Epilogue to Magic Snow

3: Christmas Yet to Come

They might have this tradition where her mom sends reindeer cookies by express mail, and then Dawn stays overnight blasting pop covers of Christmas songs on the stereo. This could happen, years from now, and it will be so beautiful when that's their kind of problem. They might make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and it's something about cookie metaphors.

Buffy could come home from Macy's with her nametag and Santa hat, and they could make love in the shower before the kids get home from school. She could complain some days about what he does to her clothes, because he's off blood and back on nicotine. Or maybe it'll go the other way. Maybe they listen to police scanners late at night, and they go off slaying when they have to, when one of their allies is home sick. Maybe that comes more naturally to them than normalcy, and they're okay dealing with that.

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"Ten minutes!" She came over in a rush. "I'm here, see. Only ten minutes late."

"I wasn't worried," he said.

"I kept telling myself you might not..." she caught herself and let the sentence end there. "Look, I had this- this whole thing I'm supposed to say, and then it might end with me slapping you. I thought I should warn you about that."

"How was Italy?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Oh, you know. Peaceful, quiet. Italian."

"Wouldn't have guessed." They studied each other for a minute. "Nobody told me you got a tan."

She exhaled something like a laugh. "Yeah, well there's a lot of things people don't tell me lately." They didn't blink when the sunlight rose over the Hollywood sign.

"I forgot it was like this," he said.

"Here I thought you remember everything."

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They could have a real tree instead of artificial. Not that they're making early plans or anything. It's just it would be nice to have a real tree, and since the pointy wood wouldn't be an issue anymore, it could happen. The kids could be maybe three and seven, and little Shannon goes "If Santa and Frosty fought each other, who would win?" Will sticks a piece of tree popcorn in his mouth and says "Spida-man."

"You know, your mom used to be a superhero."

Shannon buries herself in Buffy's shoulder and whines, "I heard this!"

"You did, huh?" She gives Angel a slightly spiteful but not unamused look. He shrugs.

"It's a cool story," he says.

Will tugs at his shirt. "I wanna hear."

"I'm guessing you gave her the Cliff Note version."

"You know me." That could get a smile from her.

"I wanna hear!" Will says again.

She gets close enough so the kids won't hear and whispers, "If you teach them the word 'champion', I'm divorcing you and taking the car."

"Mommy's just kidding," he says. He could draw the younger one closer and pretend he has Connor back. "She doesn't even like the car."

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"Some things haven't changed."

"I know that. You think I don't know that?"

"I still have my life," she continued anyway, trying to ignore the very faint thumpy noise in his chest and stare at the sky instead. "And you have everything here, and -- I mean, we're still me and still you. And everything that goes along with that-"

"You still ice skate?" he asked suddenly.

"Actually, no. Actually, it's been a very long..." she brought her head down and closed her eyes.

"Very long," he repeated. They were in each others' arms by now and couldn't seem to help that.

"It's like I want to go back," she said finally. "You have no idea how I... I just want everything to go back." He kissed her hair as the tears fell. "I don't even know to when. I don't even think it can."

"Some things didn't change, you just said that."

"A lot of things did, Angel."

"Maybe we're not supposed to go back. That's the whole point."

She sniffled and pulled away slightly. "So you get me all the way here to say that? Isn't that more a phone thing?"

"We don't go back," he said. "We never go back. We just go."

She laced her fingers in his and watched the sky turn orange. "So is that literal go, or are you doing your redemption fortune-cookie thing?"

He said, "Tell me."

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They're going to live in the East, when the whole thing settles down. They might go through the options over and over, and they might do whatever they can to convince themselves they don't deserve -- whatever this is. Sebbatical. Premature retirement. But it's pretty settled then, that this could happen, and they end up living in the East and going gray with the fat grandkids by the Atlantic Ocean. This isn't any more impossible than everything else that's happened to them. It could be warm every morning. It could snow in December and remind them oddly of home.

-end-