Hello all! Hope you are having/ have had a brilliant Christmas! Thank you so much for the amazing responce I've had to this, I really didn't think it would go down as well as it has.

Anyways, thanks as always to my lovely reviewers, jjsaywat97, EleanorLovett55, sm4567 and Guest. And thanks to all my favouriters and alerters as well :)

Hope you enjoy this last chapter and don't forget to review.

Chapter 3 – Christmas Future

An eerie chill filled the room, causing Sweeney to wake up with a jump. Sitting bolt upright in his bed, he looked around the room, slowly getting up and reaching for the razor he kept on his bedside table. A white mist had settled in the room, covering the floor and ending about knee height. An unnatural grey light lit the room despite there being no candles lit.

Wandering out into the parlour, he jumped violently at the sight in front of him. Stood in the middle of the room was a figure wrapped in a black cloak, the hood pulled up over their face. The same mist that had been in the barbers room circled round the figure threateningly.

"A...are you the ghost of Christmas past?" Sweeney asked, shocked at how unsteady his voice sounded.

The spirit nodded slowly before reaching out a long, grey finger. Sweeney looked at it before flicking his eyes back up to the spirit and back down again. Cautiously, he reached out his hand and took hold of the spirit's finger, a painful chill spreading through his body as soon as his skin made contact with the spirit.

-x-

Glancing round, Sweeney wrapped his thin jacket tighter around himself, the cold from the biting wind and heavily falling snow whipping straight through his clothes to his skin. Something hitting his shin made him look down. A newspaper had blown against his legs. Bending down, he picked it up and looked at the date. The 24th December 1853. Frowning, Sweeney dropped the newspaper and looked up at the spirit who was standing a few paces away from him.

"Where are we?" he asked, not recognising the dark gloomy alleyway where they were currently stood. The spirit simply turned its head to look up the alley. Sweeney followed his gaze, spotting an old woman at the end of the alley and watching as she hobbled towards them, apparently coming towards them.

Sweeney stepped back, pressing his back against the wall. He didn't want anything to do with the woman heading for them. A well dressed man strode past him making him jump. He hadn't even seen him. A few paces in front of him, the man was stopped by the old woman, her hand gripped tightly onto his arm.

"Lookin' fer a woman love?" she asked, her voice hoarse and quiet. The man shook his head quickly and tried to pull away. Her grip on his sleeve was relentless however and she kept hold, "Come on love. A little relief afore yer go 'ome."

Clearly frustrated, the man span round and slapped the old woman across the cheek, making her recoil and stumble away from him. Quickly, the man strode off up the alley, not glancing back once at the woman propping herself up with the wet, cold wall. Stepping closer to her, Sweeney peered round at her worn face. Her skin was a sickly grey and her hair was almost the same colour. Her eyes were hollow and dead looking, like they had seen too much to cope any longer.

Sweeney saw through this however.

Glancing down at her partly exposed neck, he saw what he had dreaded. A dark purple line crossing the length of her pale neck, a red tinge surrounding the swollen mark. Sweeny ran his hands over his face before tangling them in his hair and balling them into fists. He had done this. He had forced his Nellie out of her home to become some cheep street whore.

Looking into her eyes once again, he tried desperately to see that spark, that love and energy for life she'd had ever since he'd known her. It wasn't there. The man that was supposed to be her friend, the man she could have ended up marrying if it weren't for his stupidity, had diminished her spirit. Sweeney felt a tear trickle down his cheek but he didn't care. The woman he loved, had always loved, had been destroyed by his own self importance.

Turning to the spirit he sighed, "And where am I at the moment. Where am I while she's out here like this?" the spirit held out his hand and the barber took it with little enthusiasm.

-x-

Giving himself a moment to get over the dizziness, Sweeney tried to shake off the image of the baker offering herself to some stranger in an alleyway. However the memory was not an easy one to forget and by the time Sweeney's eyes had adjusted to the dark, the memory was still at the front of his mind.

Glancing round, Sweeney could make out very little, the only light coming from the moon reflecting off the snow covered ground. Noticing the spirit wandering away from him, Sweeney jogged to catch up with him, bumping into something hard on the way.

Pausing and rubbing his knees, he bent down to try and see what it was he had run into. Running his hand carefully over the object, he jumped backwards when he realised it was a gravestone. Looking round to find the spirit, he realised it had either got lighter or his eyes had properly adjusted. All around his were rows upon rows of graves. Swallowing hard, Sweeney stepped onto the path before jogging to catch up with the spirit.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, looking round frantically to try and find an explanation. The spirit simply kept on walking, not even turning his head to acknowledge he'd heard the barber talk.

Sighing, Sweeney kept quiet and followed the spirit to the edge of the graveyard, almost walking into him when he stopped abruptly beside a grave set a little way away from the others. The grave was bare with no sign of anyone ever coming to visit. There was not a flower or wreath in sight. The stone was covered in snow, obscuring the name from Sweeney's view.

The barber looked up at the spirit and frowned, "Whose grave is this?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. The spirit reached out his hand slowly and pointed to the stone.

Sweeney stepped forward hesitantly and knelt down in front of it, brushing the frozen snow away from the stone. As soon as it was clear enough to make out a name, he leapt backwards, his hand flying to cover his mouth. "No, it can't be." He said breathily, looking from the spirit to the grave and back again, "How did... I mean... when did..." he stuttered, watching in dismay as the spirit simply pointed to the stone again.

Slowly, he stepped forward again and knelt down, scratching with ice away from the stone with shaking hands. As the last piece of snow fell away, Sweeney allowed himself to read it, his nails digging into his palms the whole time.

Here lies Mr. Sweeney Todd

Barber, husband, father

1808 – 1851

Sweeney sat back on his heels and sighed deeply. 5 years; that's all he had. He would die in five years time. He looked round at the spirit with a pleading look on his face. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, to have answered, but he knew it was no use asking. This spirit didn't seem to speak at all.

Turning back to his grave, he ran a finger over the carving. It was cheaply done, no money being spared at all. Nellie had clearly given up on him by this point. Biting his lip thoughtfully, Sweeney read over the words again. There was no care or thought put into them, making him wonder whether it was Nellie who had even done it. But then who else could it be? She was the only one who cared for him. Or at least, she had done at one point. And then he thought back to the scene previously. 2 years, that's all it was between his death and Nellie ending up on the streets.

Sweeney didn't know how long he'd sat there, but he assumed it must have been a long time due to the stiffness on his knees when he tried to stand up, his trousers sticking to his shins from the damp ground. Turning to the spirit he sighed, not sure what to say. Suddenly, something occurred to him.

"How did I die?" he asked, watching with annoyance when the spirit only offered his hand in response. Sweeney paused before grabbing hold of it roughly, convinced the chill got more severe every time.

-x-

Sweeney didn't need to look twice; he knew exactly where they were. Glancing up at the door to his shop, he realised there were two men stood outside his door. Dashing up the snow covered steps, Sweeney strode along the landing so he could hear their conversation.

"Well she's not going to be up here is she?" The taller of the two said.

The stout red faced man peering through the window turned to the other man and sighed, "Well she's not in her shop is she? So it was worth a try." He said as the pair began to wander slowly back towards the staircase.

"It was such a shame. He was such a good barber." The taller man said.

"Yes he was. Although he did begin to go downhill a few years back. I remember because it was when the baker changed meat suppliers and I commented that both their businesses were going downhill at the same time. He was never the same in himself either, a changed man he was."

"Although he was never much of a talker in the first place." The taller man said as he reached into his jacket for his pocket watch.

"No that is true." The stout man said, "Although he just seemed to fade away didn't he? He got thinner and thinner. Didn't seem to care about anything. It was almost like he wanted to die."

"Malnutrition. That's what the final verdict was." The taller man commented.

"I do feel for the woman. She must have felt responsible in some way."

"Yes. Although a man like that, I doubt anyone would get him to do something he didn't want to." The tall man said with a slight laugh.

"No your right." The other man replied with a smile, "He was a stubborn old thing. Have they had the funeral yet?"

"I do believe so. A small and quiet affair so I understand. Very little in attendance. I suppose the baker wouldn't have had much money for anything grand. She's barely sold a pie in months so I hear."

Sweeney fell back so he could no longer hear what they were saying. He had heard enough. So he had given up. That was how he had died. He'd taken the cowards way out and left Nellie to pick up the pieces. To pay for a funeral she couldn't afford and then to carry on with nothing left. So once again, her fate was sealed by his selfishness.

Turning to the spirit he looked at it with a pleading look. "Please speak to me. Tell me if I can change this, if I can make things better." To Sweeney's dismay, the spirit simply held out his hand. Sweeney bowed his head and took it quietly.

-x-

Sweeney opened his eyes tentatively and looked around the room. He was in his bedroom in his bed. Sitting up slowly, he realised it must be early morning. Pale wintery rays of light were peeking in through his window, basking the room in a crisp light. Sweeney smiled slightly to himself. It must be Christmas day. Pulling back the covers, he climbed out of bed, dressed quickly and strode out into his shop.

The events of the night before still playing through his mind, he dashed over to his vanity and opened the top drawer, pulling out a cloth and a small bottle before making his way quickly out the shop and down the stairs. Unlocking the front door of Nellie shop quickly, he slipped in and closed the door behind him, making his way through into the parlour as quickly but as quietly as he could. When he reached Nellie's bedroom door he paused, his hand hovering over the door handle. How would she react? She hadn't seen all he'd seen the night before. How was he going to explain his sudden change of heart? Or how he mysteriously now knew about her mother forcing the introduction of Albert Lovett to her all those years ago.

Deciding he didn't care and neither would she, he pushed the door open and wandered inside, closing it quietly behind him. Slowly, he stepped closer to the bed before perching on the edge. Reaching out he ran the backs of his fingers over her forehead, withdrawing his hand when she stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly.

When he eyes finally focused on him, she shot across the bed away from him, fear evident in every aspect of her body. "What are you doing here?" she asked huskily, her hand immediately shooting up to her neck.

Sweeney sighed and bowed his head slightly. He'd done this to her. "I came to see to that." He said, nodding his head in the direction of her neck.

Nellie eyes him warily before her eyes came to rest on the little bottle in his hand. Sweeney followed her gaze; he had forgotten about the bottle. "What is that?" she asked.

The barber looked up at her and pated the bed beside him, "It's ointment. It stops infection. A doctor gave it to Lucy once when she fell and cut her hand open." He said, clenching his jaw at the mention of his wife. He wondered whether this had gone unnoticed by the baker. "I really think you should put some on." He said, unscrewing the top.

Nellie paused before scooting across the bed so she was sat closer to him, her eyes fixed on is to make sure he was not lying. Slowly, the barber poured some of the liquid onto the cloth, placing the bottle on the bedside table before turning back to Nellie. Hesitantly, Sweeney reached up and dabbed the cloth on wound, wincing as she hissed in pain. Withdrawing his hand he looked up into her eyes only to find something he did not expect. Love, devotion. Two things he would not have expected to find after everything he had put her through.

Swallowing, he turned back to the job in hand, carefully wiping the ointment over the wound, ensuring he covered the whole area. When he was finished, he placed the cloth on the table next to the bottle before turning back to the baker, finding himself getting lost in her eyes.

There were so many things he found he wanted to say but he couldn't find words for any of them. Cautiously, he reached out a hand and cupped the back of her neck, shuffling closer on the bed and placing his lips softly below her ear. Gently he kissed her cool skin, hearing her gentle sigh next to him. Opening his mouth, he began to suck softly before moving along her jaw and to her lips. Slowly, he brushed his lips over her parted ones, causing her to bring her arms up around his neck, using him to hold herself steady. Sweeney felt her hands tangle in his hair, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck sending shivers down his spine.

Reaching out, he wrapped one arm around her waist before running his other hand up and down her side, his lips moving slowly against hers. Breaking away for air, he sat back to look in her eyes. To his surprise they were full of unshed tears. Reaching up, he brushed one away as it trickled down her pale cheek.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbled as another tear seeped from the corner of her eye, "I'm so so sorry." He said, leaning in and latching his mouth to the spot below her ear again. Gently, he pushed her back on the bed, his arms still wrapped round her tightly. His lips travelled back to her lips, kissing her passionately as he moved his body over hers, propping himself up on his elbows.

Leaning all his weight on one hand, he ran his free one down her side before trailing it down one leg, running it back up slowly and pushing her nightgown out the way in the process. Slowly he pulled it up over her head, revealing her to him at last. Moving down, Sweeney pressed light open mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, being careful to avoid her wound. He felt her hands leave his shoulders and he paused to look up at her, only to find her unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it away from him. Helping her, he threw it behind them, quickly ridding himself of his trousers and underwear at the same time. Leaning down, he captured her lips with his once again before finally giving into what he knew he had wanted since their first kiss.

-x-

Sweeney stirred when he felt Nellie shift closer to him. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked down at the woman curled up against his side and smiled. Her hair was a mess, sprawled out across his chest and the pillow, her mouth was open slightly and she was snoring gently. But he didn't care. He loved her, he always had, and he would show her that.

Closing his eyes he leaned back against the pillow and sighed, thinking back over the night previously. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure it hadn't been a dream but he was beyond caring. It had showed him what was right in front of him and for that he was grateful. It may not have put him off his revenge, but now it was not for the death of Lucy, but for his fifteen year imprisonment. He wanted the judge dead for shipping him off to Australia on a made up charge.

Nellie stretching against him made him open his eyes again and look down at her. She was awake, her head tilted up to look at him. "Morning." She mumbled, a sleepy smile on her face.

Sweeney found himself smiling, genuinely smiling, something which he had not done in a long time. "Morning. Happy Christmas." He replied, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

A broad smile spread across her face, "I forgot it were Christmas!" She said, her eyes lighting up. Sweeney shook his head and smiled fondly at her, "Der yer want yer present now or later" She asked, the question surprising the barber.

Sweeney swallowed and looked down at her awkwardly, "I'm... I'm afraid I haven't got you anything." He said, squeezing her side slightly as he said it.

Nellie smiled and shook her head. "Yes yer did." She said before stretching up and placing a soft kiss on his lips, "Just yer bein' 'ere is good enough fer me."

Hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review!