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Part 3
2025
“I got it! I got it!” Cassidy Harris cried, happily munching on the piece of popcorn she’d just caught in her mouth.
“Who cares?” Preston Harris asked, mustering all his seven-year-old dignity. “I don’t like popcorn!”
“You don’t like popcorn!” Buffy exclaimed. “You have to try it!”
“I don’t want to!” Preston announced. Cassie made a face at her twin.
“Just ‘cause he hasn’t caught any,” she announced importantly.
“Here, Preston, catch!” Buffy called, aiming carefully and throwing the popcorn. He opened his mouth in startlement and—Buffy’s aim true—it went right in. He started jumping up and down and running around and out of the huge living room—Cassie following—announcing that he had caught the popcorn all by himself. Buffy grinned and glanced up to see Alex lounging in the doorway, watching her with a smile. She was suddenly acutely aware of the popcorn strewn all over the floor and a few pieces in her strawberry blond hair. She fished them out immediately, throwing them in the trash and beginning to pick up the rest. The annual popcorn stringing had deteriorated rapidly when Cassie announced she had the tremendous skill it took to catch popcorn in one’s mouth.
“Did you get the tree?” Buffy asked, sitting back on her knees with a handful of half-crushed popcorn.
“Nice big one,” Alex said, sauntering in and sitting in one of the big armchairs—just comfortable enough for Xander’s taste, but not so old and ugly that they offended Cordelia’s sensibilities. “Mom and Dad got into an argument about it, so I let them have a minute. They’ll be in eventually and then we’ll bring it in.”
“Sounds good. Most of the chains are done and the decorations are all unpacked,” Buffy said, gesturing to the boxes of Christmas decorations that were brought down this time every year. There was an awkward silence, and then Buffy broke it suddenly. “Do you like college?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s great, but it’s good to be home too. I missed . . . everyone,” he said, watching her as if to gage her reaction. She blushed and looked down at the floor, then took a deep breath and looked up again, meeting his eyes squarely. They sat looking at each other for a long moment, and then the twins ran back into the room, airplanes now in hand.
“Whoa, whoa, you guys. Slow down!” Alex exclaimed. They made faces, but obediently stopped and sat down beside the bowl of eating-popcorn.
“Buffy, can I put the angel on this year?” Cassie asked. Though it wasn’t even her house, Buffy was the decision maker when it came to decorating the tree each year. Besides, she’d found the angel on a trip to Oregon in a little shop. She was so young she thought maybe it was the Angel her parents always talked about in sad voices, so she pointed it out to Willow. Her mother bought it and it now held a place of reverence in the Harris and Rosenburg houses.
“I don’t know. It’s pretty high up,” Buffy said doubtfully.
“I can reach! I’m big! Bigger than Pres!”
“Are not!” Preston exclaimed.
“Are too!”
“Are not!”
“Don’t fight about it. I’m sure you could put it on together,” Alex said, coming in between them. “Christmas is about loving and sharing, not who gets to put the angel on.”
“If you two fight about it, neither of you can put it on. Mmm . . . Alex can, since he’s been away and he seems to understand Christmas so well,” Buffy announced. The twins moaned together and started descrying that idea in loud, high pitched voices. Buffy and Alex looked at each other and started to laugh, valiantly trying to hide it behind raised hands. Buffy wondered suddenly what it would be like to have her own children.
When they were younger they used to play house all the time. Buffy and Alex as the eldest children were always the mother and father and Delia and Chael were the two children. They alternated between fighting like Alex’s parents (though never making up the same way . . . they were only children, after all) and being incredibly sweet and devoted to each other like Buffy’s parents. Alex always seemed better at the latter. He had his father’s humor sometimes, and his dark hair and eyes, but he was much older, despite being the son. It was just one of those things everyone somehow knew. Buffy loved “Uncle” Xander, but he never had grown up and he never would. Alex already seemed grown up (sometimes) and he was only eighteen. Buffy wondered why that was, what the difference between them was that made them that way. Did Alex have an old soul?
“Why don’t you two go out and see what your parents are doing?” Buffy suggested suddenly. They took to the idea immediately and were quickly out of the living room, down the hall and out the front door. “Hopefully they’re not making up yet,” Buffy said wryly, going to stand in the doorway of the living room. Alex walked over to stand beside her.
“Or making something else,” he replied, his face innocent but his voice amused. Buffy glanced up at him, laughing, and then suddenly his mouth was brushing hers oh-so-lightly. She swallowed a gasp and met his eyes as he pulled away.
“Mistletoe,” Alex said softly, in explanation. Buffy looked up and saw that she was indeed, right below the mistletoe. She didn’t move, but looked slowly down from the door frame to meet his eyes again.
“We’re still standing under it,” she pointed out in a faint voice.
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “We are.” Very slowly, as if afraid she would wake herself up, Buffy pushed herself up onto her toes and leaned forward, catching Alex’s lips with her own. He turned his head into hers, deepening the kiss this time and her arms came up involuntarily to encircle his neck, bringing them closer—and holding her up. Her knees suddenly felt suspiciously weak.
“Got you!” Xander’s voice cried loudly. Buffy and Alex broke apart at once, then realized Xander was still outside. They exchanged glances and stepped apart as the front door began to open. By the time Preston bounded in, followed by Xander—carrying Cassie—and Cordelia, Buffy was on the couch stringing popcorn innocently while Alex tested his pocket knife on his finger several chair away.
“Alex! Get up here and help me bring in the tree!” Xander cried. Alex was up in less than a second, looking suspiciously innocent. Xander gave him a strange look, but went outside, the twins following closely, Cordelia sat down beside Buffy and watched her with a strange expression.
“You do realize you just stuck that needle like, into your finger don’t you?” she asked. Buffy started and looked down at the drop of blood welling. She dropped the popcorn and needle and stuck her finger into her mouth immediately, feeling the pain all of a sudden. Her green eyes met Cordelia’s innocently and Buffy smiled sweetly, giving the mother of the man that was *still* making her woozy from outside a small shrug. Cordelia looked skeptical. Buffy looked innocent. The fact that she was sitting was very, *very* good.
“Sion! You came!” Buffy exclaimed. The tall, slender (yet muscled) young woman turned, blushing slightly at the enthusiastic greeting. She was just twenty, only a few years older than Buffy, and they were friends—well, as much as Sion had friends. The Slayer was . . . of all thing . . . shy, and the fact that she wasn’t technically supposed to have a life beyond Slaying just compounded it.
“Giles said I should,” the black-haired girl explained. With masses of dark hair, pale skin and very blue eyes she would be stunning if she let herself. Buffy loved getting her to come for beauty-days. She always looked incredible by the end of the day, and she always looked suprised at the fact. The next day she always disappeared back into severe hair-styles and either the female version of Rupert Giles’ clothes (one word: tweed) or sweatpants and shirts when she was training or on patrol. Buffy and Cordelia always tried to dress her, but it was a lost cause. Like trying to dress Buffy’s mother. Didn’t happen.
“Do you know how much I adore Giles right now?” Sion gave her a confused look and Buffy sighed, linking arms with the Slayer. “Come on, spa first, then manicures, pedicures and hair, and then clothes. Cordelia’s meeting us there.”
“How’s . . . um . . . how’s your vacation?” Sion asked. She never went to school, since she’d been sent at a very young age for Slayer training, but she worked with Giles at the library and was used to teenagers and the school schedule. That’s why Buffy could see her so much . . . she and her friends sometimes hung out in the library during lunch when there wasn’t anything else to do and Giles was in a good mood.
“Good, so far. I can’t wait for the ball!” The Bronze Christmas Eve Ball was a yearly tradition begun even before Cordelia bought the nightclub. It wasn’t a ball exactly, though it was formal. *Everyone* went, adults and teenagers alike. Buffy’d had her dress since October, and barely resisted wearing it before this. One simply couldn’t wear a dress for the second time to the Christmas Ball. Well, one actually could, but not when one knew Cordelia Harris personally. “You’re coming right?”
“I don’t know,” Sion said, shrugging slightly. “I might have to patrol.” Buffy made a face.
“You have to come! And you have to let me doll you up.”
“I . . . I don’t have anything to . . . to wear,” Sion protested—though in her soft voice it didn’t sound like she was really protesting anything.
“We’ll get you something! Here, today. Not a problem. And Giles’ll let you have the night off. Buffy—the other Buffy—got lots of nights off. She must have anyway, ‘cause she did an awful lot. Plus you could patrol before and after.”
“I guess,” Sion said.
“Don’t guess! Gonna happen. So gonna happen.” Sion smiled despite herself and then they were at the spa.
“Buffy! Sion! I’m so glad you came! Hurry, we’re late!” Cordelia exclaimed, ushering them in. Buffy gave Delia a little wave, then exchanged glances with Sion and smiles and let herself be drawn into a world of luxury.
2002
She looked like an angel as she started down the aisle, all in white and nearly glowing. Outside the snow was piled against the doors and up the windows. Buffy had spent the whole day shoveling snow.
She glanced at Giles beside her and smiled slightly. He looked so proud. It had meant so much to her when he said he would walk her up the aisle. It had been hard for him to accept Angel at all. It had been hard for everyone but Buffy, and possibly Willow. Buffy’s biological father died a few years before of a heart attack, and besides, Giles had always been like a parent to her—often annoying, but overall giving her a lot.
Thoughts ran into her head and out again; a stream of pictures, of memories. Of Angel. Who was waiting for her, watching her with his dark eyes that could be so bright when she least expected it. Like when he had asked her to marry him. When she had told him she wanted to move in with him. When they woke up together for the first time after Willow cast the spell. When he came to Sunnydale even though she thought she’d lost him. When he returned from Hell and told her all was forgiven. So very, very bright.
Willow and Cordy—her bridesmaids—were smiling at her. She smiled at them, and then saw Angel and all other thoughts disappeared. Her Angel. The true one that had saved her, as she had saved him, so many times. They were meant to be together.
She was there, suddenly, standing beside him with her heart in her eyes. She’d decided not to wear a veil. Not before Angel. Enough had come between them in the past, had hidden them from each other; they didn’t need something else.
The priest began the service. Buffy heard what he was saying as if he was in another room. Her whole being was focused on the man beside her.
They were getting married at Buffy’s house since Angel had trouble with churches. She’d only wanted a small ceremony anyway, just close friends and family. Besides, anywhere public and vampires could come in. Nothing was ruining this wedding.
Xander beamed at her from beside Angel. Supreme irony that he had been extremely hopeful the man he’d once hated would ask him to be Best Man. Angel did not disappoint. Xander alternated his gazes between Buffy and Cordelia, who looked stunning in icy blue.
Then suddenly they were taking their vows. Every word was a promise and Angel added another in a whisper. “I will go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning,” he whispered. Tears sprung into Buffy’s eyes and poured down over her cheeks. “Every night and every morning,” she promised.
“I’ll always be with you.”
“Eternally,” Buffy whispered, and then he was slipping the ring onto her finger. The claddagh ring, the heart turned in because her heart had been taken even before she knew it and always would be.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Angel whispered, and said it in all the languages. Buffy’s turn. She took out an identical ring. He didn’t know she had it, and he started to cry as well as she slipped it on to his finger.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” she whispered in turn. And then the priest told them they could kiss and Angel’s mouth was on hers and he was kissing away all her tears and this time the salt in their kiss was joy and all the tears were joy and everything was joyful.
Buffy and Angel were joined eternally.
Outside the snow continued falling.
“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this day?” Buffy whispered, looking up at Angel. At her husband. Her husband. They were married. *Married*.
“How long?” Angel asked indulgently.
“Eternally!” she answered with a laugh. “What about you?”
“The same I think. Or maybe since the first second I saw you.”
“You thought we’d get married?” Buffy asked teasingly.
“No. But I loved you anyway.”
“Ditto. The first time I saw you, I mean. Okay, I was extremely annoyed with the whole Cryptic Guy thing, not to mention the fact that all I really wanted to do was be a normal teenager, but there was always something . . . it was like I recognized you . . . knew you, despite everything.”
“I knew you the first time I laid eyes on you,” he whispered.
“Didn’t we already go over this?” Buffy teased softly, her eyes totally focused on the man she was dancing with, everything else just a distraction.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Never.”
“I won’t. I love you.”
“I lo—” Buffy began, but was interrupted by a shriek. She cursed and broke away from Angel, grabbing her long dress and running over to the sound. An uninvited guest had one of her college friends from behind. Buffy pulled out a stake, flipped one to Angel who was going after one of the other vampires, and faced off with it squarely. Though her house was vampire-proof (excluding Angel of course), the Bronze, where they were having the reception, wasn’t.
“Do you know how much you’re gonna die now?” Buffy asked. “ ‘Cause I’m talking major dust-making.” It growled and her girlfriend shrieked. “Just stay calm Jen,” Buffy said. “I’ll take care of this. The brunette nodded frantically, but held still and tried not to hyperventilate.
“Congratulations,” the vampire snarled. It was nearly white from the snow outside, though the heat of the club was beginning to melt some off, forming puddles at it’s feet.
“Thanks. But you’re not getting off,” Buffy said, flipping forward easily despite the long skirts of her dress and pushing Jennifer out of the way before the vampire could react. “I mean, you didn’t even bring a present. Very rude.” The vampire was dead second later and Buffy jumped back just in time to keep the dust off her dress. She turned and kicked another one, then threw another stake into it’s heart. She saw Willow and Xander team up and get one. It looked like Angel had already slain two. A second and another vampire later they were all gone and only humans—humans she knew—were left in the room.
“Now, where were we?” Buffy asked in a loud voice. She gestured to the band—Dingoes Ate My Baby—who started up the song again. Buffy turned to Angel, smiling and holding out her hands. He smiled back and came to her, taking her in his arms and twirling them out to the dance floor. Slowly the rest of the room adjusted and began to dance and socialize again.
“I love you,” Buffy said, taking up where she left off. She pulled his head down to hers for a kiss and then they kept dancing, not talking for a few minutes. When the song ended they began walking off the dance floor when Giles intercepted them.
“Buffy, would you like to . . . um . . . might we dance?” Giles asked. Buffy smiled brilliantly.
“I would love to!” she said, taking Giles’ arm. They’d danced earlier too, and he actually did it suprisingly well. He had actually gotten dressed and wasn’t—of all the amazing things—wearing tweed! Buffy had almost choked when she saw him.
“I’m really very worried about the snow Buffy. It’s up to almost three feet! If it keeps snowing it could become dangerous. No one can get anywhere! This town is not equipped for snow.”
“A little snow never hurt anyone! It’s not like it’s freezing or anything. You can still go outside.”
“What about when it melts? We’ll be flooded! And who knows what’s causing it. It could be a . . . a—”
“Demon,” Buffy finished, then sighed. “What can I really do about it? You keep researching. If you find anything, I’ll be happy to Slay. In the meantime, I’m enjoying it. It’s not often Sunnydale gets snow.”
“No,” Giles muttered. “It isn’t. In fact, it’s never.” Buffy just smiled.
“Cheer up Giles! It’s my wedding day! I’m a married woman! Mrs. Buffy . . . Summers I suppose, since Angel has no last name that I know of, but still . . . that’s impressive. I’m growing up. Do I like older to you?” Giles scrutinized her carefully.
“Not at all,” he replied. Buffy made a face at him, then laughed.
“Just dance, Giles. Just dance.” And he did, and they did, and despite the snow outside, Buffy was happy.