Title:Merry Christmas
Author:Palaskar ([email protected])
Rating:G
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are property of Joss Whedon, the WB Network, Fox, Kuzui, and Mutant Enemy. No infringement is intended, I just feel compelled to write this stuff.
Summary: Willow reflects on Hannukah and love at the end of 'A Buffy Christmas.'
Distribution: Sure, just email me when you're done.
Author's Note: Spoilers for season 3 relationships, and end of a Buffy Christmas. Oh, and feedback! I love that. Really meant to be read with the stories 'Happy Hannukah' and 'Joyous New Year.' You can get by with just 'Happy Hannukah' though.

Merry Christmas
by Palaskar ([email protected])

I hate this time of year. Sure, Chanukkah comes around, but the ol' Festival of Lights is pretty much swallowed whole by the beast that is the Christmas shopping season. Rudolph. Frosty. Santa. Everywhere I look, something's red and green. It makes me want to scream.

"Hey, cool," says Oz. "Red and green."

I scream.

"Whoa!" he says. "What's wrong? 'Cause I was just noticing your funky dreidel here."

I turn around, and wouldn't you know it, it's Xander's dreidel. Last year's Christmas gift. He's never really seemed to fully grasp the fact that I'm Jewish, and don't celebrate The Feast of Santa. Last year, though, he got me this. Maybe he's learning.

"You know," Oz continues, "it matches." "It matches you," he explains. "Your hair, your eyes."

How sweet of Oz to notice. I turn around on the edge of the bed to smile at him. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that," I say. "It's just that tonight...well tonight has been so intense...not bad, not at all...wonderful, really....It's just that it's that time of year, too..."

"Christmas," he says, getting to the heart of the matter. "What's it like? For you, I mean?"

"It's pretty isolating. Being the only kid on the block without a tree is neat when you're young and don't care, but as you get older, you start to realize how alone and vulnerable you really are."

He sits up to hold my hand. "We're all born alone," he says. "But we don't have to stay that way." Then he looks into my eyes, and I look into his, and we kiss like it's our first time all over again.

We part, and lie back on the bed, still holding hands. There's nothing more to say, really. Because it's true. We may become alone, by birth or circumstance, but we never have to stay that way. All we have to do is reach out, to touch another human being, to hold them in our hearts. To trust them, and love them, even after they hurt you.

That Oz. And they call me smart.

We lie there for awhile, not moving or anything. Just being. With each other. Then, white flakes start to drift down past my window. It's snowing. It must've been seventy degrees out this morning, and now it's snowing.

It's a sign. It has to be. Oz and I, we're going to be just fine.

W