Something was wrong with Josh.

It had been little things at first. Joshish things. Things that his friends would usually discount as his nature on bad days. It started three weeks prior to Christmas with the death of Robert Cano, an Air Force pilot who committed suicide by running his airplane into the side of a mountain. An Air Force pilot who had suffered a severe trauma after his plane was shot at over Bosnia. The pilot had undergone several intense psychological tests and was given a clean bill of physical and mental health.

Then he had crashed his plane intentionally. He had killed himself. And no one really knew why.

Josh was given the duty of learning everything he could about Robert Cano.

He learned that they shared the same birthday; but the little things became bigger things, leaving staffers in the West Wing on edge and walking on eggshells around Josh in the hopes of staving off one of his increasing tirades. The Christmas music that Toby insisted on playing in the lobby became a source of exasperation. He grew irritated with Donna for her insistence on going to the Yo-Yo Ma performance at the Congressional Christmas Party, and her subsequent fervor after he okayed her invitation.

Donna didn’t bother to ask for additional invitations for Willow, Spike, and Buffy. The President was already intent that the guests from Sunnydale attend every White House event there was to attend with the exception of meetings in the Sit Room. He even invited Joyce and Dawn, but Joyce decided that a fourteen year old would not appreciate a Yo-Yo Ma concert like she would, and Dawn’s tendency for whining when she was bored pretty much guaranteed their absence—no matter how much the elder Summers may have liked to attend.

Joyce had spent the past few weeks flabbergasted by both the White House—more specifically, Abbey Bartlet’s—insistence on helping her through her health condition. Dawn had spent the past few weeks wondering why they were in Washington, and when they were going home.

Spike and Buffy’s continued residence in the White House hadn’t helped Josh’s mental stability. He was irritable and snapped at practically everyone, focused only on Robert Cano and building up to something that no one could see the end of.

It was the night of the Congressional Christmas Party. Sam and Willow, celebrating their recent liberation from media crucifixion, had offered to take out Spike, Buffy, Donna, and Josh prior to the event. Josh didn’t say much through dinner. He shot a few choice remarks at Spike, who appropriately fired them right back, and the only thing that kept an all out war from breaking out over the table was the presence of a slayer-turned-god who knew how to handle her man.

“He blew up in the Oval,” Sam said later when they were in the quiet of his office. “Today, we were talking about a thing, and he blew up. He yelled at the President.”

Buffy pursed her lips. “I take it that doesn’t happen often.”

“No.”

Willow was standing by the window, her eyes vacant.

“’S Curly,” Spike said with a shrug. “Wanker always seemed a li’l high-strung to me. Holidays an’ what all. It could jus’ be—”

“No, it’s not.”

The Slayer frowned. “Sam—”

The Deputy Communications Director shook his head. “You don’t blow up in the Oval Office at the President of the United States because you’re stressed about the holidays. Josh is a professional. Say whatever you want to say about him personally, but he has nothing but respect for the President and would gladly…he thinks of the President as family. If he’s angry with the President, he doesn’t yell at him, and he certainly doesn’t do it in the Oval Office.” He licked his lips. “He’s not Toby. He doesn’t go there.”

“You’re tellin’ me that a bloke as bloody hotheaded as Joshua-Fuckin’-Lyman, workin’ in a place as stressful as the White House, doesn’ lose his head when communin’ with his—”

“Not with the President of the United States in the Oval Office,” he said again. “Not the way he did today.” Sam released a long sigh. “It’s…Leo’s called ATVA to talk to him.”

Willow turned around with interest. “When?”

“After the meeting—”

“When is he meeting with ATVA?”

“Christmas Eve, I think.”

Buffy frowned. “What’s ATVA?”

“The American Trauma Victims Association,” three voices answered.

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh. You…we think it’s a—”

Willow nodded. “It is. I can…well, you remember the thing on the airplane with my—”

“Going into a fit?”

The redhead scowled at her friend. “I thought we talked about the using of those words when placed in that order,” she retorted, jerking her head to her over-reactive boyfriend.

“It was only a matter of time,” Sam said, casting a weary glance at the Witch. “Josh has been going a thousand and ten miles an hour ever since he came back to work. He’s been himself, granted, but he…he’s been trying to get all the work from May to November in while doing the work he’s supposed to do now. Josh puts his job before everything.”

“’S a soddin’ mystery the bloke hasn’t met a nice girl to settle down with,” Spike muttered.

The comment earned a dry look from every corner of the room.

“Boy, are you lucky Donna’s fangirling Yo-Yo Ma right now,” Willow retorted.

Sam smothered a grin.

The vampire opened his mouth to reply, but whatever response he had ready on his tongue was interrupted by the head of the Press Secretary poking into her coworker’s office. Her eyes immediately caught the peroxide blonde’s and she stiffened. “Sam,” she said, “the President’s going to take his seat in five minutes.”

“Right.”

CJ studied the vampire for a beat longer, then nodded and turned away.

Spike smirked when they were alone again. “She still doesn’ know what to think of me, does she?”

Sam grinned wryly. “Well, in all fairness, Leo just brought her inside last week…and she’s met you three times for a combined total of seven and a half minutes. CJ still doesn’t even know how to respond to the part about Willow being a witch, so she’s focusing on you.”

“She knew I was a witch,” the redhead objected.

“She knew you were a practicing Wiccan.”

“But not a witch?” Buffy replied, arching a brow. “How can you be a Wiccan and not a witch?”

“Well you can,” Willow said. “It’s a thing that happens when you leave the Hellmouth and enter what these crazy folks call the real world.” She shook her head and turned back to Sam. “I still can’t even begin to fathom how even Leo could start to explain this to CJ.”

Sam stifled a chuckle. “She still doesn’t believe it,” he retorted. “Well, she believes it in the sense of Leo told her and Leo doesn’t have enough sense of humor to keep up a practical joke this long, but she doesn’t really believe it.”

A slow smirk drew across Spike’s face. “Think I should go flash her some proof?”

Willow and her boyfriend gawked in horror. “No!”

“Guys,” Buffy said, curling into her mate’s side. “He’s kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” the vampire objected, grinning madly. “But she’s cute when she tries to cover for me, isn’t she?”

The redhead moaned. “This is our punishment,” she complained to Sam. “CJ and Toby have been groany every time they see us together, and now we have to see us times a thousand.”

“Just a thousand?” Buffy retorted insolently.

“We gotta try harder,” Spike agreed, smiling rakishly as they turned to join the party.

“You guys know where you’re seated?”

The Slayer nodded. “We were in there earlier. Enjoy the show!”

It was strange how quickly one grew accustomed to the halls of the White House. Granted, the President’s two unconventional houseguests did not have unfettered access to everything, despite the Commander in Chief’s insistence that they be treated like royalty. The past three weeks had been unbelievable. The President had invited them to dine with him three times—five if one counted cancellations and rescheduling due to matters of national security. Buffy had been kept up one night by her mate’s booming laughter as he shared a pack of cigarettes with the Leader of the Free World while discussing the pros and cons of Ancient Roman Imperialism. He’d come in from the President’s study with an amused look on his face, then proceeded to tell her a complicated joke with a bad pun that she was sure to find hilarious.

What she found hilarious were Spike’s nerdlike tendencies that became more and more evident with each passing day. Never in all his years had he found himself in an environment where the intellectually stimulating part of his brain was appraised; not mocked, rather revered. The President damn near found him godlike for his age and knowledge, something they both found highly amusing simply for the irony. Spike was truly in his element, even if he hadn’t stopped to realize it.

The President genuinely liked her vampire, and no one liked Spike on first acquaintance. Sam was only now beginning to greet her mate with sincere amicability whenever they saw each other. Toby usually muffled something inaudible, and Josh would register as a Republican before he admitted a personal liking for any vampire, least of all Hostile Seventeen, even though he appeared to be the President’s new favorite person.

He was at home here, despite it all. And that mattered the world to her.

Spike’s happiness was something she felt he too often placed on hold to be mindful of her own. It was his nature to watch out for her; she knew that simply by being with him. Her mate was not satisfied if she wasn’t, and for now, the outside world that had seemed so imminent back in Sunnydale was placed on reserve. She was glad just to see him so carefree, even if she felt excluded. It was important for him to have this. Where he didn’t have to worry with her needs every five seconds, and be with people who appreciated him for everything he had been forced to conceal for the past century and a half.

He was a brainy nerd, despite being a badass. And she loved him for it.

If he ever donned a pair of glasses, she would have to ride him six ways from Sunday just to get all the kink out.

He inspired the strangest fetishes.

As for her, being in Washington provided the cushioning she needed to live up to the fantasy that everything was going to be all right. That they had left their problems in Sunnydale, and she could attempt to live her life again. There was still a burning dread scorching her insides that could not be placed on hold forever, but she refused to let her mind wander so far as to dominate her life with fear.

She couldn’t spend eternity worried that she might destroy someone by looking at them. It simply wouldn’t happen.

Still, if she did what Spike wanted her to do, the thing they hadn’t discussed since they arrived, she would be unleashing something within her that could possibly destroy them both. Destroy them, her friends, the city—hell, the world wasn’t even safe. She had no knowledge of her powers, except that with the claim commanding her senses, she could easily kill anyone who posed a threat to her mate.

Something that terrified her even more, seeing as they were now residents of the White House. Should anyone try to harm Spike here, the claim would trigger her innate powers, and she might find herself in the middle of a civil war initiated by instinct.

For now, though, they were going to the Congressional Christmas Party at the President’s personal invitation. She walked among politicians she remembered vaguely from television; people with falsified power and egos that would likely outlast their term limits. She sat in the back with her mate, who was making her mouth water for the way he had dressed up for the occasion.

Though her own attire wasn’t too shabby, either. Abbey Bartlet had taken her and her mother shopping earlier in the week. The dress she had been ultimately persuaded to try on was long, elegant, silver, and easily worth seven of her father’s child support payments prior to tax.

That wasn’t what bothered Buffy; Mrs. Bartlet had bought it under her nose and given it to her the night before as an early Christmas present. She’d nearly been moved to tears.

And needless to say, with Spike looking like James Bond and she feeling like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, it had been interesting getting ready.

Especially since they had a night of celebration planned.

“Donna wants us to take Josh out for post drinks,” Spike murmured as they took their seat. “I don’ particularly wanna go, but she seems to think it’d help him to get away from the office.” He shrugged easily. “’S entirely up to you, baby.”

“I don’t like the way Donna’s always going to you about these things,” Buffy retorted.

Her vampire tossed her a disbelieving glance. “Why?”

“Well, she…I just don’t like it.” Buffy met his gaze, sighed her defeat, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been in this mood. I guess it’s…the one-year thing, you know? With everything else that’s been happening, the fact that I’ve officially been in a healthy relationship with someone I love for a year without an apocalypse….” She frowned. “Well, except that one…I just…”

“Jus’ imagine how you’ll feel when we’re celebratin’ ten centuries of pure wedded bliss,” Spike retorted, waggling his eyebrows. “I know. You’re jus’ gonna have to get used to the fact that you have a very persistent mate who loves you more than…well, you name it. I know you trust me, Buffy. It’s not that.”

“No. It’s not.” She shook her head. “It’s…it’s any number of things. It’s Donna and Willow…and Josh and Sam and this entire thing. The people I knew in Natchez are…well, they’re here, but they’ve had six months to get to know each other and heal. And Will’s been here ever since the shooting.”

He sighed. “An’ I run off to chat one of ‘em up every chance I get.”

“No, I don’t—”

“I should’ve felt somethin’. I never wanted you to—”

“Spike, the fact that you have good friends here who, you know, don’t mind the…thing like some Xander-shaped people might…I’m not being very articulate, but I’m so glad. Watching you the past few weeks just have fun…it’s been great.” She smiled. “Anything else is my problem. I guess I just feel that everyone’s moving forward and I’m just stuck in this…I’m saying this all wrong.”

“We’re talkin’ about somethin’ else entirely now.” The room around them burst into applause as the President entered, arm linked with the First Lady; his senior staff following him out like tin soldiers before they dispersed appropriately into the audience. “Listen to me,” he said intently. “’m not movin’ a sodding inch unless you’re right there with me, you understand? Couldn’t bloody well stand it. This past year, despite all its complications, has been the best of my life because of you. I’m not cheatin’ myself out of an eternity. When we go forward, we go forward. I don’ budge unless you’ve already started to move. The rest of the world can wait. An’ until then, I’ll be right here, holdin’ your hand.” His voice dropped lower. “Helpin’ you get through what you need to get through.”

“Spike—”

“A year’s not enough. We’ve made it one. I’m shootin’ for a millennia.”

“And in the meantime, we have Donna to help…with Josh.”

“Not if you’re—”

“I’m not.”

The President had begun to speak.

Spike didn’t look convinced, but he nodded all the same and raised her hand to his mouth. “We’ll enjoy the show,” he murmured, pressing a fervent kiss against her hand. “An’ talk about this later.”

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’ even say it. I love you. You’re my sodding everythin’, sweetling. When you’re hurting, I’m broken. When you’re scared, I’m terrified. When you’re sad, I cry. That’s the way it is.” She met his gaze again, suddenly moved to tears and feeling more than a little foolish. “The sooner you get used to bein’ the world for this particular vampire, the better off we’ll all be.”

Trust her to ruin something so wonderful with something so insignificant.

“’S not insignificant,” Spike murmured, brushing a kiss across her temple. “You have powers we haven’t explored. Things we haven’t touched.”

“We will,” Buffy said. “I’m getting there. I really am.”

“I know.” His lips whispered over her again, kissing away a lone tear that had escaped her eyes. “We have forever to work this out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“An’ tonight,” he continued heatedly, “I plan on showin’ you jus’ how much I love you.”

“How will this be different than all the other times?”

“Tonight’s our anniversary.”

The President’s lengthy preface was drawing to a close. Yo-Yo Ma was about to be introduced.

“Well, really, our anniversary is more in this general vicinity of time. We got together before Christmas.”

“Tonight’s the night we’re celebratin’ our anniversary.”

“Did you buy the President ear plugs?”

He smirked. “He’s the President. ‘F he wants ear plugs, he can bloody well get them himself.”

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of the White House.”

Spike’s grin broadened, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in to kiss her properly. The heat in his gaze sent a very inappropriate rush of lust through her system, and she found herself wishing for the end of the concert.

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well.” Buffy motioned at the front of the room. “Seeing as we whispered through the President’s introduction and the entertainment is about to commence, I think he might be a little hacked.”

The vampire shrugged. “So?” he asked simply, commanding her lips for a brief, however ardent second.

Yo-Yo Ma began playing then, and they fell silent.

The unshed tears she had fought to maintain broke after the first few measures sounded into the magnificent hallway, and Spike’s hand tightened around hers.

Somehow, she felt closer to him at that moment than she ever had. She hadn’t even known such a feeling was possible, but there it was. As though the wealth of his feelings had manifested into a tangible presence and held her throughout the night. She was surrounded in warmth, and the power of his feelings coupled with the glorious sounds of Bach that filled the air had a profoundly overwhelming effect.

One year of many.

One year of a millennia.

She simply didn’t know how she’d lasted the years before him.

Spike squeezed her hand again, plucking the thought from their connection.

And he gave her warmth.

*~*~*

Something happened that night in Josh’s apartment that no one really knew about.

After the Congressional Christmas Party, Spike and Buffy had agreed to meet Sam, Willow, and Donna at Josh’s to take him out for a nightcap. They retreated quickly to the Residence, changed clothing, and managed to keep their hands off each other long enough to get out of the Lincoln Bedroom and to a taxicab where they discussed the reality of their stay. With as long as it looked they would be in Washington, they could hardly impose on the President’s good graces indefinitely. He had already been more than generous.

But that didn’t matter once they arrived, because something was wrong with Josh.

A window was broken, and Donna was crying.

Josh wouldn’t let anyone but Donna into his apartment.

Outside, plans made a radical change.

“We’re staying,” Buffy decided, clamping on Spike’s hand for affirmation. “We were invited to go with the President to New Hampshire for the holidays, but we’ll stay.”

“That’s not necessary,” Sam said, shaking his head. “If the President wants you in—”

“It’s Josh. He’ll understand.” The Slayer shrugged. “Even if he hates us, he needs to know that we’re here for him…though I don’t understand why he’s going through this now and for the…why this and not saving the world?”

The Deputy Communications Director could do nothing but shrug at that, smiling humorlessly. “No one got hurt in that,” he said. “The President was shot. He was shot. It was here and not where the world was crazy enough to write it all off as some other thing. It was here.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged another glance. Spike nodded. “We’re stayin’, Prissy,” he said. “My lady has spoken.”

Willow nodded, arms wrapped around her body, a lost look on her face. “Thanks,” she said numbly. “He’ll appreciate that…even if he doesn’t say anything.”

There was a brief pause, then her boyfriend concurred with a nod. “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Yeah, he really will.”

It was settled, then.

Christmas in Washington, not New Hampshire.

Christmas with old friends made new, and older friends that Buffy was getting to know all over again.

Spike squeezed her hand and she smiled.

It was nothing. Just a change of scenery.

Besides, they had apartment hunting to do.

TBC