Thank you for the reviews :) This was supposed to the last chapter, but it turned out to be really long, so now its the penultimate one. Hope you enjoy.

Buffy woke up to someone shaking her shoulder. It wasn't a good awakening.

"Really hope you're a demon and not the housekeeping staff because I'm about to . . ." A red fire-bucket, now sand-less, was pushed under her face just in time and she hurled into it. Three times.

"Feeling better?"

That was Faith's voice, which was better than demons or housekeeping staff, but . . . she'd just thrown up in front of Faith! So not cool and sexy.

"Give me a minute." She looked down at herself. She was covered by a blanket she couldn't remember fetching and she was so naked beneath it! "Actually, could you give me five minutes?"

"Yeah, but that's all you get. I have a surprise waiting outside for you."

A surprise? That sounded nice.

"Need to be sick again?"

She thought about it.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then pull your clothes back on, brush your teeth and let's go!"

"What? If we're going out I need to get changed. Why are we going out? Where are we going?"

Those questions were all good, but Faith just shrugged and gestured for her to hurry up. "Do you have another snowsuit?"

"No, I only bought one."

"Well, you're gonna need the one you bought, I think, so you'll have to change when we get where we're going."

"Which is? Or where is? Faith, what is going on?" She struggled to do as she was told. Faith had to step in and help her in the end, when her arms wouldn't bend right to fit. She grimaced when her underwear felt cold and damp against her. "There better be a good reason for this."

"You're telling me," Faith muttered and took her hand to lead her outside.

Snow was falling again, thick flakes slowly wending their way through the still night to the white blanket covering everywhere. Buffy couldn't remember the last time she'd seen grass. The air biting at her exposed skin was enough to shake the lingering fog of too much alcohol; could you say 'Holy f-f-f-frostbite, Batman'?

Still being led by the hand, Buffy was soon out of range of the golden globes of light along the main path and up to her knees in the loose snow. Now she understood why Faith had insisted she would need her snow-suit, but no closer to understanding anything else that was happening.

Faith was taking her away from the cabin. Oh, please don't let this be a return visit to the bar! She had enjoyed their drinks together earlier, from what she could remember of it, but her stomach was no way stable enough for a return visit . . . this side of New Year.

"Okay, look."

"Look at what?" she frowned. She could see the backs of some buildings, a few slime-green safety lights glowing here and there, and a whole lot of snow. Which thing, exactly, was supposed to be interesting enough to drag her out here for? "Nice . . . electricity pole?"

Faith let out a guttural sound of frustration, but Buffy really wasn't trying to play dumb. "I get it, electricity is important, I-yargh . . ." Gripping a handful of the puffy shoulder in her fist, Faith none too gently twisted Buffy around so fast her feet made a circular welt in the deep snow before she ended up on her knees. "Faith!"

"Moron!" Faith snapped back.

"Jerk-face!"

"There!"

That was . . . less cutting than Faith's usual insults. What was a There? Was it prison lingo for bitch, or worse? Now she was wildly waving her arms around and Buffy leaned back and held her hands up in surrender. She didn't know how they'd gone from almost hot-tubbing it naked to swinging fists all over again, but pride be damned she knew she couldn't take Faith on in this fragile state and win.

"Christ, how are you still this wasted?" Faith bellowed, causing a low-pitched squeal to come down from on high. Bemused, Buffy tipped her head back to see what was going on up there, but there was nothing but thousands of swirling snow-flakes to see. She turned her attention back to where Faith wanted it, on her face. Except no. "There! See? Look? There!"

The roof? There was something on the roof? "If Santa's back you'll have to call in the Scoobies, I am so over Christmas and . . . and, um, Faith, why is there a herd of reindeer on our roof?

"Surprise!"

"Yuh-huh. I bet they're pretty surprised too. How did they get up there? You didn't carry them all up did you? Faith! Giles will kill us if one of them falls off and breaks its leg!"

It took five minutes for Buffy to get it. It might have been quicker if Faith hadn't littered her explanation with opinions about how Buffy had to 'ruin every nice damn thing she did for her' and questions about her sobriety and level of intelligence. She felt like retorting that she wasn't the one flunking her GED, but was just about sober and intelligent enough to not kick that hornet's nest.

Faith's abusive ranting was obviously down to her disappointment over Buffy's initial reaction and two minutes later Buffy was proving that her first reaction was meaningless, her climbing skills and her love for Faith by shimmying up an icy drain-pipe. It would have been a catastrophe if the pipe wasn't so iced-up that her snow-wet gloves (and the knees of her snowsuit) stuck to it.

She had her hands on the tiles, trying to pull herself the rest of the way up, when Faith's voice came from just below her ass. "Don't look directly at Rudolf, he gets shy."

Buffy rolled her eyes with a little 'points-for-effort' chuckle at Faith's joke and felt a little bad when she accidentally dumped a bunch of loosened snow directly into her face. The chuckle died in her throat, however, for an entirely different reason when she noticed that - A), Faith had been telling the truth about what was up here and B), there was a definite red glow in the air above the cabin.

"What's going on, Faith?" she asked, feeling a little unnerved by the dozens of elf-eyes trained on her.

"Christmas," Faith clambered up the sloping roof next to her now. "You remember Buffy?" she said to no-elf in particular and then motioned to the sleigh. "Get in, B."

Faith had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to orchestrate this . . . whatever it was, and not wanting to 'ruin' anything else, her boots slipped and slid on the icy tiles and she did as she was told. Once she was seated she looked around. This wasn't like the sleigh they'd been in earlier. The wood was old, the paint faded, and the lead reindeer had a red nose!

This was waaay weird.

Almost as soon as Faith was in a pretty voice said, "We must go, we have lingered too long before midnight."

It meant nothing to Buffy.

Faith grinned and said "Giddy up, then."

"What? Wait, what? O. . . ." The sleigh started moving, abruptly, and fast. " . . . kaaay!"

The reindeer started to run along the roof. The roof was, what, fifteen feet long? And that was being generous! "Oh, oh, oh," and then suddenly, "Ohhhhhh, Faaaith!"

"I know! It's freaking weird. Just hold on."

"I . . ." Oh crap! Abruptly the sensation of moving so fast was replaced by a whooshy weightlessness and Buffy had to twist quickly as far over the edge as she could without falling out. When she was sure she was done, she sat back down with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

An elf handed her a green handkerchief to wipe her mouth.

"I thought you said you were not the faint-hearted kinds," another elf said to Faith with mild amusement.

"It's not her heart that's faint, dude, it's her stomach. Too much Christmas cheer, if you know what I mean."

"Ah. We carry bags for that kind of incident," he said and then lowered his voice and discreetly pointed to another elf. "Ribourgo occasionally suffers from motion-sickness."

A paper bag was produced and handed to Faith who handed it to Buffy. She took it with a grateful and not at all sarcastic smile of thanks. It was a little late for travel sickness bags when she'd just decorated the roof of the resort restaurant.

It occurred to her that she'd been in a position to throw up on a roof at all, and with the sleigh now sailing through the snowy sky so smoothly she could have been in a car on a well-paved highway, her stomach was calm enough to let her feel some of the wow-factor.

Right up until she realized she was flying with nothing more than a few planks of wood and some magick reindeer between her and the snow-covered peaks of certain death they were hurtling towards!

Willow sat on a pew about halfway from the front of the church sandwiched between Kennedy on her left and Rosie on her right. Literally sandwiched because the building was packed. Kennedy had whispered to her that it was only like this on Christmas Eve and Easter, but that the Midnight Mass – which would be in another three hours or so – would be even busier. It was hard to comprehend how they'd fit any more in. Or why so many people would want to spend a winter evening in a cold, stone building at all.

The service, though, was pleasant, if not exactly to her taste. There was less preaching than she'd expected and more story-telling and giving thanks to the baby Jesus. There were no dreary hymns, only rousing Christmas carols that she recognized from the radio or from the carol singers that had dared to knock on the Rosenberg's door only to be stopped half-way through 'Away in a Manger' to be given a lecture on the perils of not respecting religious diversity, the first amendment and the illegalities of trespassing on somebody's doorstep.

She was pretty sure her house was the only one that got egged more often on

Christmas Eve than on Halloween.

So she didn't sing, because she didn't really know any words, plus she just didn't sing unless there was a demon making her do it, but she stood with the rest of the congregation at the appropriate times and enjoyed listening to Kennedy's surprisingly good voice beside her and Rosie's surprisingly loud voice on the other side. At one point, near the beginning of 'O Come All Ye Faithful' or . . . something, she nearly burst into giggles when Mr. Morales looked around his wife with an affectionately sarcastic 'Can you believe the lungs on this woman' look. The urge intensified when Rosie elbowed her husband in the stomach without breaking her vocal stride – or hitting a single correct note.

During the next portion, when they were seated again and the vicar . . . priest . . . the man with the Godly plan at the front had been talking for ages already, Willow tried not to fidget. She looked down when an elbow connected lightly with her arm to see Rosie offering her a strawberry BonBon. She took one eagerly. Who knew church could be this much fun?

While she sucked on the candy to make it last, she really did try to concentrate, but it wasn't long before her mind began to wander.

Rosie was awesome and it was horrible that there was a curse on her. She wanted to speak to Giles about trying to lift it, because it wasn't fair that awesome people died young. Not that Rosie was that young, but Willow still didn't want her to die. For Kennedy's sake, and her own.

Willow loved her mom, she really did and always would, but she was so absent. Even when Willow had lived in the same house as her parents it had felt that way. Her mom tried, in her own way, but she was always so busy with her work and her next pet project. She'd been a more normal mom, like Joyce, until Willow had started middle school – she'd been at home a lot more and they'd actually done stuff together sometimes – but she'd been making her own lunches and after-school snacks since she was twelve and by the time she was fourteen she'd been eating dinner by herself four or five nights a week.

Back then she would have killed for an overbearing mom like Rosie. A mom who got up in her business whether Willow wanted her to or not. The only time that had ever happened was when her mom had insisted Oz come around to dinner and even that hadn't been the experience she had wanted it to be. Her dad had had to work late and so he wasn't even there and her mom had just asked questions like 'Does your interesting choice of hair style and color gain you as much attention as you'd hoped?' and 'Do you feel your involvement in a rock band gives you the sense of identity and control that young people crave?' like he was one of her case studies! Oz had been as cool and collected as always but Willow had been embarrassed that she couldn't just speak to him like a normal person. She dreaded the day she'd have to introduce her to Kennedy.

Not that that would be a while because her parents were in Europe. They hadn't even told her they were going. She'd received an email about it! With their itinerary attached for emergencies. When Willow had called with an emergency, to say that their hometown was now in a pit of rubble, her mom had asked her if she'd remembered to pack a pair of clean socks.

Socks!

Rosie was in a state of near frenzy because Kennedy was living in the next state instead of at home with her.

Why wouldn't she want to be a part of this family? This loving, argumentative, teasing, but above all real family.

The pastor . . . vicar . . . guy at the front was doing something ceremonial and traditional now. Kennedy took her hand and whispered, "You okay?"

Willow nodded, smiling, because for a long time, she'd really never been happier.

Once Mass was over, Kennedy stood outside church with her family, Willow's arm looped discreetly through hers, while her mom and dad chatted with the other parishioners. They were saying their Merry Christmases and arranging drinks at theirs and lunches at other peoples to make the rest of the vacation as sociable as possible.

Willow seemed to be eating it all up, but Kennedy was choosing to watch Roxanne have a snowball fight with a couple of pre-teen boys instead. She wanted to join in, but was wary of the fact that she'd probably knock one of them out if she threw a snowball.

When Willow was dragged into a conversation with Winnie and Donnie McPhee – and didn't seem too nervous about it – Kennedy excused herself to go and lean against the fence and check her cell-phone.

Xander had gotten back to her but it wasn't helpful at all. Yes, she'd want to marry Willow right now too if she thought one of them might die in the next twelve months, but if they agreed to her mom and dad's crazy idea that wouldn't be an issue, because they'd be living the comfortable, quiet life in Cleveland. And without the threat of death hanging over them Kennedy was good with waiting two, three or maybe five more years without even thinking about freaking marriage.

Xander had been no help. Now there was literally only one more person she could try for advice. She growled in displeasure even as she found the number and punched the call button.

"No, it's done. Father Christmas is dead! You can all leave me alone now."

"But what about . . ." Cici began.

"Done! The mystery is solved. The bad guy is slain. Let's all just move on."

"Shouldn't we patrol though?" Rona asked, and because it was his slayer he did listen.

"It's Christmas Eve, do any of you want to patrol?"

The slayers took turns looking at each other before chorusing, "No." and "Not really."

Naomi looked up from stacking the books closest to her in a neat pile. "Do you think maybe we should anyway? Just in case there are any other nasties out there?"

Reece didn't even have to give her a look. Vi, Alison and Miranda did it for him.

"What nasties?" asked Vi.

"There are no nasties," said Alison.

"It's Christmas Eve!" Miranda reminded them. "Surely we should be concentrating on drinking eggnog and singing Christmas carols."

"I couldn't agree more. But please go into the other room to do so."

Several slayers rolled their eyes at him, but as a group they got up from the table to file into the other room.

"You should take comfort in the fact that you weren't totally awful today, Reece," Naomi muttered as she got up to go and join them.

"Kiss my arse, I was exceptional," Reece returned jokingly and now Naomi was rolling her eyes at him too as she left the room with a smile.

"I guess I'll make the eggnog then," Dawn said with an exasperated air as she too got up from the table.

He hadn't even realized they'd been left alone until now, but it was exactly what he wanted. He decided to give her a minute on the other side of the counter before making his move to talk to her. They needed to talk, but he didn't want to rush straight in and look desperate. He wasn't proud of it, but he timed it on the kitchen clock while pretending to browse through the book in front of him.

He was making his way over when his cell-phone rang, instantly drawing Dawn's attention to his approach. She looked accusing. He glanced at the caller ID and shrugged.

"It's Kennedy. Want to check?"

With a huff she went back to her drink preparation and he leaned against the back of a chair as he took the call.

"Hello. What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something is wrong?"

"You're calling me. Did you miss-dial?

"No, it's you I need to speak to."

That was strange. "Then I can only assume something must be wrong. What is it?"

Kennedy hemmed and hawed until he sighed impatiently. He was interested to know what this was about, but it was taking up precious time. If Dawn finished and disappeared into the other room he would lose his chance to nonchalantly approach her.

"Sorry, it's just a really weird thing I'm calling about."

"Weird is my business," he said and then bared his teeth when he feared it made him sound ridiculous. "So just spit it out. Is it a demon? A vampire? Father Christmas?"

She chuckled, "No, sorry, it's not really a professional call."

There went his interest. "In that case, can you call back some other time? I'm . . ."

"No, hang on! It's not about supernatural stuff, but I guess it is kind of a professional subject."

A slither of interest returned. "Then, Kennedy . . ."

She got the hint. "My step-father owns his own company. It's a big one. He started it from scratch, in LA in the early eighties, but he moved the headquarters to New York about a decade later, a few years after he married my mom and now it has branches in like twenty-five states. He's kind of a big fish in a big pond."

Another sliver of interest joined the first. He knew Kennedy came from money, it wasn't a secret at the camp that she'd run away from a very rich life in New York when the Bringers were after her. That was all the detail he knew however, and he was pretty sure that he knew as much as everyone else – except Rupert and possibly Willow. It was an intriguing piece of Kennedy's puzzle and he was happy to be more informed. It did not clear up the confusion of why she was calling him though.

"Go on. I assume this all has a point."

"Yeah. He's about to make it twenty-six states by opening a branch in Ohio . . . but only if I agree to go and run it for him."

He didn't really understand. "But doesn't he know you have a job?"

"He thinks I'm a gym teacher, but that's beside the point. I don't have a job, I have a calling. And jobs pay better."

"Fine, you have a calling, so how would you manage to work for him as well?"

"I wouldn't. That's the problem."

"I don't see the problem. Just tell him you don't have the time. I'm sure there are people far more qualified than you anyway that he could find."

"What's going on?" Dawn suddenly asked. He'd forgotten she was there for a moment. "Is Kennedy okay?"

"Is that Dawn? I thought we were having this conversation in private!"

"You didn't actually request that," he reminded her.

This put him in a tricky position. He liked that Kennedy had come to him for advice, even if he couldn't fathom her problem, but he'd really prefer to be talking to Dawn about their problem – even if it was just as unfathomable.

To Dawn, he said, "She's fine. She just has an issue with her father."

"And she's choosing to talk to you about it?" Dawn sounded jealous. "Why?"

"I honestly have no idea, but obviously I'd like to help."

"Oh sure. I'll just leave you two to have another cosy chat then, shall I?"

Abandoning the eggnog on the counter – which seemed a waste considering it was ready – she left the kitchen stroppily through the swing door.

Reece sighed; there went that chance, and he'd managed to make matters worse just by answering his mobile. That was it, from now on he was never answering a phone again.

"Is Dawn okay? She sounded pissed. Are you two still fighting?"

He didn't bother asking how she knew, it could have come from any of the slayers or Dawn herself; they were all terrible gossips.

"Apparently we are, yes, but don't feel bad that your problem just squandered my only chance to try and put things right tonight."

"Okay, I won't. So, my dad's job offer comes with a pretty awesome package: Good salary, company car, house, full health care plan . . ."

"That'll come in useful," he agreed. "If anybody ever needed extensive health care coverage it's a slayer. I wouldn't mention that to the other girls though, they might get jealous. Or start badgering Rupert for the same. Either way you won't be popular."

"It won't matter if I take the job because I won't be there anymore. Or slaying."

"What?"

"You said yourself I won't have the time to do both."

"Yes, but . . ."

"And my step-dad is throwing in a house, like I said, so Willow and I will be relocating to Cleveland . . ."

"What?" he thundered. This had to be . . . did Americans often get Christmas and April Fool's Day confused. He certainly bloody hoped so! "Kennedy, you are a slayer! By all means get a part time job on the side to fulfil your need to be a part of normal society – or whatever it is that Buffy keeps spouting like some mentally deficient self-help guru – but you can't just leave the slaying behind!"

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because you're a bloody slayer, that's why not! I don't care how big or—" he affected a yank accent "—awesome your father's company is, you were Called to greater things. You have a destiny!"

"Yeah, a destiny to die young, Reece! Sorry if I don't want that for me and Willow!"

"Willow? Don't even get me started!" He started anyway. "If you want to walk away, on your head be it, but how can you even think of taking one of the world's greatest witches away from the battle against evil!"

"She might just be a witch to you, but she's a person to me, the woman I love, and that's how I can take her away from a battle that is going to get her killed!"

He was seething. "I had you pegged as self-involved, Kennedy, but never this selfish!"

"I am not selfish. I'm thinking of Willow and the life I want her to have!"

"You're thinking of the money and an easy life for you, don't even deny it."

She did. "I am not!"

"Well then you are delusional. The world needs you, Kennedy, and even more than that it needs Willow! If you want to turn your back on that and go and live in Suburbia, then that's up to you, but Willow will never agree. She understands the true meaning of living – to give your life to the greater cause. I thought you did too."

"I do!" The fire had gone from Kennedy's voice, leaving a sense of desperation in its wake. "Being the Slayer is all I've ever wanted to be, but . . . but there are tons of us now. I'm not needed, not really. I'm just . . . The world will still have Buffy and Faith. Is it even going to notice if I'm not there? And Willow could still help out; living with me would just keep her out of the firing line for wackos trying to target the camp and . . ."

"Kennedy, if you've always wanted to be the Slayer, then be the Slayer! It doesn't matter how many of you there are, each and every one of you is The Slayer in your own right."

"That's not what Dracula said."

"Dracula? That jumped up little Vamp?" he laughed. "Are you seriously going to take that fame-whore's word over a Watcher's?"

"He was pretty convincing."

"Well, yes, I expect he was. His sport is getting into people's heads for fun." Reece had read a lot of case-studies on Dracula, he'd been something of an obsession of his in his early teen years at the Academy. "You shouldn't take anything he has to say on board without giving it some serious research first."

The line was quiet until Kennedy eventually said, "You don't think I should take the job?"

"Not unless your father opens the branch in Boudenver and agrees to you only working part time."

"I don't think that's an option."

"Then no, I don't think you should take it, but obviously it's up to you."

The line was quiet again, until. "So what did you do to screw things up with Dawn?"

He sighed, not sure if he wanted to discuss this with her, or anyone, but in the end he was getting nowhere fast on his own.

"I received a call from a friend, a female friend, and Dawn suspects the worst."

"Is she right to?"

Reece shrugged, and then lied. "No, of course not, but try telling Dawn that."

Kennedy surprised him then, "Look, if this chick is an old girlfriend, don't just blow it off. Tell Dawn the truth. She might get pissed that your ex is phoning you, but not as pissed as she'll be if you tell her it's just an acquaintance and she figures out you're lying. If there's nothing to feel guilty about then don't act guilty. Go speak to her now, before she can get worked up about it in her head anymore."

"Okay."

"But if you are lying, Reece, and you hurt her, I'll be the one hunting you down, and I can slap a lot harder than Dawn can!"

"How will you exact revenge, though, if you're not even going to be here? If Dawn is that important to you, why would you just walk away from her friendship?"

"I haven't totally decided I'm leaving yet, but if I do Cleveland isn't that far and if you hurt Dawn the price of the gas will be worth it." He laughed even though he suspected she was serious. "I don't know what to do," she admitted. "It's a seriously good offer, but I do know how much I'll be leaving behind. I really don't know what to do, that's why I called you."

He felt a little bad that she'd called him about this personal dilemma and he'd responded by shouting at her, but he'd shout at her again if he thought she was actually going to go through with leaving.

He turned her advice back on her. "You need to talk to Willow. If she agrees with the offer, then . . . it's nobody else's business. And if she doesn't then you'll know not to go anywhere."

"Thanks, Reece. Merry Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Kennedy."

"Go talk to Dawn before you chicken out again."

He laughed because, well it was because Kennedy knew him so well even though they barely knew each other.

"Already on my way," he admitted as he took a deep breath and went to collect the abandoned jug of eggnog. "Talk to Willow."

"On it."

He pushed his mobile back into his jeans pocket, grabbed the jug and a few mugs and went through the swing door. The slayers were sprawled over every surface of sofa and chair and most of the floor in front of the TV. So much for them singing carols! They were watching Scrooged. Well, most of them were, Dawn was sharing an armchair with Vi and Cici and they were in deep conversation.

He set everything down on the coffee table. "Dawn, can I have a word?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Oh, whatever." She shared a look with her armchair companions, convincing him he'd been the topic of conversation, before getting up and storming into the kitchen.

He followed her back in there.

"What? I'm missing the movie."

He didn't beat around the bush. "Patricia was my girlfriend. We were together for three years, on and off. When I was accepted to come here as part of the Watcher's program we sort of split up because neither of us wanted to do the long-distance relationship thing. We didn't know if it would be permanent at the time, but then I met you. I probably should have told her about us, but she just phoned yesterday to wish me a Merry Christmas and to see how I was getting on."

The relief falling from Dawn's shoulders was almost a physical thing. "Then why didn't you just tell me that?"

"You really didn't give me a chance."

"Oh, God, I feel like such a total, jealous moron now!"

Reece opened his arms and Dawn gladly rushed into them, still making apologies.

And all was right in his world again; Reece smiled.

The final chapter will be up very soon. Thanks for reading :)