Buffy had been dead.



Although everyone around her tried to avoid acknowledging that fact, it didn’t make it any less true. And while her body had been resurrected, inside she was still almost completely dead. Her heart was like a vast wasteland of numbness, littered with the residual pain of her previous existence on earth.



Life was hard for Buffy right now. Having lost her mother several months earlier, she’d lost a vital link in her chain of support and she knew that she was crumbling to pieces. To make matters worse she was broke and without a college degree, devoid of job prospects, and had a tempestuous teenage sister to take care of.



Of course, that wasn’t the very worst of it all.



Her depression and yearning for something to make her feel anything other than sad, mad or numb had led her right into the waiting arms of her mortal enemy, Spike. For many years the two of them had battled tirelessly, neither ever really besting the other.



And instead of happily maintaining their comfortable mutual contempt, he’d gone and fallen in love with her, continuing to mourn her even when she was dead and buried. She wished her mind could erase the expression of elation she saw on his face when he realized she’d been resurrected. It physically hurt to know that someone loved her that much when she couldn’t even love herself right now.



But the night they spent together, in the ruins of an old building that they brought to the ground with their passion, had been magical. There was no way that she could deny that fact, not even to herself. For the first time in so long Buffy had been liberated from the hollow shell in which she barely existed. Willow might have brought her back with her magicks but Spike brought her back to life with his words, fingers and mouth. He stirred passion in her that she thought was long dead. The vampire was able to play her body like a flute, making it sing pretty music in a key she’d never known before.



Even in its imperfection it had blossomed into perfection.



Unfortunately, as with any high the ecstasy faded back into loathing and resentment almost as soon as it was over. She couldn’t let him into the cold hollow of her heart and slammed her proverbial doors on him once she’d gotten done using him. It might be painful in the short term but she convinced herself that in the end it would be better for both of them.



And now she was dead inside once again.



She stood alone in the kitchen that Christmas Eve staring blankly at the dimming light of dusk and listening to the sound of running water. It reminded her a little of the peace of heaven. Her mind was a whirl of disconnected thoughts, all trying desperately to fit into their place but unable to settle anywhere. It was like a frozen wasteland of hell…hot ice and cold fire. Her head turned slowly as she heard footsteps and saw her sister, Dawn, approaching.



“Hey Buffy!” Dawn bounded into the kitchen, a smile that was a little too wide, a little too forced on her face. She eyed her older sister with concern. It appeared as though Buffy had been staring at the water as it ran ceaselessly from the faucet again. Since she’d gotten back from heaven, that had been a regular occurrence and these weird little episodes scared Dawn.



She’d already endured the pain of losing her big sister one time. She wasn’t sure if she could cope with it again.



“Dawnie.” Buffy tried for a smile but it looked more like a pained grimace, and Dawn’s heart sank. She wondered if she would ever get her sister back.



She missed her.



“So, I was wondering,” Dawn said cautiously, “seeing as though it’s already Christmas Eve and we haven’t really planned anything for tomorrow, what are we gonna do this year? The mall’s still open so we could do some late night shopping, get some decorations and gifts, maybe even one of those plastic trees.”



Buffy stared blankly at her dark haired sister, trying to digest the information. Christmas was here again and Buffy hadn’t even thought about it.



Well death did have a tendency to get in the way of the little things.



In the past Christmas had been a time for celebration and rejoicing, but now it seemed flat and devoid of any true meaning. Without her mother, Buffy didn’t really want to celebrate Christmas. Even Giles, the man who had taken his place as her surrogate father, was on another continent this year and wouldn’t be able to enjoy the festive season with them.



Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t afford to start shelling out precious money for luxuries they couldn’t afford, especially when there had recently been the added incursion of hospital bills for Dawn’s newly broken arm.



Dawn had such a hopeful look on her face but Buffy knew she would have to tell her that Christmas was canceled this year. She didn’t want to duke it out with her younger sister, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could hope for was that Dawn wouldn’t be too defiant and stubborn.



After an extended awkward silence, finally Buffy sighed. “We can’t do Christmas this year Dawn.”



“What?” The teen stared at her in shock, her jaw slightly parted as she realized that the holiday season was void of meaning this time around. “You’re kidding, right?”



“I’m not kidding, Dawn. We don’t have the money or the time. And I don’t feel very Christmassy right now anyway.” She winced and lowered her voice. “Getting torn out of heaven will go right ahead and kill the holiday spirit for ya.”



“We got a whole basement full of decorations. I can put them up and they won’t cost a dime. What’s the harm in that?”



“The harm is that I don’t want to have those stupid decorations forced down my goddamn throat when I’m not in the mood for this stupid holiday season. I’m not feeling like festive-Buffy.” The Slayer knew that her voice was harsh and cruel but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. The pain was clawing at her insides and it wanted to escape and wreak havoc on everyone around her.



“Mom always made Christmas special,” Dawn insisted defiantly.



“Just in case you didn’t notice, I’m not Mom.” Buffy turned off the faucet with such violent force she nearly tore it off and whipped around to face her furious sister. “I can’t do this if you put all of this pressure on me. I go out there night after night to slay demons and keep this world safe for everyone and all you’re worried about is putting up some goddamn tinsel and stuffing your face with turkey. Just forget about Christmas this year, okay?”



“Why don’t you just say ‘bah humbug’, Buffy?” Dawn yelled, her face flushed with anger and hurt. “You’re acting like Scrooge, so you should start talking like him!” She cradled the cast on her arm as twinges seared through her and glared at her sister with as much venom as she could muster.



“Scrooge?” Buffy wrinkled her nose and tilted her head in confusion. “The rich duck guy that always dived into the swimming pool full of coins?”



“No, the Charles Dickens guy!” Dawn retorted. “God, I’m fifteen and even I know that. You know…British, stuffy writer guy from nineteenth century? Didn’t you ever go to school?”



“I’m sorry, Giles,” Buffy replied sarcastically. “I was too busy saving the world and running swords through the man I loved to worry about some British dead writer.”



“Well hey! The world isn’t in jeopardy right now! And you still don’t want us to have a good Christmas.”



“I don’t care about Christmas. Period. I don’t want to hear it mentioned again, okay?” She met Dawn’s petulant stare, conveying the finality of her words with severe sternness.



Dawn felt tears forming in her eyes and dug her fingernails into her palms, drawing blood that trickled down her wrists in tiny crimson rivulets. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” she screeched, careering out of the room and up the stairs. Buffy grimaced a little as the slam of Dawn’s bedroom door echoed ferociously around the house and headed upstairs after her, only to find it locked.



Before she could try and coerce Dawn to open the door Willow poked her head out of her own bedroom. She looked a little put out at the disturbance but nevertheless tried for a smile in Buffy’s direction.



The smile fell flat.



Willow clearly tried to keep her face from falling. “Everything okay?” asked the redhead as jovially as she could.



Buffy nodded, pursing her lips. “Just fine. Dawn’s just pissed because Christmas is canceled this year.”



“Oh.” Willow gave her a slightly disapproving look. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to try to do something for Dawn? I mean, I know it’s already Christmas Eve so it’s kind of late, but you could still go out and get her a tree and…”



Buffy held up her hand, a frown settling on her forehead. “Willow stop. I don’t have the money to do that, okay?”



“But it’s Christmas.”



Buffy rolled her neck to try to relieve a little of the simmering tension. It didn’t work. “Uh Wills, you don’t even celebrate Christmas. You’re Jewish so I’m thinking no so much with the Christmassy celebrate-y.”



Willow squared her shoulders. “Yes, but Jesus was Jewish too. And this is for Dawnie anyway. She needs to have some stability in her life, Buffy, and you’re her guardian so…”



Buffy finally lost the last thread of her patience. “Will, you almost killed Dawn so please don’t lecture me on what’s best for my kid sister.”



Willow’s mouth hung open in stunned dismay but Buffy stormed down the stairs, not able to look at the witch for another moment. She didn’t want to hear any more of Willow’s pathetic excuses or endure more of Dawn’s whining. Once again, she questioned why she’d been dragged back to this life.



All she faced was pain on this earth.



The Slayer slumped down onto the couch, resting her weary head on her hands. She wanted to kill something right now, feel the life drain out of it as she twisted its neck in her hands. She wanted to recapture the power and control that she’d once possessed in spades.



Of course, she knew the one place where she could have control. If she went to Spike’s crypt right now she had no doubt that he’d readily hand over the key to his destiny to her. She hated him for trusting her so much.



She hated him for loving her.



The sharp ring of the doorbell startled her momentarily, pulling her violently from her profound musings, but she jumped to her feet and went to answer the door. A troop of carolers stood in front of her, their plump faces grinning as they crooned some seasonal ditties.



“Can I help you?” Buffy asked when they paused in their singing, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the carolers’ eager grins.



“We wondered if you might be willing to donate something to the Christmas fund, Miss,” an older man asked her. He gave her what he probably assumed was his best ‘charitable smile.’ However, his face fell when she didn’t return the friendly grin.



“You’re here to ask for money?”



“We’re collecting for the children, Ma’am,” an exotic looking woman in her late thirties informed her. “We thought perhaps you would help out seeing as it’s the season of giving.”



Buffy scowled. Didn’t these people realize just how much she’d already given to this goddamn world? Of course they didn’t know. How could they? But that didn’t stop the irritation from flooding her veins.



“Sorry, but the bank of Buffy is closed. If you want something try someone else who hasn’t already donated their blood, sweat, and tears to help people.”



With an angry snarl, she slammed the door in their shocked faces.



Still smarting from her younger sister’s words and the petty argument with Willow, and irrationally annoyed at the carolers, Buffy grabbed some stakes, stuffing them in the waistband of her pants, and stomped out of the house. She really needed to kill something right now, preferably after beating it to a bloody pulp.



The night was cool and it soothed her fury and pain a little, bringing back some of the blessed numbness. The sound of carolers rang out as she descended the street, lost in her own daze.



Unfortunately the night was pretty quiet and after almost one hour of wandering the boneyards Buffy still hadn’t found the knock down that she was spoiling for.



There was only one thing for it. She would have to head over to the forbidden territory of Restfield Cemetery. There were usually newly risen vamps clawing their way out of their graves over there. That was something she remembered doing herself. Something she remembered vividly. The only problem with going to that cemetery was the risk of running into the one vampire she didn’t want to see. The fact that he lived, or well…unlived…there could be a problem.



Not that she would give into temptation. No siree.



As she headed into the barren ground of Restfield Cemetery the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. That feeling was a staunch warning sign that there was a vampire in the vicinity and she readied herself for a good fight. It was what she needed. She wanted to get the adrenalin flowing and the blood pumping.



Maybe for a moment she could feel alive.



She heard the crunch of gravel behind her and grabbed her stake from her waistband. With practiced precision she whirled around, getting ready to launch the first punch at the creature when she ground to a sudden halt.



Instead of an evil creature she was confronted with…well with an evil creature. But unfortunately this wasn’t an evil creature that she could kill.



“Spike,” she sighed. “What do you want?”



The peroxide blond vampire’s eyes bored into her with a heated gaze. She’d gotten used to that lustful intensity ever since she’d gotten back. It had probably started even before she died but Buffy preferred now to dwell on the time before.



He was clad in his usual leather attire, dirty boots and silver jewelry. The only difference from usual was that his hair was mussed instead of being slicked back. Buffy felt her heartbeat speed up as she looked at him. It reminded her of his sex-hair and it brought back a flood of memories from their night of passion together.



“What do I want? Same as I always want,” Spike drawled, slipping behind her and letting his hand settle on her hips. He lowered his mouth to her neck and began to suck on the tender column, his tongue tracing a path over her pounding pulse.



For a few seconds she gave into the sensation of his lips on her neck and his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her abdomen before she came to her senses and wriggled away.



“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed angrily. “You don’t get to touch me!”



“Not what you were saying the other night,” Spike reminded her. There was an arrogance to his smirk that she just wanted to punch right off of his smug face. It didn’t make a difference that his words were the truth. When she’d been sweaty and writhing in his arms, she’d begged him to touch her, begged him for more. He’d electrified her nerves and sinews with his caresses, taking her to new, unimaginable heights.



Her body craved him. It wanted to use him to forget the misery of her life.



But he was evil and soulless and she couldn’t love him because she just knew he would hurt her. The mantra echoed in her head, strengthening her resolve to keep herself from falling back into his arms again. It was the only thing that she could do to keep herself from drowning in him. If she let herself fall then there would be no way back.



The permanence of loving Spike was the thing that terrified her most of all.



But he was standing so close to her now, so close that she could almost taste him. He smelled like sin and passion, tasted of love and death. When did he even get that close? With supernatural speed and strength he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him. Buffy could feel his lean muscles ripple against her and screwed her eyes shut. For a second she tried to resist, reminding herself of why this was a bad idea.



He was evil. He was soulless. He was…magical with his tongue



And now that tongue was working its way into her mouth exploring the hot wet cavern. He picked her up and carried her to the edge of the cemetery to lean them against a crypt. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist of their own volition. It seemed like her body knew what he could do for it and her body would not be denied.



Panting for unneeded breaths he ground against her, his erection striking her sensitized center with precision that made her purr. But there was too much fabric between them. She needed to be skin to skin.



“God, Buffy! I need you, love. I need you now!” he murmured, working one hand into the waistband of her pants.



She keened and mewled as he felt him skim the top of her mound before his fingers wandered lower and slipped between her moist lips. With practiced accuracy Spike strummed her wet little pearl.



“Ah! Oh God!” she gasped, clutching at him tighter. She could feel the impending release of her climax. She could feel herself floating back to heaven in the arms of a demon.



However, Spike wasn’t going to let her get her release if he wasn’t right there with her and he stopped his motions abruptly, withdrawing his hand from her most intimate place. Before she could protest he pulled his zipper down and freed his cock from its prison. Even the thought of Buffy could make it strain and fill with blood, and right now it sought out her heat as if it was made for that blissful sanctuary.



He tugged her pants down to give him access to her wetness, muttering about the fact that she should always wear skirts.



“Can’t wait another moment, love,” he told her as he sank into her. Twin gasps filled the night air, followed by ecstatic moans. Neither of them could get enough of each other and as his thrusts sped up their eyes rolled back in their heads.



It didn’t matter that they were outside where anyone could see them. It didn’t matter that Buffy was a Slayer and Spike was a vampire. It didn’t matter that they would hurt each other all over again when they were done. All that mattered was the feelings of this moment, right now.



“Are you close, baby?” Spike asked, burying his head in the crook of his lover’s shoulder. He knew that this was the closest that an evil demon like him could ever get to heaven. “I want you to scream for me. I need you to come all over my cock, love. Do it! Come for me, Buffy!” He pounded her with all of his strength, strength that would have crushed a normal, mortal woman. He knew she was almost there, he could smell it.



Finally they both cried out in dual release, his load spilling inside her as her juices gushed out all over his turgid organ. Their eyes met in passion and for that brief second it was like they were one entity.



And then reality sank in.



Pushing him away from her, Buffy grimaced as his dick slipped out of her with a wet plop. She glanced down as his spendings seeping out of her and chewed on her protruding bottom lip.



How the hell had she let this happen again?



Yanking up her pants she studiously ignored him. She didn’t want to see that hopeful glint in his eyes. If she did then she might crack and that would be the worst thing to happen.



However, Spike wasn’t so easy to avoid. He grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn to him. Belting up his jeans with one hand, he held on tightly to her. “Come to my crypt, pet. Let me love you properly. Somewhere that’s not a bloody graveyard.”



Buffy snorted. As if a crypt was so much better. Although he did have that big bed…But no! She would not allow herself to give in again. She had to stay strong.



“What just happened was a mistake! It was a onetime…uh twotime…thing, Spike, and it can never ever happen again. You disgust me.”



“Not up for a second round then?” he asked, trying to hide his hurt at her rejection. The Slayer was able to cut him like a peach, squeezing him until his heart was nothing more than raw pulp.



She was a maestro when it came to pain.



“There will be no second round, Spike,” she assured him, hoping he didn’t catch the slight hitch in her voice. “I kill disgusting, soulless things, not jump into bed with them.”



“Could have bloody well fooled me, love,” he retorted insolently. “It does seem like you have a penchant for falling into bed with ‘disgusting things’. Most certainly that’s a fitting label for the King of Nancy Boy Hair Gel and Captain Cardboard.”



She scowled at his sneering face, gripping her stake even more tightly. The wood felt good under her fingers, solid and real. For a moment she envisaged herself plunging it through Spike’s chest and watching him turn to dust. It would be so easy, so liberating.



So why couldn’t she do it?



“Seeing as though you don’t need me around maybe I should take a leaf out of your enormous foreheaded ex-honey’s book,” he said, his eyes downcast.



Buffy ignored the casually flung insult. “Angel’s book? What…you mean try to be good? As if that could ever happen.”



“No,” he lit up a cigarette and puffed on the white stick for a moment before leveling his intense gaze to hers. “I mean go for the big dramatic exit from this pitiful world and try dusting my sorry bloody self Christmas morning.”



“How did you know about that?” Buffy asked, flinching at the memory of her first love waiting to meet the sunrise on Kingman’s Bluff.



“Demon grapevine.” He shrugged. “But how I know about it isn’t the bloody point, love. Just saying, maybe I should take myself out of this sorry excuse for an unlife.”



“Ugh,” she sneered with disgust. “Quit with the pity party. I’m so sick of everyone’s whining. If you want to dust yourself then just go ahead and do it, Spike. All it would mean is that there would be one less vampire in the world for me to stake.”



Before he could open his mouth to offer a smart-assed retort, she drew back her hand and popped him right in the nose. His hands flew up to cup the abused appendage as he stumbled helplessly backward. Gazing at her in disbelief, his eyes radiated hurt and shock at her actions. She wondered why he should be shocked that she would punch him.



Stupid vampire should have gotten used to it by now.



Feeling satisfied that she’d dealt with the vampire appropriately Buffy whirled around and strode out of the cemetery in the direction of Revello Drive.



Every footstep seemed to echo in her head, like some kind of disembodied pulse. She could hear his shouts about her being a ‘barmy bloody bird’ echoing from behind her, but she slammed her heart shut to any feelings of remorse. After all, he was evil so he deserved every torment and torture that she deigned to give him.



So evil that he was her key to heaven.



Buffy hushed the voices in her head that reminded her of Spike’s changing nature. She didn’t want to hear them reminding her of how well he’d loved her body only minutes earlier. And she didn’t want to think about that look in his eyes as his orgasm rammed into him. That look when he gazed at her as if she was the most precious thing in the whole universe.



When a fledgling vampire jumped out in front of her, all dirty clothes and horror movie snarls, she plunged her wooden stake into his chest without even pausing in her stride. Now that was the way to really deal with a vampire. She only wished she could be that ruthless with every vamp that bothered her. It shouldn’t be so hard to stake one stupid Spike-shaped vampire.



So why the hell couldn’t she do it?



The thought alone gave her a pounding headache. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gotten a whole host of opportunities over the years. But something had always managed to wiggle in the way between her stake and his cold, dead heart. Now, of course, she had the prime opportunity. Loving her, or whatever passed for ‘love’ with Spike, made him vulnerable to her. She could easily plunge a stake into his heart and be done with it. It would take away that stupid nagging temptation too if he was nothing but dust.



Exhaling heavily she nodded decisively. As soon as she got the opportunity she would end this struggle between her and Spike once and for all.



One way or another.



When she reached her house, she let herself in, breathing a sigh of relief that it was quiet, and jogged up the stairs. Dawn and Willow must already have been asleep which made things easier for her. After her little spats with the two girls earlier she didn’t want to face them again so soon.



She didn’t feel like taking a shower tonight even though she knew she should. She could still feel Spike’s congealed spendings inside of her and on her thighs but although she would never admit there was something a little comforting about that. The Slayer just quickly brushed her teeth and changed into a comfy old pair of pajamas, ignoring her more disturbing thoughts. They fit her like second skin, not too constricting like most of her clothes were. They allowed her to breathe and that was a welcome change from the rest of the suffocating challenges that she faced.



The Slayer slid between the cool cotton sheets of her bed and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only when it was the cool, dark night that her brain started to calm down a little. This was the time she could rest. It wasn’t anything compared to the forbidden ecstasy that she’d felt in Spike’s arms, but it was peaceful and for now it was enough.



As soon as her head hit the pillow, Buffy fell straight to sleep. That, in itself, was unusual. Except for the night she spent in the old house with Spike, since she had been torn out of heaven, sleep didn’t always come easily, and when she did fall asleep, she was usually plagued by hauntingly terrifying nightmares. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been forced to subconsciously relieve clawing her way out of her grave.



But tonight Buffy descended into slumber, feeling as if her body was fluttering to the ground on a gentle breeze. When she landed, the Slayer looked around and realized she was in what appeared to be an old house. It reminded her of old TV shows that she used to watch when she still had time to laze around watching television during her early teenage years. It looked as if no one had lived here for a while and the dust was tickling her nose. She sneezed several times from the irritant.



“Hello?” she called out, looking around and soaking in her surroundings. Of course, she received no answer from the seemingly abandoned house. Warily she started exploring the place, and the farther she went, the more ominous it seemed. There was a figurative coldness about the place, but also a distinct chill in the air, and Buffy pulled her sweater more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the bitter cold. Even in winter, California was never as cold as this place.



Yes, it was a house, but it definitely wasn’t a home.



A noise coming from one of the other rooms put Buffy on alert and her head whipped up to face the doorway. When Buffy heard the rattle of chains, her chest tightened painfully. It was strange having such lucid dreams, but as a Slayer she was used to that and she could usually distinguish the difference between being awake and being asleep. She could also anticipate the start of a nightmare, and the clanging noise of chains wasn’t exactly a good omen.



However, she certainly wasn’t expecting to see the figure that walked through the door.



“Faith!” Buffy gasped, her hand coming up to cover her gaping mouth.



The other slayer was just as Buffy remembered her, all curves and pale skin and long dark wavy hair, except for the fact that she was bound in layer upon layer of heavy metals chains. There was even a train of cast iron links trailing behind the voluptuous brunette. Instead of the arrogant expression that had been pasted on Faith’s face for much of the time that Buffy had known her, she looked sad and worn with huge dark circles underlining her tortured eyes.



“Hello, B,” Faith finally said, breaking the awkward silence between them. As she moved the chains rattled again.



“Faith. Why are you here? In my…head?” Buffy asked, biting her lip warily. The only time Faith had appeared in her dreams was when it had been a Slayer-dream. And that rarely turned out well.



“Apparently the Powers figure you need a helping hand,” Faith said, sitting down in one of the dusty chairs and beckoning for Buffy to sit across from her. Not taking her eyes off of the brunette, Buffy slinked over to the chair and stiffly sat down.



“Not sure why they’d think I needed a helping hand from you, Faith,” Buffy said coldly, leveling dead eyes at her companion. “Last time I saw you, you were trying to steal my boyfriend. Oh yeah…and my life. Not to mention the way you acted when I saw you in L.A.”



Faith’s face twisted guiltily and she sighed. “I’m paying for my crimes now, B. See this chain?” She waved a few links of the chain at the blonde and Buffy nodded cautiously. “There’s a reason I wear this.”



“Wanna elaborate?” Buffy asked. “Or is this one of those cryptic-y, riddle-y dreams that we all find so much fun?”



“This is ‘cause of what I did, B. I forged this chain, link by link. Every person I hurt, every heart I broke…it’s all here. And I carry it with me every day.”



“I didn’t think that was regulation prison uniform,” Buffy quipped half-heartedly. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but wherever it was, she didn’t like it.



“I carry them on the inside,” Faith responded sadly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “On the outside I look like everything’s five by five. But on the inside…I’m damaged.”



“I see.” Buffy shrugged. “So what’s the deal with bringing the chain-y baggage into my head?”



“We’re not in your head, B,” Faith said slowly. “This is your heart.”



“No offense, Faith. But you’re the last person I’d want in my heart.”



Faith chuckled humorlessly. “That’s the problem though, ain’t it? You don’t want anyone in your heart. Look at this place, Blondie. It’s cold as ice, unused, dusty.”



“I use my heart!” The blonde retorted defensively, shooting daggers at Faith with her eyes. It didn’t help that Faith had just voiced one of Buffy’s worst fears. Even before she jumped from the tower, the Slayer had been afraid that she had lost her ability to love, despite what the spirit of the First Slayer had told her during her vision quest.



That fear had grown exponentially stronger since her return from beyond the grave. And now one of the people she hated most was sitting here giving voice to the suggestion that she was all out of love.



“You use your head, Buffy. You keep your heart locked up. I used to do that too and look where it’s gotten me.” Faith smirked. “Not that prison showers can’t be fun when you’re with the right people.”



“You’re disgusting, Faith,” Buffy said but without any real fire in her voice. “I’m guessing the chance to recount the Adventures of Faith in the State Penn isn’t the real reason you’re vacationing in my dreams.”



“Always been an intuitive one, B,” Faith commended her with a smile. “See, I’m guessing the Powers still think there’s some hope left for you. You’re a good slayer and they probably don’t want to see you turn into…uh…me.”



“Pretty sure I’m not going on a killing spree anytime soon, Faith. Although if you piss me off enough…” A smirk danced on her lips as she left the statement hanging in the air.



Faith merely rolled her eyes. She wasn’t here to fight with her sister Slayer and she clearly recognized Buffy’s defense mechanisms.



“The killings were just a symptom of my problems,” Faith assured her. “The real problem was that I was dead inside. I stopped being able to feel and I needed to channel my frustration somewhere. The Mayor gave me the opportunity to be free, to let everything come spilling out. I hurt people in every way possible, yo. I screwed up but now that I know I’m a screw up it’s too late to be anything other than a screw up. I don’t have a chance to change. Not like you do.”



Buffy flinched as Faith’s words stuck a resonating chord inside of her. She felt as if was dead inside, lost in a world that was too chaotic and too harsh to really live in. She existed, sure, but she wasn’t living. The only time she felt alive was with her evil, dead lover and that wasn’t exactly bragging territory right there.



“So you’re saying that if I’m numb, I’m gonna become the next…you?” Buffy asked, her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears.



“I don’t think you’re gonna start slaughtering people in their beds,” Faith replied pointedly, the chains clinking together as she crossed her legs. “But love is what fuels a slayer. When you can’t love then you can’t truly do your duty effectively, and then you start to fade away. You just become a weapon and that makes you a loose cannon that hurts everyone around you. Proof positive here.”



Buffy gulped audibly and ran both hands through her hair, huffing out a breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. Of course, she’d realized she was fading away even before she died. Coming back from Willow’s spell had just heightened that awareness. Being on earth after spending that time in heaven was the worst kind of torture for the blonde Slayer. All she really wanted was to go back because she didn’t think she could recapture the bliss of heaven when she was living in hell.



The blonde’s sorrow must have shone through her face because Faith’s features softened and she gazed at Buffy pitifully. “Trust me, B, if you keep rejecting the love you’re offered, you’ll be exactly where you always feared ending up. Alone.”



“I have my friends,” Buffy said quickly. “I love them.”



Faith quirked an eyebrow.



“Mostly,” Buffy amended. “In a ‘not-gonna-jump-into-bed-with-you’ kinda way.”



“Not talking about that kind of love.” Faith raised an eyebrow when Buffy blushed. “There’s a boy who’s pretty sweet on you, I hear. Okay he’s of the undead persuasion, but you keep pushing him away.”



All the color drained out of Buffy’s face. “How did you…?”



“Messenger of the powers here, B,” Faith chuckled. Seeing the worry etching itself into Buffy’s pallid face, Faith took pity on her. “Don’t worry, Blondie. I won’t remember that when I wake up. It’s a subconscious only thing so I won’t be spilling your secret any time soon.” Her chains rattled again. “Not that I could spill to your precious Scooby Gang from lock up anyways. So tell me about him? William the Bloody?”



“I don’t want to talk about him,” Buffy said firmly, hoping Faith would drop the subject. Buffy didn’t understand why the Powers would be even remotely concerned with Spike’s sick fascination for her.



“Just sayin’, maybe you should give him a chance, give love a chance.”



Buffy’s brow crinkled. “He’s evil and it’s wrong,” she replied.



“He loves you,” Faith told her, as if it was really that simple. “Listen, B. You don’t have to end up with Mr. Billy Idol. But you need to understand how to open your heart to love again. It’s been scarred, I get that because that’s the way I’ve always been Powers get it too. That’s why I’m here, to help you. To save you from becoming me.”



“What can I do?” Buffy asked wearily, screwing her eyes shut like a child. “I don’t want to end up like…like you. I don’t want to be all chain-y.”



Faith grinned humorlessly. “And I repeat, that is why I’m in your dreamland, B. To warn you and to help you…to give you a chance to change. You will be haunted by three spirits.”



Buffy gasped, her face falling at the thought of being haunted. “That’s the chance I have?” she choked out, her throat suddenly as dry as the desert. “How can that possibly help me?”



“You gotta keep that pretty mind of yours open, honey,” Faith warned her. “Without the ghosts, you ain’t walking any other path but mine. You can expect the first at 1am tomorrow.”



“Wait, can’t I just have them all at the same time? Like a 3 for 1 special on the wiggage?”



Faith continued as if Buffy hadn’t spoken. “The second will come on the next night at the same hour and you get to see what’s behind door number three at the same time on the night after that.”



Before Buffy got the chance to ask anything else, suddenly Faith stared to howl, the most horrific sound escaping from her maw as a screaming wail. She threw her arms into the air, as if she was trying to save herself from drowning. The chains rattled like macabre cymbals as she flailed and screeched. In front of Buffy’s eyes Faith’s body began to age and decay, a whirlwind of rust and brown melting into dust.



The terrible cacophony of rattling chains filled Buffy’s tender ears as it grew exponentially more intense. The air grew smoky, a haze of dark plumes winding around the blonde, choking her as they seemed to surround and fill her. She coughed violently, struggling against the agony of the noise and sensations.



She screamed, but her own voice sounded foreign to her as she was pulled deeper and deeper into the quagmire of darkness.



Until finally…she knew no more.

Buffy awoke to the chiming of the old carriage clock downstairs. She lifted her head groggily from the pillow, frowning as the memory of the dream began to trickle back to her.



With a gasp she re-envisaged Faith’s ghostly form, wrapped in layer upon layer of iron chains that by her own admission she had weaved herself with all of her sins.



Jumping out of her bed she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, passing by the faint sounds of snoring coming from both Dawn’s and Willow’s rooms on the way down.



The knowledge that there were other people nearby was comforting although she was a little scared of the spirits that dream-Faith predicted. It was ridiculous for a Slayer to be afraid, of course. Little (and big) nasties were supposed to be terrified of her because she was the all powerful Slayer. Mommy and Daddy demons told their spawn horror stories of the golden haired Slayer who could kill them why they slept.



However, ghosts weren’t really Buffy’s territory. Firstly, in her experience ghosts or spirits weren’t exactly of the corporeal persuasion which meant that she couldn’t simply thrust a stake through their heart or casually lop off their head. Secondly, her job was to kill evil beings and if these spirits were really being sent to her by the Powers that Be, then they weren’t going to be evil…probably. Which meant she would have to endure whatever torture they had in store for her.



Either way it left her with a dilemma and feeling more than a little bit afraid of what was to come. Not that Slayers were supposed to be afraid, but Buffy had never gotten a copy of the official handbook so she wasn’t all about playing by the rules.



Entering the kitchen she flipped on the light and made her way over to the sink, pouring herself a large class of cool water which she proceeded to gulp down without pausing to draw breath. The cold liquid slid down her throat, helping to refresh the parched tissue and when she finally slammed the glass back down on the countertop she felt more than a little rejuvenated.



She turned out the light and was about to head back upstairs when she saw it. A tiny luminous flickering out of the corner of her eye. Spinning to the direction where the flickering was coming from, she realized there was nothing there, but she did hear a giggle from behind her. Once again she spun around only to meet with empty air.



“Okay, I got no time for games, so show yourself Tinkerbelle before I remember I’m the Slayer,” Buffy demanded with more bravado that she was feeling right now.



A sudden flash momentarily blinded her and she steadied herself as a wave of disorientation washed over her. Warily opening her eyes, she saw a small glowing girl in front of her. The girl was a strange sight to behold. While her form was that of a child, she possessed wizened eyes, like those of a supernatural being that’s several centuries old. Buffy shook off the thought that the intense eyes of the girl were reminiscent of those of a bleach headed vampire.



The ancient child had long golden locks that seemed to melt into the long flowing white robes in which she was dressed. The Slayer squinted as she studied the figure in front of her, sure that she had encountered her before.



“I’m guessing you’re ghostie number one?” Buffy asked meeting the floating spirits penetrating stare. “Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that cheese before bed.”



The spirit ignored Buffy’s quip. “I am,” she agreed. “I am the ghost of Christmas Past.”



“Whose past?” Buffy wondered curiously. “My past?”



The spirit tinkled with laughter, like a thousand Christmas bells all chiming together in harmony. The sound was strangely beautiful and ugly at the same time as if it was a noise that should never be heard by human ears.



“Every past is connected,” the spirit informed her, somewhat haughtily. “Every human life forms part of an intricate tapestry, woven together to form humanity as a whole.”



“Okay, that makes the kind of sense that’s not,” Buffy muttered.



“Silence!” the spirit commanded, her eyes glowing brighter. “I will show you what you need to see to understand. Shadows of what have passed for you and others can help you realize…”



“Realize what?” prompted the Slayer.



The tinkling laughter sounded again. “Oh my, I can’t tell you that. That would be too easy. I must show you. Come.”



Buffy knew she should protest, argue, even get her slayage on. But all she could do was nod numbly at the spirit. There was something deep within her that responded to the spirit’s commands, as if she was innately programmed by the Powers That Be to react positively to their messenger.



With a smile, the spirit guided Buffy to the front door, her white robes trailing behind her like moonbeams. When the door swung open, Buffy glanced down at her attire and realized she was still dressed in her pajamas. She didn’t always have time to be fashion queen due to the extreme toll slaying took on her wardrobe. However leaving the house in ratty old PJs was hitting a new low for the blonde.



Seemingly sensing her dilemma the spirit glanced at her and smiled, a perfect set of white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.



“What you wear is not important, my dear. What you see now is what counts, and besides, they won’t see you anyways.”



Before the spirit had barely breathed out the last of her words, the room began to spin violently and the earth trembled as if it was imploding in on itself. Buffy scrambled to find purchase but there was nothing to grab on to and she found herself struggling to stay on her feet.



She felt like the world was spinning off its axis, which in some ways it clearly was, she supposed. It reminded her of the earthquake that had preceded her first death and she trembled on the outside and inside at that horrible recollection. Unfortunately Buffy had a feeling that today was going to be filled with horrible memories.



When the spinning finally subsided, Buffy huffed out a relieved breath and flashed a glare at the smirking spirit. Yes, the mischievous little ghost was reminding Buffy of that annoying vampire more and more by the moment. They even had matching accents, not to mention the matching sneers.



“So here we are,” the spirit said to Buffy, pulling the Slayer from her deep musings.



It was only then that Buffy took a look at where she actually was.



“Oh my God!” she exclaimed soaking in the room in front of her.



Buffy Summers was standing in the living room of the house in which she’d lived as a child. The room was adorned with tinsel, decorations and a huge Christmas tree. Three stockings were hanging over the fireplace and Buffy slowly approached them, gazing at them as if they were something precious. Each of them had a name weaved on to it: ‘Hank’, ‘Joyce’, and ‘Buffy’.



“How…how are we here?” Buffy asked incredulously, soaking in the familiar surroundings.



The spirit didn’t answer her but let out a trickle of her tinkling laughter which immediately brought Buffy’s hackles up. However, she silently vowed not to be provoked by the intentionally irritating ghost. She turned back to the stockings and gazed at them nostalgically.



“I remember this,” Buffy murmured turning to face the smiling spirit. “When I was a kid we used to hang the stockings every year. I used to help Dad go pick out the tree and then me and Mom would decorate it. When Dawn was born she came with too. She used to love Christmas. It was always her favorite holiday. Mine too I guess…before.”



She felt tears welling up in her eyes as thoughts of her past Christmases flitted through her mind. During her childhood, when the word ‘calling’ was merely something you used the telephone for, Christmases had been joyous. It was the one time in the year that she looked forward to, knowing it would be perfect.



After she’d been Called and her parents had divorced, Christmas had started to lose a little of its shine. Yet her mother had still tried to make it special. Together they’d decorated the tree, cooked the turkey and celebrated the day together. A small smile touched her lips at the happy memories.



A noise startled her from behind and Buffy nearly jumped clean out of her skin. She watched with morbid fascination as her parents come bounding into the living room. A younger version of herself was perched on her father’s shoulders laughing with the freedom that only comes with the innocence of childhood. She couldn’t have been more than four years old and looked the picture of adorableness clad in her little fuzzy sweater and snowdrop covered pants.



Buffy gasped, vaulted across the room, and ducked down behind the couch. Panicking, she looked wildly to the spirit. She was pretty sure that if her parents noticed a strange woman in their house they would suddenly start suffering from a major case of wiggage.



“Don’t worry child,” the spirit reassured the blonde, sensing her distress. “These are merely shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us.”



“So they can’t see us? They don’t know we’re here?”



“No, my dear. They are not here now. They are shadows of thin…”



“…things that have been. Got it,” Buffy finished.



“And yet you look at them as though they are flesh and blood in this moment,” the spirit sighed. “We are here for a reason however. Watch them.”



Buffy nodded absently and turned her attention back to her parents and her younger self.



“Mommy,” she whispered under her breath, tears filling her eyes as she listened to her mother’s happy laughter drift into the air. After her mother died Buffy had never really gotten a chance to grieve for the older Summers woman properly. With Glory on the scene everything had been too hectic to take that chance. It wasn’t like she could just retreat from the world when she had to protect her little sister.



Tears welled up in her eyes as she focused on just how much she missed Joyce. She frantically scrubbed at her eyes, not wanting to miss a moment of this picture of family happiness.



Buffy sniffled loudly.



“Shush,” the spirit chided her. “Watch.”



Older-Buffy turned her eyes to her younger self. The little girl looked so carefree and innocent that it broke her heart. She could barely remember a time when she’d been so happy. If only that little girl knew what was in store for her. Buffy wondered how she would have coped if she actually had known back then. Would she have done things differently?



Joyce sat down on the couch and giggled as Hank passed their precious little daughter over to her, before sitting down with his beloved wife and child. Joyce gave her child a big kiss on the cheek and settled her comfortably on her lap. The little girl fidgeted and wriggled though, clearly too excited about Christmas to settle peacefully.



“Can I open ma pres’ns now?” little Buffy asked hopefully, looking from one parent to another.



“Now that depends. Have you been a good girl this year?” Hank asked playfully, ruffling his daughter’s hair with one hand.



“Mhm,” little Buffy confirmed. “Been a good girl, Daddy.”



Joyce and Hank shared an indulgent smile over their little girl’s adorableness and Hank went over to the tree to retrieve Buffy’s gifts. The girl tore into her presents like a wild animal, ripping open the paper and discarding it on the ground. Her first gift of a Barbie doll provoked some elated shrieks, as did the gift of a soft stuffed pink pig.



“I’ma call him…uh…Mr. Gordo!” proclaimed the child proudly.



“What a lovely name,” cooed Joyce. “Where did you come up with that, honey?”



“Saw him in a dweam. There was umm a man with snowy hair and yellow eyes and he was holding him and he called him Mr. Gordo,” her daughter told her proudly, drawing a frown from her mother.



However, the conversation was quickly forgotten when Buffy came to her final gift. It was a large brown box wrapped in bright pink paper and finished with a shiny purple bow. The child’s eyes widened at the size and weight of the box. She ripped off the covering and, with her mother’s help, managed to open the box, gasping at the contents.



“Skaties!” she exclaimed with a squeal gazing down blissfully at the two small, white figure skates lying neatly inside the brown box. She threw her hands around her mother’s neck and kissed him on each cheek before repeating the same show with her father. “Can we go today? Can we? Can we? Can we go skate? Pwease!” Buffy pleaded.



“We can’t go today, honey. It’s Christmas Day,” Joyce informed her sadly feeling her heart break at her daughter’s look of dejection. “But I promise you that we’ll all go this week. Okay?”



Buffy’s face illuminated with excitement and she leapt off her mother’s lap. The little girl jumped up and down with the kind of exhilaration that only a child can really feel. “Yay!” she shrieked. “I can’t wait! Can I go put Mr. Gordo with all of his new fwiends?”



Joyce nodded. “Okay, baby. But hurry down because we’re going to eat soon.”



But Buffy was already gone out of the room.



Hank slipped into the empty seat beside Joyce and pulled his wife into his arms. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, you know,” he murmured to the curly haired blonde and Joyce smiled.



“I love you too,” she told him. “We both do.”



“You and Buffy are everything to me, darling.” He sighed and breathed in the sweet scent of Joyce’s hair. “And at least we can bring up the time we bought Buffy the figure skates she begged for when we’re old and gray and need our girl to take care of us.”



Joyce giggled and placed a gentle hand on her husband's thigh. “You see us being old and gray together?”



“Of course,” grinned Hank. “There’s no one else I’d rather grow old with.”



“No more time to stay here,” the spirit sighed watching as little Buffy came running back in from the hallway and settled down between her parents to watch a movie. “We have too many other things to see to linger here.”



“I’m not ready to go. I need to stay a little longer,” Buffy insisted, looking longingly at her giggling parents.



“No,” said the spirit. “It’s time to let go. Time to move on.”



Buffy was about to protest but the ground beneath her feet started to shake. It was the same unnerving feeling as she’d gotten before they ended up in this place, or time, or whatever it was. Her head pounded painfully as the pair were thrust through the dimensional mists. She struggled to breathe, to think, even to stay standing. However, almost as soon as it begun the shaking was over and once again she stood on firm ground.



It didn’t take a moment for Buffy to realize that she was in the same house, still standing in the same spot, but things seemed…different. There was a cold chill in the air that hadn’t been there before.



It wasn’t long before she realized exactly which Christmas this was when she saw her father come storming into the room, the front of his shirt covered with a gooey yellow stain. That was a memory that she could still recall vividly. She was fifteen that year and had been running with a jug full of eggnog. Unfortunately she hadn’t quite adjusted to her Slayer senses yet and had gone barreling into her father, spilling the pale yellow liquid all over his silk shirt. The sting of his ensuing wrath hadn’t faded with time though.



Buffy watched with forced detachment as her teenage self came jogging after her father, full of heartfelt apologies.



“I’m sorry, Daddy,” the younger Buffy pleaded. “I didn’t mean to…”



“You never mean to!” he interrupted her.



“These things do happen sometimes,” she pouted, trying not to flinch as he glared at her.



“You stupid girl,” yelled Hank, his face beet red. “I’m supposed to meet a client today and now I can’t with goddamn eggnog all over my shirt.”



He pulled out a handkerchief and scrubbed at the stain, annoyance etched on his face. Her father was incredibly volatile recently so sometimes it was like living on top of a volcano and not knowing when the inevitable eruption would happen.



Buffy flushed and felt the tears start to come. She hadn’t meant to spill the stupid drink on her father. Having Slayer strength was supposed to stop the clumsy, not encourage it.



“Don’t talk to her that way,” warned Joyce, coming up behind her daughter and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s not her fault.”



Hank glared at his wife and scoffed. “Of course you’d take her side, Joyce. I wouldn’t expect any less.”



“This isn’t about sides, Hank,” she retorted angrily urging her teenage daughter to the side so she could stand toe to toe with his husband. The teenage blonde moved back and let her mother slip in front of her.



“Well that’s lucky then,” he said sarcastically, “seeing as how you’ve already picked your corner.”



“Buffy’s our daughter. Are you saying I shouldn’t defend her?”



“She’s out of control!”



“Spilling the ‘nog was an accident!”



“I’m not just talking about the drink,” he spit with venom. “I’m talking about in general. The girl gets into fights, comes home with blood on her clothes…if she comes home at all.”



“What would you know?” Joyce yelled. “You’re never here anyway. You’re the one that’s always absent, so it’s no wonder that our daughter’s acting this way.”



“Oh ho ho! I wondered when you’d lay the blame at my feet.”



“You can’t tell me you don’t realize you’re partly to blame. You’re never here Hank! Look at this, right now. It’s Christmas Day and you’ve got one of your mysterious business meetings. So surprise! You won’t be here to spend the day with us again!”



“It’s my meetings that put a roof over your heads. If it wasn’t for me, you and the brat would be on Skid fucking Row.”



“Don’t you talk about her like that! You think I don’t know just what you’re up to, Hank Summers?”



“God, do you ever stop nagging, woman?”



Neither of the two adults noticed when their daughter slinked out of the room, tears running freely down her face. Their argument continued, oblivious to her distress.



That had been one of Buffy’s most horrible Christmases. She’d spent the day in her room, sobbing into her pillow. That was the first time she remembered feeling that intensely desolate loneliness. It had haunted her to some extent ever since and was one of the things that made her resent her Calling so often.



That was also the day when her views on relationships really changed forever. It was the day when she lost her hope in love. After her parents’ fight, her father had stormed out of the house and didn’t return for three days. In retrospect it was easy to assume he was with one of his women but at the time she had worried he was lying dead in a gutter someplace. When you have such deep knowledge of the supernatural, it’s not difficult to imagine monsters lurking behind every corner.



In this case the only monster was her father’s libido and lack of morals.



Her mother had proceeded to drink herself into a near coma, passing out on the couch. The room had been littered with empty bottles of gin for days afterward. Buffy took care of her mother, only slipping from her house to patrol before coming back and doing her daughterly duty once again.



Only one month later the Summers women had moved to Sunnydale.



And a whole new chapter of pain had fallen open.



She’d had to grow up so fast.



In front of her eyes now the mammoth argument continued. The two people who were meant to unconditionally love and protect her were flinging hate filled bile at each other without so much as a thought for their adolescent daughter.



Older Buffy watched the horrible scene with a lead brick lodged firmly in her chest. Remembering the first scene that the spirit showed her, she wondered how her parents went from being so happy and in love to being a bickering couple that despised each other. Her childhood had been saturated with happiness, so unlike her young adulthood. It saddened her to realize that she was so jaded but she could help but wonder if this was how all relationships were destined to turn out.



“Not everyone ends up like your parents,” the spirit sighed, as if she’d read Buffy’s mind. “Some creatures can find love and stay together for a century or more. Even ones who you might think incapable of emotions like love. Your parents didn’t work at their relationship. Every year they grew a little farther apart until they didn’t have enough between them to support their love and it crumbled away like dust on the wind.”



Buffy didn’t respond but she lifted a shaky hand to wipe away the tear that trickled from her downcast eyes. “Why are you telling me that? And why are you even showing me this anyway?”



The spirit turned to face her, her glowing eyes strangely serious. “You need to understand this. The past is what shapes us. It makes us what we are and what we will become. But it can also teach us about ourselves. We don’t lose the capacity for happiness, my dear. You were happy once, before this. You must remember that. Things have happened to chip away at that joy but you can draw happiness even from the ashes of what you never believed could be.”



“But…”



“There is no more time to stay here,” the spirit said, her eyes glowing with anticipation. “We are to take the next step on our journey.”



Buffy’s eyes widened as the world whirled and crumbled around her again, falling down and building itself back up. The image of her childhood home, parents, and younger self dissolved into nothingness as flares and colors spun wildly in front of her. Finally the spinning sensation stopped and Buffy tossed the grinning spirit a nasty glare.



Apparently this method of traveling didn’t get easier the more she did it.



Buffy took in her surroundings, quickly realizing that they were in Sunnydale again. Having spent only a few Christmases in Sunnydale that didn’t give her much of a range to choose from in identifying which one this was. They were standing in front of Kingman’s Bluff, the night air strangely frosty considering that she was only seeing a reflection of past events. Her arms came around her middle, warming herself and providing her with a feeling of safety.



Suddenly a splinter of fear lodged in her heart, obliterating any sense of comfort.



Oh no! It couldn’t be that one! She just couldn’t relieve that memory.



Not again.



Almost as soon as the thought struck her, her worst fears were confirmed and a brooding looking Angel came padding up the bluff, his face upturned to the still-dark sky.



“I remember this,” Buffy said with trepidation. She remembered it very clearly and very painfully. That night was etched into her brain. It was the night that the First Evil had tried to force her first love to watch the sunrise. “I don’t want to watch this again.”



“Why not?” the spirit asked, floating above the frozen ground.



“Because as much as I hate myself right now, reliving the trauma reel of my life isn’t my idea of fun-day.”



“These are things that cannot be changed,” the spirit said, holding a hand up to stall Buffy’s retort. “But you can change the way they affect you. You must see these memories and learn from them if you are to ever move on to your future.”



Buffy opened her mouth to reply but the spirit hushed her as they saw a slightly younger version of the Slayer approaching. The younger girl was frowning, her face puffy and haggard from worry. There was also a determination set on it that Buffy vaguely remembered feeling. She wondered when and where she lost that drive her younger self had so copiously possessed.



“Angel?” younger Buffy said, cautiously approaching him as if he was a cornered wild animal.



Angel stared at her ground absently. “I bet half the kids down there are already awake. Lying in their beds... sneaking downstairs... waiting for day.”



Buffy sniffled and look at him with a pleading gaze. “Angel, please. I need for you to get inside. Th-there's only a few minutes left.”



“I know. I can smell the sunrise long before it comes.”



Buffy could recall the fear she felt as she watched Angel waiting for the sunrise. She’d felt so thoroughly helpless, so useless. She’d hated that feeling and she’d laid herself down for the dark haired vampire, begging him to save himself. She put her heart on the line and in the end he’d skipped out on her, left her all alone because he believed she should seek the elusive normality.



It was strange to watch herself beg him to come inside because she realized she’d never really been able to save Angel. He never viewed her as his equal so her opinion wasn’t relevant to him. If she could go back would she ever have gotten involved with a man who treated her like a child?



That guileless truth was that she'd never been happy with Angel, not really, no matter how much she would have liked to believe it was a fairytale affair. In a lot of ways her 'love' affair with Angel had been posthumously romanticized long after it should have been cold and rotting in the ground.



The spirit glanced at her, coughing loudly to get her mind back on the scene in front of them.



“But if you're too much of a coward for that, then burn,” the younger Buffy was saying. “If I can't convince you that you belong in this world, then I don't know what can.”



Her own words struck a chord. Not because of Angel but because of herself. She realized that although she’d gotten the shitty end of the stick in being torn out of heaven, she was back in this world now. And she was being too much of a coward to actually live in it. All she did was hide away from it and punish anyone who tried to connect with her.



The image of an eager blond vampire popped into her head. Spike’s love for her had fueled his desire to save her from wasting away to ashes and dust. In much the same way as she had once wanted to save Angel, Spike tried to save her. Did she push him away in the same way? Could he really hurt as much as she’d been hurting?



The startling revelation of what he must be feeling stunned her into shock. Although she denied that Spike had any real feelings, deep down she knew that wasn’t true. She saw them shining from his eyes every time he looked at her.



And she was hurting him. Hurting a sentient, emotional being because she was too selfish to try to change.



With a lump in her throat she watched the younger version of herself wander hand in hand with the dark haired vampire through the snowy streets of Sunnydale. It was a strange sight to see herself with her first love. In her mind she’d idealized their relationship, but in hindsight it was easy to do that, especially with a romantic liaison. When she saw it like this, it had been less than perfect. The younger-Buffy didn’t know how many trials and tribulations she still had to face. She didn’t know just how many more times she would have her heart ripped out.



Of course it wasn’t long after that Angel had left. They always left though, didn’t they? Her father had been happy once and yet he’d still deserted her and Angel had just followed suit. Even Riley had run away as soon as he got the chance. Hell, even her surrogate father Giles had returned to England at the time when his charge needed him the most. Men never stayed around Buffy Summers. It was like she was cursed or something when it came to the opposite sex.



It was little wonder that her attitude toward relationships with men was less than healthy. Even taking the whole ‘back from heaven depression’ problem out of the equation Buffy had been damaged so many times by men walking out of her life that she thought love was hopeless. Sure, the spirit guide she visited in the desert before her death told her that she was ‘full of love’ but clearly that copious love was hiding between layers of emotional scar tissue.



She knew that the only one who didn’t leave was Spike. Or at least, he always came back, like some kind of demonic boomerang. Even when she wanted him to go he clung on like a limpet, impossible to shake.



For the first time, the thought of his unwillingness to leave her warmed her heart.



Until she’d confronted her past, she never understood how precious his tenacity actually was.



“There is more that you need to see,” the ghost said gently, ushering Buffy away from the shadowy image of the Slayer and Angel as they continued to saunter through the snow together, hand in hand. “We don’t have time to stay forever.”



The Slayer gritted her teeth as the ground started to tremble beneath them once again. She thought she might have grown used to it by now but she could feel the familiar sensation of nausea washing over her. Buffy groused silently, thinking that these stupid ghosts should have found a non-nauseating way of traveling through the fabric of time.



When they finally came to a stop, Buffy clamped a hand over her stomach and tried to steady herself. Her head was still spinning but a few deep breaths managed to clear her senses a little. However when she glanced around at the scenery that sick feeling came rushing back with a vengeance.



Where the hell were they?



Or more appropriately…when the hell were they?



“Um I think you went a little crazy with the rewind button, sister,” Buffy commented as she looked around, diving out of the way of a passing carriage. Granted, it couldn’t hurt her but having solid objects pass through her was very wiggy. It made her feel even deader than the times when she’d actually found herself sans heartbeat.



“No, Buffy, we’re not in the wrong place or the wrong time,” the spirit corrected. “This is something you need to see.”



“Well where are we?” asked Buffy, gazing at the frozen streets and the throng of people navigating them in clothes that gave retro a new meaning. “Wait, scratch that. When are we?” she inquired, voicing the question that had been rattling around her brain for the past few minutes.



“1878,” responded the spirit simply.



“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but I wasn’t born yet in 1878. Isn’t this little ‘journey to the past’ thing supposed to be about my former Christmases?”



The spirit sighed, seemingly exasperated with the Slayer. Buffy smiled secretively to herself. If she could get a spirit straight from the Powers all riled up, then she had to still have retained some of her former fire.



“Listen, dear,” the spirit leveled glowing eyes to Buffy. “Do you remember when I explained about the tapestry of humanity?” Buffy nodded, and the spirit smiled like a proud parent and continued. “This is a part of that tapestry. There is a single thread that spans every Christmas from the very first. That thread traverses this one and it crosses with your own thread. Without experiencing this, you will never understand what has past and therefore you can never comprehend what is still to come.”



Buffy blinked dumbly, opening and closing her mouth several times. “Wait a second. If there’s a ‘thread’ that stretches all the way back from my time to 18…whenever then it can’t be a link to another person. For someone to be alive then and still be alive in my time then they’d have to be a…”



Buffy’s words were cut off as a young man came barreling round the corner like a wild thing. If Buffy had been made of flesh and blood in this time he would definitely have sent her sprawling to the ground.



The sandy haired young man had several boxes tucked under his arms as he ran through the streets. Following him at the urge of the spirit, Buffy realized there was something vaguely familiar about him but Buffy had only gotten the briefest glimpse so she couldn’t exactly indentify what it was about him. His hair was damp and flopped into his eyes as he ran, and when they finally came to a standstill in front of a large house. The spirit shepherded Buffy forward and the pair followed the young man inside the house.



Inside Buffy was impressed at the rather grand decorations. These people apparently didn’t go for minimalism. The floors were made of a dark oak wood and the walls were papered with floral wallpaper. Lines of portraits of classically dressed men and women lined the walls. Buffy came to a standstill in front of one painting of a dark haired man in his forties. He was very handsome with striking cheekbones and mesmerizing blue eyes. Even from the painting those eyes seemed to suck her deeply into them.



“Oh my God,” she whispered to herself. She’d only seen eyes like that once before and they belonged to…Spike. Frantically she glanced at the name below the painting and gasped when she read it.



John William Pratt – 1820-1872



“Is this…Spike’s home?” she asked the spirit.



“Spike doesn’t exist yet,” the spirit told her gently. “He won’t exist for many more years.”



“Okay, not Spike then…but William? This is William’s house?”



“Indeed it is,” the spirit agreed.



“But this place is pretty fancy. I mean Spike told me he was a badass vagabond when he was human. Whoever lives here is rich.” She wrinkled her nose in confusion.



“William was a better man that he would have you believe as a human. Perhaps some of that carried over into who he became as an immortal being.”



“Vampires are nothing like their humans selves,” Buffy retorted confidently. “They have nothing in common with who they used to be once they lose their souls.”



The spirit smiled knowingly. “So their souls define them?”



Buffy nodded decisively. “Absolutely. Like Angel is good because he has a soul and Spike is evil without one.”



“Ah, I see,” the spirit said, once again gifting Buffy with an indulgent smile. “Perhaps you should remember that nougat of wisdom for later.”



Buffy frowned but decided to move on from that topic. Talking about souls always made her head hurt. “So why are we here in William-land then?”



“This was his last happy Christmas with his mother. The last Christmas they were both alive and well. Two years from now and he will become a vampire.”



“Okay that makes everything so much not clearer. I still don’t get it. Why have you brought me here? Spi…William is nothing to me.”



The spirit tinkled out a laugh. “You still believe that my dear?” she asked. “I suppose you still fancy yourself in love with your tragic souled, yet conflicted vampire.”



“I thought we moved on from that,” Buffy snapped. “Remember? Soul equals good.”



“Ah yes,” the spirit’s glowing eyes filled with amusement. “Well I believed it was important to you to see just what our little chipped vampire was like in his human life. Sometimes a different perspective can allow one to have an epiphany.”



“I don’t need an epiphany.”



“We shall see. Now look and listen.”



The pair turned their eyes toward William who returned down the stairs with still dripping hair. He’d removed his heavy overcoat to reveal a tweed suit and Buffy almost cracked into two with the laughter that threatened to break forth from within her.



“Oh my God,” she giggled. “He looks like Giles Junior!”



His floppy curls bounced as he walked. There was a joy in his face that Buffy had rarely seen in his vampire self. In fact she could only remember him looking that way on one occasion, under Willow’s ‘Will Be Done’ spell.



“Mother, are you in here?” he called.



“In the parlor,” Buffy heard a refined female voice respond. Under the spirit’s encouragements, the blonde made her way into the parlor where the two remaining members of the Pratt family were seated.



An older lady with gray hair pulled back severely was sitting on a chaise longue. Her kind eyes and rapturous smile belied the stern nature of her hair and clothes. Buffy could see the strong resemblance between her and William as they both shared the same facial features, and kind expressions. William was seated at her feet, leaning against her knees. Buffy couldn’t help but notice how innocent and childlike his pose was.



She bit her lip at the thought that his ‘little boy-ness’ had carried through to his vampire-self. Many times he’d flashed those expressive eyes at her when they were saturated with hurt.



Recently it was usually hurt caused by her.



There was also one other thing that she noticed. With most vampires there was an emptiness when you looked in their eyes. They lacked a soul which explained that swirling abyss. She still shuddered at the memory of that void when she looked in Angelus’ eyes. However, William’s eyes looked no different to Spike’s. At least, not substantially. There was a hardness in Spike’s eyes that had been generated by time and suffering that William lacked, but apart from that they both shared the same azure gaze.



It made her wonder just how much of William still remained in Spike. Hmm, maybe the spirit was right about getting a different perspective on things. It wasn’t that she was going to kid herself that the vampire retained his soul. But maybe his heart was so big that it was enough to make up for it.



Buffy shook herself out of her disturbing thoughts. She knew that she couldn’t allow herself to soften when it came to Spike because that damn vampire had a way of wriggling into places where he wasn’t wanted. But seeing the same expressions flitting over William’s face, as he laughed and joked with his mother, as she’d seen on Spike’s was unnerving.



It made the vampire seem more human.



She felt a slight chink form in the wall around her heart.



When William rose to his feet, Buffy decided to put all thoughts of his vampire alter ego out of her head and concentrate on his human self. The Victorian man looked a little nervous as he walked over to a small table and plucked a box from it.



“I should like to present your gift to you now, Mother,” he said, his voice as proper as could be.



“Oh! Now William, I hope you have not been spending your money on your old mother. You must save it for when you take a wife.”



“Oh pish posh! You know you are the most important lady in my life, Mama. I shall not alter my thinking on such matters even when I am betrothed. That is, should I ever be lucky enough to warrant the attentions of the fairer sex.” He ducked his head shyly as heat colored his cheeks.



Recomposing himself, William handed the box to her and she peeled it open to reveal a beautifully engraved silver box. The older woman’s eyes widened and sparkled with excitement. In a manner that quite belied both her age and Victorian breeding she squealed excitedly as she opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond necklace.



The chain looked like it was made from platinum and tiny diamonds peppered the lower half. At the very bottom it was adorned with a cluster of rubies and sapphires.



Buffy gasped at the offering. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.



In spite of her elation, Anne Pratt frowned a little as she fingered the fine piece of jewelry. “Really William, this is too much.”



“No, Mother. There is no piece of jewelry on this earth which can compete with the beauty in your heart. I sourced the single most lovely item that I could find and it still pales in comparison to you.”



“I could never have asked for a better son,” Anne said, melting at his words. Her son was the center of her world, and she thanked the Lord every day for delivering such a darling boy to her.



“Allow me to put it on for you, Mother.”



Mrs. Pratt permitted him to fix it around her neck and smiled girlishly at her son. “You are wonderful, William,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I only hope that someday you are able to take a wife who can appreciate you as deeply as I do.”



“Thank you, Mother. Merry Christmas.”



“Merry Christmas, my darling son.”



In spite of herself, Buffy sniffed at the touching scene. She felt a little pang of guilt gnaw at the edges of her heart when his mother’s words echoed in her head. Anne’s deepest wish had been for her son to find a woman who could love him completely and Buffy wasn’t sure he’d ever had that.



After all, from what she knew of Drusilla, the crazy vampire had never been faithful to him, straying even with his most hated nemesis, Angelus. And the Slayer doubted that his relationship with Harmony had been particularly fulfilling, at least on an intellectual level.



And then there was her.



Since Spike fell in love with Buffy all he’d gotten was pain. It had been doled out to him from every source possible, including her deceptively cruel hands. For the first time since finding out that he was in love with her, Buffy stopped to consider the fact that Spike actually did have feelings, even without a soul. She’d never realized that he was comprised so much of the man he used to be but when she was faced with the blatant truth she couldn’t deny it.



She made a silent vow that when and if she got back to Sunnydale, she would try to treat Spike a little more kindly.



“We must leave this place now,” the spirit said, carefully noting the Slayer’s pensive expression. “We have one other thing to see before we return.”



“You mean re-run season is almost over?” Buffy quipped snidely. The rush of emotion that was filling her heart was making her feel a little uncomfortable. The ice around her almost-dead organ was starting to thaw and it came close to physical pain.



Although she couldn’t be sure, it looked to Buffy as if the spirit rolled her eyes before the ground started to shake one more time. The familiar nausea flooded her senses again, and Buffy decided right there that she would never step onto a fairground ride for the rest of her life.



Finally the trembling of the earth subsided and Buffy huffed the stale air out of her lungs. She looked around at the snowy, vintage surroundings and it didn’t take more than a moment to realize that they were still consigned to the far reaches of history.



“Are we actually doing reruns on Spike’s past, ‘cause I gotta tell you, I’m not feeling it.”



In actuality Buffy was feeling something new and strange right now. She couldn’t exactly call it affection toward Spike, because it had been William who she’d seen. But she recognized his gestures toward his family from the way he treated her sometimes, as if she was the most precious jewel on earth. And that was very disconcerting.



“No,” the spirit said coolly. “We had to travel a little farther back for this peep show.”



“What are you talk…Oh my God!” Buffy gasped as she saw a long haired human who closely resembled her first vampire lover descending the street with a buxom redhead. They reminded her of pictures she’d once seen in one of Giles’ Watcher’s Diaries. “Is that…?”



“That’s Liam,” the spirit replied, a cold edge to her voice that surprised the Slayer.



“Why are we here? I don’t get it. Are we gonna go through the history of every vampire in history? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I think that’ll take more than one night.”



The spirit didn’t dignify Buffy’s quip with a response. “Just watch,” the spirit said shortly.



Buffy turned her eyes back to the Irish couple in front of her. She couldn’t make out a lot of the words they were using, and both of them talked with a heavy lilt that made them even more difficult to understand.



However, she didn’t need to understand language to comprehend Liam’s next gesture.



With a look etched on his face that reminded the Slayer of Angelus, Liam shoved the girl against the stone wall at the back of a tavern, causing Buffy’s hands to fly to her mouth.



“I dun want trouble,” the girl said in a strong accent that Buffy could barely decipher. Tears were dripping down the redhead’s fair cheeks, her eyes two pleading pools of dread.



“Then ye better say nothing,” Liam warned her with a growl, his hands tightening around her biceps.



Liam pushed the girl up against the wall of the tavern, forcing his lips to hers, and lifting her skirts. The girl cried out quietly but her screeches were muffled by Liam’s meaty paw.


"Dún do bhéal!" he yelled, snapping the back of his hand across her pale face.


The dark haired man struggled to unfasten his breeches as he held fast to the young woman in his arms. Buffy didn’t want to watch anymore. She knew what was about to happen and she couldn’t bear to see it.



“I don’t understand,” croaked Buffy. “He’s human and he’s got a soul, so he’s supposed to be good. He’s not supposed to…” She trailed off, internally cringing at the realization that her entire world view had just been turned on its head.



“A soul isn’t all that makes you good,” the spirit sighed. “It can help, but what’s beneath the soul determines your true humanity.”



“No! His soul is what stops him from…hurting people. If he could do this with a soul then…” The blonde allowed the implications of that fact to soak into her consciousness.



If he could rape a woman before he was a vampire then when he became Angelus apparently the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She always deceived herself into believing that the souled Angel was superior to other vampires, but if he had Liam’s soul then he was just as bad as those vamps.



Maybe even worse.



Buffy stared out at the crowd spilling out of the tavern, drunken laughter echoing through the cobbled streets and sighed. Seeing human-Angel and human-Spike had proved they were polar opposites, and they were nothing like she’d expected either of them to be. In her head Liam had always been a white knight and William had been a no-good street urchin.



Ironically it seemed that she’d gotten their real personas reversed.



Of course becoming a vampire changed a person, but looking at Liam’s behavior compared with Angelus’ and even Angel’s she wondered just how much he’d really changed when he lost his soul. Similarly, William had been a kind, loving and generous soul as a human, and even though he’d become a renowned vicious killer as a vampire, he’d always retained his ability to love if his history with Drusilla was anything to go by.



She’d always denied Spike’s capability to feel real love but she couldn’t do that any longer. Tonight she saw the look of love in William’s eyes as he gazed at his mother, and she saw the same love in Spike’s eyes when he looked at her. Of course when Spike looked at her it was intensified with a deep sexual passion, but at its foundation the look was basically the same.



As that epiphany sank into her, Buffy turned to the spirit who smiled knowingly at her. Liam’s grunt of completion and the girl’s agonized cries suddenly sounded louder in her ears and her eyes widened.



“We’re done here, spirit,” she said desperately. “Please take me back. I don’t want to see any more of this!”



The spirit nodded and Buffy noticed that her light was markedly dimmer. “Yes, we must leave now,” she agreed. “My time on this earth grows short and I have shown you everything that you needed to see. Do not forget the lessons you have learned on his blessed eve, my child. They will stand you in good stead for my brother and the many lessons that he will impart to you.”



Before Buffy could open her mouth to speak the world around her started to tremble. Within moments the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. She scrambled to find purchase but failed and she was sure that the scream piercing her ears was emanating from between her own lips.



And then she was falling, her flailing arms and legs doing nothing to help her as she tumbled ceaselessly through the air. It was like being in a vortex with nothing else around her. She couldn’t halt herself and she felt like her body was simultaneously imploding and exploding.



It reminded her of when she jumped from the top of Glory’s tower. It was the same feeling of falling, except that time she’d been overcome with a sense of peaceful acceptance and now all she felt was the heart wrenching paralysis of impending doom.



Her heart pulsated wildly beneath her breast and the Slayer was more terrified than she’d ever been before. It was even worse than the first time she’d confronted a vampire.



When the ground finally came into sight, Buffy screwed her eyes tightly shut. She had a feeling this was going to hurt. However, before she could connect with the harsh carpet of her bedroom floor, everything dissolved into black.

Buffy gasped aloud as she rolled off the bed and hit the ground with a loud thwack. The cool carpet cushioned her fall but she still rubbed her bruised booty tenderly and pouted.

“Can’t the damn Powers spring for air cushions?” she mumbled to herself. She wasn’t in the best mood right now, especially after all the things she’d just been forced to watch.

It was difficult to truly digest exactly what she’d just seen. There were too many thoughts racing around her mind and most of them didn’t seem to be able to form any kind of coherency. The Slayer climbed wearily to her feet trying not to think about what she’d already seen or what she was still to see. The images of the past raised so many questions and answered none.

At least they answered none that she was prepared to confront and deal with right now.

With a heavy sigh, she brushed herself down and rolled her stiff joints. She felt like she’d just finished a slay-heavy patrol and every single part of her ached.

Including her heart.

Of course, the achiness in her heart increased when she heard the clock chime once again. With trepidation she realized that it was time for the second of the three ghosts that Faith had warned her about. Even after meeting the relatively tame first spirit, she was still worried about the two others, keeping constantly on her guard.

The sound of deep, rumbling laughter startled her as it penetrated her consciousness and Buffy quickly realized that it was coming from downstairs. With agility that belied her tiredness, she bounded down the stairs, blinking when she saw the huge man who was literally filling the living room with his presence.

The spirit in front of her was gargantuan to say the least. He was attired in forest green clothes and a burgundy robe with tiny sprigs of holly adorning his shirt. His long red beard hung down from his chubby face and was almost the same color as his flowing crimson robes. As she warily approached him she noticed that he smelled faintly of Christmas cookies and mulled wine.

“So I’m guessing you’re here for my second turn on the merry-go-round of not-funness,” Buffy said, trying to sound quippy. However, her joke just fell flat as the jolly looking spirit’s face twisted into an expression of bewilderment.

“I am the ghost of Christmas present,” he bellowed, ignoring her attempt at a joke. Apparently these spirits didn’t come with an inbuilt sense of humor.

“Uh huh,” she said slowly. “Got some fun sights for me to see today?”

“I will show you what you need to see.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah apparently you guys are big on that.”

“My time on this earth is only short. I am born and gone in only twenty-four hours. And then I hand the reins over to my brothers.”

“Brothers? What about your sisters? Not so much with the equal rights, huh?”

“You do not take this seriously, Slayer. We must hurry if you are to witness all that you need to witness.”

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy said warily.

“Good, then we begin.”

Around her, the air began to fizz and bubble, night turned to day and bright sunshine poured into the Revello Drive living room. Outside birds were chirping but inside the house there was a hotbed of silence. Unnerving silence.

“Where is everyone?” asked Buffy, looking around for some sign of life.

“Where do you think they are, my dear?” the spirit chuckled. They are busy notcelebrating Christmas. Just like you wanted. Follow me.”

The huge spirit climbed up the stairs with Buffy hot on his heels. There was a crushing sensation around her heart as she realized that she had ruined Christmas for everyone in her house. Having been reminded of past Christmases by her first ghost, it made her feel strangely guilty.

But the real weight of guilt didn’t hit her until her eyes landed on the shaking form of his little sister. Dawn was huddled in the middle of her bed, still dressed in her frilly nightshirt. Her hair hung lankly around her shoulders and her eyes were bulgingly red and swollen. It tugged at Buffy’s heartstrings to think that she’d reduced her sister to such a pathetic little mess.

Dawn was lying face down but Buffy could see that the pillows were soaked through with tears. “Did I do this to her?” she asked, feeling her own tears pricking her eyeballs.

“In part,” he replied. “She feels that she has no one. She is all alone in a cold, hostile world. Does that sound familiar?”

And it did sound familiar. Very familiar in fact. It was exactly how she’d often felt as the Slayer. Even when people were surrounding her she sometimes felt alone so she couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it must be for Dawn right now. That little girl didn’t really have anyone around and Buffy realized that her distantness had further inflamed her sister’s pain.

She felt like the world’s most selfish bitch right then, watching her little sister sob out her heartache.

However, that image paled in comparison to what happened next. The younger Summers reached under her mattress and produced one of their kitchen knives. The blade glinted in the sunlight that was filtering through the drapes, bouncing off the razor sharp blade. Dawn stared at it for a moment as if she was internally struggling with her emotions but finally it seemed she had come to a decision.

The brunette hiked up her nightshirt, revealed a creamy, unblemished thigh. With painstaking precision she slowly drew a line in her thigh with the tip of her knife raising a bloody trail. Buffy cried out as she saw what was happening, wanting to prevent her sister from continuing but there was nothing she could do. Dawn couldn’t see her.

She was a helpless shadow.

“Argh!” Dawn cried, wincing as the blood began to flow from the shallow cut. “I’m real,” she murmured. “The blood makes me real. Buffy doesn’t even care that I’m alive but I’m real. Only a thing that’s real can bleed.”

“Oh my God,” Buffy panted. “Is that how she really feels? She thinks I don’t even care?”

The spirit shot her a vaguely sympathetic look. “She thinks that you don’t acknowledge her existence so she needs to find a way to prove that she’s real. The girl has been through so much pain that it’s familiar to her, even comforting.”

“I can’t let her do this,” Buffy insisted. “I love her. She’s my sister. If I’d known she was in this much pain…”

“What would you have done?” asked the spirit, a little harshly. “Would you have changed your ways? Would you have become a better sister? A better person?”

“I don’t know but I would have tried.”

“No! You stayed mired in your grief and misery, refusing to accept help from those that love you. Now you are seeing the consequences, Miss Summers. This is just a single one but there are more. There are so many more.”

The spirit waved one of his huge hands and the air started to bubble once again. The air seemed to heat up to stifling proportions and yet cool at the same time. Buffy closed her eyes against the weird feeling, only opening them again once the sensations dissipated.

“This is Xander’s apartment,” Buffy noted, looking around at her surroundings. She bitterly realized that Xander had gone all out with the decorations. However, she had a sneaky suspicion that most of the decoration had been done Anya’s way.

“Yes,” said the spirit. “Your friends are affected by your…disconnection too, you know.”

“I didn’t know. I mean…I didn’t think.”

“Perhaps that is your problem.”

Buffy glared at the ghost before spinning around as she heard voices approaching. Xander followed Anya out of the bedroom. Her friends, thankfully, were both fully dressed. Anya wore a little red barrette in her hair with bells dangling from it and it tinkled as she walked.

“Are we really going to your parents today?” Anya was saying, the distaste clear in her face.

“Yes, Ahn,” he said. “It’s Christmas, the time of gifts, spirit and torture.”

“Well, it was your decision that we go. You shouldn’t have agreed.”

“I wouldn’t have if we were going to the Summers like we usually do. But since Joyce is…since there’s no lunch there this year we don’t have a choice.”

“Yay, we get to enjoy your father’s drunken antics because Buffy’s too miserable to cook for us.”

“Buffy’s been through a lot, Ahn, but she’s getting better now. She’s been fine the last few times we’ve seen her.”

“Are you kidding? Buffy’s been so depressed lately,” Anya commented. “Haven’t you noticed?”

Xander shook his head in denial. “Buffy’s fine, Ahn.”

“She’s lonely. I think she wants an orgasm friend. It would certainly help her remove that pole from her bottom.”

“Ahn!” Xander hissed. “Buffy doesn’t want an…orgasm friend.”

“I think she does. Ooh, maybe Spike. He’s single and hot. Plus they both have super strength which would no doubt be exceptionally satisfying for a Slayer. She would profit greatly from learning about vampire stamina.”

By the end of her little speech, Xander looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue. “Buffy would never look at Spike. He’s evil!”

“Then so am I, Xander,” Anya said. “I was a demon just like Spike. I killed people too and I never regretted it.”

“You have a soul now though! Spike doesn’t!”

Anya tilted her head in disbelief. “I had a soul when I was a demon. Didn’t you know that?”

Xander shook his head. “But if you had a soul…”

“All vengeance demons have their souls. It’s what fuels our quest for vengeance. You know what they say about a scorned woman.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Xander, I love you, but you’re so judgmental. You let yourself be happy so why don’t you let Buffy do the same?”

His chocolate eyes drooped sadly and he nodded. “I’ll let her be happy. Just hope it’s not with Spike.”

Buffy suddenly felt like she was intruding on the private moment as the couple began to kiss. “Is it true what Anya said?” the Slayer asked the spirit.

He didn’t respond for a moment and then he sighed. “You need to judge that for yourself.”

“What does that even mean? What is it with you spirits and your cryptic-y-ness?”

“You have a mind and heart of your own. You need to learn to use them.”

Buffy turned to face the spirit, frowning as she realized that he seemed to have aged a little since they arrived here. She didn’t have time to dwell on it because before she knew it, they were moving to their next destination.

And wasn’t this the last place she wanted to be?

“Why are we in Spike’s crypt?” asked Buffy. Christmas wasn’t exactly a big day for the evil dead in her experience.

“We’re here because you need to see one of the other consequences of your actions. You need to face what you’ve done to the demon that went against his nature to love and protect you. That is why we are here, Miss Summers.”

She glanced up at the ghost that towered over her and shivered at the anger in his booming voice. “I haven’t done anything bad to Spike. He’s only a…an evil demon.” The rhetoric that she’d been indoctrinated with for so long spewed from her mouth, despite what she’d seen with her own eyes since the ghosts had come to her. “He can’t feel real feelings. What I do to him is only what h-he d-deserves.” Her voice faltered on the final words and she sighed, holding back the prickling tears.

“If you still believe that, my dear, then this has all been for naught.”

Buffy turned to him, eyes glistening with a sheen of hazy tears. “I want to believe it. Things were easier when I could believe it. Things were easier when everything was…black and white. Spike came into my life and he made everything turn to gray. Now I don’t know what I feel and what I don’t feel. Tell me how to discover the truth of my heart, Spirit!”

“Look and you will discover.” The large ghost pointed toward the trapdoor of the crypt as it was flung open.

Buffy saw the blond head of a familiar vampire poke out of the little opening before he pulled himself fully up. One hand was gripping an almost empty bottle of whiskey and a cigarette dangled from the fingers of his other hand. Spike was looking worse for wear. Actually that was an understatement. He looked depressed and disconsolate. Buffy had rarely seen him like that before. In fact the only time when she’d seen him looking so distraught was when he’d returned to Sunnydale after Drusilla left him and he’d been…

“…heartbroken.” Buffy’s voice was nothing more than a whisper but suddenly it made sense to her. Spike was heartbroken because of her. She’d used him and abused him as if he was nothing more than a supernatural dildo to ease her woes. He’d given and given until she’d sucked him dry.

It made her wonder who was actually the vampire in this scenario.

Buffy stared at Spike as he gulped down several mouthfuls from the bottle before launching it against the wall. Even though Buffy knew that the shards of glass couldn’t hurt her, she instinctively drew back.

“Why do you taunt me like this, love?” Spike asked the air.

Buffy felt her heart clench in her chest. Although he couldn’t see her, he was staring at the spot right where she was standing. His plea brought a tear to her eyes.

“I love you, pet,” he murmured through a mouthful of whiskey. “Give you everything, my heart, my love, my bloody…blood. Hell, I’d give you my soul if I had one! But I don’t need one to love you, Buffy.”

Spike’s blue gaze was fixed on the exact spot where she was standing. Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she felt like every word was delivered to her. They were meant for her, she guessed, so in some ways it was fitting that she could hear them. Although she’d doubted his love in the past, in that moment she saw just how sincere he really was in his adoration for her.

His love ran so deep that it actually hurt.

“Why won’t you love me back, Slayer? If you’ll never love me then bloody well stake me and be done with it! I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live without you.” His words were interspersed with violent sobs and by now tears were cascading down Buffy’s face. She openly sobbed alongside the vampire who loved her.

“I wish I could change the ways I’ve hurt you,” she sighed. “I’m no better than my father, no better than Angel. God, I’m not even any better than Angelus. I promise, it’s gonna be different from now on, Spike.” Even though he couldn’t hear her, the vow she made was a solemn promise that she was determined to keep.

Staggering over to his little table that was stocked full of bottled, Spike uncorked an old bottle of wine and took several swigs, all the while muttering about his one true love. Buffy felt so bad that this was the way he was spending his Christmas…alone and drunk in a dank crypt. After having seen his loving Christmastime exchange with his mother in his human life she wondered if he would want to celebrate the holiday as a vampire. Although it wasn’t exactly a traditional undead occasion, Spike was hardly a traditional vampire.

Spike’s mutterings brought her attention back to him and her eyes widened as he threw another bottle at the wall.

“Gonna show her!” he yelled to the air. “Gonna go right over there now and break up her bloody party. Bet she’s enjoying it just buggering fine without ole Spike. But I’ll show the bint!”

Buffy realized that he wanted to go to her house. He wanted to spend the day with her. She’d told him that she wanted nothing to do with him and yet he still craved her. The blond vampire stumbled through the door of the crypt, heedless of the crisp winter sunshine. Too drunk to even stay on his feet for long he toppled to the damp ground just outside of his crypt.

“Oh my God!” Buffy gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “He’s going to burn!”

“Did you not tell him to go ahead and do it?” the spirit asked, stroking his beard as the pair watched Spike’s skin start to sizzle.

“I-I didn’t mean he should actually die or…uh…dust. I can’t lose him!”

“But you push him away. You tell him he’s only an evil thing. Why should his passing matter to you?”

“I need him!” Buffy swallowed back her tears as Spikes hand caught fire, the vicious flames quickly spreading and enveloping the rest of his body. “Wake up damn it!” she yelled at the unconscious vampire but he didn’t stir even as he became totally engulfed in the orangey-red blaze. She whipped around to face the spirit, panicking more thoroughly than ever before. “Help him!”

“I can’t,” he told her nonplussed. “You shouldn’t cry, child. You should be glad that there’s one less vampire in the world for you to have to stake.”

Frantically Buffy’s head whipped wildly from looking at the spirit to looking at Spike’s disintegrating body. Her eyes darted wildly around as she felt truly helpless. When all that was left was a smoking pile of ashes, Buffy felt like the ground was dissolving beneath her feet. “No!” she shrieked. The scream sounded foreign to her, so foreign that she couldn’t believe it had been spawned from her own throat.

“Please no! He can’t die. I didn’t want this. Spike isn’t like other vampires,” she protested. “He’s changed, he’s tried to be good. I can’t do this without him!”

The spirit almost smiled. It was amazing how trauma could draw out the truth so easily, even from underneath a thick stock of denial.

“You imparted your wisdom unto him that he would never be anymore more than his basal nature, my dear.” The spirit stroked his beard. “And yet now you believe something so polar to that view?”

Buffy’s head whirled with the implications of what he’d said. She did believe something different! It was amazingly liberating to actually admit it to herself because it was the truth. Spike had never been just like any garden variety vamp, even before the chip. Since his little stint at the Initiative she’d seen him changing.

He’d gradually started helping the Scoobies, at first for money but eventually because he wanted to. The supposedly ‘evil’ demon had protected Dawn when Glory wanted to know about the Key, almost at the cost of his own life. Hell he’d even stuck around during the time when she was dead. He had no reason to stay and protect Dawn except for an offhand promise to a woman he could never have known he would see again.

And now he was gone. Burned up to dust in front of her eyes. The Slayer choked back a sob and spun to face the spirit. “Has this already happened or can I change it?”

The spirit shrugged. “Time is fluid, my dear Slayer,” he replied cryptically.

“It can’t end like this! He can’t just dust!”

Again all she received was a shrug and suddenly all her fight drained out of her. The Slayer sunk to her knees in the dust of the vampire who had changed her impressions of the world.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered. “I wish I could make it all better.”

It didn’t occur to her that she might still get the chance.

The sound of scrabbling and scratching drew her out of her trance as she still kneeled on the ground in Spike’s ashes. Buffy frowned as she watched the barest hint of movement coming from under the ghost’s cape. With a scream she toppled backward when two horrifying creatures burst forth from underneath the red velvet of his robe.

For a moment she thought they were demons but as she looked more closely at the hissing, spitting beings she realized that they were not demon at all. They were human…they were children.

The two children were horrific to look at but Buffy couldn’t turn her head away from the sight. Both the small girl and the small boy were barely even skin and bones with horribly twisted faces set into a permanent scowl. Their hair was wild and skin dirty but nothing terrified her as much as the feral look in their eyes.

“What are they?” Buffy asked, tears thickly coating her voice.

“They are what you created,” replied the spirit. His now aged face frowned, deepening the wrinkles that marred his once smooth skin. “They girl is Misery born from the despair that you have carried with you for so long. The boy is Scorn. You made him with every grain of hate and resentment you retained in your cooling heart. You are setting these children free on the world, Slayer.”

Buffy shook her head in denial, stumbling backward as she endeavored to escape from the disturbing scene. “No! I didn’t do this. I’m the Slayer. I help people,” she babbled, barely able to think coherently anymore.

“You are what you create,” he told her clinically. His now gray hair seemed to be whitening by the second. “You have created these two children with what exists inside of you. They are your gift to the world Slayer.”

“No!” she cried, fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I’m good! I don’t create…badness. I don’t! I don’t!”

“If you change your ways you can prevent them from being unleashed on those around you. Otherwise you doom them!”

“Please!” she sobbed. “Please tell me how to change it!” The images she’d seen flashed in front of her eyes like a movie roll. “I don’t want it to be like this. Please, Spirit. Tell me how I can change things. Please!”

“Look into your heart!” his voice boomed. “Seek and you shall find!”

She wanted to ask him how she could find what she needed. Her instincts begged her to drop to the ground and implore him to help her. But she couldn’t because her body was surrounded by a thick black fog. It stuck to her body like tar, dragging her down.

As she crumpled to the ground, her last thought was that she couldn’t endure another of these spirits.

It hurt too much.

Where there had once been an aching but dull numbness inside of her heart, these first two spirits had ripped that safety away.

Now she was left with a raw, gaping wound in her chest and she could feel everything.

This time Buffy welcomed the release of unconsciousness.

Buffy snapped upright in her bed, panting wildly. The visions that the last spirit had shown her were still haunting her. The image of Dawn slashing her tender skin with a knife was emblazoned on her memory. She blamed herself, of course, for letting things get so bad.

Just as horribly, she couldn’t erase the nightmarish sight of Spike burning to cinders in front of her eyes from her mind. Being the Slayer, Buffy had grown used to being powerful, and powerlessly watching him crumble away was the worst kind of torture. Especially now she knew how she really felt about him. Her emotions for the chipped vampire ran deeper than she could ever have envisaged.

And she’d helplessly watched him blow away on the breeze.

However, the Slayer feared that the worst was still to come.

There was one more spirit that would visit her and if she was guessing correctly it would the Spirit of Christmases Still to Come.

Perhaps that was the one she feared the most.

Since being called as the Slayer, Buffy had figured her future was engraved in stone…headstone to be exact. As a Slayer her lifespan was limited and at first she didn’t think she would even survive to see the end of her teens. But she had survived that and then continued to survive beyond. Unlike most she’d even survived death twice.

And now the future was less certain.

There was no definitive ordinance that she would die anytime soon because history taught her that even death couldn’t bring her down thanks to her meddling but well meaning friends. Forever stretched sinisterly before her like a living presence.

As the chimes of the clock sounded, Buffy’s breath hitched in her chest.

It was time to face the music.

When the spirit appeared, Buffy immediately realized that this one was totally different to the other two she’d encountered. There was no trace of humanity to this ghost of the future, and that terrified her to her very core.

“So, I’m guessing you’re the ghost of Christmas future?” Buffy said, ignoring the tremble in her own voice.

The spirit didn’t speak, but gave her a slight nod. A black hood obscured its shadowy face, and a long black robe hung over its shapeless body. Buffy couldn’t help but draw a parallel with the Grim Reaper as she stared at the supernatural being.

Perhaps that was ironic. All that her future held was the same as her past and present.

Unhappiness and death.

“You’re the worst of the three ghosts,” she admitted to the robed being. “You know what pain is out there just waiting for me to find it. But I know it doesn’t matter because I can make things different, right?”

A pair of laser-red eyes glared at her and she shuddered under its disconcerting gaze. Still the spirit didn’t respond. The Slayer wrapped her arms protectively around her middle and licked her dry, chapped lips.

“So are we gonna get on the road with the fun show that is my life?”

Although she received no verbal response, the wind started to howl around her. Buffy had gotten used to the weird tricks of the spirits and she had no doubt that she was being transported into her future right now. The biting gale gnawed at her flesh like a rabid animal, cutting her deeply with its icy claws. Buffy thought she might have been screaming but she wasn’t sure because her body didn’t feel like it even belonged to her anymore. It felt cold and foreign like a badly fitting dress.

Images swirled around her, most of which she couldn’t even make out. They were just shadows of things that had yet to exist. Buffy wondered whether the future was a fluid entity. Would she see things that were set in concrete right now? Or would she see a possible future?

She hoped and prayed that it would be the latter because she didn’t want to encounter a hopeless future that she had no hope of changing.

When everything settled down around her, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. Her head was pounding in her skull and her mouth was parched. Encountering these spirits was taking its toll on her.

As she took a look around, she realized that she was in her own house, on Revello Drive. However the place looked mostly unlived in. It was covered with dust and grime, a thin layer of cobwebs jutting out from the ceiling. Outside, she could hear the faint sound of carolers but there was no evidence that it was Christmas inside of the house.

However, that wasn’t so different from the present.

The slam of the door startled Buffy and she gasped as she saw an older looking Willow come marching in. Her best friend looked so different from the Willow that she knew that Buffy almost passed out in shock. The redhead’s hair was cut in a pixie cut, giving her a waifish look. Bands of black were interspersed with the red and she was clad in tight leather pants and a matching bustier. Gold jewelry hung from her neck and wrists, sparkling in the dim light of the house. What was most astonishing about the woman was the look on her face. She looked so cold, so hostile that she seemed unrecognizable.

It only took a moment for Buffy to realize that Xander was following behind, slightly slouched. He was skinnier than he’d been in a long time, his hair touching his shoulders as it hung in a shaggy mane. Buffy noticed the slight graying around his temples and wondered just how far in the future she actually was.

He leaned wearily against the wall as Willow rounded on him.

“I’ve been looking for you all day,” she said. “My locator spell fizzled out when I used it on you.”

“I was just out walking,” Xander said nervously.

“Yes, I know. I found you now, didn’t I? In the cemetery saying goodbye to those we…loved.” The last word was said with such a violent sneer that Buffy physically flinched at the contempt behind it.

“When this time of year comes around it makes me think about…stuff.” Xander defensively stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Think about what?” she sneered. “How pathetic you’ve become?” She marched over to him and put her hand over his chest, long talon-like nails scratching him through his shirt. “Maybe I should just take the truth from you. Right in here. That’s where is isn’t it? It’s in your heart?”

“Please, Will. Don’t do this.”

“I won’t do anything if you’re honest with me, Xander. Now tell your little Willow the truth. Where were you?” Willow demanded, her blood red lips pursed into thin lines as she studied the dark haired man. Buffy couldn’t help but notice how tired and haggard her oldest male friend looked as he sighed.

He inhaled deeply, keeping his eyes downcast. “I went over to see Buffy,” he admitted quietly, like a little boy who’d stolen cookies out of the cookie jar.

“You did what?” asked Willow, energy starting to crackle around her fingertips. Buffy could see the strands of black increasing in the redhead’s short hair. The witch backed up several steps at her friend’s confession, pain and shock evident on her face.

“It’s Christmas, Wills. I just didn’t think she should be alone this year after…” Xander swallowed back his tears. “…after everything.”

“Buffy’s getting what she deserves,” Willow said coldly, twisting her pale face into a scowl. “She doesn’t deserve us. She doesn’t deserve anything but pain!”

“She was still our friend once!” Xander insisted. However, when he saw the expression on Willow’s face, he blanched and flinched away.

“Friend? She abandoned us after she came back from…heaven. She was happy to let us live in hell, Xander!”

“What happened here?” Buffy whispered to the unresponsive spirit. “How did things get this bad?”

Of course she could glean snippets of information from what both Willow and Xander had said. Apparently Willow was angry with her, imbuing her former best friend with blame. Buffy didn’t know what she was to blame for but she figured it had to be pretty bad to warrant a reaction like this from the witch. And Willow was an out of control witch by the looks of the magical energy that hummed around her.

Xander looked as if he was close to tears. “Willow, I know you’re mad at her but…”

“But…nothing!”

Willow turned her black eyes toward Xander. Sparks flew from her fingers and coursed through his body before he crumpled to the ground. He yelped in pain as the current tore through him. Tiny tics and jerks rocked him as he lay on the floor, otherwise motionless. For several horrific seconds Buffy believed that he might be dead, but finally he coughed and spluttered as blood ran down his chin.

“No do you see why you shouldn’t disobey me, Xander?” Willow said with faux sweetness. Her face was a mocking parody of the kind young woman she used to be.

“You need to stop this, Willow,” Xander gasped, trying to crawl onto his knees. “Buffy will…”

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy!” yelled Willow. “Do you still have that silly little crush on her? God, Xan, you even fawned over her when you were with Anya. Never wanted you though, did she? She was too busy bedding the undead. She likes her lovers cold and dead. That bitch doesn’t want a heartbeat. It must be a turn off for her.”

“Stop it, Wills. Can’t you see what the magic is doing to you?”

“The magic lets me see things clearly. You know what I see? I see a sad rejected puppy. You were always the poor friendzoned little Xander, sniffing around after any scraps she deigned to give you. But she’s not here now. I’m here and I’m in charge. That silly little girl couldn’t cut it. Remember Xander?”

“I know,” he whispered harshly, tears leaking from under his closed eyelids.

“Do you know? Remember how she let Anya die? That little demon ran a sword through the woman you love and you still defend her. She’s the reason Tara’s…gone, cold and rotting in the ground. My girlfriend would still be here if Buffy had given a damn! And still, still you side with the little bitch. How could you, Xander?”

Buffy’s hands flew to cup her mouth at Willow’s words. She’d let Anya and Tara die? No! She wouldn’t do that. “I would never do that,” she murmured to herself. “I save lives if I can do it.”

“That wasn’t her fault,” Xander sobbed.

“Wasn’t it? Did you ever think that maybe she just didn’t care enough? Think of all the people she couldn’t save Xander. She let Anya die, Tara die. Remember Jenny Calendar? She couldn’t even save her. Hell, she even let her puppy-vamp, Spike, die. He burned to dust and she was too freakin’ depressed to even care. She did grieve for that pathetic excuse for a vampire though. Remember that? Remember how she was so busy grieving for her undead sex-toy that she let the rest of us go to hell? That girl was as useless as a friend as she was as a slayer.”

Buffy’s heart cracked as she soaked in Willow’s cruel words. She supposed that in some ways she had been a bad friend and a bad slayer. In the past two years, maybe even longer, her own needs had taken precedence over anything else. Her desire to be normal, her need for acceptance, her wish to stop the pain…they had all engulfed her and twisted her into an unfeeling dead shell.

Faith had been right when she told Buffy that she was just becoming empty, a shell with no substance. But the blonde didn’t want to be that way anymore. She wouldn’t stand by and watch innocents die. And she refused to continue to be a passive observer in her own life.

With a heavy heart she watched as Willow stormed away, leaving a desolate Xander weeping alone on the cold wooden floor. It broke Buffy’s heart to see the scene that had just played out in front of her. She didn’t want to watch these horrifying caricatures of her friends any longer.

“I don’t want to see any more of this, Spirit,” Buffy said. “Please don’t make me see any more!”

She couldn’t take it. Her heart and mind couldn’t stand to have any more pain heaped onto them. This future was so bleak, so horrible, that the guilt it stirred up was almost causing her to implode. Added to the fact that not long ago she’d watched Spike dust and it was a nightmare. It was horrible.

All she could concentrate on was the fact that maybe she could have done something differently or better to give her friends a better future. If she hadn’t gotten caught up in her own pain then she could have helped them.

And she vowed she would.

She would change what she could change.

She would save them all if that was possible. Of course, she couldn’t save Jenny. Even a Slayer couldn’t travel through time as far as she knew. But she could save those that were still in her lives.

And her thoughts landed on Spike once again.

Even though she knew that her focus should be on her friends’ horribly bleak futures, she couldn’t seem to erase the image from her mind of him burning up into dust. It was indelibly printed there, maybe forever. But that wasn’t his future that she’d seen. It was his present.

Did that mean that it was too late to change it already?

God, she hoped not.

If she could change that, save him and keep him by her side then she was sure that the future wouldn’t play out this way. Things would be different. They would be better.

Apparently the spirit had shown her all it wanted to show her of this terrible place and the winds whipped through her hair once again as they moved to the desolate waste ground of an old cemetery. Although it was dim with the fading light on the horizon, Buffy could make out some of the names on the stones.

However, there was one in particular that caught her eye. She ran to the stone, tripping over the overgrown grass underneath her feet but she paid no attention to that. All that mattered was confirming her worst fear and when she did the headstone’s inscription stabbed at her heart. Feeling another bout of tears coming on she sank to her knees in front of it shaking her head in denial.

Dawn Summers: 1986 – 2004

“Not Dawnie. No, she can’t be gone,” Buffy whispered, tracing the gray stone with her fingertips. “Why would she die? How?” She whirled on the spirit, not even trying to hide her tears and red, blotchy face. “Tell me how I can stop this? How can I save my sister, Spirit?”

The lack of reply from the black cloaked ghost infuriated her. She wanted to scream like a wildcat, tackle it to the ground and claw at it until it was nothing but shreds of blood, skin and bone.

Before she could act on her feral impulses, the approach of another, macabre figure stunned her. With heartbreaking shock she stared at the emaciated image of her future self. The Buffy who was approaching slowly was a mess. Her hair looked as though it hadn’t been brushed in months. Similarly her clothes were disheveled and ragged but her alternate self didn’t seem to care.

“Hello, Dawn,” future-Buffy said coldly to the headstone. “I guess I had to come see you today. You always were the one who just loved this damn holiday.” She let out a bitter little chuckle, shaking her head. “It’s been five years since you died. Can you believe that? Five years since your little cutting habit killed you?”

“Dawn died from cutting herself?” Buffy asked the spirit, not taking her gaze away from her future self. She growled a little when the spirit didn’t reply, not that she’d expected it.

“Of course you can’t because you’re the lucky one that doesn’t have to believe anything now,” continued the future version of the Slayer. “You’re at peace and I’m stuck here in this hell. And all alone. Xander didn’t come again this year. It’s been four years since he visited me. I’m not blame-y girl though. I wouldn’t want to visit me either.” For a moment her voice faltered and future-Buffy shut her eyes as if she was about to cry. However, she quickly recovered. “I miss you Dawn. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

As Buffy watched her older counterpart walk away she shivered at how…sterile…her older self had become. There was no warmth in her manner, no gleam in her eyes. She truly was a dead shell without feelings.

“Is that how I’ve been acting?” she whispered to herself. “I’ve let my sister die and I can’t even bring myself to care?”

Her Slayer instincts rose up, overriding her grief and fear and she stood strong, meeting the ghost’s red gaze. “Tell me what I can do! I won’t allow this to happen. I died to protect my sister and I won’t let her die! I was born to save this world and I will save it and all of the people I care about.”

For a moment Buffy thought an expression of sympathy passed over the spirit’s shrouded face but it was gone almost instantaneously. She realized then that this other being wouldn’t help her. Her future was in her own hands.

It was hers to determine one way or another.

And she could mold it however she wanted.

As soon as the epiphany surged through her, the winds start to swirl around her once again and she coughed as they seemed to choke her with their ferocity. The ground rocked under her feet, everything around her dissolving from black to white to color.

When the images around her became clear once again she almost wished they hadn’t.

Right there in front of her she was confronted with the picture of her own mortality. The one thing that, as a Slayer, she both feared and craved in equal measure.

Buffy shrieked at the image of her own lifeless body, lying discarded on the ground. There was no one to bury her corpse this time. No one to help her.

She was dead again. And this time by her own hand.

The bloody razor blade that still dangled from her fingers was proof of what her future self had done. She’d slashed her own veins open and bled out on the bathroom floor. A pair of green eyes stared sightlessly from the corpse, accusing, guilty, and tormented all at the same time.

She couldn’t believe she would do this. How desperate would her life have to become to commit suicide? And then she realized that she’d been close to committing such an act for months. Every time she went on patrol she would act careless around the vampires and demons that challenged her. Sometimes she even craved the release of death from them.

But they had never been successful because Spike had been there to stop them.

Spike!

He would have stopped this, but he couldn’t. She’d seen him burn outside of his crypt. If he wasn’t there to support her, to help her, to love her, she knew for sure now that she would be lost.

But the fact that the future is unwritten allowed that tiny glimmer of hope leaked through to her heart. However, Spike had burned in the present and yet something told her that the last spirit wouldn’t have shown her that image if there was nothing she could do to alter it. Things could be different.

The future could be wonderful.

But with or without him she was determined that it wouldn’t work out this way. Not just because she had a duty to the world as a Slayer, but also because she loved her friends and her sister and she didn’t want them to turn out this way.

“No!” she yelled at the hooded spirit. “This doesn’t have to happen! I won’t let it happen. I’m not gonna give up, Spirit. I won’t!”

The mute spirit cocked its head as it looked at the raging Slayer, but she didn’t stop. Tears coursed down her face and the girl kept on muttering, not even noticing the spreading pool of blood on the ground. She stepped forward to take a closer look at her own dead body but she didn’t realize the floor was slippery.

As she went tumbling to the ground she let out a little squeal of pain. When her head connected with the hard tile and she dissolved into blackness her last thought was that it couldn’t end this way. If fate allowed her another chance then she would make things right.

She would make things better.

With a start, Buffy’s eyes flew open. She realized that she was once again back in her own bedroom, the very same as the one she’d called her own for the last five years. Running a hand through her sweaty hair she let a smile spread across her face.

The three spirits that she’d encountered had tortured her with the most horrific of visions. They’d twisted up her insides until all of her repressed pain was squeezed from her heart. And now…she felt whole again. In spite of the agony that she’d endured when she saw the horrible potential future, she knew it had been worth it. None of those things had happened yet. They could still be changed.

She leaped out of bed, still clad in her pajamas and wanted to jump for joy. She was alive and now she knew what a precious gift that was. She had her life and she had all the time in the world to live it.

A solitary tear coursed over the swell of her cheekbone and her face softened. “Thank you, Faith,” she whispered to the air, even though she knew the incarcerated girl wasn’t able to hear her.

Suddenly Buffy was infused with the fear that she’d totally missed Christmas. After all, hadn’t Faith warned her that the ghosts would appear on three consecutive nights? Now that she was into the spirit of it she didn’t want to have missed the glorious day. She leaped from the bed and padded into Dawn’s bedroom, startling her sister.

“What is it?” Dawn asked, her head whipping up. “Is there a demon?”

She was shocked to see Buffy standing over the bed. And was the Slayer grinning? For a moment she wondered if Buffy had finally lost her mind and was having a ‘Here’s Johnny’ moment. The brunette surreptitiously glanced around for any sign of an ax.

“There’s no demon, Dawnie,” Buffy grinned, heedless of her sister’s concerns. She was practically bouncing on her heels with anticipation. “I need to know what day it is!”

“Huh?”

“What…day…is…it?” Buffy annunciated slowly.

“Umm.” Dawn rubbed at her sleepy eyes. “It’s Christmas Day, Buffy. You remember! It’s the one we don’t bother to celebrate anymore.” The younger Summers pouted and turned away. All her hurt and anger from the previous day came flooding back like a tidal wave.

“Dawnie, I was wrong when I said that stuff. I didn’t mean it. I know everything’s really sucked since I came back from…”Buffy paused and took a deep breath. “…from heaven. But things are a-changin’ now. Okay?”

Buffy slid down onto Dawn’s bed and drew the teen into her arms. The sisters embraced deeply. For Buffy this was truly wonderful. Having her sister’s comfort had been something she’d denied herself for too long. For Dawn it was equally amazing. She felt like she’d finally gotten her big sister back. Although she didn’t understand the abrupt change in her sister’s behavior, in her short life she’d learned not to question when something good actually happened to her.

When they pulled away Buffy stroked Dawn’s dark locks tenderly.

“Does this mean Christmas is back on?” Dawn probed, her blue eyes widening hopefully.

“Absolutely!” Buffy agreed.

“But I thought we couldn’t afford it.”

Buffy paused thoughtfully and for a moment Dawn feared all of her hopes might once again be crushed. However, Buffy smiled. “I’ve learned that money isn’t the most important thing in the world. We’ll find the money somewhere and if we don’t at least we’ll have each other when we move into prime real estate on Skid Row.” Buffy giggled. “Having the people we love around us and making memories…good memories…for the future is what counts, sweetie.”

Dawn just nodded. Buffy’s words had rendered her speechless.

“So can you go down to the basement and get all of the boxes up into the living room? You can make the house look pretty, right?” Buffy grinned again, and tucked a lock of Dawn’s chestnut hair behind her ear.

“Color me Queen of Pretty,” beamed Dawn.

Buffy smiled indulgently at her sister. “Do you think you can get Willow to help you out with it too?”

Dawn’s countenance darkened at her sister’s words and she crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “Get Willow to help me? So she can try to kill me again?”

“Dawn,” sighed Buffy. “Willow’s sorry for what she did. And I think I know now that she needs help for her problem. She’s suffering from an addiction and it’s hard for her but we’re her friends and we need to be here for her, okay?” Dawn didn’t answer and Buffy sighed again. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Please Dawn?”

The two Summers females maintained eye contact for a moment before Dawn finally relented. “Okay! I’ll try to be nice.”

“Thank you, Dawnie,” Buffy smiled, kissing her little sister on her forehead.

“Should I go get started? If we’re doing the whole big Christmas thing it’s gonna take a while to prepare.”

Buffy nodded yes and then almost leaped off the bed. “Oh, that reminds me. Can you head to the store, find some food. Oh and call Xan and Anya. They should be here too.”

“What about you?”

“There’s someone I have to go see,” responded Buffy cryptically, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

Buffy rushed out of the room before Dawn could even remind her that most of the stores in town would be shut. Oh well. The teenager was pretty sure that she would manage to find some way around it even if she had to serve a can of beans to her sister and their friends.

The Slayer flew out of Dawn’s bedroom and into her own. She managed to get dressed in record time, throwing on a sleeveless roll neck red sweater and tight black pants. She did take the time to apply a little cherry flavored gloss to her lips and swept her hair into a makeshift ponytail even though she wasn’t really worried about her appearance right now. The young woman was much more interested in finding a certain blond vampire.

Before he did anything fatalistically stupid.

Although it only took a few minutes to reach his crypt, her trepidation that he might already be gone stretched those minutes out into an eternity. The image of him burning up into dust flashed through her memory again and she momentarily screwed her eyes shut to regain composure.

That couldn’t happen.

Buffy wouldn’t allow it.

The Slayer kicked his crypt door open with a resounding crash and stormed through the open doorway. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it pulsating in her temples.

“Spike!” she called out, barely able to contain her worry that he’d already dusted himself. The spirit hadn’t indicated what time the dusting had actually happened, only that it was already light outside. “Spike!”

There was no answer. Only the sound of her hollow voice bouncing off the walls echoed in her ears. “Spike, are you here?” she yelled again. “Please.” Buffy felt like she was about to fall to her knees and sob.

After several nervous seconds, the trapdoor at the other end of the crypt flew open and a blonde head poked out. “Can’t the bloody dead get a little rest around here?” Spike sighed in annoyance, pinning her with a glare.

A disgruntled vampire was now scowling at her, but it didn’t matter that he was disgruntled or scowling because he was still undusty and that’s all that mattered. She actually noted how cute he looked with that slightly furrowed brow and pouty lips.

Oh yeah, she knew for sure now that her feelings ran deeper than indifferent contempt. Dare she use the word…love?

“You’re here!” she cooed, careering forward and launching herself into his arms. The sudden motion sent the pair of them off-balance and they tumbled to the ground, hitting it with a solid thud. Buffy didn’t feel the pain though, mostly because all she could feel was elation that she was in his arms, but also because he cushioned her and took the brunt of their fall.

However, when she grinned at the vampire she noticed her wasn’t looking quite as blissful as she was. In fact he was eyeing her with caution as if she might have finally been dragged down into the mire of insanity.

“Have you gone bloody barmy?” he asked her, disentangling them and rising to his feet swiftly. He put some distance between the two of them and Buffy frowned. Usually Spike was trying to get as close as possible to her but now he was apparently trying to put as much space as possible between them as he could.

“Huh? No, I’m finally seeing things clearly for the first time,” she told him, hoping she could make him share in her boundless glee.

“This clear sight of yours didn’t happen to be preceded with a breakfast of some dodgy looking mushrooms did it?” the vampire asked, studying her closely for signs of alien abduction or some kind of possession.

Buffy smacked his arm playfully. “I’m not on drugs, not crazy and…not a robot.”

“Hmm, didn’t think of the robot thing,” he said.

Buffy figured that if he’d been able to blush he would have done. Commissioning the Buffybot wasn’t exactly his finest hour. She flashed him a playful scowl and leaned against the dusty, cobweb covered wall.

“I’m here because I was worried about you. You know, being all alone at this time of year isn’t good for anyone.”

Spike frowned. “Didn’t think I was a someone. Thought I was a disgusting evil thing.”

Buffy’s face clouded with guilt and regret at the words she’d haphazardly slung at him so many times. Although he might not be human, Buffy could see echoes of the human that he’d once been.

The first spirit had managed to instill in her that vampires were just as different as humans from one another. In many ways they shadowed the human they used to be. It contradicted everything the Watcher’s Council tried to pedal as gospel truth, but she trusted her own eyes more than she trusted the Quentin Travers brigade.

While Liam had been a bad human and had become an even more malevolent vampire, William had been a good human and had learned to be good as a vampire when circumstances gave him the opportunity. Finally Buffy could appreciate that there was a good man inside the shell of his bad boy persona.

Unable to keep her hands off him for another moment, she lunged forward and grabbed his biceps. She pressed her lips to his and it didn’t take long before he responded to her ministrations. His instincts told him not to let her use him again but he just couldn’t resist his golden girl and he ran his tongue against the seam of her lips and she eagerly parted them to allow him access to the hot cavern of her mouth. Buffy gasped as she felt his tongue begin to massage hers with undiluted passion.

Finally the need for air overwhelmed the human woman and she broke away, gasping. Her cells were electrified from the passion of the kiss and the promise that his eyes held as to what could happen next. Her stomach clenched with lust as memories of naked Spike and the things that he could do to her body assailed her.

“Don’t want you to think that I’m an ungrateful sod, love,” gasped Spike, his chest heaving in spite of the fact that he didn’t innately need to breathe. “But what is this?”

Buffy looked at him sheepishly. “Do we need to define it?”

“Just like to know where I stand. Only yesterday you were happy as bloody Larry to play a round of Kick the Spike at every turn.”

“I know I’ve said some bad things to you, Spike. We’ve said and done some crap to each other in the past. But I want to put that behind us. This is a new start I want you to come over to my house for lunch today,” she told him, still clinging to his strong arms.

“Lunch?” He looked at her through his lusty haze, trying to digest her words.

“You know that thing where you put food into your mouth. I’m sure you’re familiar with it. I know you’re a vamp but I’ve seen you eat human food.”

“There’s one kind of human food I’d really love to nibble on right now.” The timbre of his voice and the pointed look her flashed at the apex of her thighs enlightened her as to exactly what he’d love to feast on. In spite of herself she blushed. She knew just how talented the vampire was with his tongue from their night together in the dilapidated old house.

Taking a deep breath Buffy tried to pull her mind back on to the subject at hand. “I was actually talking about lunch at my house. For Christmas, duh!” She grinned at him playfully.

“Christmas?” he choked out, barely able to believe it. “You want me to spend Christmas with you?” It hadn’t surprised him that the Slayer had been virtually humping his legs moment ago, but having her invite him to spend Christmas with her was something that almost floored him.

Buffy smiled shyly at his reaction. “Not just with me. With Dawn and…and the Scoobies too. Wills and Xander will be there. And Anya also, I guess. Maybe even Tara.”

Although it would generally be an unappealing thought for Spike to spend more time with Harris, Buffy’s offer melted his heart. To be asked into her inner sanctum was a dream come true. Actually, it seemed too good to be true.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s brought on this sudden change of heart, pet?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

Reluctantly he separated himself from the Slayer. He needed to know what was going on before he got his hopes up. The vampire was too tired of being crushed and he needed to know he wasn’t just setting himself up for another fall. Pulling himself onto the top of the sarcophagus, he sparked up a cigarette and carefully studied her reaction.

Buffy was stunned that Spike hadn’t accepted her offer like a shark sourcing newly spilled blood. But then she realized the truth. He had no reason to trust her. Ever since he declared his love for her, she had pushed him away and abused him. She used him for what he could give her and then discarded him like a dirty old Kleenex. Sure, a lot of the time he was fully deserving of her contempt and disdain. But recently he’d been trying his best to be good, and she still wasn’t cutting him any slack.

Spike didn’t know about Buffy’s ghosts. He was totally oblivious to her epiphany. The previous night had fundamentally altered her. Since she returned from heaven, she’d been so depressed and disconnected, perilously circling the proverbial drain. She’d gotten a chance to see where she was coming from, and where she might be going to, and she realized that she’d gotten a second chance at life. Death was eternal, but life was just a fleeting breeze, and now she was determined to enjoy it.

She approached him slowly, not backing away when he flinched. Buffy was a little hurt that he was clearly expecting a fist to the nose, but she’d reached a zen-like understanding now.

“I want you there because…I want you to be a part of my life,” she admitted, leveling her eyes to his. They were moist with the sheen of tears. Opening her heart like this was so difficult for the Slayer.

Ever since she’d been crushed by her disastrous first attempt at love with Angel, she’d vowed never to fall so deeply again. But now she had. It had crept up on her without her even realizing. When she saw the image of the blond vampire dusting under the dull sun of a Christmas morning something had clicked within her and she knew that this really was the deepest, truest kind of love that there was.

And it was terrifying just to let herself fall. However, she truly trusted that Spike would be there to catch her.

“You want me in your life?” he repeated disbelievingly. “Sure you’re really Buffy and not another bot?”

Both of them winced at his offhanded reference to the Buffybot but Buffy pushed away the thoughts of the robot that had been constructed in her image and smiled reassuringly.

“I do.” She sighed and gently cupped his face in her palm. He leaned into her touch like a cat and quietly purred as her fingertips danced over the sharp plane of his cheekbones. “I had a kind of…epiphany.”

He frowned. “You’re not actually on drugs, are you?”

Buffy giggled and slapped his chest lightly. “I’m not on drugs. Just high on life, I guess. High on you.”

“No offense, pet. But yesterday you were in the doldrums and now you’re acting like the soddin’ Dalai Lama after an opium binge.”

“Well I thought about how much things would suck if I kept on being depressed. Heaven’s still gonna be there for whenever my time is, but I don’t want to waste the time I have with the people I love. And you only live once right? Or…well…three times in my case.”

“Twice in mine,” he quipped with a smile and she returned it with a dazzling grin of her own. It warmed his heart to see her smile. He hadn’t seen that enough lately. Suddenly he raised an eyebrow. “Wait! Did you say…‘love’? The people you ‘love’?”

Buffy ducked her head shyly. She really hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But she knew it was true. Even before she died, she’d started falling in love with him but there were too many barriers to let herself truly fall.

When she came back she was a mess of numbness, pain and anger. Added to her shame about falling for yet another vampire, it had meant that she couldn’t admit her love for him.

The ghosts had changed all of that though. Firstly she’d gotten an insight into what Spike was like as a human. William was the very picture of goodness, not at all like she expected he would have been. And so different to the human Liam.

Although she was aware that vampires weren’t like their human selves, she couldn’t help but believe they were a little bit influenced by their former personalities. Somehow, that had helped her consign her feelings for Angel to the past. After what she saw the souled Liam do…her love for him had simply evaporated. That was the moment she’d realized that Liam and Angelus were not actually all that different from each other. And if they were almost the same person then wasn’t Angel cut from the same cloth too?

Putting all thoughts of her former vampire boyfriend out of her head, she focused her attention on the hopeful face of the vampire in front of her.

“I did say love,” she confirmed feeling suddenly self conscious. “And I mean it. I do…love you.”

Spike gulped. “I-I…uh just to clarify? We’re talking about in love right? Not the poncey kind of brotherly love, sitting in a circle singing a round of buggering Kumbaya, or some such bollocks?”

“We’re talking about being in love,” she said with a gentle nod. “I wish I’d let myself admit it before but I’ve been so numb and so scared. I thought that sheltering myself from love was the only way to avoid pain but the pain is still there when I’m alone, maybe even worse. So I’m ready to risk the pain and embrace love. With you.”

“That’s quite a speech,” he commended her, impressed at her uncharacteristic show of verbosity.

“It’s the truth,” she smiled. “I think I started falling in love with you even before I di…even before.” She ducked her head at the almost-reference to her death. “When you protected Dawn from Glory, I knew right then that you’d changed from the vampire who came to Sunnydale wanting slayer-guts on a platter. You can be a good man, Spike.”

Spike almost choked at her allusion to him being good. However, he paused before negating the accusation. He knew that he had changed for her. He’d done it because he knew she couldn’t love an evil vampire but also because he actually wanted to change. Without even realizing it, at some point along the way he’d actually switched sides. He knew he was a white hat now and not just to impress Buffy, but also because he couldn’t view humans as little happy meals on legs these days.

Of course this revelation was life changing sort of stuff but weirdly it didn’t faze him as much as it should have. In some ways it was strangely comforting to know that he could make a place in the world at the Slayer’s side without any residual resentment at being neutered anymore. He never thought he’d even think it but in that moment he was actually grateful to the Initiative for giving him the chance to get close to Buffy and also to rediscover a side to himself that he thought Angelus’ tutelage had buried long ago.

“You know I love you too, right?” he said, almost shyly and she nodded.

“I really do.”

He drew her into his arms, staring at her face for several moments, soaking in her beauty. There was a niggling worry in his heart that this wasn’t real or that it was a dream, but her caress of his cheekbone proved that it was real. The way her touch made his nerves sing could be any less than real.

When their eyes met Buffy felt like she was being pulled into the two deep blue pools. They shone with awe and happiness as he looked at her as if she was a precious gem. His gaze dropped to her lips, hungrily studying them and then he couldn’t wait anymore. With fevered desire he bent to seal his lips to hers and Buffy eagerly responded.

For the first time, Buffy took the time to explore his cool mouth, tasting his flavor and savoring it on her tongue. She could taste the faint tang of whiskey and smoke and the combination made me moan into his mouth. Emboldened by her clear sound of pleasure, Spike’s eager hands stared to wander downward, caressing the small of her back before venturing to the curve of her ass. Once again, Buffy groaned in pleasure at the mounting sensations.

Desperate to feel his skin under her fingertips, Buffy started to pull off his clothes, heedless of the damage that she was doing to the cloth. The young woman was lost in the haze of passion and all she could focus on was her need for Spike.

With fervent desire, Spike returned the favor, tearing off the Slayer’s clothes and discarding them on the floor of the crypt.

“Bloody hell, pet. I need you so much. Can’t wait to feel you.”

“Please don’t make me wait!” she agreed, touching and tasting every and any part of him that she could.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that he had a bed down under the ground but right now he didn’t feel like he could make it that far. He needed to keep touching Buffy and to have her keep on touching him. Without that contact he was sure he would dust immediately.

“You’re so beautiful,” Spike remarked, staring at the now naked Slayer in the dull light of the crypt. He leaned forward to kiss her collarbone, laving her with his tongue. He could taste the faint saltiness on her skin along with her innate Buffy-ness and it was fast affecting his already engorged member. “I want you, Buffy.”

“I want you too, Spike. I wish I didn’t fight it for so long.” She gripped his long thick cock in her small hands and slowly started working the shaft drawing an ecstatic groan from her lover.

“God, is this real?” he gasped, enjoying the sensations that she was stirring inside of him.

“Not as real as this.” Without pausing, Buffy dropped to her knees ceremoniously so that she was eye level with his dick. As she came face to face with his alabaster cock she noted that he was even more impressive that when she had just felt him in her hands and pussy. Although this was their third time together, she hadn’t allowed herself to really look at him before and now she knew she’d been sorely missing out on a true treat.

Experimentally her little pink tongue darted out to lick the head of his throbbing dick.

“Fuck, Summers!” Spike gasped, gripping the lid of the sarcophagus in back of him so forcefully that it crumbled under his strength.

With a smile, Buffy repeated her actions licking him like he was the yummiest Popsicle in the world. Opening her mouth to him, she swallowed as much of his long, thick length as she could, moaning around him. One hand firmly grasped the base of his throbbing organ while the other came around to play with his heavy balls. She took him as deeply into her throat as she could while he babbled incoherently.

“Bloody fuck, yeah! Take me, Kitten. Take me in deep. Ah, that’s it! Such a lovely little gob, so perfectly shaped. Feels so good to have you suck me, pet. Need you. Oh!”

Her mouth, tongue, and teeth stimulated the helpless vampire, his jaw clenching as he reached the precipice of the eternal void of pleasure. With Buffy’s ministrations he feared he could fall over and never return from the pinnacle of that bliss.

“Gonna…bloody gonna come,” he warned her, trying to hold off just in case she didn’t want to swallow his spendings.

“So come,” mumbled the Slayer around his dick. Her eyes rose to his, gleaming with untamed lust and unquenched passion.

Seeing her like that, he couldn’t hold back and it wasn’t long before his balls were tightening up in her hands and his load was streaming from his cock, trickling ceaselessly down her throat.

Licking her lips to catch any of his stray semen, Buffy found herself yanked to her feet and pinned against the sarcophagus.

“Have I ever told you how soddin’ brilliant you are, Kitten?” he asked her, his continued want for her evident in his intense gaze.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Show me!”

Spike grinned and crushed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth to let his tongue in and tangle with hers. He could taste his own salty flavor on her lips but it only enflamed his desire even more.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, knowing she was absolutely ready. He could feel her readiness as his fingers danced along her moist slit, dipping into the hole before running back to caress her hard clit. “Gonna let me slide home?”

“God, yes, Spike! Please, do it!”

The vampire positioned himself at the entrance of her sopping wet channel. The Slayer bucked up, desperate to feel him penetrate her. It had been too long since she felt him inside of her and she’d never really accepted him until now.

As he glided into her, she finally accepted him into her in every way.

Languorously he thrust into her, his hands running up her ribs and coasting over her outstretched arms. Blue eyes clashed with green as intense passion electrified their union.

“You could never know just how bloody much you mean to me, Buffy,” Spike gasped, reaching down to pinch her clit.

“Ah! Oh God, I do know, Spike. I do.”

“How?” He stilled his motions and searched her face for answers. “Tell me how you know, pet.”

She smiled, her feelings for him breaking through the lusty haze. “I know because I feel the same way.”

“Oh God!”

And then he was pumping into her again, harder this time, his movements weaving a spell around the crypt like the melody of angels. It was heavenly and beautiful.

It was home. They were home.

When they climaxed, their shared passion reverberated around the stone walls of the crypt, bouncing from surface to surface even as the pleasure continued to roll through their spent bodies.

Collapsing together onto the lid of the sarcophagus both of the supernatural beings panted wildly, trying to get their breath back. Even Spike, who didn’t need to breathe, gasped deeply. Buffy was the only woman in the world who was able to make him forget that he didn’t need to breathe. They lay together for several minutes, just holding each other and enjoying the aftermath of their loving coupling.

Reluctantly Buffy broke the mood. “I gotta head home and make sure everything’s ready.” On shaky legs, the Slayer rose and began to pull on her clothes. However, her expression told him that she really didn’t want to go and that reassured him, warming his long dead heart with affection.

“Do you have to?” he pouted. “There’s so much more I want to do…so much more I want to taste…”

Buffy gasped at the heat generated by his words but shook her head reluctantly. “Yes, I do Mister. I promise we’ll have time for that though.”

“All the time in the world?”

“Absolutely.” Or as long as a Slayer had in this world, anyway.

After giving him one more kiss, she padded out of his crypt, her instincts wanting to run back to him, jump him and say screw the lunch. However, this was a new chapter in their lives. It was one where she wouldn’t hide in the shadows with him. She wanted to show everyone just how she felt about him.

Truly, madly, deeply in love.

By the time Buffy arrived home she was already missing Spike. In some ways she didn’t understand how she’d fallen so hard and so fast, but deep down she knew that it had been coming for a long time. When she finally allowed the wall around her heart to tumble, the organ was flooded with the emotions she’d denied before.

Buffy ambled into the living room and smiled at her sister and best friend, seeing them putting up the decorations together.

“Did you get the food?” Buffy asked Dawn. The blonde removed her coat and flopped down onto the couch. All that hot sweaty sex could really take it out of a girl, even if said girl was the Slayer. Especially when her horizontal gymnastics partner was a virtually insatiable vampire.

“Um, not exactly,” Dawn replied sheepishly. “But we do have a yummy canned feast coming up.”

Buffy grinned. “It sounds perfect, Dawn.” And it did.

Dawn responded with a smile of her own. “Xander and Anya are coming over too. And uh…I called Tara too.” The brunette flashed a surreptitious look at Willow who had paled at the mention of her ex-girlfriend’s name. “She said she’s going to come over.”

“Really?” Willow asked, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Dawn said. “She wants to see you. I told her that you’re magic free and…she’s missed you.”

Willow gave the younger girl a watery smile. “Thank you, Dawnie.”

Dawn shrugged feeling a little awkward and ducked her head. “Well, I’m gonna go get started on lunch. And there’s a couple special concoctions I’d love to try out.”

Buffy winced at the thought of what her sister might create but she didn’t try to discourage the younger girl. “Okay Dawnie,” she nodded before adding under her breath, “Please don’t poison anyone.”

Dawn skipped out of the room, a noticeable bounce in her step that hadn’t been there before. Even with the cast on her arm she seemed to have been revitalized.

Once her sister was out of earshot, Buffy turned to Willow and cocked her head. “So how you doing, Wills?”

“I’m okay, I guess,” Willow replied. “I’m glad that Tara’s gonna be here but a little nervous I guess.”

“You got nothing to worry about. Tara loves you.”

“She still thinks I’m gonna end up as crazy-magic addict again.”

“And are you?”

“No!” Willow looked a little hurt before her face softened. “It’s still there, buzzing under my skin. I can feel the power and I know I can’t use it because I can’t control myself but sometimes I can’t help wanting to use it.”

The Slayer eyed her friend. “Willow,” Buffy said, carefully broaching the subject. “You need to get the magic under control and get some real coaching. If you have some real training then I think you can use the magic responsibly.”

“You really think so?”

“Yep, I’m totally support-o girl when it comes to you being a sensible witch. No more crazy spells though. If you let the power take over then you’ll be lost and I don’t want that. None of us want that. We love you, Will.”

Willow was about to reply when the doorbell interrupted their conversation. Buffy sighed and headed to the door after promising Willow they would continue the conversation later. She pulled open the wood door, squealing as her eyes caught sight of the figure on the other side.

“Giles?” Buffy gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of her Watcher. “You’re here!”

With an excited screech she launched herself into his welcoming arms and clung to her surrogate father. He embraced her warmly, although she could see that his British properness had caused a small flush to invade his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her happiness infusing her voice.

Giles pulled back from the hug and began polishing his glasses awkwardly. “Well, I couldn’t leave you and the other children alone for Christmas. It is the festive season after all and…I…er…that is to say…I missed you.”

“Are you back permanently?” she asked hopefully.

“We shall see,” he assured her, amazed at the transformation in his Slayer since he last saw her. Buffy was positively glowing. The last time he saw her she was a dying shell, falling apart from the inside out. And now she reminded him of the bouncy teen he’d first been assigned to watch over.

“Well, come in!” she urged him, tugging him inside the house, where he received an equally warm greeting from Dawn and Willow.

The next hour was a frantic rush to get everything on the table. Buffy happily welcomed Tara, Xander and Anya to her home, desperately blushing when Anya told her she was glowing like a woman that had ‘been on the receiving end of many good orgasms recently’.” She didn’t bother to correct the former demon that it wasn’t just the orgasms that were making her glow. It was actually the flush of love.

Of course, as always in Buffy-land, things were going too well, and when a smoking Spike came rushing in under the cover of a blanket, the atmosphere turned a little frosty.

“Alright?” the blond vampire said to the group that clearly hadn’t been expecting him, while stomping out the embers sparking on the blanket. The faces of the humans ranged from glee on Dawn’s face to outrage on Xander’s. Willow looked stunned, Giles looked perplexed, Tara was smiling a little, and Anya’s face had twisted into an expression of extreme boredom.

Xander’s face reddened with anger as he glared at the blond vampire. “What’s Evil Dead doing here?”

Spike opened his mouth to respond but Buffy stepped between the two males, her eyes flashing with determination. She leveled her gaze to Xander, suppressing a smile when he flinched.

“Spike is here because I want him here,” she told her friend decisively. “This isn’t up for discussion, Xan.”

“But he’s evil!” whined the brunet.

“He’s not hurt anyone in a long time,” countered Buffy.

“Only because of his chip!” Xander insisted, stomping his foot like a child. “If it wasn’t for the chip he’d be making you a nummy treat right about now.”

Buffy pinned him with a pair of fiery eyes. “Spike could hurt me if he wanted to. The chip hasn’t worked on me since I came back.” She sighed at the collective gasp that her revelation garnered. “And look at me. I’m here all nummy treat-less. I trust Spike because I’m in love with him. And that’s not going to change.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Xander demanded, turning to Willow. “Did you do another spell?” he asked the redhead accusingly.

The flushed witch shook her head vehemently. “I didn’t do anything!” she assured them with a gulp.

“This does seem quite unorthodox,” Giles said, confused at Buffy’s actions. “As far as I’ve always been aware, there’s always been a shared level of contempt between you and Spike, Buffy. And now you tell us that you’re…in love with him. It’s a little difficult to digest.”

“T-they are in l-love,” Tara whispered quietly, an expression of awe on her face. When everyone in the room spun to look at her, she blushed. “T-their auras,” she explained. “I-I can r-read their auras. And they’re in love, there’s no d-doubt about it.”

“And he’s a vampire so I’m sure Buffy will be the receiver of many happy orgasms from him,” Anya beamed, much to her fiancé’s disgust. “Mmm, vampire stamina.”

Spike’s hand’s crept tentatively onto the Slayer’s waist and she turned in his embrace. “I do love you,” she smiled. “I want this to be forever with you.”

“I love you too, so bloody much, pet.”

Buffy mewled, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. The couple’s kiss deepened, ignoring the choked ‘eek’ from Xander and Giles’ ‘dear lord.’ The sound of the older Brit polishing his glasses was actually audible.

“Aww!” gushed Dawn. “That’s so cute! This is totally awesome.”

Xander’s snort of distaste proved he didn’t share her sentiments. But for once he held his tongue. The boy knew when he was beaten.

When they finally broke apart, Buffy turned her ‘don’t mess with me’ Slayer face to the group.

“Now, Spike and I are together. We’re in love and that’s all there is to it. So if there’s no more objections…and there won’t be, let’s start celebrating!”

Her expression made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate anything else from her friends and they all nodded, some more hesitantly than others.

Buffy smiled and relaxed back into Spike.

If she’d known that getting her friends to accept Spike was this easy then maybe she would have given in to her feelings earlier.

“Think we can get a minute alone?” Spike whispered to her. His cool breath tickled the shell of her ear and she shivered with arousal.

“Meet me in my room in five,” she whispered back.

Slipping away from the group wasn’t difficult. Everyone was still deeply in their daze of shock from the Slayer’s newest revelation so they didn’t notice when she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

The moment she walked into her room her mouth became parched. Spike was sprawled on the bed. No..wait. Shirtless Spike was sprawled on the bed. And hell if he wasn’t the sexiest thing she ever saw. Two blue eyes flickered to briefly meet with hers and he smiled.

“See something you like, pet?” he asked.

“I-I uh, God yes!”

“What are you waiting for then? Christmas?”

Buffy giggled. “I’m not waiting anymore,” she told him. “I have everything I need right here.”

“You’re not the only one,” he said, holding out his arms to her.

She stepped forward, melting into his embrace and gently exploring his lips with hers. This was the most tender kiss they’d ever shared. It was an affirmation of their mutual love for each other.

It was beautiful.

Gently Spike rolled Buffy back onto the soft mattress and climbed on top of her, licking at her neck with his curious tongue. Her tiny mewls and moans only made him harder. She was so responsive to his touch and he could hardly wait to plunge inside her hot channel again.

“Mmph!” exclaimed Buffy suddenly reaching underneath her and pulling out a small pink stuffed pig.

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked with a frown, pausing in his caresses.

Buffy held up the pig and handed him to the vampire. “Surprisingly, not very comfy when I roll over onto my favorite childhood toy. Definitely not of the good with stopping all the yummy foreplay-ness.”

“Ha! So who’s this little fellow then?” Spike asked, cradling the pig in his arms.

Buffy giggled at how cute he looked and Spike quirked a questioning eyebrow at her sudden laughter. “I’m just laughing because you look so sweet with Mr. Gordo and you’re a big bad vampire.”

“I’m not sweet!” he insisted. “I’m the Big B…”

“…Big Bad,” interrupted Buffy. “Sure you are. My big, bad vampire.”

Spike grinned at her and slid into his demon face. He growled playfully relishing the happy laughter he evoked from her. He turned his amber eyes to the stuffed pig and smiled. “Well, hello Mr. Gordo. Now, you’re really gonna have to be a bloody good little pig and avert those eyes, because me and your Mummy are going to do some things that are not suitable for the eyes of an innocent thing like you.”

Buffy doubled over with laughter. She’d never realized just how many facets there were to this vamp. He fulfilled her needs in every way. A sudden sense of déjà vu washed over her as she watched Spike holding her pig but then she was in his arms again and Spike’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Any recollection of déjà vu was forgotten as they sank down to the bed together, lost in the bottomless pool of their passion.

When they finally made it downstairs, almost an hour later, both of the blonds avoided the knowing stares from the others. Xander seemed to have to keep his hand permanently clamped over his girlfriend’s mouth as she burst at the seams with desire to make some kind of sexual comment. Buffy was glad that everyone kept their judgments to themselves though, in spite of the perpetual glances.

However, soon it was all put to the back of their minds as they sat down to eat. The lunch itself wasn’t a culinary triumph. Dawn had cooked some beans and slices of toast, and something that might have originated as eggs, but no one was sure. She did it all with great difficulty seeing as one hand was in a cast. However, it didn’t spoil anyone’s enjoyment of the day. The Scoobies, Giles and Dawn laughed and talked together, even including Spike in the conversation.

The Slayer glanced at her sister, feeling her heart warmed by the brunette’s tinkling laughter. She wanted to make things better for the younger girl. Dawn had been through so many hardships during the course of her short life that Buffy believed it was now time to try giving her a little joy.

“I want to make a toast,” Buffy announced, smiling as the room fell silent and several pairs of eyes flickered over to her. “The last few months have been pretty sucky. Actually they’ve been of the majorly sucky variety. I’ve had so much resentment, so much pain that I forgot what was important. But I want things to be better for all of us.”

“What has happened in the past few months is not just your fault,” Giles interjected. “I think we’re all responsible for it to some extent.”

Willow nodded. “Yeah, Buffy. I-I wanted to say, I’m sorry too.” Her eyes met Tara’s across the table and she blushed. “I’ve hurt some of the people I care about, but I want things to be different now. I talked to Giles and I’m leaving for England with him to study with the coven over there. I want to get my powers under control.”

“Thank you, Willow,” Tara said quietly. “I think Buffy’s right. Things will get better.”

“Bloody right they will,” Spike added. “Nothing but the best from here on out for my Slayer.”

“Thank you, honey.” Buffy winked at Spike and clasped his hand, choosing to ignore the slight glare that Xander tossed in their direction. “I promise that today is the start of a new chapter. A happy chapter.”

“A chapter with lots of orgasms!” said Anya hopefully rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s exaggerated cringe.

“Let’s raise our glasses in a toast,” Giles suggested.

Everyone complied. “Merry Christmas,” Buffy cheered.

“And Happy Hanukah,” Willow added with a cheery smile in Tara’s direction. The shy blonde returned her smile with a promise that there was hope for the couple.

“Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah,” chorused everyone. Even Spike joined in with the toast clinking his glass against everyone else’s.

As his glass touched Buffy’s their eyes met and they shared a sweet smile. In that moment both of them knew Buffy would honor her promise to help make their lives better than ever before.

And Buffy was better than her word. She became a happier, kinder person. She was finally able to give her little sister the love and attention that she craved. With financial help from her new boyfriend, due to the vast estates that were still under his control from his human life, the Slayer was able to dedicate more time to being a surrogate mother to the girl. It was joyous for the both of them. They were Summers and Buffy knew they needed to stick together.

She also finally embraced her calling, again thanks to Spike’s help and encouragement, learning to totally let go of the past and find joy in what she had been chosen to do. Sometimes her friends found it strange to see the new improved Buffy but the Slayer didn’t care. She was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Not long after Christmas, Willow went to England for training with a coven over there. The redheaded witch was able to harness her power and learn control. Tara accompanied her and their relationship went from strength to strength.

Buffy was also able to help avert a tragedy for her other best friend too. When a vengeful demon showed up at Xander’s and Anya’s wedding she able to slay that it before it was able to do any real damage. Although she had to admit, Spike was the one who alerted her to nasty demon posing in human form.

Things didn’t always fun smoothly between Spike and the Scoobies, of course, but she didn’t even flinch when her best friends periodically listed the reasons why she shouldn’t be with Spike or laughed at the sudden change in her. Let them judge. It didn’t matter because she was finally happy.

Buffy was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of doubts, suspicion or laughter at the outset. Her own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for her. And in time, they came to accept him too. Even he and Xander became grudging friends.

Of course, there were still hardships. She was still the Slayer and that came along with the territory but as a team they were able to deal with whatever the Powers threw at them.

When Spike sacrificed his own life to save the world down in the belly of the Hellmouth, Buffy briefly slipped back into her former depression. The weeks that followed were hard but when he came back to life and returned to her only yards away from her new apartment in Rome she felt like she’d been given yet another chance.

That only made her cherish him and their love even more deeply.

One of Buffy’s biggest personal struggles came when she found out that Willow’s resurrection spell had ‘blessed’ her with immortality. At first Buffy didn’t exactly see it as a blessing because it meant that she would have to literally wait an eternity before she could be gifted with her eternal rest. However, Spike didn’t buckle under the pressure and assured the woman he loved that he would be by her side for as long as she wanted him. Gazing into those azure eyes she knew that eternity would be more than bearable as long as she could spend it with the man she loved and adored.

After their lips met on that cool Rome evening no one saw them for almost a week afterward. A week in which Buffy and Spike redefined the Kama Sutra.

Buffy would forever remember her liaisons with the spirits and the night that changed her destiny. She saw every day as a blessing, and thanked the Powers that Be every morning when she awoke next to the man she loved. She had so nearly missed out on finding him, and she was determined never to lose him.

And so, as Dawn observed, “God Bless Us Every One!”