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Part 2
2025
Buffy lighted the last candle on the manora, chanting softly. Though her mother had moved away from her very Jewish roots, this was one tradition they still kept every year. Since there was no son, Buffy lit the candles. They also celebrated Christmas, but that was at Uncle Xander and Aunt Cordy’s house, where as Hanukkah was always at home.
Buffy glanced at her mother and father, smiling at her and each other. Oz had flown in that morning from the East Coast where his tour was taking a holiday break. He’d only missed the holidays once, when he was in Europe and couldn’t come home. He’d spent every night of Hanukkah and nearly all of Christmas (leaving only for bathroom breaks and the like) on a video phone so he could watch them open presents and eat lunch as close as possible. It had cost a fortune, but it’d been worth it. She was glad he was home this year though, and he was going to fly back for her seventeenth birthday in January too.
The minute Buffy finished one of the twins piped up with a question. Xander started mumbling his version of the Hebrew chant and Delia made a face and flopped onto the couch, grabbing the TV remote and flipping it on.
“Cordelia Harris!” Cordy exclaimed. “Rude much! This is a holiday!”
“We’re not even Jewish,” Delia pointed out.
“We should still respect their holy days,” Alex pointed out quietly. Delia made a face and then turned off the TV sullenly.
“But Dawson’s on!”
“Hah hah! That show’s stupid!” Chael exclaimed, diving for the remote himself.
“That’s enough you two! Sit down at the table! It’s time for dinner,” Cordelia said sharply.
“Yeah. What your mom said,” Xander put in in his best “dad” voice Buffy bit the inside of her lips to keep from laughing and met Alex’s similarly amused eyes.
“Don’t ya just love ‘em?” she whispered, sliding into her seat as Willow switched on the lights and went into the kitchen to bring the dinner out. Oz followed to help her, as considerate as always.
“You have to. That or kill them,” he murmured back. She stifled a giggle, then smiled angelically at her second parents. Beside her, Alex did the same. Only he actually *looked* angelic. He could do that. It wasn’t fair. She just looked cute and mischievous, which, of course, had it’s time . . .
“So, Buff, coming over tomorrow to help us decorate the tree?” Xander asked. “Popcorn will be happening!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I am so with the popcorn!” Buffy said, smiling.
“And then we’re going shopping,” Cordelia announced. “I saw the cutest dress at Nordstrom’s! You’ll look absolutely delicious in it! And pre-Christmas beauty day, of course. If only you could convince your mom to come!” Buffy shrugged slightly.
“Not really her thing. I still haven’t ever convinced to put on that Halloween outfit when Dad first saw her or whatever . . . I gather she was a total dish!”
“Dish-worthy. Of course, you should have seen my costume!”
“Yeah . . . *meow*!” Xander exclaimed. Cordelia aimed a well-placed blow on her arm.
“Well you’re one to talk soldier boy! Though you were kinda sex—” She stopped suddenly, realizing that all the others around the table were either her children or the nearest thing. And that they were staring at her in shock and horror. “So, when’s dinner coming?”
“Anyway . . .” Buffy came in, saving the day, “I’m totally in for the whole day. I could really use pre-Christmas day this year. I like, totally failed this huge test right before break. I’m just glad mom’s not getting my grades until *after* Christmas. She’s gonna have a major fit!” She heard the kitchen door opening behind her, and her eyes widened as she hurriedly continued. “About the present. The really great one I’m getting her. And I’m being quiet now.”
“Good choice,” Oz said softly as he passed by her. Buffy gave him her most innocent smile just as Willow set down the main dish.
“Is Sion joining us?” Buffy asked Cordelia.
“I’m hoping,” the nightclub owner said with a sigh. “She needs a girl’s day. She only leaves that library to patrol and sleep. And sometimes eat. Talk about too much dedication!”
“Well, she is the Slayer. Isn’t that what she’d supposed to do?” Buffy asked, looking at Alex for support, who nodded.
“It’s one way to Slay,” Xander said. “Hey! That rhymed! I rhyme! Witness me rhyming!”
“Nice for you dear,” Cordelia said, patting his hand.
“Not all Slayers are like that,” Willow said, sitting down opposite Buffy.
“What are they usually like?” Alex asked.
“Well, I don’t know about *usually*, ‘cause I think she was more on the unusual side, but Buffy definitely was not this dedicated,” Willow replied.
“She was of the ‘all work no play makes Slayer dead’ viewpoint,” Xander said.
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, curious to hear more about the woman she’d been named after. Buffy Summers. The Vampire Slayer. Well, former vampire slayer. She died a few years before Buffy—Buffy Rosenburg—was born. She’d meant a lot to Willow and all the rest of the parental generation, and they usually didn’t want to talk about her because it hurt. But here they were, and they seemed plenty talkative.
“Buffy used her zest for life to make her a better Slayer,” Oz said.
“And she was the best,” Willow said softly.
“Yeah. The best,” Xander echoed.
“Not that Sion isn’t great!” Willow said quickly.
“No. She’s great. She’s just . . . not Buffy Summers.”
“No one is,” Buffy Rosenburg (her father’s last name had gone when his band got big) said softly, guessing what her parents and almost-parents were thinking. Maybe they were right. But then again, maybe not.
2002
“You’re late,” Giles said, not looking up as Buffy nearly ran into the
library.
“Giles! It’s snowing!” she exclaimed. And so it was. There was no
rain mixed with it either, just large, soft white snowflakes everywhere.
And they were sticking to everything. Giles looked up, blinking
snowflakes off his eyelashes. The sky was clear blue.
“Buffy. Look up,” he instructed. She did so, obeying form force of
habit. It took her a second and then she gasped and looked back to him.
“What’s going on? I mean, I’m extremely impressed that it seems to be
snowing without clouds, but this doesn’t seem natural. In fact, I’ve
never heard of it happening.”
“Well, this is the Hellmouth,” Giles pointed out grimly.
“Isn’t that supposed to make it *hotter*? I mean, the whole Hell
freezing over thing, would that apply?”
“I don’t think so,” Giles replied, not amused. Buffy sighed. “Besides,
do you see anything freezing? It’s no colder than usual. At least a
good forty or forty five degrees. It’s merely snowing.”
“Well that’s gotta be perfect! I mean, how many times do you get snow
*without* cold? This is like a blessing!” Buffy exclaimed, starting to
sing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” Giles gave her a look and she
subsided, closing her mouth abruptly.
“This could be a portent,” Giles said grimly and turned to go inside.
Buffy gave him a forlorn glance, then followed, casting looks back at
the falling snow.
“Not even one snowball fight?” she asked in a pleading voice. Giles
didn’t answer, just kept walking. Buffy sighed deeply and followed.
“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful,”
Angel sang softly. Buffy looked at him with suprise and pleasure.
“I didn’t know you sang!” she exclaimed, pirouetting and kicking up snow
all around them.
“Sometimes,” he replied. Buffy stopped and put her arms around his
neck.
“We’re going to know everything about each other someday. No suprises.
We’re getting married.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “We are.” He leaned down to kiss her. Before it was
over, Buffy was singing into his mouth.
“As long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!” They
broke apart finally and kept walking, humming together.
“Is that how Giles feels about it?” Angel asked.
“ ‘Fraid not. He thinks it’s some kind of omen. He’s in full research
mode and he warned me like fifteen million times to be careful on
patrol. What’s gonna come out in this anyway, except humans for walks
in the snow.”
“Vampires looking for humans taking walks in the snow,” Angel suggested.
Buffy made a face.
“You just had to be logical, didn’t you? Okay fine . . . we’re
patrolling. Witness me patrolling.”
“I’m witnessing. Lovely sight,” Angel said softly, another snowflake
landing on his eyelashes and several on his hair, which was almost white
by now. Angel didn’t have any body heat, so the snowflakes collected on
him instead of melting away. Buffy reached up and ruffled his hair,
sending an extra scurry of snowflakes into the air.
“Well, thank you,” she said, her hand sliding down his face tenderly.
“It’s almost midnight,” Angel said, catching her hand and holding it to
him.
“How do you always know these things?” she asked, scowling at him, then
smiled. “It’ll be our wedding day then.”
“I know.”
“You know what else? Either we’re splitting up or one of us is going
home. You’re not allowed to see me after midnight,” Buffy pointed out.
Angel laughed; a rare sound, but an extremely welcome one, and pulled
her to him.
“Go home,” he whispered, inches away from her. “Sleep. I love you.”
Buffy closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the snow; up to him as
well, and he accepted the invitation, leaning down to kiss away the
snowflakes, and then to brush her lips with his own. Suddenly something
very strange feeling and cold—if he could feel cold—landed on Angel’s
face. He jumped back, shocked. Buffy started laughing at the
expression on his face. He scooped up a handful of snow and threw it
with the super fast reflexes only vampires have. Well, only vampires
and Slayers. Buffy dodged it . . . barely, and readied her own missile.
“You’re going to pay!” Angel exclaimed, sending another one in her
direction. It hit her, but only on the arm, rather than the face where
he’d aimed. Her next shot got his leg, but his third hit her square in
the stomach. Buffy stormed him, throwing snowball after snowball, and
finally jumping on him and pushing them both down to the snow-packed
ground. A foot already, and it had only started that afternoon.
“I love you,” Buffy whispered, laying atop him in the snow.
“More than anything,” he replied, kissing her. They rolled in the snow,
each fighting to get on top and get up before the other, but they were
too well matched. They ended up side by side, each trying to push
themselves up and the other person down. Finally they collapsed beside
each other, laughing and tired.
“Snow angels!” Buffy exclaimed.
“Hmm?” he asked.
“Haven’t you ever made a snow angel?” Buffy demanded, propping herself
up on one elbow to look at him. Her clothing—easy to move in for
optimal Slayage, but not at all water proof—was soaked through, but she
didn’t mind. She’d go home and change soon enough anyway. Well, not
home. She and Willow were going to stay at her mom’s house for the
night, since it was easier for Buffy to stay somewhere else than Angel
who needed dark.
“I . . . I don’t think so,” Angel said, his brow furrowing slightly.
“It’s easy. Just spread your arms and legs out and move them like—”
Buffy’s instructions were interrupted by a vampire leaping on her
suddenly. It looked like some kind of strange animal, totally covered
in white. Buffy reacted quickly, bringing up her legs to push it off
her quickly. She followed it up, noting that Angel was up as well and
looking for any more that might be around. Buffy pulled out a stake
before the vampire was at her again. She kicked it in the stomach,
hampered only slightly by the snow. It aimed a punch at her face, but
she ducked out of the way and got in two of her own punches. It made a
last stitch effort—actually hitting her this time. Buffy fell, but
rolled with it and came up, slightly disoriented from the difference in
the ground. The vampire was gone and Angel was standing there with dust
on his boots. She sighed and walked over to him.
“See? I was on patrol.”
“Mhmm,” he agreed, smiling slightly. She sighed and got up on her
tiptoes to kiss him softly, then began to walk away.
“Almost midnight! I’ll see you tomorrow night lover boy!” Buffy called
out, turning to watch him as she walked backwards. His eyes held hers
all the way down the street until the steadily falling snow made it
impossible to see anymore.