It was dark when Weiss awoke. She lay in bed for a good long while, too tired and afraid to move. She still did not hear or sense any sign of her teammates in the room. All she could hear was her heart rapidly beating in her chest and her heavy, fast-paced breathing. Her mind ruminated on what the ghost of her grandfather had said. Or, at the very least, what she had thought he said. It could have been a nightmare. Weiss was not known to have night terrors, but she assumed anything was possible.

One o'clock. It was so dark, and she felt that she had slept for so long, that it must be past one. Still, she did not want to reach her arm out from under the covers to grab her scroll and check. She feared an ethereal hand grabbing her wrist, or that the face of a cadaver would appear in the illumination. As she lay and pondered, she finally decided she had to know. She knew that assign as she looked and saw that she had slept past one, especially considering how late she had gone to her bed in the first place, the entire ordeal would be disproven and all of her fears would fade. Moving quickly, she shot her arm out and scooped up the Scroll in a matter of seconds. She snapped her limb back under the covers before freezing, her eyes and ears scanning for any change, but none were found. Shifting her position, she pushed her face under the bedsheets and closed her eyes as she switched on the Scroll as not to be blinded by the light. When she slowly opened her left eye and read the time, she had to open her right to confirm.

It was only a few minutes to one. She inhaled sharply as she switched off the Scroll and rapidly set it back where it had been. She felt herself hyperventilating before her mind began to focus on the laughable stat she was in. Here she was, in bed on a cold winter's night, scared senseless by a nightmare featuring a face she had seen in a painting countless times growing up. She was acting like a child.

"This is silly," she thought to herself before turning over onto her other side and pulling up the covers. She trembled slightly, but shut her eyes and tried to relax.

In an instant, there was a flash and light filled the room. Weiss' eyes shot open. At first she thought the Scroll had turned on by itself, but the light was far too bright for that. It took every ounce of her courage to flip over so she was facing out into the room again and sit up in the bed. However, when she did, she saw a figure and her expression immediately went sour.

"Ruby!" she yelled angrily. "Just what are you doing?"

The figure before her tilted its head. "Eeh?" it remarked in the high, familiar voice of her teammate.

Before Weiss could reprimand Ruby again, she noted all the differences in the figure's appearance. It resembled Ruby, no doubt. The face was identical, as were the height and stature, but there were various otherworldly elements about it. It had the face and most of the hair of Ruby; shoulder-length brown hair, but rather than tips of red were instead glowing plumes of red fire. Her silver eyes glowed brightly, with wisps of silver shimmers emanating off of them. Instead of her red-and-black blouse and skirt, the figure wore a shimmering red strapless dress, almost pink. A midnight black sash hung around its waist. On its head was a circlet of rose thorns, with one incredibly large and brilliantly bloomed rose growing from the left side of the headpiece. In the right hand it held a bouquet of roses, and in the other a small sickle or hand scythe. Its very being seemed to be emanating a blinding silver light, and it floated effortlessly above the ground, rose petals fluttering from its dress and vanishing when they touched the ground.

It looked like Ruby, but it was not Ruby.

"Are you the Spirit I was told was coming?"

"I am!" The voice was Ruby's too. If it were not for the strange irregularities Weiss had noted earlier, she would have thought this was a practical joke.

"Then why do you look like Ruby?" Weiss demanded.

The Spirit tilted her head again, and answered Weiss' question with another question. "What are your thoughts on the past?"

"What do you mean?" Weiss asked.

"The past," the specter said. "Your past. How would you describe the time that was your past?"

Weiss took a moment. She thought to what she remembered of her childhood and time before Beacon. "It was a naïve time. A difficult time." Despite herself, she sighed as she reminisced, whimsical look slowly revealing itself on her face. "But an innocent time," she added.

The Spirit floated higher, extending her arms and allowing her glow to grow brighter. "I am the Ghost of Holiday Past. You see me as you see your past. If it was a naïve, innocent, but difficult time, then I appear as one you find naïve, innocent, but difficult!"

Weiss took pause before responding. "That makes sense, all things considered," she said, still not really sure if she was trusting what was happening or if her frightened mind was conjuring up yet another nightmare. "Well, what do you want with me?" she decided to ask.

"To help you!" the Ghost replied, her wording and mannerisms becoming more and more like Ruby's. "Come," she said the scythe vanishing in a blink and her left hand extending to Weiss, still sat up in her bed, "and walk with me!"

Weiss gulped. It was painful, but she managed to choke down her fears and extend her hand into the Spirit's. It was soft and delicate, and incredibly warm, as if the Ghost were putting out heat as well as light. The Ghost smiled, the naïve smile of Ruby Rose, and slowly moved back. Weiss cautiously scooted to the edge of the bed and kicked her feet out from under the covers. She stood up, slipping her feet into a pair of fuzzy white slippers, and began to walk on shaking legs as the Ghost led her towards the window. Suddenly, the curtains were pulled, and the window opened, the two sides swinging into the open air. Even with the Spirit's light and warmth, Weiss felt a rapid chill as the freezing air from the snowstorm outside pass over her. She threw her free arm over herself, rubbing her exposed forearm. She stopped to grab the hem of her nightgown and attempt to pull it down further to cover her legs.

"It's cold!" she exclaimed.

"Yes!" the Ghost replied. "But without the cold, you would not appreciate the warmth!"

"I think I could manage," Weiss replied. She then noticed that the Spirit was floating up and out the window, leading her behind.

"Hold on!" Weiss exclaimed, halting and digging her heels into the carpet. "I'm not going out the window! I'll fall! Let me just…" She reached towards Myrtenaster. She could at least try and cast some Glyphs to prevent herself from plummeting. In addition, she did not know what she was being led into, and thought it best to bring a weapon just in case.

"You won't need that," the Ghost said. "Just keep your eyes up and either on me or straight ahead, and you will not fall."

Weiss hesitated, but thought it best to heed the words spoken by an ethereal doppelgänger of Ruby. She nodded and began walking again, stepping up onto the bookcase and onto the ledge. The wind howled and flakes of snow whirled around. Weiss was almost sure the wind would blow her airborne even without a Spirit's help. Even after they had reached the ledge, the Spirit continued walking forward, a trail of rose petals billowing behind her and joining in with the snowy gale. Weiss took a deep breath and, not taking her eyes off the Spirit, stepped forward. She was surprised to feel support under her slipper, not unlike stepping on her Glyphs. It seemed that what the Ghost said was true; as long as she kept looking forward, she would be upheld. Though she was curious to see what power was supporting her steps, she was more cautions and just decided to heed the Spirit's advice. Never looking away from the Ghost's radiant light, she and the Spirit walked a modest distance before the ethereal head turned to Weiss with a cheeky smile.

"Okay, you can let go of my hand now. You're safe."

Weiss found it hard to believe. She had not seen anything in the environment change for the entire duration of their brief stroll. She still was surrounded by flurries of snow and saw a black sky with starts. Despite her worries, she again decided it was best to listen, and released the Ghost's hand.

Her feet were in snow. She blinked a few times, as the world had suddenly gotten brighter. Weiss groaned and rubbed her eyes before she actually paused to realize where they were. As soon as she saw it, she knew exactly where she was. There were large marble columns and ornate windows. She glanced behind her and saw a series of three pillars, all with the snowflake emblem of the Schnee family adorning their tops.

"I'm… back in Atlas?" Weiss asked. She did not understand how they got there. She was standing outside of Schnee Manor. Her home.

She noticed that the archways were decorated with strings of garland and wreathes. Lights were expertly wound around columns and pillars. It was not just Schnee Manor, but Schnee Manor during the Holiday season.

"Take my hand again," the Ghost instruct. Weiss did as she was told, and in an instant was within the walls of her abode and in the main entrance hall. The family emblem stretched far across the blue marble floor, and a white staircase with blue carpet led to a landing stretching off into ornate balconies. On either side of the staircase were massive statues depicting her grandfather's armor, an image she was slightly put off by considering her bad experience with an Arma Gigas Grimm. Weiss had always remembered a strict color scheme of white and various forms of blue, one that she had adapted into her own attire and was honestly something she did not mind. However, now there were splashes of silver in the room as strings of silver and blue tinsel lined the room, hanging from archways and pillars. Wreathes of similarly-colored silver decorated the walls and even the statues, and blue bows and ribbon hung from them. Holly stalks had been carefully placed into the vases and pits lining the area.

Most notably, however, was the large amount of people circulating about. Elegant guests and party-goers, speaking in sophisticated manners to each other. They were not a rare sight for Weiss. One, a woman with large brunette updo, came strolling towards them at a rapid pace.

"Oh, pardon me!" Weiss said, stepping out of her way. The woman gave no reaction as she passed by Weiss without so much as a word.

"These are only the shadows of things that have been," the Ghost of Holiday Past explained. "They cannot see or hear us."

Weiss nodded in understanding and gazed around the busy hall. There were so many guests, and even more in the adjoining dining hall. Somewhere in this hullabaloo was her father, but she could not find him.

"Father has always thrown a lot of parties," Weiss said aloud. "This is no doubt a Holiday party of some sort."

"Yes," said the Spirit, "but there is someone not in attendance."

Weiss nodded. "I can guess who," she muttered.

In a blink, she found herself in yet another familiar location, this one more familiar than any she had ever known. It was probably the location she had spent most of her early life. Her bedroom was incredibly large, with reflective white tile floor and an arched ceiling. A stipe of blue lined the white walls, and a massive window took up almost the entirety of one of them. The window was between two bookcases, and the room was dotted with desks and mirrors and portraits and chairs. A large bed sat against one of the longest walls, surrounded by thin curtains on posts and with eloquent gold trimming. On the bed sat a little girl. She wore a familiar blue and white dress with a dark blue ribbon and bow for a belt, like she herself were a Holiday gift. She wore high socks and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. Her long white hair was done up in a ponytail tied with a similar blue ribbon and bow as her dress, and her light blue eyes had tears running from them and down her fair cheeks.

"I remember this Holiday," Weiss said sadly, walking over to her past self and kneeling down next to her, as if she were going to comfort the child. "I just wanted to go to the party. I wanted to show everyone my new dress. But Father thought I was too young, and that I'd make a mess of something. I remember it didn't bother Winter, and Whitley was still just a baby. But I was crushed." Weiss wiped a tear from her face. She wanted so badly to reach forward and dry the eyes of the one before her, but remembered what the Spirit had told her and held off. She stood back up.

"Let us see another Holiday!" the Ghost said, waving her bouquet of roses.

Weiss blinked again, and suddenly the past version of herself was gone. The lighting changed to a night sky, and she saw flurries of snow against the window. Curious, she looked around, until she saw another version of herself from years past. She was older now, maybe in her early teen years, and was sitting at her vanity putting on some eye liner. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," both Weiss and her past self said in unison. Weiss blushed in embarrassment when she realized what she had done. The Spirit simply smiled.

The door creaked open and Weiss saw the always welcoming and familiar face of Klein Sieben, the Schnee family butler, in the doorway.

"Klein!" the past Weiss said cheerfully as she rose from her seat, placing down her makeup accessories and hurrying over to him. "What are you doing up here?" she said while giving the portly, mustached man a hug. "I thought you'd be attending the party downstairs."

"Yes, about that," Klein said in his friendly voice that warmed Weiss' soul no matter when she heard it. "Your father has requested your attendance."

Weiss remembered this. Even now, she had trouble believing it had happened. She walked closer to the shadows of the past, watching her life unfold in front of her eyes.

"Me?" Weiss' past self asked, dumbfounded.

"Father decided you were old enough to join the throbs of Atlas elite," another voice said. Both Weisses' eyes shimmered as they saw the tall figure of Weiss' older sister Winter step behind Klein, dressed in the uniform of a low-ranking military officer, a rank she had long gown out of by the present.

"Winter!" Weiss said cheerfully. "You were able to get time off!"

"Not really," Winter said, standing at attention and with a faint smile on her lips. "I'm accompanying General James Ironwood and the Ace Operatives, who are attending the party downstairs. Technically I'm on duty, but General Ironwood was able to… pull some strings in the spirit of the day."

"So what's this I hear about Father wanting me to join the party?" Weiss asked again.

"He believes you are old enough now to act proper with the guests," Klein explained. "He wants to show his daughters off to all of Atlas."

"Put on something nice," Winter said, more like a militaristic command than sibling advice. "We'll be waiting for you in the entrance hall."

Weiss watched the guests retreat and the door close. She saw herself clench her hands into fists and quietly squee in happiness as she hurried over to her closet and began to rifle through the clothes for an outfit that would be appropriate for the occasion.

Weiss was about to say something, but blinked again and found her environment once again changed, this time to the entrance hall again. There were guests dressed in regal blacks and whites, with blues and grays mixed in. The decorations were almost exactly the same. They were the same almost every year; the Schnee Manor had a strict color scheme.

Weiss scanned around, guests surrounding her on every side. She looked for a familiar face, then looked to the grand staircase and saw her own. She remembered walking down those stairs, but now was witnessing the moment from an outsider's perspective. She did not like to brag (that was a lie, of course she did), but she thought she cleaned up well in such short notice: an ankle-length shimmering strapless dress, which was colored in an elegant gradient going from snow white to a metallic light blue and a silver trim. Her hair was done up in a long ponytail held down by a small silver tiara, and she had on blue wedge heels. She walked slowly down the staircase, holding onto the banister.

Weiss maneuvered through the sea of partygoers to get closer to the staircase, soon finding herself at the bottom. She saw Winter and Klein waiting for her at the bottom, but also the tall, looming figure of her father, Jacques Schnee, in his usual attire of a white blazer, blue shirt, and white tie. His mustache twitched as she watched Weiss descend the stairs. She reached the bottom and curtsied to her father.

"Thank you for inviting me to join you, Father." Past Weiss said.

"Of course," Jacques said, but in a tone that was more matter-of-fact than compassionate. "You've proven you know how to be a lady. I trust you'll make good on that and uphold the Schnee family name."

"Of course, Father," Weiss said with a little bow.

"Come, Weiss," Winter said, coming up to Weiss and extending her hand. "I'll introduce you around." Weiss took her hand, and was led into the crowd.

Weiss followed herself through the commotion, watching each and every person she was introduced to. She sighed. "I remember how proud I was," she said. "I was finally a part of the family, at least in the public's eye." She winced. "I know now that I was likely only a status symbol, though. Just another reason why the Holiday is such a superficial time of year. A time to pretend when things are something they're not." She glanced away from herself and Winter and saw the Ghost of Holiday Past standing amongst the crowd.

"But you were happy," the Ghost said. "You were happy to be with your family, were you not?"

Weiss shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose, but-"

"Besides," the Spirit interjected, "something else happened this Holiday."

Weiss looked at the Spirit with a puzzled expression before the realization entered her mind. Her confused expression instantly melted into a different one: her eyes had a whimsical, nostalgic shine to them as if her mind were reminiscing about a million things at once, but her expression was one of concern and melancholic surprise.

"No," she said softly. "That was this same year?"

"This same day!" the Spirit said, waving her arm and pointing with her bouquet. "Take a look." Weiss turned to look where the Spirit was gesturing.

"I'd rather not," she said, but her actions said otherwise as she moved slowly through the crowd and over to the far end of the room, closer to the main doors. She maneuvered past a couple and then found herself in a small opening where inside stood five people: her past self, the past Winter, an extremely tall man with dirty blonde hair in a black suit, a short woman with rose hair in a bun, and… him.

"Weiss, I'd like you to meet the Reach family. They run Reach Enterprises out in Mistral," Winter was saying.

Weiss curtsied. "Pleased to meet you," she said.

"Charmed," the tall man, Mr. Adham Reach, said to her.

"Weiss is the heiress to the Schnee Company," Winter said.

"Oh, how lovely," the woman, Mrs. Bianca Reach, said. "Jet here is heir to our company."

Weiss watched the next few moments unfold. Part of her wanted to scream to her past self not to look up from her curtsy, but another part was wanting to experience the moment again, and yet another part was still reeling in confusion.

The past echo of Weiss stood up, her head and eyes raising as she did. When she finished, she found herself staring face-to-face with a young boy about her age. He wore a midnight blue shirt with a silver tie. His dirty blonde hair the same shade as his father's hung short on his head, with a single streak of vibrant blue over his right eye. His wonderful metallic-gray eyes locked on to hers. They both smiled at each other.

"Hi, I'm Jet," the boy said, extending his hand. "Jet Reach."

"Weiss Schnee," she replied, placing her hand in his.

He bowed. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Weiss said, blushing.

They lowered their hands, and began to speak with each other as Winter carefully lead the Reaches away.

"So you're heiress to the SDC?" Jet asked.

Weiss nodded. "I am. And you are an heir yourself?"

It was Jet's turn to nod. "Yes. Truth be told, I've never met another heir or heiress before. It's my first time with my parents socializing at a gathering like this."

Weiss giggled. "Mine too," she said.

All the while, the present Weiss watched as they carried on. She felt the Spirit's presence behind her as she followed herself through the party, where she and Jet got punch together, sat by a window and talked about life and responsibilities, and finally, when the music began in the ballroom, him inviting her to dance. She watched every clumsy step the two of them took as they tried to blend in with the rest of the swirling guests.

"See?" the Ghost said. "You made a friend this night."

Weiss sighed. "I don't know if you even know, Spirit, but it may have been more than that."

The Spirit shrugged the same clueless, playful shrug that Ruby Rose would do in such a situation. "Well, off to another Holiday!"

Weiss sighed again and was about to ask the Spirit to stay just a bit longer, until another realization came over her. This time, her expression was entirely concern.

"Wait," she said. "I think I know what you're talking about."

"Hurry!" the Spirit said. "I do not have much longer."

"Wait!" Weiss yelled, whirling around to face the Ghost. "Stop! No!"

It was too late. The situation changed. Weiss now found herself in the same room, but without people. She turned her head quickly and saw guests in the main hall, leaving the manor. It was another party, but this one was wrapping up. She quickly whirled around, hoping to not see what she expected. However, it was exactly what she thought she would see.

It was herself, a few years older, but not by much. She was dressed in a white dress that resembled a more elegant, more sociable variation of her current combat outfit. It was emblazoned with a large silver Schnee emblem on the back. She had on a brooch that resembled the emblem as well. She was standing straight and looking out the window at the departing guests streaming down the manor driveway.

"No…" Weiss muttered upon seeing her past self. This was a moment she had hoped to forget. This was a few years after the last vision, after her father began to beat into her mind and routine the importance of the Schnee name and company. Upholding it had become her life.

"Ah, Weiss," a voice came. Both Weisses turned to see Whitley Schnee, Weiss' snot-nosed younger brother, enter the room in his white shirt and blue vest. His arms were crossed behind his back. "I didn't see you almost for the whole party."

"That may have been intentional," the echo of Weiss said defiantly. "On both of our parts."

"Oh, come now," Whitley teased. "I think we both know why. You were spending most of it with that Reach boy."

"Maybe," Weiss said, crossing her arms.

Whitley unfolded his arms and laughed mockingly. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "Weiss has a boyfriend! Weiss has a boyfriend!"

"Stop it!" Weiss demanded, uncrossing her arms and stomping her foot.

"Boyfriend!" Whitley mocked.

"You're not only annoying, but you're wrong!" Past Weiss yelled. Present Weiss begged herself to stop speaking, but could not stop herself. "He means nothing to me! All that matters to me is that I uphold the Schnee family name! I have a future to look out for, unlike you! All he is is another business connection!"

Whitley shrugged. "If you say so," he said before crossing his arms behind his back again and skipping out of the room.

Past Weiss grumbled and rolled her eyes as she began making her way to the main hall, hoping to find her father or mother so she could maybe have a word with them about her brother. As she passed the archway between the main hall and ballroom, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye and turned her head to see who it was. She froze in place when she saw Jet.

"Jet!" Past Weiss said.

He looked at her with a hurt, angry expression. His eyes looked more black than gray. Both Weisses hated that look. He huffed and turned, then began to storm towards the door.

"Jet! Wait!" Weiss called, chasing after him.

"Don't follow me!" he yelled back, never stopping or turning around. "After all, I don't mean anything to you! I'm just another business connection!"

Weiss quickened her pace, but could not find the strength to continue when he reached the door and turned his head just once to glare at her. "And Reach Enterprises will have no more business with the Schnee Dust Company, you can count on that!" With that, he stormed out of Schnee Manor and out of Weiss' life.

Weiss walked up behind her past self as they both watched helpless and frozen until Jet was out of sight. She could hear herself sniffling quietly before she suddenly turned on her heel and hurried away and up the stairs, making it about halfway before burying her face in her hands. For the second time, Weiss wished she could wipe away the shadows of past tears.

"Spirit," Weiss said as she felt the warmth and light approach behind her. "Are you showing me all of this just to torture me?"

"No," the Spirit said bluntly.

"Then don't show me anymore," Weiss said, her head hung low. She wiped a tear from her cheek with her arm. "I want to go home."

"You are at your home," the Spirit reminded.

"You know what I mean!" Weiss suddenly screamed, her head raising and her foot stomping. She turned to face the Ghost with watery eyes, her head tilted up as to look right at the Spirit's silver eyes floating above her. "Take me back to Beacon right now!"

The face of the Ghost, Ruby's face, looked at her with pity and melancholy. "These things happened, they cannot be changed. Do not blame me."

"Don't show me anymore!" Weiss hollered, her eyes shutting tight as she stomped her foot like a small child throwing a tantrum. "Leave! Me! Alone!" With her final scream, she felt the warmth vanish and a deathly chill sweep by her legs. Her eyes opened wide and she found herself back in her dormitory room at Beacon, the room and outside still dark. The window was open, and flurries of snow were blowing in at her.

She let out a small gasp, both of surprise and of remorse for having treated the Spirit so harshly, then hurried over to the window, reaching over the bookshelf and out into the cold, grabbing the panes of glass and swinging them shut, pulling the latch to make sure they stayed. The room was silent again. Weiss pulled the curtains closed. She felt exhausted. Without so much as a word, she stumbled overt her bed and climbed under the warm sheets, rubbing her feet together to warm them, and quickly sank into a heavy sleep.