Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), OR the X-Men (ditto, Marvel) and does not make any money from said characters.
What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.
Title: X-Mas With An Angel
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: General, One-Shot, Crossover
Rating: K, PG-13
Summary: When two secret worlds collide, escape becomes urgent for one, which spells trouble for both.
A/N: I'm basing my characterization of the X-men mainly on the television series Wolverine and the X-Men; and you can call this more along the lines of a two-player cameo, intersecting with Hiei's world, than a true cross-over.
As for Hiei, first-time readers of my work may find themselves at a loss regarding certain background notes. You can read Idiot Beloved (which introduced the Sword of the Archangel), and its sequel, Firebird Sweet (containing the origin of Tenchi no Hi), to learn the whole backstory. Tenchi no Hi features prominently in Death By Hiei. My regular readers will find other familiar names and institutions, such as The Agency, already established in Operation Rosary.
Illos will be up on my LiveJournal. Thank you for reading this, and I appreciate your reviews!
"I've seen angels. You're just a guy with wings."
X-Mas With An Angel
by
Kenshin
The guy bending over him had wings.
Hiei's eyesight was returning to the point where he could make him out all right.
Clad in a red and white outfit that looked as though it was
spray-painted on, he was about 20. Blond hair, blue eyes. Tough and fit, close to Kuwabara's height, but less bulk. Good breeding and a touch of rebellion showed in his demeanor; his expression managed to convey both concern and authority.
One feature Hiei kept returning to was the wings: big white pinions, protruding from the speedskater outfit.
For a brief, befuddled moment, Hiei wondered whether he was being escorted to the pearly gates. Then he downed a stiff dose of scorn; there was nothing otherworldly about Red Suit's aura.
"We found you in the blast zone, unconscious," Red Suit said. He spoke English, his voice cultured, reassuring, private-school issue. "But you're safe here."
Here? Hiei wondered. Where's here? He was certain he'd been in an alley, and this room neither looked nor smelled like one, though his cactus-dry mouth still conjured up the image of an alley. He was not imagining the urgent need to flee.
"All mutants can find safe haven here," Red Suit stressed. Hiei tried to sit up. The room spun. He tried again.
The room was bigger than many a luxury hotel suite. At the far end, French doors opened onto a balcony. The sky, glimpsed through sheer curtains, looked pregnant with impending snow. How much time's passed? It was night, but this sky says afternoon.
Dizziness surged again, rocking his head like a ship at sea.
There was another guy with Red Suit. This guy was blue.
Plenty of guys were blue. Just not in the human world. Joruju Saotome, Koenma's right-hand oni, was blue. Joruju had a long, saturnine countenance, like this guy's, and those same back-pointed ears, but his yellow hair was tonsured like a friar's, whereas this guy's thatch was deep indigo, nearly black.
Somewhat shorter than Red Suit, with a slighter build, he stood with hands folded behind his back. Hiei read some paradox in his facial expression and body language: relaxed, strong and whiplike and ready for combat, yet with a touch of melancholy.
He also had piercing yellow eyes. Lamp-lit eyes. Scary eyes. But Hiei did not scare easy. And had seen worse in Makai.
Blue Guy also wore some speedskater outfit, darker in color, from which protruded not wings, but a long, lively tail, a little sail attached to its tip, reminiscent of the tail on that announcer girl back at the Dark Tournament, Juri.
Wonder if they're related.
"You can speak?" said Blue Guy. "You understand us?"
A soft voice, deferential, but overlaid with a thick German accent. His opened mouth displayed fangs.
Sometimes it was good to take cover under a guise of stupidity and deafness. I'm trapped in a room with an angel and a devil. Amusing.
They weren't youkai. Hiei had no idea what they were, but their auras read almost human. Hiei was pretty sure that if they were appearing in an avant-garde play pitting angels against devils, they'd have taken off their costumes by now.
Blue Guy continued. "Was it Mardi did this to you?"
"WHO-di?" Damn. So much for maintaining silence, or even pretending he spoke no language but Japanese.
Red Suit explained the MRD was the Mutant Response Division, a government agency detaining and registering mutants.
I'm in custody now? Double damn.
Red Suit introduced himself as Angel, then said in reassuring tones, "Any mutant on the run from MRD will---"
"I've seen angels, and believe me, you're no angel. You're just a guy with wings. And I'm no mutant."
"No need to deny it," Angel said. "Ordinary people don't come equipped with three eyes---"
"You looked under the hood?" Hiei fixed Angel with his best death glare. "By what right?"
"Relax. You're among friends now, kid."
"And I'm no kid." Hiei looked at Angel with acid-tainted amusement: he was probably several years this guys' senior. He levered himself up on one elbow. "When did you drag me here?"
"Last night."
I've been here almost 24 hours? "Why?"
"I was in the city, saw the blast, thought it might be the work of either MRD or someone in the Brotherhood---"
"Spare me the explanations and get the hell out of my way." Again Hiei struggled to rise, but his head felt like a balloon filled with mud.
Angel spoke to the blue guy. "I've got to make some calls. You watch him." To Hiei, he added, "You'll be fine. I'll return with the doctor." He left the room and shut the door.
Hiei gave himself over to the luxury of fluent cursing in every language at his command. Maybe it would make Blue Guy fall over and he could escape. There was always hope.
But Blue Guy merely waited for Hiei to subside. "Then you have seen one?"
"Seen one what?" Hiei edged toward the foot of the bed.
"An angel."
Something in the quality of his voice caught Hiei's attention, and he stopped. The word 'angel,' spoken with reverence, awe, a look of rapture in those lamp-lit eyes.
The guy gave a brief bow. "Kurt Wagner, at your service." Did he understand the meaning of service? "Also known as Nightcrawler." Wagner extended a white-gloved hand for Hiei to shake. The hand had only two fingers and a thumb.
"Hiei," he snapped, sorely tempted to add: also known as Deathdealer.
Wagner nodded at Hiei's Rosary, which he wore round his neck. "Nice specimen."
Hiei automatically glanced down at the substantial, wooden-beaded piece. When he'd first received it from Shayla Kidd, he assumed it was meant to be worn so, not realizing that it is normally carried in a pocket. His instincts were good. Its suppressive powers had often helped save his skin, for Hiei was the one youkai in a thousand not only able to withstand Holy Water, but also to live through a blast of Holy Fire.
And yet the Rosary, and all it represented, had led him down a path to the last thing he had sought: a life lived in service, a life no longer his own.
"What you said before," Wagner reiterated. "The angel, the true angel of God. You have seen---"
Hiei sighed. "Yeah," he admitted. "More than once."
Bitte...." The odd hands spread in supplication. "What are they like?"
How could he answer? Even if he were at liberty to divulge every bit of such intelligence to a foreigner, how to speak of angels, who were neither cherubic nor even female, as artists often depicted, and certainly not like Cary Grant, suave in a gray suit---but creatures of terrible, awesome power?
How to describe The Stranger? Who had first appeared in Hiei's dreams, warning of his impending death?
He had met with The Stranger since---but never got used to being in his presence. That unearthly power, humbling and frightening, even to a power-seeker like himself.
The Stranger. How to describe the way you can't really see him, even though you can see him? The iridescent black wings blinding in their beauty, the hair like liquid ebony always moving, the utter calm of those wide-set turquoise eyes.
And the weapon? Tenchi no Hi---The Flame of Heaven and Earth. A sword that was nothing like a katana, bestowed on him by The Stranger. It contained Hiei's most powerful attack, with a blast radius that could encompass a city block and more. And, unlike his old Sword of the Archangel, powered by Holy Water, it adjusted itself to the relative strength of the foe.
Wagner waited patiently for him to elaborate.
These guys may be my enemies, but I owe him this much. Hiei said at last, "It's like standing point-blank in the sights of a plasma weapon. You're lucky you don't go blind."
Wagner drew himself taller. "I am honored to make the acquaintance of a man who knows the angels."
"I didn't say all of them. Just one." Rolling over the edge of the bed at last, Hiei stood wobbly, until stabbing pain in his side toppled him.
"Please to take it slowly." Wagner knelt close by. "You were caught in an explosion of some magnitude."
With the bed for leverage, Hiei struggled to his feet again, gritted his teeth against the pain, then staggered to the window.
He looked down.
A cold breeze stroked his face, revitalized him somewhat, but his brain was still swimming in concrete. The place was similar to the Kidd mansion on the West Coast, but being in New York, featured different flora. Kurama would be able to ID every last forsaken leaf. Kurama's not here. You are. Focus. Parklike grounds, tall iron fencing with a formidable gate barring entrance---or exit, for that matter.
The bite of impending snow seemed problematic. Why? Normally, the cold didn't bother him, but now---
Why? I know I have to get out of here, but why?
That same unknown urgency gnawed at him, and it wasn't merely a need for the litter box. A small bathroom lay to the right of the window. Though time was of the essence, Hiei wove his way to the tap and drank without benefit of a glass, gulping water like a dog.
Straightening, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink, and narrowed his eyes.
Somewhat scratched and bruised. The reddened skin was fading. People always took it for a sunburn. He looked better than he felt.
Reddened skin, dehydration, confusion---Wait---the battle! He gave a small gasp of recognition.
The sight of his injuries shocked his short-term memory back to life: he was the spearhead of a multinational effort involving The Agency, Koenma's jurisdiction, and even Rome. Sent to New York to take down a killer youkai.
The self-styled 'Poison Oak' could pass as human, and fancied himself a philanthropist because he donated funds to a Japanese terrorist group that murdered hundreds of people, pumping nerve gas into a subway: a group after his own heart.
Poison Oak could throw toxic darts in the form of his own fingernails, which regenerated at will. Hiei found him within 2 hours of touchdown. Piece of cake.
He offered Poison Oak the usual terms: arrest, with custody via a pair of slender 'handcuffs' that would instantly transport the perp to Koenma.
Or death. Take your choice.
Poison Oak had taken his choice, threatening kids playing in a park. Hiei ran him into an alley and terminated with extreme prejudice via Tenchi no Hi: bring the perp down FAST, return to Tokyo in time to celebrate Christmas with friends and family.
But 'able to survive' an attack of Holy Fire was different from 'walking away scatheless.' The use of Tenchi no Hi had its consequences, leaving him bone-dry, blind, deaf and confused for several hours afterward.
There were bruises on his bare arms, scratches along his jawline. The scratches could have come from anything: alley shrapnel, even Poison Oak's attack. He was alive. His fire heritage gave Hiei an astounding immunity against poisons.
He bent to the sink again, splashing water on his face, welcoming its sting. I've got to get out of here.
He called me kid, that Angel guy. I got kids of my own, and they expect daddy home for Christmas.
The bathroom had a small round window set high in the wall, but it had no hinge. Lacking strength to leap from the balcony, Hiei could hardly smash the glass and escape before Wagner heard him. Okay. Time to figure out what kind of guy he is.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Wagner was watching, but made no move to seize him. He saw now that the guy stood up on his toes, feet no less peculiar than his hands. Will he try to stall me till that other guy returns?
"You will want something to eat perhaps?"
Yeah. Stalling. Though he was ravenous, Hiei could not yet handle food. "Not unless you want it right back again." Hiei scanned the room for another exit than the door, or maybe a set of golf clubs to send Wagner to sleep while he made his getaway. "Won't go with the decor. Unusual place, though."
"It belongs to Professor Charles Xavier."
"Xavier is the name of the saint who first evangelized Japan," said Hiei automatically.
"This I am aware of also."
Hiei glanced at the balcony, but Wagner went on. "In August of 1549, the great St. Francis Xavier came to Japan. Later, twenty-six were martyred, Japanese among them. It is a story to bring tears, yet one of great beauty also. The martyrs did not plead for their lives, but begged to die as our Lord did---even the boys of 12 and 13 years."
Some quality in Wagner's voice brought Hiei to full alert. On instinct alone, he'd said the right thing. Instinct and training both were attuned to find any key to victory, and even if Hiei did not fully understand the nature of the key, he recognized its presence.
"I've been to the site," he said. It's near Nagasaki."
Wagner moved closer. "You are from Japan?"
Like you guys didn't finger my wallet first thing. Hiei settled for a grunt in reply. What he needed was an airport. There were always couriers who could be persuaded to take passengers. Then he'd make his long, tedious, and extremely inconvenient way home. "What is this place anyway?"
"On the outside, a private school. Inside---" Wagner gave a lash of his tail. "What Angel said was true---any mutant can find haven with us."
"And where exactly is this haven on the map?"
"Westchester County. It is north of New York City "
"I know where Westchester is." Hiei glanced round the room again. So. Like the Agency back home, this was a many-layered place, and no doubt contained as many secrets. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered. "Before that other guy returns."
"Angel means you no harm. But with Professor Xavier gone, and Worthington Industries clamoring to 'cure' the mutant, he has naturally some concerns with---"
"None of which concerns me. Missed my flight, gotta catch another. And I'm not letting some witch doctor look me over."
But---" Wagner regarded at him with undisguised curiousity. "If you are not a mutant, what then are you?"
Hiei snorted. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved what looked like ordinary phone. It was a phone in that one could place calls on it. It was not a phone in that it came equipped with a high-level artificial intelligence.
Pressing a series of buttons would activate an instantaneous transport straight to a hidden location in Tokyo. Wagner would see Hiei disappear in a flash of light, but the flash was a match-head compared to the Sword of the Archangel. No harm done.
The thing didn't work. Hiei tried again, a third time, then with a sinking sensation, realized that the blast had ruined its circuits. The Agency needs to beef up this thing's specs.
"Is your phone not charged? You may certainly use mine."
So it's Wagner's room? "Can't. Unsecured line." True enough. Though Hiei might be able to phone Father Brian, Kurama, or Shayla Kidd; give any one of them an innocuous message only they would understand, and they could direct him to the nearest safe transport, but all that would take time. Time he didn't have. The fake Angel would return any minute. Every instinct screamed for escape.
Wait! The cuffs! Hiei dug into his other pocket: slap the cuffs on, instant transport, explain to Koenma that no, he hadn't accidentally cuffed himself---
No cuffs.
It figured. Lost in the battle, destroyed in the blast, it didn't matter. They were gone. A black mark against Koenma this time. "I need an airport, pronto."
Wagner gave him a thoughtful look. "We have here a plane in a hidden level---the Blackbird."
"I can fly a plane," Hiei said eagerly. "A small one, like a Cessna." He began roaming the room, working stiff muscles.
Wagner followed him around. "It's a jet. Which you cannot fly without permission."
If Hiei wasn't up to jumping out a window, he certainly wasn't up to hijacking a jet. "And the nearest airport?"
"In White Plains, some thirty miles south."
"Too far. I need an alternative." He stopped, studying Wagner. There was nothing in the blue guy's demeanor that suggested threat. Hiei had teamed up with Kurama after Kurama had sliced him up; he had teamed with Urameshi Yuusuke at the point of a gun. Yet both were now valuable allies and friends. Make up your mind: Kurt Wagner, enemy or ally?
Wagner broke into his thoughts. "There's an airfield ten miles northwest. But I doubt they have flights to Japan."
"That's my problem, not yours."
"If I may repeat: you are, in spite of having three eyes, no Mutant? What then are you?"
"A secret agent," Hiei said.
Wagner just regarded him, those odd hands folded, the head slightly atilt, as if listening.
This is the crux. Kurt Wagner, not quite human. Believing in angels. "And," Hiei added, "not quite human either."
Wagner, too, could have been a secret operative of sorts, but Hiei had no idea what his clearance level was. Unlike Hiei, Wagner could not pass for human. "I take it you are one of these mutants as well?" Hiei asked.
"You may take it so, jah." A grin, rakish, hinting at a personality normally filled with good spirits.
"Can you guys do anything?"
"That remains to be seen." Another spark of humor.
"Do I have to fight you to get out of here?"
"That depends on you."
Hiei rolled his eyes. "Mutants in New York. Wasn't that a top-20 hit?"
"They play it every Christmas," Wagner retorted. "I can help you escape before Angel returns, but it will cost you."
"I don't carry much cash. And half of it's in yen."
"I want from you no money."
Hiei stilled himself. Here it comes: my leverage.
"I wish to hear of angels."
"And that helps me exactly how?"
"I have the ability to teleport."
Jackpot.
Wagner explained he could even take 'passengers,' but his range was only 2 miles, he had to see where he was going, and passengers experienced motion sickness.
Lucky me. "Then get me out of here before the fake angel returns, or I won't tell you about the real ones."
The first 'jump' was easy. They landed some distance outside the mansion gates, in thick woods. It was dark now. As they rested briefly before the second jump, Hiei began telling Wagner about angels in general and The Stranger in particular.
The Stranger. I always think of him that way, even long after realizing his true identity. "Better get moving again."
Hiei had a strong stomach, yet the transports left him nauseated. And he sensed, uneasily, that with each jump, they made lightning forays into another plane. Not Makai---at least, none of the strata Hiei had been familiar with.
On the recovery interval between the next couple of jumps, Hiei ventured that The Stranger might be his guardian. Wagner listened raptly, then spoke of his own life, as though repaying Hiei in similar coin.
At one point they had to stop altogether, because Hiei was compelled to fall on his hands and knees and sing into the porcelain microphone, only no porcelain was to be found, just pine needles. Wagner stood off to the side, quietly, as though not wishing to intrude on his misery---then said coolly, "So that is what the Japanese eat."
He knows I'm too weak to strangle him now.
And here this guy had known Hiei less than two hours and already poured out his life story: former circus acrobat, top-rank fencer, once carried two short swords similar to Japanese kodachi.
Still on hands and knees heaving, Hiei could not help wondering how he would fare in a fight against Wagner.
Wagner also had been cast down from a high place as an infant, yet survived.
Funny how they had that in common.
Hiei remembered the delicate brush of The Stranger's wings, wings that had broken his fall as he'd plummeted from the realm of the Kourime.
Too weak to stand yet, Hiei scrubbed at his mouth with some pine needles. "How much farther?"
"Just a couple of jumps."
Hurling or no, he felt elated. We're going to make it.
He glanced up. Snow was slanting from the leaden sky, stinging flakes driven by an easterly wind. And it was because Hiei was studying the sky that he spotted Angel in pursuit, a distant red-and-white speck flashing against thick clouds.
"Hurry and teleport us the hell out of here!" But before Hiei could reach Wagner, Angel folded his wings in a nose-dive astounding in its speed, and landed before them, barring the way.
Cornered.
Well, now's your chance to find out how you'd fare against the blue guy. Tapped out as he was, Hiei readied for battle. Maybe I can puke them into submission.
Wagner began to plead Hiei's case, but the winged mutant held up a hand. "I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to help."
The wind had picked up. Pine branches stirred and hissed. Hiei narrowed his eyes. "What for?"
"Come on," said Angel. "No time to argue. I'll take you the rest of the way. Kurt, you follow."
Angel wore a backpack that somehow did not interfere with his big white pinions. Because time was of the essence, Hiei permitted the guy to tote him like luggage the rest of the way.
It wasn't as bad as transporting.
The trees sped below them. A paved road snaked darkly toward an unknown destiny. The wind of their passing slashed at Hiei's bare arms.
The flight was mercifully brief. By the time Hiei's teeth were ratcheting like castanets, Angel set him down under cover of some trees. Wagner was already waiting. Mullein Airfield lay only a quarter mile ahead, visible from where they stood.
Within the enclosure of a chain-link fence, small aircraft and a hangar or two glittered like confections. But a long silver plane took center stage, looking sleek and swift and powerful as an eagle.
"Warren Kenneth Worthington the Third." With a sidelong grin, Angel offered his hand. "I was on my way to get the doctor, but the longer I thought about it, I knew you really, really didn't want any 'sanctuary,' that you were no mutant and we'd be holding you against your will."
Shouldering free of the backpack, he retrieved an overcoat, which covered the telltale signs of his mutation.
There was no disguising Wagner, however. He said he would wait among the trees for Angel's return, whereupon Hiei uttered a hasty farewell. "Merry Christmas," Wagner replied.
That brought Hiei up short. Oh. Triple. Crap.
Exposure to his own attack had boggled Hiei's memory in more than one way.
The time differential! He'd forgotten about it. If it was Christmas Eve in New York, then in Tokyo---
"I've missed it," he said. "It's too late."
Angel raised a curious eyebrow. "Missed what? A meeting?"
"No, my---" Hiei broke off. And they're even now wondering what happened to me. "I won't be home for Christmas after all."
"Then we'd best get going. You can call from the plane."
Dejected though he was, cursing his own stupidity, Hiei kept putting one foot in front of the other, and they reached the entrance in due course.
With Angel leading, Hiei walked across the tarmac to the plane. He scanned its silver profile. "You named it Providence?" He threw Angel a questioning glance.
"Who are we to question Providence?" Angel beamed at the craft. "Just another perk that comes with being heir to the Worthington fortune. Private jets at my beck and call." He snapped his fingers. "We even loaded it with sushi."
Angel explained how and where it would refuel, but the words slid past Hiei as he stood gazing up at his deliverance.
A private jet. Warmth. Comfort. Home.
Ch. Getting soft in my dotage.
"Consider this an apology," Angel continued. "You can let your people know you're safe. Our crew will handle the rest."
Snow began to fall in earnest, powdering Hiei's hair and shoulders as he mounted the steps to the plane. The cold bit at his bones. His eyes felt gritty.
But he paused at the open aircraft hatch, turned. Angel was still on the tarmac, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, breath pluming skyward.
Gratitude still did not sit easy with Hiei, but he'd studied it as he would a martial art. "Merry Christmas. And thanks."
"Merry Christmas." With a quick wave, Angel turned and headed back across the snow-dusted tarmac.
The hatch closed. A welcome sense of warmth bathed Hiei's weary frame.
The first thing he did was call home. The second, collapse into a seat.
Inside, it was sheer luxury, the cabin rich with exotic woodwork, deep carpeting, and soft leather seats. Near him on a small table stood a rack of beverages. Dehydrated further by the heaves, his mouth felt like sandpaper. He seized a bottle of water and drank it off. Maybe later he could handle food.
The plane purred, coming round for takeoff. Next mission, Hiei would need a backup pair of cuffs, maybe two, a Platinum card---and some means of automatic transport home in the likely event he had to use The Flame of Heaven and Earth again. When the Agency and Koenma both finally debriefed him, his report was going to blister the paint off their walls.
With that happy prospect, Hiei settled down.
BAMF! In a curl of deep-hued smoke, Wagner appeared across the aisle.
Hiei rolled his eyes. "Don't DO that." He shot Wagner a glare somewhat tempered by patience and forebearance. "Planning a visit to Japan, are you?"
Wagner took a seat. "Nein, it will be easy enough to get back even if we lift off. I have seen the way, after all."
"And you're here because....?"
Hesitant, a bit formally, Wagner said, "Again--it is my honor to meet someone who has had discourse with the angels."
"Not all of them---just one."
"As you say." The odd-fingered hands twisted, wrestling with one another.
Hiei hated long goodbyes. But that alert which caught his attention earlier returned full-force: Wagner was searching for something. Maybe it had to do with St. Francis Xavier and the Japanese martyrs. Maybe just the restless longing that fills every heart. He waited.
Head lowered, Wagner said, almost in a whisper, "Hope is present always, but to have stumbled upon a person who---"
"This was no accident," Hiei cut in. Kurt I-wish-to-know-of-angels Wagner. With a sudden thump of realization, Hiei knew what this encounter meant. "I'm preparing you for something."
Wagner's lamp-lit eyes widened. He leaned forward in his seat. "Preparing? For what?"
The plane gleamed and thrummed, a wonderful artifice to take people to the skies, to the domain of the angels. "I think you're about to come across an angel of your own," Hiei replied, "and he won't be in a track suit."
Wagner's lips parted, his eyes that of a child. A blue-skinned child with a devil's tail.
"And my job is to warn you," Hiei added. "You'll be afraid. No, you will. Why do you think the first words out of the mouths of angels are always: 'Do not be afraid?'"
"Lest we puke?" Wagner gave that puckish grin.
"Listen. The blast zone? That was me."
"Perhaps I should not have been so off-handed with you."
"I'll let it go just this once," Hiei said.
"You have given to me something of great value." Wagner rose, looking down at him. "So I return the favor. Hear me now, not-quite-human Hiei. You may have missed the opening of the gifts, but I remind you, Christmas is far more than just that. Go home. Be grateful someone waits for you."
Amen. "Don't go O. Henry on me now."
Outside the window of the Providence, snow gathered and swirled in little eddies. Wagner laughed. "Then maybe instead I do come bug you in Japan."
Hiei snorted. "Bring booze. Lots of it."
"Frohe Weihnachten!" Kurt Wagner, not quite human, seeking angels, teleported away. Tendrils of smoke marked his passage.
"Merry Christmas," said Hiei.
The plane lifted off for home.
-30-
(Thanks again for reading this! Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.)