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2025
“Look what I got! Look what I got!” Cassie cried, displaying her plastic sword. “Now I can behead vampires!”
“That’s lovely,” Cordelia said in a sarcastic tone, though the little girl didn’t even notice. She glared at Xander, who shrugged. Their youngest daughter’s dearest wish was to be a Slayer. Both parents were extremely glad it wasn’t one of those work-hard-enough-and-you-can-get-there professions.
“Swords are stupid. I got a book!” Preston said. Contrary to stereotypes it was the female side of the twins that wanted to fight, while Preston wanted to be a writer like “Uncle” Angel when he grew up. Not that he’d ever met “Uncle Angel,” but he’d heard plenty about him, and the vampire-with-a-soul was his hero.
“They’re both wonderful presents,” Buffy said, laughing. She was sitting on the carpeted floor by the Harris’s big fireplace in her red and green Christmas pjs. Ever since she was a little kid she’d spent Christmas Eve at the Harris’s so she could open her stocking first thing the next morning. Alex sat beside her, unwrapping a small box. Buffy leaned back on him and he put an arm around her, opening the present with one hand. Or trying anyway. Buffy laughed and turned to him, helping him open it. He leaned down and kissed her quickly, still struggling with the wrapping paper.
“Eww!” Chael exclaimed, making a face. “That’s disgusting!” Buffy and Alex laughed as they pulled apart and Alex finally just tore off the paper, discovering a small box with an Japanese pin in it.
“It’s beautiful,” Alex breathed. Somewhere he’d gotten a taste for art, though no one knew where. As a kid he’d spent a lot of time at Joyce’s gallery, so he’d probably picked it up there. Buffy, for one, didn’t understand it at all, but she thought it was absolutely adorable that he did. “Your turn,” he said, turning to her. They’d been trading off opening presents to savor the morning longer. Buffy dug into her stocking and pulled out a rectangular package. She ripped into it quickly, not even *trying* to save the paper, and laughed when she saw one of the new mini-computers. Well, they didn’t have the capacity of a real computer, but they were good for organizing oneself, could double as a calculator, could carry a Gig of stuff and—her favorite part—had a spelling and grammar check. Buffy glanced at her mother who was smiling angelically.
“Wow, Santa really knows me well!” she exclaimed laughing. Angel kissed her forehead and then started on another present. This one was a coupon for a home decorating store. Cordelia looked innocent. Buffy opened a box with a small necklace in it. It was a silver cross with Celtic knots on it. She put it on at once, savoring the fell of Alex’s fingers clasping it around her neck.
Willow meanwhile opened a picture album from Oz—one of the many he had made her over the years. They always made her cry for some reason Buffy never knew. This one had pictures from every Christmas in the last eighteen years they’d been married, and a few from before it. Willow passed it around and Buffy and Alex looked through it, laughing at the pictures of them in childhood and awkward stages of adolescence. The last pictures were of before they were born. Willow and Cordelia had longer hair and they all looked much younger. They were in their mid-twenties then, young and carefree . . . well, mostly. Willow had recently been divorced from an abusive husband. Buffy always found it hard to imagine her mother married to anyone other than her father. They were so perfect and they loved each other so much.
In all the pictures there was a space, a conspicuous absence. That must be Angel. He didn’t show up in pictures, so the only time Buffy had seen him was when her mother conjured an illusion of him and Buffy Summers once. He’d been very handsome, but somehow sad looking even when he smiled. One of the pictures was just Buffy Summers, but she was smiling at someone who wasn’t there and she looked very happy. Buffy wondered what she was like, this Slayer who was never serious about anything but the people she loved. She wondered what Angel was like too. A vampire with a soul, who loved a Slayer and hated the others of his race. Who had died rather than live without the woman he loved. She imagined him a little bit like Alex, suddenly, only much more tortured. Much sadder. But the same sort of seriousness and the same passion for art and books. The same classic good looks and wry humor. Of course, she was probably just romanticizing someone she’d never even met.
Buffy closed the album and handed it on. That was the past and as much as she loved remembering, this was the now and the future was ahead of her. All the other Christmases were wonderful, but they were all the past. Alex was the future. Her future. And all their Christmases together. Thinking pretty long range for a boyfriend of four days, Buffy told herself, but she knew deep in her heart that she was thinking correctly. They might not have much of a past, but they would have a long future.
“And Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven and Heaven and nature sing,” Buffy sung softly.
“Joy to the world, my love has come,” Alex almost whispered to her.
“And she’s here to stay,” Buffy whispered back.
“Merry Christmas.”
“And happy New Year. Happy all the new years,” Buffy whispered back.
“Eternally. Will we have many, many merry Christmases?”
“Many many. With trees and stockings and each other.”
“Someday children and grandchildren.”
“And great grandchildren.”
“And great grandchildren. You do realize we’ve only been together four days?”
“Of course. But I’m not complaining if you’re not complaining.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” Atop the tree the angel smiled, outside the lights sparkled and no one minded the blue sky. It was Christmas, and they were together, and Heaven and Nature sang.
2002
Buffy and Willow smiled brightly for the camera, then blinked and made faces when the flash went off.
“I’m dreaming of a White Christmas!” Buffy sang loudly, letting go of her best friend and pulling her husband to her.
“No more of that! It was your wish that got us all in this mess in the first place,” Giles said from across the room. Buffy laughed and kissed Angel before replying.
“But it’s a White Christmas! Besides, you said that it’ll probably disappear tomorrow,” Buffy pointed out.
“Probably,” Giles conceded. “If you’d been a little more adamant with your un-wishing . . .”
“But I *wanted* a white Christmas! Tomorrow, all the snow will go away. If my first un-wish doesn’t do it, I’ll try again. But it’s Christmas and there’s snow and it’s perfect!” Buffy exclaimed, ignoring his second statement. Giles’ brow furrowed as he tried to understand her logic, but he finally sighed and gave up. Buffy’d invited him to celebrate Christmas with them at her mother’s house, since he didn’t have any family in the area. He’d always been like a second father to her anyway. Xander and Cordelia were coming by later with presents and Christmas greetings. Since Willow’s family was extremely Jewish her father had allowed her to spend the day with Buffy—it was nothing special to him, anyway.
“Doesn’t the tree look lovely?” Joyce asked, putting the camera down for the moment.
“Beautiful Mom,” Buffy assured her. “And so do the presents.”
“You didn’t get enough this morning? I can’t even believe it. Twenty two, married and she still expects me to make her a stocking!”
“I thought Santa made the stocking!” Buffy exclaimed innocently, her eyes widening. Angel smiled and kissed her softly. “Doesn’t he?”
“Whatever you say,” he assured her. Buffy laughed, then reached up and fingered the necklace he’d given her that morning when they woke up.
“My favorite present,” she said softly.
“You’re my favorite present. Being with you.”
“Loving you.”
“All those years I spent hiding, I never imagined I’d have this, something like this. Something this amazing.”
“I never imagined either. I mean, I did, ‘cause I always thought I’d get married and all, but after I met you and I knew you were the only one I’d ever love . . . for a long time I lost that dream. But it came true anyway.”
“There are some things it’s okay to wish for,” Angel said softly.
“Obviously snow isn’t one of them” Buffy joked.
“I guess not.”
“But love is.”
“Yes.”
“And happiness. And you. I wished for you Angel and I got you. Best Christmas present ever.” They kissed and then broke apart, smiling innocently at the others around them. Buffy walked over and kissed her mother.
“Merry Christmas Mom,” she said. “I love you.” She went to Giles and—to his suprise—kissed his cheek as well. “Merry Christmas Giles. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been annoying.” She embraced Willow fiercely and kissed her cheek. “I lov ya Will. You’ve given me so much. Best Christmas present ever,” Buffy said, casting a look at Angel. If not for Willow and her spell . . . She walked back to Angel and kissed him again.
“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. As long as you love me so . . .”
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Angel said softly. Buffy nodded happily and leaned against him, closing her eyes. Christmas with Angel . . . there’d been others, of course, but this was the first as husband and wife. The first that they knew there’d be more. Somehow, in that moment, Buffy knew that nothing could come between them. They’d be together next Christmas too, and the Christmas after that, and the one after that, and all the Christmases eternally. No matter what happened. Whether it was white or green or brown or red . . .they’d have Christmas together.
“As long as I love you so,” Buffy breathed so quietly that Angel could barely hear it.
“Merry Christmas my love,” he replied as quietly. Outside, the last snowflake drifted to Earth from a blue Christmas sky.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered in that dark place and it was more than a whisper; it was shout, proclaiming that they were together and all was well.
“Merry, merry Christmas,” he said, beside her and behind her and all around. Buffy traced his cheek, the line of his jaw.
“We’ll be together for all the Christmases won’t we?”
“All of them. But not in this life.”
“In the next. And in spirit. Here, we’ve always had Christmas together.”
“Even before there was Christmas.”
“We were together before He was born,” Buffy reminded him softly.
“Remember fighting off vampires without crosses or holy water?”
“There was still holy water!” Buffy exclaimed. “Only it came from holy wells then, and it was blessed by goddesses instead.”
“I’d forgotten,” Angel replied.
“Silly, silly boy.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said, his dark eyes glowing.
“Eternal merriness. I love you Angel,” Buffy whispered.
“I love you. So much, so very, very much.”
“Someday we’ll have a life where we truly have all the Christmases together. For years and years and years. For a real lifetime instead of a Slayer’s lifetime,” Buffy insisted.
“Someday. Hopefully not too far away.”
“And we’ll have children and grandchildren.”
“And great-grandchildren.”
“And great-grandchildren. Lots of them. And a big tree and lights and snow.”
“But not too much snow,” Angel cautioned.
“Not too much snow,” she agreed.
“And no one to save.”
“Just us. No vampires to fight.”
“Just Christmas.”
“Just Christmas. So let it snow!” Buffy cried out suddenly, twirling around and falling into Angel’s arms. He caught her easily and held her and kissed her. They were together and around them snow fell, even in this place without light or dark or anything but them. And Buffy laughed and Angel laughed and the snow fell and it was Christmas in the world and out of it.