She watches from above as the frozen figure lays defeated in the snow. He has been laying there for hours now, his eyelids resting and his face slack. It began lightly snowing a while back, and still he does not move. She tilts her head curiously as her wings flutter around her, gently brushing against the snow resting atop the branch she is perched on. This man, this pale man with hair the color of the ground surrounding him, has not moved an inch since he gracefully plopped down.

She would know, because she has been watching him. He is her assignment this Christmas, the one she is to make joyous. The elder of the Christmas angels told her that this one was special, for he had hated Christmas despite all the other's attempts.

His wife had died on Christmas four years ago.

Now, every year, he puts on a mask of happiness for his small child, and lies in this exact spot, in the snow.

She had followed him as he went Christmas shopping, and as he searched the shelves, she searched his life for something that would help. She found nothing. So she had followed him while he finished up at his work, and as he drove here, to these woods where he is quickly being blanketed by the falling white flakes. This is where his wife died, in his arms, suffering from a sudden heart-attack.

Kagome looks closer, peering at his almost lifeless form. Why does he still come here, letting his glistening tears freeze mid-fall on his pale face? He should be with his little daughter, Rin, answering her barrage of questions about Santa and his elves. He should be with his half-brother, restraining his contempt for this one day of the year. He should be with his dog, watching as he romps playfully in the snow. But he's not.

Still he lies here, now almost completely enveloped by his frosty covering.

She twitches her wings, shaking off the collecting snow, and bites her lip with worry. Is he still alive? Should she do something? Surely his body can't stand this extreme weather…

But it is forbidden. It is forbidden for the angel to interact with her assignment. But still she worries. Surely he will freeze?

Making up her mind after seeing the hot breath escaping from his lips cease to be, she swoops down. Her wings extend out, quivering with the new weight, and she glides down. She lands gracefully next to the man and feels for a pulse. It is very faint.

She throws herself at the man, suddenly in a panic. She lies on top of the figure, hoping to transfer some of her own body heat to him.

---

What is this feeling, this sudden warmth? Have I finally died? One too many cold Christmas out in the snow?

It's my fault; I deserve to die. It's my fault she was out there, in the woods, when she had the attack. My fault we were away from any hospitals.

It was her first white Christmas, we had just moved north. When it began to come down, she squealed in delight and ran outside in nothing more than her pyjamas. She began twirling around, ecstatic, with her head up and her tongue out, hoping to catch the elusive specks of white.

Why, oh why, hadn't I of simply told her to go back inside and forget about it?

But, having grown up in this town myself, I was overjoyed by her fascination with the snow, and took her out with my daughter to witness true winter. In the forest I grew up playing in.

And then she died.

It was so sudden, so quick. One moment she stood next to me, after gloating on hitting me with a crudely made snowball, and the next she was on the ground, clutching her heart in agony.

As I remember her falling, the tears pour out of my already abused eyes and my own chest hurts with so much pain.

After I realized something was happening, I picked her up and began to run towards the car. I remember our daughter following us, screaming, asking what was happening.

She went limp.

And I fell defeated to the hard, unforgiving ground, as I held her close not willing, never willing, to let her go.

She died because of me, and I will never forgive my self. So I must be dead. And going to hell.

But, is hell supposed to feel this good? I feel as if my battered body is being comforted, as if someone is trying to tell me everything is ok.

Then this can't be hell, can it? I feel something moving on top of me. On top of me? And now my body feels as if it's on fire, like it does after coming inside after a particularly cold day. Only this is at least five times worse.

So that means I'm not dead?

---

Kagome lets out a huge sigh of relief as the man's muscles respond. Only slightly, but it's something. She continues to lie on him, thoroughly hoping she wasn't too late. She clutches him tighter.

After a few minutes her vigil is rewarded, and his hazy and confused eyes flicker open. His eyes widen with extreme shock as his eyes meet his savior's. She seems to melt into his molten gold irises, and a flood washes over her mind.

"Sesshoumaru…?" she asks tentatively, raising her hand to hand to his face to make sure he is real.

"Kags…? Is it really you?" he sputters disbelievingly.

She however, is unaware of his query, as she is fascinated by the moving of his lips. She stares intently, and then decides she has been away for much, much too long.

And as she shivers from the falling snow, her lips seems to take her wings and she swoops down for a longing kiss which he happily returns.

---

-sniff- I'm such a sap… -sniff-

I can't believe I, ME, wrote this. I don't know how it happened. I watched a Christmas movie and I got all depressed, and my computer was near, so yeah… I'm not sure if I feel better or worse…

…your opinions?