A/N: I have been meaning to write a Christmas Godchild fic for many years and this is an amalgamation of all my old ideas. The carol Mary sings and that is quoted is 'I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day' originally written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1867, meaning it would have been around in Cain's time. I've been listening to the modern version by Casting Crowns while writing - youtube it!

Oh and I know this is a few days late. Let's hold on to the Christmas vibe, huh?

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was a carol Cain knew well. It had been composed barely thirty years previously but had become popular with the upper class and he had been forced to listen to it at every party he had attended for a full month. Yet, hearing it now, it was beautiful. This was because it was Mary singing the words he had dismissed before, standing next to her aunt who played the piano carefully while wearing a proud smile.

Cain was leaning against one of the walls near to the balcony, this small party having been set up in the large drawing room rather than the hall. It was a miracle that people were being so quiet for Mary since it was hard to move for people; Mary had insisted he invite not only family but friends and acquaintances too. Uncle Neil was standing near a young man whose name Cain had forgotten but whom he knew was from one of the many fading aristocratic families while Crehador stood uncomfortably surrounded by three members of the nobility, all unmarried and risking furtive glances at him from under dark lashes. Cain smiled to himself, more than a little amused at the medium's discomfort.

Apart from Crehador, everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying themselves. The room was filled with the sweet sound of Mary's singing and, if only for a few minutes, everything seemed peaceful. It was strange, really, Cain mused. Strange how he could feel so at ease when he knew that life wasn't really like this at all. Life for him was filled with darkness and blood and always had been. He knew that any one of the people in this room could be capable of evil deeds and that it was likely he was not the only one to have experienced tragedy and suffering. Yet, for a while, the world seemed brighter somehow. Softer. As though the whole world could really be as pure as Mary looked in her white ruffled gown and pearls.

"She sounds like an angel," said a soft voice at Cain's shoulder.

He turned to see Riff smiling at him. The butler was balancing a tray loaded with sherry glasses in one hand and another piled with dainties on the other. Riff had been hurrying around all night fetching and carrying and generally doing more work than his station demanded and looked a little worse for wear despite the smile. The guests that were from the nobility would run any servant ragged given half a chance. Cain smiled back and nodded, unwilling to speak while Mary was still performing. Nodding in response to Cain's smile, Riff began to walk away but was stopped by a hand suddenly gripping his sleeve.

"Wait," Cain murmured, his golden eyes seeming to darken in colour and his smile fading a little.

"Lord Cain, I have to-"

"Wait," Cain repeated. "Just for a minute. The guests can cope. Just...stay here and listen to the song. Please?"

Riff frowned slightly, worried about fulfilling his duties as always. After a moment, he nodded and turned back, standing beside Cain with arms still upraised to carry the trays. As he listened to Mary singing words he too was tired of hearing repeated his lips turned up in a faint smile. Watching him, Cain fought to hide a wider smile. He glanced around the room again and caught sight of a tall man in a ridiculously tailored suit. This man Cain knew to run a large cotton mill and was notorious for running his workers into the ground. Cain had only invited him so that he could enjoy personally glaring at those hard eyes and oiled moustache but now felt slightly thrown off guard. The man was watching Mary and wearing the same smile as Riff.

The song drew to a close and the room was filled with applause, although Cain wore a faint frown while putting his hands together. Why did it seem strange to him that the mill owner was enjoying the music? He knew it was logical that the same song would affect everyone in the same manner but it didn't seem right that such a cruel man should be allowed to enjoy it. Good will to men...Cain supposed that meant all men, not just the ones he found to be worthy of it. Now the music was over, the sentiment seemed to lose its potency.

That was until Mary walked over and threw her arms around him.

"How was that, older brother?" she asked loudly, trying and failing to sound coy. Cain smiled and patted her hair gently.

"That was beautiful, Mary," he said. "Thank you for performing. I'm just glad you didn't try and play the piano too since you skipped our lesson this morning..."

Mary's cherubic face twisted into a scowl and she opened her mouth to complain. She was stopped by Riff who quickly spoke.

"You're singing was wonderful, Miss Mary." He inclined his head slightly in her direction before asking, "why that particular carol, if you don't mind me asking?"

The girl bit her lip slightly and looked down at her expensive shoes. To Cain and Riff's mutual surprise she gave a deep sigh that sounded too weary for one of her age. Her sapphire eyes shone but did not hold any tears.

"I was thinking about the children I left in the slums," she said quietly. "About how they're all sitting around in the tunnels and trying to light fires while I am lucky enough to be here to sing in front of so many people. I remember what Christmas was like there...I was hoping that maybe people would hear the song and remember that not everyone is as comfortable as they are..."

She trailed off as though expecting to be reprimanded. Cain and Riff shared a look of mixed respect and guilt before Cain patted her head again.

"It was the perfect choice," he said quietly, making sure to smile at her. "I'm sure some people would have thought exactly what you wanted them to. Would you like to go there tomorrow and see your old friends? We can stop by whatever shop you like on the way."

Mary turned a radiant smile upon her brother and nodded happily

"That would be wonderful! Thank you!"

He smiled back, watching as Riff was dragged away by some unhappy guests needing more alcohol now the song was over.

"You're welcome," he murmured, watching Riff for a moment before turning his eyes towards the windows. "It's true that not everyone is as lucky as we are."

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

"For God's sake..."

Cassian stood framed in the front entrance to Delilah's headquarters, glaring with dark eyes as he watched his superior set off into the darkness.

Not only was the night dark but it was also freezing cold. Snow had begun falling two days previously and had rarely stopped since then, covering the ground in an icy blanket that rose to cover Cassian's feet as he stepped onto the street. It was still falling now, tiny flakes spiralling through the darkness and landing like tiny insects in Cassian's hair. Jizabel was barely visible through the snow, silvery hair and white coat blending into the flakes falling down and the covering on every flat surface. The world seemed made of white ice and black shadows, not beautiful as snowy nights were meant to be but threatening. Cassian sighed and began walking after Jizabel, feet periodically being encased by the larger man's footprints.

He didn't want to be outside on a night like this but had to admit he had been looking for an excuse to leave the building. In the wing given over to Trump Cards, the atmosphere was painfully cheerful. Everyone had been drinking more than they could handle and singing songs that no one really knew the words to while telling Cassian to join in 'because it's Christmas day'. Cassian had ignored all of them, finding it distasteful that men who had spent all day deceiving, stealing and killing could band together to sing 'peace on earth' and then brand him the traitor to the spirit of the season. As he hurried through the darkness, arms wrapped tightly around his small frame, Cassian rolled his eyes. Perhaps following Jizabel would count as 'the spirit of the season', good will and all that. He knew full well that the doctor was meant to be doing something in the laboratory with Zenopia and so was curious as to why he was leaving now. Curious, but not surprised.

For a long time there was nothing but the howling of the wind and the sharp cracking sounds of ice beneath Cassian's feet. Jizabel was walking quickly, face lowered, and it was all Cassian could do to keep him in sight without being spotted. The doctor rounded a sharp corner and Cassian hurried to catch up, reaching the mouth of a narrow alley. He paused for a moment, not wanting the doctor to hear him but Jizabel was hurrying onwards, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Encouraged, Cassian eagerly stepped forward out of the wind, lowering his head against the snow. With the absence of noise the walls of the alley brought, his next step was as loud as a gunshot and he looked up with wide eyes to see that Jizabel had already stopped walking and was watching him.

"What are you doing?" the doctor asked, cold amethyst eyes fixed on his subordinate. His hair, slightly damp from the snowfall, clung to his pale cheekbones and fell around his face in waves where it had come loose from its knot. Cassian stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What are you doing?" he shot back, knowing it sounded childish but still feeling it was a valid question.

"What I do is no one's business but my own," Jizabel said quietly before turning and beginning to walk away. Without thinking his actions through, Cassian rushed forward and grabbed onto the doctor's sleeve, forcing him to look back.

"Oh, is that right?" he said angrily. "Well then, it's my business to make sure my superior doesn't get hurt."

Jizabel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as Cassian grabbed onto one of his jacket lapels and pulled him downwards so their faces were level.

"And that means it's my business to follow you," he continued, "To make sure you're okay. It has to be me because no one else seems to give a damn. Not even you."

Jizabel watched Cassian for a tense moment, expression void of emotion and in stark contrast to Cassian's which was a mix of anger, defiance and fear. He brushed Cassian's hands away decisively before turning around and resuming his walk. Taking the doctor's silence for approval, or at least tolerance, Cassian hurried after him wondering how lucky he must be to have been able to say such a thing and remain unscathed.

They wound their way through the streets of the city until they reached the outskirts where Jizabel paused and waited by a road. Cassian was surprised when the doctor hailed the first carriage he saw passing which was luckily empty and they boarded quietly, Jizabel unreadable, Cassian obviously annoyed. As the carriage took them away from the city and into the suburbs, Cassian watched the doctor surreptitiously. He wondered whether they were out to do work or whether Jizabel was travelling to see some secret mistress. He blanched at that idea and hoped he hadn't invited himself along to witness a clandestine affair. Deciding it was better to stop thinking, he leaned back in the seat and listened to the horses hooves crunching along in the snow.

When they climbed out of the carriage around thirty minutes later, Cassian was surprised to see they were standing outside of the Hargreaves' mansion. Jizabel led him around the side of the building until they were standing below a large balcony which was bathed in light from the room behind the windows. Cassian looked up to see there was a party in progress inside the room, his hands curling into fists as he regarded the assembled nobility.

Jizabel stood beside him, expression still blank but with fingers curled around a thin knife.

"Doctor!"

Despite his anger, Cassian was shocked. Was Jizabel planning on trying to murder his brother now of all times?

"I'm not going to get hurt," Jizabel said quietly and took a step forward.

In the warmth of the drawing room, Cain glanced out of the window and caught sight of the figures standing on the snow covered lawn, one pale and one dark. His eyes widened and he cast his eyes frantically around the room until he saw Riff who was currently being harangued by some guests. Careful not to move from his spot, Cain called for the butler, trying to keep anger out of his voice. How dare the doctor show up on a night like this?

"What is the matter milord?" Riff asked, reaching his master. He traced the direction of Cain's amber gaze until he too could see the figures watching them from outside. His eyes narrowed and he continued in a lower voice. "What do you want me to do?"

Cain opened his mouth to reply but was stopped when he caught sight of his sister. On the other side of the room Mary was talking animatedly to some adults who looked shocked and by focussing he could hear her telling them confidently about the slums and about the need for those with wealth to look after the less fortunate. Riff had been right; she really was like an angel. The less fortunate...was the doctor one of the less fortunate? Cain had never really given it much thought but surely it was unnatural for a human being to be so needlessly cruel without provocation? Alexis may act that way but Cain had long since ceased thinking of his father as a member of the human race. The words of Mary's song came back to him as though out of a dream or a vision...peace. Good will. Alien concepts. But perhaps...

Cain shook his head decisively in response to Riff's question and walked over to the windows, Riff falling into step behind him.

On the ground, Cassian tensed as Cain walked towards the window. Was he going to send someone after them? Cassian's fingers were far too cold to be any use with his knives at that moment and he didn't feel up to running either. He turned to Jizabel who was still staring upwards in search of commands but, finding none, looked back.

The four stood silently and their gazes met in turn, amethyst and chocolate with golden and sapphire. The moment stretched out and lingered as they watched each other, on the edge of a precipice that would once more lead them into the world of darkness and blood. The pair inside the mansion was sheltered from that world that night, encased in a cocoon of light, music and warmth that helped ease the memories of the nights before. The pair outside had no understanding of shelter and were still surrounded in the coldness that bit into their every waking moment, watching those inside with bitter and envious eyes.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

At the same moment, Cain smiled gently and Jizabel's knife landed with a thud in the snow at his feet, staining the white with spots of crimson where he had gripped it too tightly. With a small nod, Cain tuned away from the window and headed back into the drawing room, Riff smiling at the others on the lawn before following. Jizabel turned quickly away and headed off across the lawn, Cassian nodding hurriedly at Riff before rushing after the doctor. Jizabel walked until he reached a snowdrift which had presumably covered a hedge. He sat down heavily on the snow and, after a moment's hesitation, Cassian followed suit.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Jizabel staring blankly into the distance and Cassian frowning in confusion. He glanced over at the doctor's hand to see a sharp cut in the centre of a pale palm. It being obvious Jizabel wasn't going to attend to this himself, Cassian sighed and tore a strip off one of his sleeves with shaking fingers, happy to find something practical to do.

"Here," he said, taking Jizabel's hand forcefully and wrapping the black material around the wound, stemming the blood flow. He let Jizabel's hand drop back into his lap and then crossed his arms, frown sliding back into place.

"Thank you," Jizabel murmured, eyes still staring forward. Cassian wasn't sure whether the doctor was thanking his brother or Cassian himself. Either way, it was strange for Jizabel to be offering gratitude at all. Instead of replying to this, Cassian found himself saying the words that had been echoing in his head since they had arrived.

"I never had a Christmas like that." He gave a short laugh. "Lucky kids. I'm not sure I ever knew when it was Christmas. All nights were the same in the circus."

To his surprise, Jizabel replied in a small voice that he had to strain to hear.

"I remember celebrating like that. A long time ago. When I could still..."

He lapsed into silence but Cassian's mind could fill in the blanks; he had heard the rumours muttered by Trump Cards and the words spoken by the Head Priest. Perhaps it had been when I could still smile or when I could still pretend Father loved me, although Jizabel would never admit to pretending anything. Cassian felt a sudden surge of pity for the man beside him, the child beside him. Where had he read it? It is most painful remembering past heaven in present hell. At least Cassian himself didn't have anything to compare his miserable winter nights to.

On impulse, he reached out and laid one small hand over one of the doctor's. To his surprise, Jizabel let him keep a hold of that hand until they reached headquarters an hour or so later.

Inside the mansion, Riff had gone straight from the window back to work. Cain watched helplessly as the pale haired man was whisked away by selfish guests, feeling slightly unsettled by what had just passed. A sense of guilt was creeping up on him ever since he had seen the doctor, his brother, out in the cold. He stood in the centre of the room, biting his lip nervously and unsure of what to do.

Deciding to do what he always did in times like these, Cain walked towards Riff who turned and began hurrying towards the kitchen, carrying some thoughtless order. Cain followed with quickening steps, catching up to him in the middle of a long empty corridor. Instead of speaking, he quickly wrapped his arms around the butler's midriff.

"My lord?" Riff asked in surprised, turning slightly to see his master resting his face against his back.

"Wait a moment," Cain said in a small voice.

Although Riff knew he should hurry to work and more importantly should not let his master act like this in public, he found himself turning to face Cain fully and wrapping strong arms around the slender youth. He closed his eyes and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He felt the same as when he had heard Mary singing. At that moment, all was right in the world. Eyes still shut and mind somewhere else, Riff touched gentle lips to the crown of Cain's head, whose eyes opened in surprise. Instantly, Riff stepped away.

"I have to get back to work," he said quietly.

Cain smiled warmly and nodded. "Okay. Take it easy though, Riff. Okay?"

Riff smiled and nodded, backing away.

"Have a good night my...have a good night, Cain," he said quietly before turning and heading for the kitchens.

Cain watched him go before heading back to the drawing room, smile never quite leaving his face.

That night, after the party had ended and after everyone at Delilah was back in the building, the sentiment, if not the actual words, of Mary's choice of carol was still present in many people's minds and in their dreams. The morning would bring the sun which would light up the world in cruel brightness, intensifying the shadows which darkened every corner. Yet, for that night, four souls could sleep in peace, feeling for the first time in many nights that they had truly made the right choice during the day. No matter what the morning would bring, the night had been precious and would remain so in their hearts for many nights to come.

Till, ringing singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

A/N: A little note, Mary's idea of basically guilty tripping the nobility into giving charity is not mine and was something done by many Victorian humanists. It's why Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol. Anywho, hope you enjoyed. Please review! And happy christmas to all. x