Christmas is a time of forgiveness and love. A time for people to gather and celebrate. Or to help each other out. "The Hanukkah Spirit," Giles thought. "That was what Xander called it." It was quite extraordinary, in his opinion. This feeling that came over everybody and made them feel more generous, more willing to get along with everybody else. He felt sure it was what had made Xander offer his help regarding Angel. At any other time of year he would have refused to be a part of it, storming off with a heated comment referring to the things Angel had done to them. Things that did not merit any kind of help at all. Things Giles was unable to forget.

And so, he had been reluctant to help Angel, when he pleaded for answers. Reluctant because he was reliving that fateful moment when he had climbed the stairs, bottle of champagne in hand, only to find his girlfriend - his beautiful Jenny - sprawled, lifeless, across his bed. And reluctant because he didn't want Angel anywhere near Buffy. The further from them all he stayed the better, as far as Giles was concerned. But all it took was one look into Buffy's pleading eyes; one shaky sentence, which veiled unspoken words of the deepest love and concern for Angel, and he knew that there was nothing else he could do. If he didn't aid her, Buffy would attempt to save Angel by herself, and if there was one thing he wanted less than rescuing his girlfriend's murderer, it was Buffy going into a fight blind.

But now he had done all he could. Buffy had seemed to know where she was going when she took off from his house, and she had refused backup, not that he had insisted very much. He sat in an armchair with a drink in his hand.

"Well, Jenny, here's to you," he said, raising the glass. Since Angel had visited him, he had thought of very little besides Jenny. As the liquid sloshed down his throat, he wondered what he would have been doing at this moment if she was still alive. Would they have spent Christmas together? He felt the dull ache of emptiness inside him at the thought of how they could have been spending the evening together, curled up on the sofa, and quickly poured himself another drink to fill the void. As he downed this one, he remembered the delicate necklace he had seen in a jewellery shop earlier in the year and planned to give her for Christmas. He knew she would have liked it, and it would have suited her perfectly.

The past few days had been hard on him, and now he let himself drown in his emotions. He poured another drink, though this time not so neatly. Tiny waves lapped at the sides of the glass and spilt over when his hand shook as he tried to hold the bottle steady. Raising the glass to his lips again, he gulped the drink down, hoping that it would help him stop thinking about Jenny, and everything he had lost, almost before he knew he had it.

"Why didn't I forgive her sooner?" he thought in despair. "She didn't know what would happen. I should have told her how much I loved her!" Such thoughts tore at his mind for a long time, yet it seemed barely five minutes before the last few drops dripped into his glass, and he started to feel more than a little sick.

"Thish shtuff," he slurred to the picture on the wall next to him, as he held up the bottle for inspection, "is a wee bit dodgy!" But he drank it nevertheless, though he instantly regretted it.

Suddenly he thought of Buffy, and wondered if she had found the Bringers. "Either way, you're no use to her like this," he thought to himself, "time to sober up, Giles." He stumbled to the kitchen and proceeded to make himself a cup of coffee.

* * *

"When it happens, I want it to be because we both need it to for the same reason," Oz said softly, praying that Willow would understand, that she wouldn't take it the wrong way. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

"I just wanted you to know," she responded, trying to explain her behaviour towards him.

"I know," he assured her, to her immense relief. She wanted Oz to know that he always came first to her, but she knew she wasn't ready to sleep with him, no matter what she'd said. She wasn't even able to *say* it yet; she was nowhere near being ready to actually do it.

She leant in to kiss him, and he happily responded, assuring her again that things were okay as they were. When she finally pulled away, Willow felt very uncomfortable. She felt that she had made a complete fool of herself tonight, and wished more than anything that she could wave a wand and make it so that none of it had happened. But Willow knew that real magic didn't work with wands - at least, not the kind of magic she was thinking of. That was done with kind words and loving gestures, and she knew that Oz would never make fun of her for tonight's events, and he would never hold any of it against her.

"So, movies?" Oz asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Sure," she smiled. "Just let me change first, okay? I feel kinda overdressed now." She gestured towards his outfit as she spoke and he nodded, smiling.

"I'll forward through the trailers," he said as she left the room, and glanced back at him, still in awe of the way he was able to forgive her like this. She knew she didn't deserve it.

When she came back, Willow bent down and started to blow the candles out.

"Leave them," Oz instructed gently. "They're romantic," he smiled by way of explanation.

"Okay," Willow grinned, taking her place on the sofa again.

"But, Will?" he continued.

"Yeah?"

"The fire is a little ridiculous."

She got up, still grinning, and put the fire out.

Willow only watched the movie with a vague interest; she was much too preoccupied with her own thoughts to give it much attention. Oz, she suspected, was doing the same. They did not talk much, but sat as close together as possible, Oz's hand gently twirling a lock of Willow's hair around while he thought of how right this felt. Suddenly, Willow's history with Xander didn't matter anymore - they were together and, for the moment, that was enough.

When the film was over, they remained in silence for a while. Willow snuggled closer to Oz and murmured, "This is perfect," before closing her eyes and burying her face in his shirt. Oz smiled and pulled her closer.