Merry Christmas Sara!

Of all people, Charlie was cowering. The punky magical fugitive, and former shapeshifter, wasn't one Sara had often seen on edge, yet now she seemed genuinely scared.

It had seemed like an ordinary enough mission. Landing the Waverider, dressing up as the location and era dictated (mostly just thick cloaks; the area was quiet, just snowy), and start exploring. One of the many magical escapees had been detected here.

The snow had made that easier; they'd come across tracks. Deep, but roughly human-sized, even if a heavy human. Now, though, they'd come across something that glinted in the ice.

"Charlie?" Sara said. "See something you recognise?"

Charlie stared. Then, quickly, she crouched, pulling out the shard of shining red. The material was unrecognizable, but it made her shudder.

"That's it, I'm going back to the ship," she said. "You go do whatever it is you do. No way am I getting involved."

"What kind of beastie is it?" Constantine said.

Sara looked back to one of the other members of their party; as their resident magical expert, it had seemed prudent to bring him along.

Charlie hesitated. Then: "Old Nick," she whispered. "Heard of him more than I saw him. Kept my distance. We all did."

"What's his shtick?" Sara said.

"Anything," Charlie said. "If you got on his good side... you got whatever you wanted, but if you were on his bad..."

"Old Nick," Constantine whistled. "Nasty."

"You know him?" Sara said.

"Not directly," he said. "But it's a nickname for the devil. Says enough."

Sara blinked.

"Sorry," she said slowly. "The what? The bloody devil was in that cage?"

"Maybe," Constantine said. He shrugged. "Last time I checked there were four of the blighters. Not including Lucifer. Prick owes me money."

Sara hesitated again. She took a long, deep breath, then exhaled.

"What- actually you know what? No. Don't tell me. I'm going to go back to the ship and forget this conversation ever happened. After we catch up with Nickie-whatever, you do your thing," she paused. "Do we have anything for devils?"

"Funny you should say that-" Constantine said.

He was interrupted by the sound of laughter. Charlie tensed; Sara looked up sharply, peering around in the snowy darkness.

Constantine was murmuring something under his breath; Sara ignored him, squinting to make out any shape. There might have been something moving; there was definitely the sound of heavy footfalls, barely audible over the wind and the low, low laugh.

She caught a glimpse of red. Immediately she tensed, moving back onto the balls of her feet. The red creature took a step closer, slowly becoming more distinct. Humanoid, heavy-set, something pointed atop its head.

Glimpses of white. And then, slowly, the laugh became clearer.

Ho, ho, ho...

Sara elbowed Constantine in the stomach.

"Are you kidding me," she said flatly, as the figure become more fully defined. "Not 'Old Nick,' 'Saint Nick.' You're going on about the devil, it's bloody Santa!"

'Nick' took one more step closer. Somehow his white-trimmed, red jacket seemed unaffected by the snow, his hat too standing up straight.

That was when Sara paused.

"Wait, Santa's real?" Sara said. She sighed. "What does it say about our lives that I don't think this is even in the top ten weirdest things that've happened to us?"

"Be careful, Sara," Constantine said, low. "If our friend over there with the first-hand experience says it's Old Nick, I'd listen. Only a couple of letters away from-"

"Tell me we're not seriously doing the whole 'Satan is an anagram of Santa,' thing," Sara said. She exhaled. "Fine. Whatever. You there, something-Nick, are you evil?"

The figure turned. She couldn't make out his eyes, just the white beard that covered most of his face. The laughter stopped.

"What is evil?" it said.

"That's... ok, seriously, does anything good ever say that?" she said, and sighed.

"Told you," Charlie said.

"Before you try to send me away," 'Santa,' said. "I am well aware of who you are, Sara Lance, it is... one of my gifts. I see no point in attempting to outrun you, so instead let me offer a bargain."

"Don't, Sara," Constantine said, still mumbling. "Deals like that never go well?"

"Seriously?" she looked at him. "There are about a hundred reasons I'm not going to sell my soul to Santa, I seriously don't need the lecture."

"I don't ask for your soul, just my freedom," Santa said. "Let me see... Oh, there are so many thoughts on your mind. I can make one a reality, grant it as a gift to you. Giving gifts is, after all, what I do. In return, you let me walk."

Sara raised her eyebrows. Rather than considering it she seemed more baffled by the whole situation. Santa, meanwhile, waved one hand.

That was when Constantine's murmuring rose to a shout; he thrust both his hands forward, and for a moment his wrists were wreathed in light, before that energy shot forwards.

It struck Santa, and the old man cried out, for a moment some nightmarish image under his usual kindly visage flickering into view, before he fell to his knees with shining green energy circling him.

"Bloody devils," Constantine muttered. He turned back to Sara. "Like I said. Funny story. 90% of enchanters start out either wanting to fight his ilk or get into bed with them, there are more ways to bind those 'let's make a deal!' devils than there are to light a candle. Job done?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She sighed. "But you're telling Ray Christmas is cancelled."

---

Somehow demonic-Santa was not the most surprising sight they ran into that day. The trio made it back to the Waverider, Constantine tugging the bound devil behind them. He left it in the holding cell, magically reinforced ever since John had joined the crew, until the Bureau could pick it up.

Then they went up to the bridge, to find everyone gathered in the parlour, all crowded around one of the tables. There was a muffled noise, just about audible over their discussion.

Sara hurried over.

"Fugitive's locked up, now what's-"

Her voice caught in her throat as she saw what had caught everyone's attention.

Under the table was one Ava Sharpe, stark naked except for... well they were ribbons, there was no way around it. She was quite literally wrapped up like a present by Sara's chair, the ribbon binding her legs together and her arms behind her back, with the bow in her mouth to muffle her voice.

She was, rather unsurprisingly, flushed bright red. She squirmed, not achieving much beyond making her tits shake invitingly, the green ribbon that ran up her cleavage between them only making them stand out. Toned legs wriggled, but the binding around her ankles stopped her from crossing them and hiding her pussy.

The crew of the Waverider stood over the flushed Director of the Time Bureau. Sara stared at her girlfriend for a long second before coughing.

"I- uh, everyone, don't just stand there!" Sara said.

Sara moved closer.

"We, uh, tried that," Ray said as Sara reached for her.

She touched the ribbon, and it broke remarkably easily. Ray blinked; Ava yelped, finally getting the words out as she sat up, hunching over under the table and still crossing her arms behind her legs, bright red.

"Oh. Uh," Ray said. "That... that didn't work when we tried it."

"Seriously?" Sara said. She exhaled. "You could at least have gotten her a blanket."

"We, uh, tried that too," Ray said.

He gestured to one scrunched up on a chair. Sara sighed; her team couldn't figure out ribbons or blankets apparently. Great. Well she'd managed the ribbon; Sara reached for the blanket, then moved to lay it over Ava-

It was wrenched out of her grasp, flung to the far side of the room by the air itself it seemed. Ava whimpered; Sara stared.

"That, uh, happened when we tried too," Ray said.

"Sara!" Ava said, voice slightly hoarse. "What the hell is going on?"

Sara stared; Ava squirmed under the table.

"Can I assume," Constantine interjected, "That when you tried to remove the lovely Miss Sharpe's ribbon, you found it unbreakable?"

"We tried scissors, my suit, everything," Ray said.

"I managed it easily enough," Sara said.

"Yes," Constantine. "I rather think that's because she was your gift."

Sara blinked.

"My what?" Sara said, at the same instant Ava squeaked:

"Her what?!"

Constantine cleared his throat.

"The... fugitive," he said. "Santa. He offered you a gift to let him go, something on your mind. Perhaps he was a little overconfident and granted it sooner rather than later."

"One," Ava said. "Santa?"

"Oh, yeah, uh," Sara hesitated. "Santa's real. And evil. And apparently a bit of a pervert."

She glanced up and down her girlfriend again, rather aware she wasn't the only one enjoying the sight.

"Two," Ava said. "You wished for me to get wrapped up naked by your chair and not be able to get dressed?!"

"Hey, the wrapping part was all him!" Sara said.

"And the stuck naked part?!" Ava said, voice getting high.

Sara coughed awkwardly. Her cheeks turned pink, though nowhere near the same vivid blush Ava wore.

Sara shrugged off her jacket. Curiously she tried to offer it to her nude girlfriend; once more it was flung away.

Apparently she really did just repel any clothing now. Ava squeaked.

"Please tell me you've got some way to fix this!" Ava said. She shifted, ass rubbing against the floor, arms moving a little way up her chest.

"You want me to reverse a spell cast by Old Nick himself?" Constantine said. "Yeah. Not that easy luv."

Ava whimpered. She fidgeted still, moving under the table as if hoping the ground would open up and swallow her. The crew of the waverider still stood in the parlour, crowded around the naked woman.