Shining Star
By Felicity

Disclaimer: Jessica is mine. The rest belong to Joss.

Auhor’s Notes: Okay, so this starts out kinda depressing for a Christmas fic, but I promise it will get better…I don’t know what’s up with me and the end of the world these days…Merry Christmas everyone! Send me feedback at felicity@SunnydaleHigh.zzn.com!

Part One

The city was black. Perpetual smoke seeped between abandoned buildings, clung to the dim glow of streetlights, last remnants of a fight against the dark. Not even that–no one had bothere dto turn them off and so they kept burning, beacons in the darkness until one by one they began to flicker and finally died out. Something moved out of a fallen building–another shadow in a world of shadows. A cat, missing an ear, it’s fur tattered and scorsh off, dreaming of better days, of warmth, of sunlit naps. It slunk into darkness and the black city paused for a moment, quiet, listening for the sounds that left it years ago.

Another shadow stirred, slipped in and out of smoky darkness, moved like night into one of the old skyscrapers. One corner of it fell, burnt, but the shadow didn’t care. It moved silently, through old offices, tumbled-in doorways, climbing up and up and stopped, finally, outside the one door still standing.

"It’s me," a muddle voice said from the shadow. The door swung open and the shadow stepped inside, taking on a human form in the fim light of portable lamps, set around the room.

"Find anything?" the young woman asked, brushing back a fall of brown hair. The shadow pulled off its mask, gaining features and a coiled blond braid pinned severely to its head.

"Nothing. Can you still feel him?" The first girl nodded, looking so like her older brother that the second felt an odd ache where she’d thought she couldn’t anymore.

"I’ll go out tomorrow," she said softly, closing the door and throwing her mask and gloves onto a small rickety table nearby. She walked in past the other young woman and then stopped suddenly. "Jess? I’m sorry. I know you wanted to find him."

Jessica Harris shook her head and walked over to their tny space heater, turning it up. "It’s all right. I just–he’s so scared and it’s almost–" she broke off, then smiled suddenly and bent down to pick something up, holding it behind her back as she turned back to her friend. "Merry Christmas Buffy," she sad warmly.

Buffy Summers stared, her tired mind not registering for a moment, and then she let out a deep breath. "Is it Christmas?" she askedvaguely. "I’d forgotten."

"Christmas Eve," Jessica said, holding out a small package. "I got you a present." Buffy took the present with an odd look on her face. She unwrapped the newspaper scraps slowly. "Sorry I didn’t have wrapping paper," Jessica apologized, her smile broadening as she watch Buffy hold up the shirt. It was cute, something she would have worn once.

For a moment, Buffy wanted to put it on, just to be young again, for a moment, to feel pretty.

And then she shook her head. "I don’t need clothes. And it’s too bright anyway, I couldn’t wear it out. Someone else could use it more. Or they could use the fabric for a blanket," she said, putting it down on the table. She glanced up and winced inwardly at Jessica’s hurt look.

Was she really only two years younger? Buffy felt a thousand years old compared to her…compared to anyone.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly. "It was nice of you to think of me."

"O-of course," Jessica replied. "You’re right, I should have thought but…They’re having a Christmas dinner tomorrow. They want us to come. Wil–"

"I have work to do," Buffy said quickly, cutting her off before she could say the name, before she could make Buffy feel things she didn’t have time for. "You can go."

"No, I…I have things to do too," Jessica said quickly, sounding a little forlorn.

Buffy wanted to comfort her, she really did. But she had no comfort to give. As much as part of her wanted to go see those people, talk to them and laugh with them and open presents…She knew it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be what she wanted Christmas to be. And what was the point anyway? It would only hurt more to walk away and know that she could never be part of that life, that she didn’t even want to. That there was nowhere on Earth that could possibly have a Merry Christmas.

And why should she care? It was just some stupid holiday from a religion that had been hit as hard as all the others. Had Jesus helped them when the darkness came? Had God brought the sun back?

"Listen, Jess," Buffy said, desparate to get that hurt out of the voice of the only friend she had left. "There’s really no reason to celebrate you know. I mean, Christmas is the birth of a savior. And there’s no savior. It’s not…real. It doesn’t mean anything."

"Christmas is about being together," Jessica whispered, holding her hands over the heater to try and stay warm. "It’s about loving people, and giving."

Buffy was silent. There was nothing to say.

"We have a lot to do tomorrow," she said quietly. "I’m going to bed."

The Slayer lay down in darkness and struggled to find oblivion. Across that dark, dark city in a few small buildings fires burned. Children snuggled in their mothers arms and asked when Santa Claus was coming. Lovers curled together, keeping each other warm through the cold nights. Friends and mothers and brothers wrapped the meager presents they could find, and laughed, and gossiped, and forgot the eternal night pressing down on them.

As the last child drifted off to sleep, the last couple found peace in each others arms and the Slayer finally found the darkness she’d been searching for, an unbroken clocked chimed somewhere and it was Christmas.

*****

Buffy was warm. She remembered that, because she hadn’t felt that way in quite a while. But when she woke up, slowly, drowsily, knowing she had nothing else to do in the world, she was warm.

It was Christmas.

She smiled before she even opened her eyes, threw off her covers and bolted down the hall to her mother’s room. "Mom!" she called happily.

"You can’t even let me sleep in one year?" Joyce asked grumpily, but appeared in the door a moment later and kissed Buffy’s forehead. "Merry Christmas sweetie."

"Merry Christmas!" Buffy exclaimed. "Stockings?" Joyce laughed and shooed her down the stairs. Buffy ran down at a breakneck speed and into the living room where full stockings hung on the mantelpiece. There were seven, with names on each. Buffy went for hers and grabbed a blanket, settling in on the floor.

"Hey Buff," Xander greeted her, kissing her cheek and grabbing his stocking.

"Merry Christmas," Giles said softly, sitting on the couch above her.

"Aren’t you going to open your stocking?" Buffy asked, including Cordelia, Anya and Oz in the question as well.

"In a moment," her Watcher replied. She smiled and opened the first present, ripping the paper with abandonment. Xander did the same, smiling with all the glee of a young child.

Joyce brought in a tray of hot chocolate with marshmallows in the shape of Christmas trees just like they had every year since Buffy was three.

She looked around at all of them. Anya had settled in Xander’s lap, Cordelia on the couch with her feet curled under her, Oz in a chair by the fireplace. Joyce brought in gingerbread cookies and added to the warm glow inside Buffy. Everything was perfect. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most, and it was Christmas. She felt like Jimmy Stewart in "It’s a Wonderful Life" when all the people came in and gave him money. Like the whole world loved her.

There was just one thing missing. Well, two. Two people.

"Where are Angel and Willow?" she asked Giles curiously, sipping her hot chocolate.

"They’re not here yet," Giles said gently. Buffy frowned.

"Then why am I here?" she asked, thinking for the first time that perhaps this wasn’t real. Perhaps it wasn’t really Christmas.

"Because you’ve closed your heart off. And that’s no way to celebrate Christmas," Xander chided gently.

And she remembered. She remembered all of it. The darkneing of the sky, the fights, the destruction. She remember Willow getting–and Angel leaving to try and find a solution, to try and help others. She remembered Xander dying because she wasn’t fast enough, leaving his kid sister to help her.

She remembered the tears she had shed, and all the ones she never had.

"What’s to celebrate?" Buffy asked softly.

"The fact that you’re alive," Anya suggested.

"The fact that others are too," Cordelia added.

"Jessica and Willow," Xander said.

"Hope," Oz added quietly.

"All of us," Giles said, a Buffy glanced up at him, her heart numb.

"But you’re gone. All of you. All of this…It’s all gone," she whispered, looking around her at the cosy living room, the stockings and presents, the hot chocolate and cookies, and all of them.

"It’s in your heart," Xander told her. "And besides, knowing what it’s like foryou, what do you think it’s like for Will?"

She tried not to think of that. She really, really tried. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

"We’re always with you Buffy," Giles said, stroking her hair softly. "Merry Christmas."

And she woke up in the cold, dark room, the warmth inside her slowly fading to the ice it had been for a long, long time.

Part Two

Silence stretched taught over the small room. Buffy ate her energy bar quickly, the only food she’d have until night. As if night and day made any difference anymore. Jessica meditated on the boy’s location, and having failed to pinpoint it ate her own breakfast quietly.

"You should go," Buffy said finally, into the quiet air.

"Where?" Jessica asked, looking up from her dry cereal (milk was hard to get) and tattered old book. Their eyes met–green and brown, both tired and full of heartache.

"To the Compound. To celebrate," Buffy said shortly, standing up and turning away to pick up her black shoes, her gloves and mask.

"Why? I thought it was nonsense," Jessica reminded her, that forlorn quality creeping into her voice again. Buffy paused, unable to turn back and look at her.

"Xander never thought so," she said quietly, and bent to pull on her boots.

Silence crept over them again.

"Won’t you come?" Jessica whispered. Buffy straightened up and drew out a few pins, coiling her braid around her head and pinning it up before she put on her gloves.

"I have work to do," she said, something inside her crying at the thought, at the mention of those dark streets, the horror that haunted what had once been a bright city, an alive city. The City of Angels. It was the City of Demons now. She pulled on her mask, becoming a shadow again, a thing of darkness suited to the darkness, not a human at all. She paused at the door. "Merry Christmas," she whispered, and slipped out.

When the darkness came, Xander had been at home, playing cards with his little sister and Willow. In the basement, they had survived the worst of The Change. Willow…Willow hadn’t done as well, but Xander and Jessica had emerged relatively unscathed to a new world. Jessica, they found, had a talent–she could sense people in trouble. And there were a lot of people in trouble. Now, years later, there were less. Out of the millions of people who’d once lived in L.A. she only sensed a few every day. The others were in the Compound, or dead.

She couldn’t tell much about them. Their sex usually, maybe their general age. How frightened they were. She knew what area of the city, but never specific addresses. But Buffy searched anyway. That was all there was left to do. At first they all searched–Buffy, Xander and Angel. But Xander had died and Angel had gone away, and now the Slayer searched alone on those empty dark streets.

Days blurred into weeks, and months. Time was relative; there were no days, or nights, except what humans made them to be. She hunted as long as she could, and then she went back and ate, and slept, and woke to hunt again. She fought sometimes, but most of the demons have moved on, and the ones that were left were big enough to give pause to even the Slayer. Mostly she searched. On Christmas Day she searched for a little boy who had been crying in Jessica’s soul for days.

Memories gripped her as she walked. Snow in Sunnydale. Decorating the Christmas tree with Xander and Willow. Xander ate half the popcorn before they could string it, and then they had a fight, and threw it all over the living room…

She remembered Willow’s annoyed comments about Santa Claus and Xander’s Scooby Dance, Giles’ insistence on putting up Christmas lights and her mother’s willingness to satisfy Buffy’s need for gingerbread at two in the morning on Christmas Eve.

And then she remembered the last Christmas. Before it all ended.

She’d been depressed, thinking about Angel and the year before, when it snowed. She’d opened her stocking without enthusiasm and taken for granted Xander’s Snoopy Dance when they watched a Charlie Brown Christmas.

There weren’t words for how much she wished she could go back and relive that week. The last week of Buffy Summers’ life, as far as she was concered.

Now she was nothing more than a shadow, slipping through the darkness, calling silently to a little boy that cried for his mother.

She passed right by him at first. This little bundle of rags on the side of a street, curled up beneath the remains of a hot dog stand. Beneath the heavy silence she heard it, and paused, her Slayer senses jumping, taking her over as they never had back when the world was light and the sun shone. She was a much better Slayer now, stronger, more honed. She didn’t care if she died, and it showed.

But she was a much worse person.

It was less than a whimper, but that was enough. She slipped soundlessly back and paused again, listening to the sounds of breathing. She knelt and saw him, curled in on himself, trying not to cry out. She pulled off her mask and caught those big, dark eyes, so full of fear, then smiled sadly. "Hello," she whispered. "Merry Christmas."

*****

His name was Eli and he was all of four. He looked two, maybe three, all huge eyes in a thin, sunken face. His mother had been hiding with him since The Change. She never knew that there were other people alive, only a few miles away. And a few days before she had been killed by something. A big birdy, Eli said, flapping his pitifully thin arms.

There was no choice. Only one place to take him.

He was sadly easy to hold. He clung to her for dear life, and when he asked her name she smiled at him, despite herself and told him. She hadn’t done that for a long time. Usually she just found them and brought them back to HQ, where Jessica took charge and took them to the Compound. But Jessica wouldn’t be there today, at least, Buffy hoped she wouldn’t. And this boy needed food and water soon. Not to mention warmth, and a kind face. Kinder than Buffy’s.

She held him in her arms and ran. One person could usually go undetected, but two gave off a fair amount of warmth, and that brought predators. The only reason the Compound still survived was the spells Willow and others had built around it, shields to keep it unnoticed. His arms wrapped around her neck, frail and strong, the grip of someone who wants to live, who has found his salvation. Or maybe just a scared little boy who lost his mother as so many had.

She slowed as they approached, ducking inside a fallen building and through one it’s vents which led down. The actual Compound wasn’t underground, but having only one entrance made it easier to guard. She emerged a few minutes later, Eli trembling with fear from the dark, but not having made a sound. He was afraid to, his mouth clamped shut, his teeth chattering. She stroked his face and turned to look at the men holding guns on her.

"The password is Sunnydale," she said. She hadn’t come in a year in a half, but Jessica kept her updated. The men lowered their weapons, still eyeing her suspiciously. "I’m Buffy." They blinked and their eyes widened, then they stepped back from the door. One of them punched in a code and the thing swung open. "Thanks," she said softly and walked inside, and up the passage, emerging into the main room.

It was decorated. Strings of Christmas lights with broken bulbs hung everywhere. Eli’s eyes widened in delight. He wouldn’t remember Christmas. Probably not the sun either. There was a Christmas tree in one corner–true, it was a little thin and scorched, but it was a Christmas tree. Little children were decorating it with their parents. Eli looked even more surprised to see other children his age. Buffy smiled. "You can go play," she said softly, setting him down. He shook his head and clung to her legs.

"Buffy!" a voice cried. Buffy looked up to see Jessica coming quickly across the room. "You came!"

"Well, I had to bring Eli," she said. Jessica smiled brilliantly at the little boy. "Eli, this is Jessica. Jessica, Eli," Buffy introduced.

"Thank you Buff," Jessica said softly, looking up, her eyes shining.

"It’s what I do," Buffy replied.

"You’ll stay, won’t you?" Jessica asked, looking anxious all of a sudden.

"I should say hello to Willow," Buffy said evenly, no trace of the pain she felt coming into her voice. Jessica nodded.

"She’s in the kitchen." Buffy nodded and knelt down beside the little boy.

"Will you stay with Jessica? She’ll take good care of you, I promise. I bet they even have some presents for you," she said softly. His eyes lit up and a smile tugged at his serious lips. Then he looked back at Buffy.

"I wanna stay with you," he said firmly. Buffy’s heart did that achy-thing again that she thought she’d forgotten.

"I’ll be back in a minute, I promise. I just have to go say hello to someone." He shook his head stubbornly. Buffy sighed, then picked him up again and set him on her hip.

"All right. Come on." She met Jessica’s eyes again and then walked past her, into the kitchen.

The place was busy. Men and women chattered happily as they prepared dinner. She smelled turkey, and mashed potatoes and…fruitcake? She almost laughed. Then her eyes lighted on a slender young woman at a table, cutting out cookies and setting them on a tray to be baked. Buffy walked over slowly and set Eli down on the bench.

"Can I have a cookie?" he asked. Buffy nodded, unable to speak for a moment as she watched the girl she’d once known better than anyone in the world cut bells out of cookie dough.

"I thought you didn’t like Christmas," she said softly. "Remember, ‘not everyone worships Santa.’ "

Willow’s hand paused and her face turned, unseeing eyes going straight to Buffy’s face.

"Buffy?" she whispered quietly. Buffy sat down on the bench beside Willow.

"Merry Christmas Will. Or Happy Hannukah or whatever," she said softly, taking one of Willow’s hands. Willow trembled, her other hand searching the air and finding Buffy’s face. She traced it softly, her fingers pausing for a moment over the scar on Buffy’s cheek.

"What happened?" she asked. Buffy searched her best friend’s face. It was the same, all of it, except older. Sadder. And those endlessly searching eyes, darkened forever just as the world was.

"Carri demon," Buffy replied shortly.

"Well you still look gorgeous," Willow said serenely, as if she could see the difference in her mind’s eye.

"Liar," Buffy accused fondly. There was a pause. "Christmas cookies Will? I never would have guessed."

"It’s not about a religion anymore," Willow replied, letting her hands fall. "It’s about hope, and being together. They don’t look too demented do they? I can use a cookie cutter, but I can’t tell how they turn out."

"They’re fine," Buffy replied.

"I didn’t think you would come," Willow said softly.

"I didn’t think I would either." Buffy looked away, traced flour on the table idly. "I dreamt about them last night."

"I do that a lot," Willow replied softly. "What did you dream?"

"That it was Christmas, and we were all together." She paused. "I’m sorry."

"For what?" Willow asked.

"For everything."

"Can I have another one?" Eli asked.

"Fine with me," Buffy said lightly.

"Who’s your friend?"

"This is Eli. Eli, this is my friend Willow." The boy paused to say hello before taking a bite of his cookie.

"Are you staying?" Willow asked after a moment.

"I don’t know. I’m not exactly feeling merry."

"All the more reason to stay here," another familiar voice said, stepping out of the doorway and into the light. Buffy looked up, already knowing who’s dark eyes she would meet.

Part Three

"Who’s he?" Eli asked in a curious voice. Buffy searched for hers.

"That’s Angel," she said quietly, unable to look away from those eyes, from the love, the hope…and the accusation. "How long have you been here?"

"About a month," he replied. She blinked, taken aback. A few days she could understand…months even. But he had been here a month?

"Why didn’t you send word?" Buffy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you have come?" he countered, and she closed her eyes against the pain in his voice, as if it would help.

"I have things to do," she said firmly, knowing she was making excuses. "I don’t have time for visits, but you could have come–"

"Shh," he said, walking closer and tilting her face up to see his. "Merry Christmas."

She remembered the last time she had seen him. It was…three years ago? They had everything well in hand, and decided someone should go look for other people, see how the rest of the world was doing, and if anyone knew of a way to help. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye. She knew it would crack whatever small semblance of control she had left. Soshe made herself scarce, and watched him from the shadows as he walked away. He had looked over, looked right at her and she knew he knew she was there. Their eyes caught for a minute, and then…and then he turned and walked away.

"Merry Christmas Angel," she said softly. He looked at the boy standing on the bench beside her, eating a cookie and watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes.

"Who’s this?" he asked, a smile playing on his face.

"This is Eli," Buffy introduced them.

"Do you know what Christmas is?" Angel asked gently. Eli nodded enthusiastically.

"Mommy said Santa Claus always comes! And when the baby Jesus was born, there was a bright star in the sky right over his head! What’s a star?" he asked, his little brow furrowing.

"A beautiful light in the sky," Angel said softly. "Someday all the clouds will go away, and you’ll see a star."

"Promise?" Eli asked. Angel nodded and Buffy gave him a sharp look. He couldn’t promise something like that to a child!

"It’s Christmas," he said softly in answer to her look. Eli munched happily on his cookie and silence stretched over them.

"Angel found lots of other people," Willow said after a minute. "More than we thought."

"Good," Buffy replied. "Any clue as to how to stop all this?" She gestured vaguely towards the sky. He shook his head.

"Not yet. Nohing solid anyway. Buffy, I…I missed you," he said softly. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and avail herself of their strong comfort. She wanted to tell him about all the lonely nights wishing he were there, all the cold, dark days becoming nothing more than a shadow on the streets.

She sat looking up at him, silently.

When The Change first hit, Buffy might as well have been killed. She went through the motions of helping Angel and Xander find people, build the Compound, organize things and get food and water, but she wasn’t there. In the middle of a fight she would suddenly see her mother’s face and just stop. It got to the point where she wouldn’t even get out of bed.

She could still remember the morning she woke up different. The morning when it all changed. She went to bed heartsick and woke up without a heart. Or maybe it was there, but so deeply enclosed in ice that nothing could touch it anymore. She walked outside to where the sun didn’t shine and knew this was the way it had to be. And it had been. When Angel left, she didn’t see him off, afraid to break her control. When Xander died, she didn’t cry, afraid to acknowledge her own grief. She saw Willow as little as possible, afraid that her best friend’s sightless eyes would somehow see through the outer façade to the real Buffy, or the lack thereof.

It was easier this way, not to feel anything. No pain, no joy. It let her keep on fighting. She had to keep on fighting.

But looking up at Angel, she wanted to feel happy. Just for a moment. She wanted to be comforted.

"Come on, we’re opening presents!" Jessica cried, opening the door to the kitchen and peeking her head in. Willow smiled and held out her hand. Angel took it and helped her up.

"Will you come?" Willow asked. "We got you a present."

Buffy hesitated, then looked at Eli. "Do you want a present from Santa Claus?" Angel asked him. He nodded slowly, then looked at Buffy.

"Are you coming?" he asked. She sighed, wondering when Angel had become this devious, and nodded. He held out his arms and she picked him up, glad despite herself to feel the warmth of his little arms around her neck. She followed her friends into the neck room, where people were gathering around the tree. Angel sat Willow down in a chair and stood over her. A fireplace nearby crackled and Buffy blinked at the picture before her. It all looked so perfect. The children were so excited, and everyone smiling and laughing–and for a moment it was easy not to see the thinness of the tree, the threadbare clothes they all wore, Willow’s unseeing gaze above her warm smile…

"Are you going to open your present?" Eli asked.

"I don’t know," Buffy said. "Will you open yours first?" He nodded and she set him down, kneeling beside him and looking to Jessica for direction.

"Here," she said, handing him a package. He tore into it eagerly and grinned when he found a teddy bear. So the ribbon was dirty and frayed. So some of the fur was missing. He hugged it as tightly as if it were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Buffy wondered if he’d ever had a stuffed animal.

"Now you," he whispered, turning back to her with shining eyes. Buffy smiled gently, swallowing a lump in her throat, and looked up at Angel.

"Here," he said, taking something from the pocket of his duster. It was small and rectangular, and hard. She opened it carefully, steeling herself against whatever it was. She wouldn’t let it get to her. She couldn’t.

She wasn’t prepared for what she saw though.

It was a book. A photo album. On the first page was a picture of them all during her senior year–Buffy standing loosely in Angel’s arms, Xander and Cordelia actually smiling instead of bickering, Willow and Oz holding hands. Giles had taken the picture, she remembered. They were all smiling, and laughing. Xander had just said something idiotic, and Cordelia something scathing, and they’d all laughed–Buffy couldn’t remember what they’d said. What had made her look that happy. It hadn’t even been the joke as much as being there, with Angel and all of them. They’d spent the day out picnicking, and then met Angel at the library. She’d felt so happy, so carefree…She hardly remembered what it was like to feel that way.

The photo album was full of similar memories. Pictures of Xander and Willow having a paint fight. Angel and Giles with books in hand. Anya and Cordelia glaring at each other. Willow and Oz touching foreheads. Buffy hiding from the camera, half laughing and half cringing. Xander with his arm around Jessica’s shoulders. Angel and Buffy, holding hands on patrol.

All these pictures should be gone, buried beneath wreckage. All these memories should be locked away so deep Buffy would never have to remember what it felt like to be happy.

"Where…how did you get these?" she asked in a whisper, looking up at Angel and Willow.

"Angel went to Sunnydale," Willow said softly. "Do you like them?"

‘Like’ wasn’t the word. They made her insides warm, and scared her half to death because she knew she would never feel that way again, and it hurt so much. Because even if she could…wouldn’t it be betraying them? Betraying their memory?

"Buffy," Angel said softly, crouching down beside her. "It’s not a crime to live."

She looked around the room, where people grasping for their daily bread ate cookies and sipped champagne, where children who had never had a Tickle Me Elmo or brand new electric car exclaimed in delight over raggedy stuffed animals and tea sets missing all the saucers. She’d thought she’d never see Christmas again, but it was here, all around her.

"Will you put the star at the top?" Eli asked, pointing to the Christmas tree. Buffy looked up and saw them watching her.

"Thank you," a woman mouthed to her, and then another and a man and a teenage boy. People she had saved, or their mothers or sisters or sons. One held out a glass star, a little cracked, but mostly intact. She stood up slowly and took it, then turned to the tree. Christmas music started to play from an old tape deck as she set the star on the top of the tree and turned back to Angel.

"I missed you," she said softly, and then smiled. "Merry Christmas."

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
Our troubles will be out of sight.

"How does the tree look?" Willow asked. Buffy and Angel walked over to either side of her and turned to gaze at the Christmas tree with it’s dilapidated lights and it’s faded glass bulbs. And that one glass star, shining slightly in the glow of a Christmas light.

"Beautiful," Buffy said softly.

"Buff?" Willow asked, reaching a hand up to her. Buffy took it firmly.

"Yes?"

"Don’t go away again," she whispered, and Buffy knew she didn’t mean going back to HQ. She wasn’t talking about leaving to look for people.

"I’ll try," she promised. She looked up and met Angel’s eyes. Some of the couples had begun to dance.

"Can I steal her Willow?" he asked.

"Steal away," Willow said happily. "If Eli will come here and talk to me." Buffy smiled and knelt down, beckoning the little boy to her.

"Will you describe the tree to Willow?" she asked. "Tell her all about your presents." He nodded enthusiastically and she set him on her friend’s lap, then stood up and faced Angel.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked. Buffy hesitated for a moment, afraid to take this last step. She hadn’t danced in years. Not since The Change. There’d been no reason. Or she hadn’t let there be one.

His eyes pleaded with her and she gave him her hand and her heart and let him lead her out onto the impromptu dance floor.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
Our troubles will be miles away.

"I miss them Angel," Buffy said softly. "I miss everything." He gathered her gently in his arms, their hands threaded together.

"I know. I do too. But they would want you to be happy."

Buffy looked up at him, surprised, wondering if he’d heard her say something about her dream to Willow and what exactly she’d said. His eyes questioned her. "I think you’re right," she said softly. She lay her head down on his chest and let herself feel what it was like to dance with him again, to be in his arms. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be safe, to be loved.

In a moment, the shadow she had become slipped away and she was herself again. Buffy. Older, sadder. But Buffy.

She knew what it was to hope again. Somehow, that cured everything.

"I love you," Angel said.

"I know."

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Later Buffy described the pictures to Willow in detail and they laughed, remembering Xander’s silly sayings and Giles’ scathing glances. They opened stockings and ate more than they had in years, and told Eli all about Santa Claus and the reindeer. Angel even convinced Buffy to sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (to Jessica’s endless delight).

Angel and Eli bonded and along with the other children set up a massive fort over half the room where they played hide and go seek. Willow had a set of brail cards and they played Gin Rummy for over an hour.

Buffy took her hair out of it’s braid and wore the shirt Jessica gave her. Angel told them all about the other people he had found. Buffy rocked Eli to sleep and discovered the feeling of having someone trust you so much they would fall asleep in your arms.

Buffy cried that night, curled up in Angel’s arms, for all that she had lost, for all the Christmases others would never see. The December air was warm, the Compound crowded, so they slept outside, and whispered promises that they wouldn’t part again. And as a clock chimed the last moments of Christmas somewhere in that dark city, the Slayer and her Angel slept beneath a bright star strewn sky.

Through the years we all will be together
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

The End

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!!