Told you she was after something. Only bloody well bugged the place, hasn’t she! The crafty...”

Ilona picked up her bag. “I am like La Belfana, no?” Her chuckle was met with blank stares. “You ‘ave not ‘eard of La Belfana? No? Ammàzzete! La Belfana she is the witch who bring the presents to the good children of Italia. OK, is a leetle early maybe. She come on La Festa dell'Epifania – ‘ow you say… the epiphany… but, no matter! Is never too early for presents!” she rummaged in the bag. “I ‘ave brought you il torrone,“ she placed a slab of nougat studded with dried fruits and nuts on the coffee table, “and also il panforte - ah, is my favourite! We make a special gingerbread with the hazelnut and the honey and almonds… Magnifico!” A box of the biscuits joined the nougat. “Always they contain nuts! You know why, huh?” She gave Andrew a wink. “It is for the fertility! To bring you strong seed and many babies!”

Andrew blanched. “I have a nut allergy.” He said weakly.

“Figures.” Dawn snorted.

Ilona reached into the bag once more. “And I bring…” she produced a bottle with a flourish. “Prosecco! What could be better, huh?”

Dawn looked at the bottle appreciatively. “I’ll get the glasses.”

Ilona dug into her bag again. “And I will get… this.” She brought out a plastic container. “You ‘ave tried cicerata? No? Oh, but is so good! Eet is a traditional sweet for the Christmastime ’ere in Roma. This ‘ere my aunt made.”

Dawn came back with the glasses and corkscrew and peered at the small, round balls suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

“Oh, only good things – almonds, candied fruit, honey, oranges…” Ilona opened the bottle expertly and poured them each a glass of wine. “Try!”

Dawn took one of the balls. “Wow! That is good!”

Spike watched Ilona suspiciously. “You think she’s put something in them? Drugs or something?”

Illyria watched the expression of pleasure on Dawn’s face. “This is peasant food. Yet she finds delight in it.”

“See?” Ilona handed the container to Andrew. “And with the wine is perfetto, no?”

Dawn took a sip of the wine. “Oh! It’s sweet! I didn’t know wine came in sweet! Mmm… lovely!” She downed half the glass and started on the gingerbread.

Ilona watched her indulgently. “So, tell me what you ‘ave been doing. You ‘ave been exploring Roma?”

“A little. We went to the Christmas markets. They were so quaint! So many cute things! That’s where I bought the crib.”

“Ah, si the markets are much fun! And did you see the Zampognari and Pifferai? The bagpipers and flute players? No? Oh, is a shame! They are very colourful. They live in the Abruzzi mountains and then at Christmas they come to Roma to entertain the peoples. Ah, you should see!” Ilona considered. “We go! I show you! Come! Come!” she stood up and picked up her coat. “You must wrap up warmly – it is like the giornate della merla – the days of the blackbird. Very cold!”

“OK!” Dawn gave a delighted smile and downed the last of her wine. She stood up a little unsteadily, giggled and got her coat. Andrew crammed a handful of the cicerata into his mouth, grabbed a few panforte and followed the two women to the door.

“Isn’t this better than Playstation?” Dawn hooked her arm through his and reached up to give him a swift kiss on the cheek. Andrew blushed with pleasure.

“So!” Ilona smiled at them. “We are ready, yes? Let us go… and on the way, you must tell me all about yourselves…”

Spike watched the door close with a frown. “I don’t trust her.” He picked up one of the cicerata, sniffed it suspiciously, then put it in his mouth. “Hey! These are good! Wanna try?”

Illyria ignored him completely. She was clearly puzzled. “They take delight in such small and insignificant things.”

“Well, sometimes that’s all you’ve got. There’s a saying – ‘money can’t buy you happiness’.” He shrugged “‘course it does buy you a better class of misery.”

“I had wealth beyond mortal comprehension; treasuries filled with tributes from many universes, treasures from the destruction of my enemies.”

“Yeah, but were you happy? Don’t answer that. Humans – we’re odd sorts. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much money you hurl at something, it’s the little things you remember. People forget what it’s all about, go over the top…”

“I tire of frugality.” Illyria looked around the room disdainfully. “I wish to see a festival more fitting of my status.”

“Don’t know that many rich gits.” Spike shrugged. “Besides, not rightly sure I’m ready to go yet. I vote we go after them, see what the evil empire wants with the slayer.”

“Your slayer is no concern of mine.”

“Well, she’s a concern of mine.” Spike squared up to Illyria. “I’m stayin’.”

Illyria’s cold gaze was pure disdain. “You defy me?”

“Well, yeah, as it happens.” Spike bit down on the feeling he was possibly going to regret this.

“You have no choice.” She looked at him imperiously.

“Have too. You’ve been picking up on stuff in my noggin for this magical mystery tour of yours. Well, I’m not gonna let you. I’ll think of something else.”

“You presume your mind is strong enough to refuse my will?” Illyria focused her mind on his. “You are a worm.”

“Well I’m a worm with the agenda for this little jaunt. So, I’m not going to think about…”

Illyria’s gaze focused. “I see it.”

“You do? Bugger.” He took a last look around the apartment and sighed. “This should be interesting.” Spike took a deep breath and prepared to do the Timewarp again.