An hour or so later, she's woken up by a cheerful voice. "Blayde? Blayde, I know you're in there...Come on out, you don't want to hibernate through Christmas, do you?"
"...Mehhh..." She grumbles, "...Xellos....Go away!"
He pulls the blanket back slightly. "Now, now, Blayde, temper...I came to tell you something both very disappointing and important.
"What?"
"In light of the snow, I'm afraid no one will be attending your party."
"WHAT?!"
"The only one's who could possibly get here are myself, Dynast, Dolphin and Phibrizzo. Phibrizzo refuses to come because of the temperature, Dynast is just an antisocial weirdo anyway, Dolphin because she'd freeze and I'm afraid it won't be much of a party if it's just me and you."
"Oh, it figures." The girl burrows back down into the blankets, "Could this Christmas get any more miserable?"
"I'm sure it could." Xellos' voice is good-natured as he responds, "That boy who likes you-"
"Suichi."
" -Could be a psycho killer."
"Shut up, Xellos."
"Do you know what he is?"
"Yeah. A very polite college student who's majoring in Mythology."
"Besides that..."
"No...Wait, let me guess. He's a mental patient?"
"No."
"A kleptomaniac?"
"Nope."
"A pervert?"
"No."
What then?!"
"He's not quite human....You know, he's got a human body, but he's really a Kitsune."
"He's a WHAT?"
"A spirit fox, a demon of sorts, from the Spirit World. He goes by a couple other names too, Yoko -that's his original name- but he's also been called Kurama."
"Why should I believe that? You tell lies all the time."
"Fine. Think what you wish. I've got to go. Zelas does have things for me to do, after all. No holiday break for me, you know." He disappears from the room, leaving Blayde to ponder over what he's said.
"A spirit...Nonesense! Xellos is just trying to get on my nerves." She grumbles. She gets out of bed and looks in her mirror. "God, I'm pathetic. It's four days before Christmas, I have no one to spend the holidays with and what the hell am I supposed to do with all this crap?"
The wrapped Christmas presents are sitting on her desk, waiting to be put under the small tree. She glances at them, pilled up there, then thinks about the boy and his mother that she'd given the five dollars to. There must be other people like them, people who have nothing.
Making up her mind, she decides to venture out. There is a small church not too far away. She doesn't know what denomination it is, but it's a church nonetheless and it must have some kind of help-the-needy program.
She pulls on a pair of black corduroy pants and a white, long-sleeved tee-shirt bearing the mascot of her high school. Then she runs her brush through her hair and puts on her watch. The presents are shoved into a shopping bag and she pulls on her boots. Her coat, hat and scarf soon follow, then she heads out the door.
It's a long trek to the church, The Church of the Martyrs, but it doesn't seem to be such a great distance. The thought that she's helping some one worse off than she makes all the difference between it being a stupid, pointless trip and something she knows she must do.
She leaves the bag on the steps of the church -no one appears to be there- with a note attached to it, then heads back for the campus. On the way, she notices a tall, lanky boy following her. He looks to be about fifteen or sixteen, maybe, with dark brown hair falling in his eyes. The deep red of his shirt cantrasts with the bright white snow and he follows along in her very footsteps.
Now, maybe she would not have noticed him, were it not for the large wings growing out of his shoulders. It's not unusual to see a boy walking down the sidewalk. Not unusual, that is, until you see a boy with wings.
Am I hallucinating? She asks herself. Is the cold getting to me, or is there really an angel following me? Am I really dying of frostbite or hypothermia right now? What the hell is going on?
She stops and sits down on a snow-covered bench, her head in her hands, tears trickling down her face. "I'm so fucked up..." She sobs, "Now I'm seeing things. What the hell is wrong with me?"
The boy stops in front of her. "Blade, God is pleased by what you did."
"Are you real?" She whisperes, "Are you there? Am I insane?"
He smiles kindly and rests a hand on her shoulder. She looks up. Never in her life has she seen anything more glorious or beautiful than the angel. A soft glow illuminates him as he stands in the snow and a circlet of gold shines round his head.
"Blade, come with me." His voice is peaceful. Serene. The exact opposite of how she feels. Everything she is not. His hand is still on her shoulder and she feels herself being lifted into the air.
The next thing she knows, they are in a dingy appartment. Sitting on the floor is the small boy from the Walmart. He's looking at the scraggly Christmas Tree in the corner, which has only a few ornaments on it. It doesn't seem to bother him that the tree is so shabby; he's staring at the one gift, wrapped in newspaper, that sits under it. His face is lit with anticipation, his eyes glow as he beholds his present.
"Do you know what's wrapped in that newspaper?" The angel asks her.
"The race car?"
"Besides that."
She looks at him, perplexed. There is a car in there and she knows it. The mother couldn't have possibly bought anything else with that five dollars.
"You gave that boy the gift of kindness. You were a candle burning in the darkness for him and a sign of hope for his mother. There would have been no Christmas at this house, were it not for you. Right now, his mother is on her way to the Church of the Martyrs. She goes there every year at this time, hoping some one would be kind enough to donate things to the less fortunate. You have given her the things she needs. You saved her Christmas and her belief that God will help her."
A lump is forming in Blayde's throat. "That...that little boy would have no Christmas if it weren't for me?" She whispers.
"Yes. He would have nothing if you did not give all those things to the church."
Fresh tears begin to fall. Tears that show no signs of stopping as the angel whisks her back to her dorm. She is all at once on her bed but she doesn't know how, nor does she care. She's sobbing uncontrollably, her chest heaving, her breath coming in gasps.
The angel knows she needs to cry alone. He shimmers away, but not before saying "May God continue to shine on you" and blessing her over the heart.