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It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

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Summary: Sam and Dean’s latest case takes them to L.A and Wolfram and Hart’s annual Christmas party. Thing is they’re not the only party crashers.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > GeneralChosenfireFR1325,220082,52411 Jan 0921 Jan 09Yes

Part 1

Title: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of playing with the.
Fandoms: Supernatural/Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, Buffy, Faith, Xander, Willow, Dawn, Angel, Spike, Connor
Spoilers: SPN season 1, Angel season 5 AU, BtVS post Chosen
Summary: Sam and Dean’s latest case takes them to L.A and Wolfram and Hart’s annual Christmas party. Thing is they’re not the only party crashers.
Authors Notes: Sam’s Jacket; Versace and Dean’s Sweater; Armani. This was written for the 2008 Christmas Calendar. Beta'd by TheDana (who runs the calendar and is all kinds of amazing). I finally decided to post the story here. There are no pairings, its all about the characters and how they interact. Enjoy.


O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

Dean frowned at his reflection in the mirror, his brows drawn together in displeasure. “Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?” he asked skeptically, tuning to his brother, eyebrows raised and slight disgust in his voice.

“I’m sure.” Sam came out of the bathroom, his hair styled back and his hands coming to rest in the pockets of his black dress pants. They had ditched the suits in favor of semi-formal clothes and Dean had just run the gel through his hair, spiking it extra high before turning to his brother, daring him to say anything.

Sam snorted and started strapping weapons to his body. They had to be more inventive than usual; they didn’t have the worn jeans and bulky coats to conceal the arsenals that they needed in their line of work. The clothes they wore now were tailored, done last minute by a woman who had fallen for Sam’s smile and it would be a bitch not to give anything away.

Sam snapped the holster in place across the stark white t-shirt he wore and slipped the two guns in on either side. He rolled up his sleeves and slipped a knife onto the sheath on his forearm and he tucked another knife in a sheath on his calf. He pulled down his clothes to hide it and grabbed the black jacket slipping it on and buttoning it enough that it stayed together.

The fabric molded to his skin perfectly shaping the muscles and giving him a sophisticated look. Most importantly it made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine which was the whole point. It was as much of a disguise as the priests outfits had been.

Just much more expensive and picked because it could give him the fit needed to hide the guns.

Dean was similarly strapped and he had the EMF meter made out of a walkman in his back pocket.

“So what’s the deal with this place?” Dean asked, all humor gone from his voice as he buttoned up the black t-shirt he wore, leaving the top two buttons undone. He grabbed the jacket that Sam had brought back for him from his supply run and his brow furrowed “Dude, this is a sweater.”

“What?” Sam flipped through a few folders on the table, glancing up at his brother “No it’s not. It’s a jacket.”

Dean held it up. “It has a hood. So we’re going to some stuck-up soiree and I’m wearing a sweater. I’ll blend in real nice.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“It’s a seven hundred dollar Armani sweater. I think you’ll blend fine.”

Dean’s lip curled up as he looked down at the soft fabric in his hand. “And you used a credit card, right? The Alberto Sanchez one?”

A smile slipped on to Sam’s lips and he found the file he was looking for. “Consider it a Christmas present.”

“Huh,” Dean grunted, shaking his head and slipping on the Armani sweater, leaving it unbuttoned for easy access to the gun he had holstered closely to his body. He pulled at the bottom of the sleeves with his fingertips and felt it slide across his skin. Shaking his head, Dean muttered, “Well, I’m not getting you anything.” He grimaced. “You couldn’t have bought me a call girl? Seven hundred dollars and you buy me a sweater that’s just going to get ripped up.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything and even you can take care of clothes.” Sam grinned, knowing his brother was lying about not getting him anything. Dean got him something every year, even when he was at Stanford. Christmas morning of his freshmen year, he had woken up to find a box in front of the door of his dorm room with a note attached that had told him to stay out of the library and to get laid. In the box had been the laptop he still had, something he had needed badly but couldn’t afford because he was on scholarship and working two jobs just to buy food and clothes.

“So,” Sam passed Dean the file he had, telling him, “Wolfram and Hart is a law firm that has always had a reputation of dealing with a more special clientele.”

“Demons,” Dean shot out bluntly, eyes narrowed as he read over the information, flipping through it rapidly.

“Among other things. Anyway, they’ve always represented the bottom of the barrel of the demon world but lately there was been a change in power and there’s a lot of talk of something big going down inside.”

“Big, like they’re closing up shop big.” Dean grinned, waving the file around, already bored with what he had been reading. He had perched himself on top of the hotel table, careful to keep his black pants out of the grease stain from last night’s meal and he considered swinging his legs.

“Big, as in potential end of the world big.”

“Well crap,” Dean huffed, hopping off the table and turning to a random point in the file and pointing to a picture paper clipped there. “So, what’s the deal with this dude?” The guy looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties and had dark hair and very intense eyes.

“That’s the new CEO, the one that’s causing all the problems.” Sam paused before telling his brother, “His name is Angel.”

Right on cue, Dean broke into laughter, bending over slightly to brace his hands on his thighs as he let it out. “Oh God, that’s priceless.” He smirked, straightening. “So, let’s go, Sammy, and take care of Angel cakes. I’m sure it will be real tough.” He snorted, still marveling over the fact that the guy that they were investigating was named Angel.

Sam just followed his brother out the door, keeping his thoughts to himself. From what he knew, just because the guy had a sissy name didn’t mean he would be weak. There was a reason why Angel had been made CEO of the most evil law firm in the world and Sam knew, despite his joking, that Dean would be careful.


“I think we’re the only chicks here in pants,” Faith observed as yet another group of high heeled, high hemmed females walked past them with drinks in hand and plastic smiles on their faces.

Buffy grimaced. “Yeah, well, they don’t know how hard it is to fight in a skirt.”

Both she and Faith were dressed in stylish, yet very loose, black dress pants.

“So, there is going to be some fighting?” Dawn asked and instead of worry in her voice, there was simple curiosity. The need to know in advance of what might be going on so that she could prepare. Just another habit she had picked up from Buffy.

Buffy folded her arms, refusing with a smile the flute of champagne that one of the passing waiters offered her. “I hope not but this is an evil law firm and evil and lawyers usually lead to badness.” She scanned the crowd looked for the hosts of the evening. “Badness usually leads to violence and strong language.”

“I’m down with that,” Faith commented, tossing back her drink and setting the glass on one of the passing trays. “Okay, let’s find the vamp and get some answers because there are better things I’d rather be doing,” she said a little testily, pushing her way through the crowd.

Buffy and Dawn followed her and Buffy smiled slightly, telling her sister, “She’s just grumpy because Robin had to stay in Cleveland. Couldn’t have both senior officers deserting the Hellmouth for a party.”

Faith stopped suddenly and Buffy had to catch herself before she plowed over the other Slayer.

“Holy shit.”


Buffy peered around her and her body went rigid at what she saw, disbelief in her eyes. Sure, Angel had always caused strong reactions in her but this wasn’t about the dark-haired vampire currently standing to the side of the room, surrounded by a group of people. It was about the other vampire standing beside him. The bleached blond, supposed to be nothing but dust at the bottom of the Sunnydale crater, vampire.

She felt Dawn’s hand on her arm but shrugged it off, striding forward with a tight smile on her lips. “Whoa, that Death just doesn’t have the power that he used to.” She looked from Angel to Spike, eyes sharp. “And I have got to remind Giles to get the phones checked because I obviously missed a very important call.” There was just a touch of anger that bled through her voice.

“Buffy.” Her name sounded more like a curse then the benediction it used to be from Angel’s lips and he buried his hands in his pockets, looking displeased. “What are you doing here?”

She turned away from the stunned look in Spike’s eyes and her lips thinned into a smile. “Didn’t you know? The Watcher’s Council has received an invitation each year to Wolfram and Hart’s Christmas parties.”

“That I reckon they’ve never come to,” Spike gave her a soft smile, “until now.”

Buffy crossed her arms across her chest, shrugging. “We had a reason to.”

“Yeah.” Angel’s voice was dark. “Andrew made it pretty clear when he was here. You don’t trust me.”

Buffy smirked. “That’s not exactly a new thing. Besides,” She indicated the lavish room with a wide sweep of her arm, “why should we trust you when you’re playing king of the evil law firm?”

“Because it’s me. You know me.”

She looked from Angel to Spike, bitterness touching her eyes. “Well, apparently you don’t know me.”

“So death didn’t agree with you either, huh?” Dawn’s voice was tentative as she came to stand beside Buffy and there was barely a shadow of the awkward teenager she had been. Her hair hung around her shoulders in curly waves. She was a young woman, mature and fully capable of taking on the world.

She was also pretty smart and had stepped forward at the first sign of a Buffy rant. It was almost Christmas and the yelling and the accusations could wait until after the New Year.

“Looks like.” Spike’s smile was tentative too; things had been strained between them ever since she had promised to set him on fire. It was understandable. He wasn’t holding any grudges, at the moment he had wanted her to, he had deserved it.

Dawn ducked her head and Faith chose that moment to join them, her grin cheeky and filled with mirth. “What’s up, bloodsuckers?” she greeted Angel and Spike, slinging an arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “Are you all behaving yourselves?”

Angel’s eyes softened for a moment and suddenly he looked tired, turning to Buffy. “So, is this everyone or did the whole gang come?”

“Well, Giles said fieldtrip and we all rushed to get our permission slips signed.” Xander came to stand beside Dawn, dressed all in expensive black clothes and a strand of hair falling over the eye patch he wore. “Because we were just so eager to see your little evil overlord set up.” He shook his head, sighing. “We heard Dead Boy took over Evil Incorporated and decided, gee this can’t be good.”

“Apparently, he’s working from the inside to make a difference,” Dawn informed him in a loud whisper, a touch of steel in her voice and her eyes wide and innocent.

“Ohhhh.” Xander drew it out comically. “Shucks and we thought you were going to be corrupted.” He tried looking apologetic. “Sorry about that, we’ll just go and trust you not to use all the resources you have to burn the world to the ground.”

“Enough, you two.” Buffy was biting back a grin and her eyes were filled with warmth as she looked from her sister to Xander as she stood there, standing across from Angel and flanked by her friends, her family. It might be his home turf but they had the most firepower. The most firepower that was now coming to stand beside Xander, looking confused at the animosity between the two groups, and not even a little surprised to see Spike not dusty.

“Did I miss something?” Willow asked curiously. Seeing the looks Angel was sending Xander, she shook her head. “Oh, I get it. Hi, merry Christmas.” She smiled brightly. “Does anyone know where Fred and Wesley are? Fred wants me to take a look at this new mystical doodad and we figured, what better place than your non-Jewish friendly Christmas party?”

Angel opened his mouth to defend himself against Xander’s accusations but was distracted by that. “When did you and Fred talk?”

“Chat, online. About three times a week.”

Something caught Dawn’s eyes and she turned to watch as a boy about her age came around the corner talking to the man that she recognized as Gunn. He had brown wavy hair and was tall and fit. He looked so familiar. “Hey,” She turned to Angel, “who’s that with Gunn?”

Angel followed her eyes to Connor and his mouth thinned as he tried to say, casually, “No one, probably just one of the client’s kids.” He turned back to Buffy, trying to change the subject. “So what test do I have to pass to prove I’m not evil? Is there a written exam, multiple choice questions? Any pictures you want me to look at?”

Dawn nudged Xander, tilting her head to where the boy was now standing. Xander’s brow furrowed in confusion and he mouthed ‘What?’

“What are we suppose to think?” Buffy ground out, exasperated. “You’re suddenly in charge of the place you’ve been fighting against for years. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

‘C’mon,’ Dawn mouthed back, grabbing onto his arm. He rolled his eyes as she dragged him away from the Buffy and Angel show, an argument he had waited a long time to see and was really enjoying, just to look at a boy.

“Hi,” Dawn greeted the boy cheerfully. “I’m Dawn and this is Xander. So, who are you and have we ever met?”

“I don’t think so.” Connor’s smile was strained. “My name’s Connor. My Dad is the CEO of this place.”

“Whoa,” Xander breathed out. “Dead Boy’s your Dad?”

Someone bumped into Xander and a ridiculously tall man grimaced. “Excuse us,” he said as he followed a shorter man to where the elevators were.

“Rude much?” Dawn muttered before turning back to Connor. “So you’re Angel’s kid? Angel, vampire with a soul and unable to reproduce? That Angel, right?”

None of them noticed as the two men slipped into the private elevator that led up to Angel’s office.

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