The Angel's Song

by TerRaine and Sloth

Welcome to Christmas...please keep your hands, feet, tails, wings and various appendages inside the car at all times. And PLEASE don't feed the angels.

3. Chapter 3

"So, Rob got you with the mashed potatoes, huh?" Savior later asked.

"Huh?" Robin blinked.

"The gunk on your hair," the white-haired man motioned.

"Oh. This?" Robin said tiredly. "No. This is the turkey."

Noel stared.

"…I'm going to go take a shower now."

And so it was that the following days came to pass. Light into night and then once more, bringing the entire world to that exciting night of the twenty-fourth. The smells of a roast and sausage stuffing wafted from the kitchen in which Sophie and Tara preformed their assigned duties, allowed in once more, under Ryce's tyrannical rule— though apparently, a nervous breakdown had given their younger chef a gentler hand.

"EUREKA!" came a shriek from down the hall, making both women jump nearly a foot in the air. They looked towards the doorway warily and then back to each other.

"…I…really don't want to see what she did," Sophie whispered as the scream was being followed by maniacal laughter.

Terra nodded in quiet agreement, even as she removed her oven mitts and placed them on the counter. By the time they reached the hall, the other Titans – having heard the scream – had also accumulated out of masochistic curiosity.

"What did she do?" Tim sighed, looking at the closed door.

"No one knows…she's been running between the kitchen and this room since Noel brought her home from the police station," Terra informed him.

Sophie nodded, coming up beside her alien boyfriend, "She keeps taking whatever it is she's making in there with her, piece by piece."

"…my bet is a bomb," Robert said as he gave a sage nod.

Whatever the other bets may have been, they were never voiced as the locked door gave a loud click before flying open. The knob slammed into the wall with nearly enough force to dent it, revealing one, Alaryce Gallagher, hair sticking up in a wild mess. The gathered flinched at the sight of the impossible, wide rictus grin on her face. She gripped the doorframe and leaned out towards them, tilting her head like the Disney version of the Cheshire cat.

"I did it," she purred out at them.

"I am so very sure I will regret this," Raven sighed, "But did what exactly, Ryce?"

All she could seem to do was smile and swing her form in and out of the doorway, balancing herself on the frame, "It."

Without another word, Ryce ducked back into the dark room, leaving the door open in what they had to assume was an invitation inside. All granting one another cautious looks of worry they filed in. Soon they were all standing together in the dark, their only light coming from the hall.

And then the door slammed shut.

"Aaaand we're all gonna die," Robert sighed, "I really was hoping I wouldn't die at the hands of five-foot-nothing asthmatic teenager in the middle of a Holiday-inspired psychotic break."

"I would think you would be more worried dying a virgin," Tara observed.

"Oh, you are just precious," he grumbled into the dark.

"Shhhhhh," came Ryce's oddly eerie whisper.

And then there was light, but not light from the fixture overhead.

Tiny LED glows flooded the table that they had not seen due to the blackness. So many of them in fact that the room itself seemed to glow, revealing a display of gingerbread that expanded from one end of the room to the other.

Ryce had built Jump City out of gingerbread.

"Eeeeeeeee!" she squealed shrilly bouncing excitably on her heels. Her gaze kept darting from the to-scale recreation of their city to the shocked expression of her teammates, "Well! What do you think!"

Several of them winced away from her, cringing at the volume and shrillness of her voice. Regardless of that, the cookie-composed city was indeed beyond impressive. Tiny stores and apartment buildings were carved into the cookie faces with meticulous care, hundreds upon hundreds of tiny candy windows glowing with the light of the LED lights she had installed inside them. Drifts of powder sugar 'snow' littered the landscape, peppered with delicate sugar spun trees that almost looked to be made of glass. She had even included the bay, the blue color of the textured sugar an almost perfect match. Tiny sugar waves lapped up unto a cookie island and the large T-shaped building it housed.

"I am not sure if we should be enrolling you in a culinary school or a mental institution," Robin said, his tone betraying just how impressed he was.

"Tha's not ALL!" she reported at a near yell, producing a box filled with little people shapes. Dipping her hand into the rows, she pulled out what was clearly a tiny Robin. On further inspection, they could see the box was filled with all of their tiny cookie selves, each drawn on with painstaking detail in royal icing.

"These are awesome," Robert observed, looking through the box before glancing up to see her smiling forcibly at him, "Um…are you okay?"

Her head tilted slightly, "YEA WHY!"

The others looked over in shock, Nigel stepping forward and raising his hand to catch her attention, "Ryce…do you know how…well…LOUD you are being?"

"No…" her voice came out at nothing more than a whisper, "I haVEN'T slept IN three DAYS!"

"…mental institution it is," Raven replied, not looking up from her observation of the cookie city. Ryce seemed to find this unbelievably funny and began to giggle hysterically, quickly gripping the cookie box that her laughter was disturbing. Eyes widening, the alien doctor quickly removed it from her hands allowing them to come up and cover her snickering, hiccupping mouth. His worried glance fell from her to the cookies that reflected their miscellaneous appearances…along with someone else's.

"…why on earth would you make a Lord of the Night cookie?" Nigel asked her, staring at her with wide eyes.

"It would have been rude not to!" she said with that unbalanced grin, "I sent him a Christmas present too!"

"You WHAT!" Noel yelled reeling on her, "You know where he hides?"

Ryce gave a high-pitched giggle and waved him off, before returning to playing with her creation, "HAH! Nooooooo…I put it in the mail! To: The Lord of the Night, 666 M'a PYSCHO Lane!"

And then she was back to that laughing.

---

"…Master…is that a Christmas present?" Marissa asked.

"…yes," The Lord sighed rubbing his head in annoyance, "A fruitcake."

He read the tag out loud, "Love, Alaryce, Adam and…who the hell is Patricia?"

---

"Aaaand I think little Ryce needs a nap," Sophie said quietly, staring at the still giggling teenager in worry.

So concerned over their friend's clear exhaustion and the effect it was having upon her mental state, no one noticed as two of their number slipped quietly from the room. Victor's internal alarm had blared, and a single glance had caught Garfield's attention.

Time to move.

---

A cold wind bit at the Titans some forty minutes later. Their hidden position, even with its rather closed-in environment, did little to nothing to shield them from the freezing gust. Garfield gave a violent shiver, tugging his coat around his lithe frame all the more tightly.

"Dude…who's lame idea was it to mess with the weather again this year," he complained bitterly.

"Yours," Cyborg snapped a bit more harshly than he probably intended, "Couldn't just have a dusting…you and Star and Rob insisted on a white Christmas."

"…Oh yea," Beast Boy blushed a bit and ducked his head with the memory. In an attempt to distract himself, he looked down to his COM, flipping it open to check the time, "Fifteen minutes late…aw man…where IS this guy?"

"Suppose this is a bad time to say 'I told you so' about the timing, huh?"

A flat glare was Cyborg's only answer, proving his attempts at making light of this were crashing and burning quite horribly, "Sorry…listen, if he's not here in five minutes, you go and get your necklace and I'll wait."

Even before he was completely finished, the agitation was bleeding out of the green shifter's face as he shook his head, "Don't be stupid. I wouldn't just leave ya behind. But…you don't think Ryce's dad is jerking us around, do you? Some sort of weird angel holiday joke?"

"Nope!"

"How do you know?" Garfield frowned at his quick and unquestioning response. Cyborg glanced at him before nodding his head forward.

"Because he's walking right towards us."

And so he was, Garfield discovered. Completely enshrouded in a long trenchcoat and large hat, it was impossible to see the courier's face. He moved without hesitation…with purpose. Soon he was nearly right beside them, still not quite seeing them.

Cyborg broke the silence, "You him?"

"Him who?" the man asked clearly, keeping his face ducked. There was something of amusement in his tone.

"The Mage Po'tse Mag," Beast Boy supplied before his teammate had the chance. There was no mistaking the amusement this caused the shrouded man this time: hell, he was actually laughing at them.

"Wow…just wow," he chuckled, "That's cute. Yeah, sure. That's me alright. You both Ryle's boys, then?"

He did not wait for them to answer that. Instead, he reached into his jacket, letting out another low laugh when both Titans visibly tense, "Lighten up, guys. Ryle knows how it goes…tell him it's just like the last one."

The package was small…no bigger than a medium sized book. In what the Mage perhaps thought was a witty touch, it had been wrapped in festive paper and a large bow placed in its center. He tossed it to Garfield with an air of carelessness that made the two young men nearly fall over suffering from heart attacks before the box landed with a quiet thud into the shifter's hands, the breath that Beast Boy did not even know that he had been holding finally released as he looked back up.

The Mage was already making his way down the pier, his back to them.

"Wait!" Cyborg called after him, "Now what?"

"Now what?" Po'tse Mag called back with another bark of laugher, "You two are the delivery boys! Go deliver!"

"That seemed…odd," Beastboy muttered, looking at the man disappear into the night. "You don't think it's a trick, do you?"

"If it is, it's Azrael's problem," Cyborg replied, taking the box with him slowly and peering at it. "I'd scan it, but I doubt I could see anything…But we can be sure it's not fragile, since the jerkwad mage just threw it at us. We won't have to walk on eggshells all the way back. At the very least, that's good to know…"

"Um… Vic?" Beastboy called.

Cyborg stared at the box cautiously for a few more seconds, "huh?" the man started, as if coming out of a trance. Whatever was inside, he realized, held some sort of power over him and he didn't like thinking about what that could mean. They needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. "What is it?"

"Is he coming back?" Beastboy asked, pointing.

Cyborg followed his signal, peering ahead.

Indeed, the dark form of the courier was rushing back towards them, his trenchcoat and hat shielding him to the cold winds.

Cyborg raises his hand to call out…but stopped, for some reason. Something was nagging at him. Something…wasn't right.

Something that clearly escaped Beast Boy's notice, apparently, because he didn't hesitate. "Hey!" he called to the figure, drawing his attention. "What's wrong? Something we should know about?"

The shadowed figure paused its stride for a second, and then rushed forward, at a quicker pace.

And then it dawned on Cyborg: The courier had been taller, and not quite as stocky, a limp in his step he hadn't noticed before had become far more pronounced when the man rushed.

This wasn't the courier.

"B!" Cyborg hisses, pulling his friend back, ignoring his yelp of surprise. Gears shifted, and the soft hum of the sonic cannon filled the air just as the man reached them, pausing once it was trained on him.

Under the fluorescent light, Cyborg started to think that he may have been a little to trigger happy. The man squinting at the light before him appeared to be a homeless person – an older, exceptionally dirty man, using his hairy hands to shield his eyes from the brightness. An unkempt, thick beard matted with dirt and other unpleasant things covered most of his face, which was perhaps a blessing given his less-than-flattering features.

There was also the stench.

Beast Boy seemed the most repulsed by the last one, but Cyborg schooled his face into detached seriousness. "Sir, what are you doing here?" he asked, cannon still aiming.

The man moved around erratically, making odd, undecipherable noises under his breath. He made vague motions towards them, uselessly.

Cyborg frowned, "Sir?"

The man flailed his arms more frantically, trying to convey some sort of message.

"…Vic," Beast Boy muttered quietly.

"I see it," Cyborg muttered back. The trenchcoat and hat… they weren't similar. They were the same ones the courier had worn.

The only difference was that these had large stains that looked black under the cannon's blue light, and that Cyborg suspected would be red otherwise.

"…nnnngggghhh…"

The Titans tensed at the sound coming from the man before them.

"…giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiveeee… uuuuuuuussssssssss…" he hisses in a clipped, hissing tone, struggling to spit out the words as if not used to the language.

Beast Boy shuddered at the tone, but steeled his shoulders. "What are you, Gollum?"

But the man was no longer listening, nor looking at either of them. His eyes were only for one place: The box in Cyborg's hand.

"…GGGGIIIVvvvee… uuuUUUuusss!" he hissed once more, a clear threat in its tone now. As he spoke, the pupils on his eyes grew and dilated impossibly, overtaking the white with a watery sheen to it – like the eyes of a fish.

"No," Cyborg said gravely, opening a compartment on his leg and quickly dumping the box in.

In retrospect, he could have been more cautious about it, as with an angry cry, the man lunged for him.

"Cyborg!" Beastboy cried, leaping for his friend, already in mid-transformation.

He needn't have bothered, as the man went flying courtesy of Cyborg's high-powered kick, sending him crashing along the concrete.

"I'm ok," Cyborg snapped, stumbling to his feet, only to fall down as his leg caught on something.

Cursing, he looked down to see that a…pink, spongy rope had wrapped around it, the tip of it seizing the box and dragging it back in a flash like a wet snake, retreating into the man as he slowly stood up.

Into his mouth.

"…Sick, dude!" Beast Boy groaned.

The creature – because it could no longer be called a man – gave a wicked, triumphant smile and turned heel, running off.

"After him!" Cyborg yelled. A green cheetah ran past him before he was even finished speaking, leaving him quickly in the dust.

Cyborg frowned at that, "I have got to get a jetpack or something…"

The creature limped into the night, going faster than thought possible for something in such condition.

It was all pointless against the fastest known land mammal in the planet, but the effort was commendable nonetheless.

The green bison – Beast Boy transformed after picking up enough momentum – rammed into his back and crushed him into the ground, pinning him there even as he gave mad shrills and struggled.

"Oh no, you don't," the green hero growled. "I'm tired of putting up with this crap and I'm not going to be late to the store because of some little no-name monster, now give me that bo-"

The thing spat on him.

"Ughhhh!" Beast Boy screamed, stumbling backwards on reflex. "It's all yellow and… chunky! How is it chunky!"

The being let out a hyena laugh and scampered off, but not before the half-blind shapeshifter saw the box in his hand and dove for it, dragging him down along.

What followed was probably the wussiest heroic epic battle in history, as both hero and villain struggled and rolled around together, each trying to pry the box from the other.

Which was certainly Cyborg's cue to catch up.

"…Er… B?" He called out.

"He's stronger than he looks!" Beast Boy, now a gorilla, defended. "And I'm afraid to pull too hard and break the box! Hit him with the cannon!"

"I can't! I'll hit you!"

The creature garbled angrily at Beast Boy, spittle and snot flying from its mouth.

"FIND AN OPENING THEN!" a thoroughly disgusted gorilla whined.

"Or…!"

And then the creature was ripped from Beast Boy, giving a surprised hiss as he was held by the back of the trenchcoat like a child. Beast Boy reverted to human form at that, having somehow managed to retain the box. "Phew…"

"Hah," Cyborg grinned at his prisoner. "Not so tough now, huh, litt-?"

He spat at him.

"…Yeah, he does that," Beast Boy muttered, standing.

Cyborg stared at him.

Seconds later, a thick, dense beam of pure raw, blue power carried the creature into the nearest abandoned warehouse, which then collapsed upon itself, burying him.

"…Geez, Vic," Beast Boy blinked, "The little guy wasn't that bad. Isn't that a little bit of an overkill-?"

"NO," he growled. "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

They turned to leave.

"Si'nari vi na ot'afiesta xinctoria."

The words made them pause in their steps. And then the sounds of shifting rock and dust made them turn.

"What the…" Cyborg goggled.

The creature had discarded the trenchcoat, pushing the tons of rubble away with worrying ease, and stood in a slouch, naked. Cyborg and Beast Boy were witness to this disturbing show only for a second, before his form started shifting.

He grew taller, black hair and fur growing all over his body as one of his knees snapped forward long with his jaw, fangs protruding from its mouth on synch with ram's horns and tail. The demonic faun stood before them, darkness fogging at his legs – one cloven, one humanlike and clawed – and taking the form of a straw-bag on his back, filled with cruel-looking birch rods, and dark, rusted chain around its wrists, snapping against the ground like whips.

Its fish eyes blinked through double eyelids at them, tilting its head. "Nirund'ai kja Krampus luyron."

"…Holy crap," Beast Boy said.

"I liked him better when he wasn't a homey," Victor scowled, aiming his cannon again. "…Wow, if I wasn't black, how racist would that be?"

The beam of light that somehow was sonic raced again at the monstrosity, who lifted its left hand in a sweeping gesture, mad a rippling motion of his fingers, drawing his hand towards his mouth and ate the beam.

….He ate it.

He ate the beam.

"…That," Cyborg said with wide eyes, "is incredibly unfair."

Beast Boy said nothing, opting instead to change into a grizzly bear, growling.

"Kontui nunda THE BOX!" the monster demanded, stomping his foot harshly against the ground. The concrete cracked.

The pair looked at each other for one second, and then back.

"No."

---

"We should have said 'yes'," Beastboy groaned, leaning against the wall on his hiding spot inside an old tool shed. His outfit, while not destroyed was covered in cuts and slashes, angry-red surface cuts beneath them.

Cyborg sat next to the window and kept a look out, his armor filled with small dents and near cracks. "I can't believe we're running away from a glorified monkey," he grumbled, looking around the shed for any makeshift weapons – his cannon may be useless, but they had learned that physical attacks were, at the very least, more of an inconvenience to their enemy.

"Monkeys are vicious," Beast Boy replied, pushing himself to his feet. "What the hell is that thing anyway? Who carries around birch rods?"

"Demons, I'd say," Cyborg replied distractedly. He had to be thankful for Azrael's choice of delivery place: The abandoned lot of warehouses was…well, abandoned. With the collateral damage the fight had caused so far, he was thankful that at least no one was getting hurt, nor were they drawing any attenti—"B! He's coming!"

Beast Boy quieted down and moved over next to him, peering outside.

The potential demon scouted the area before them, limping along with its mismatched legs and his grotesque tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth, tasting the air like a snake: that's how he tracked them. He turned his head this way and that, slowly hovering closer to the shed.

Cyborg had armed himself with all the weapons available to him, here meaning 'old gardening tools', and braced himself, moving towards the door. He looked at his best friend, silently asking if he was ready.

Beast Boy nodded, shifting into a tiger.

By now, the monster was moving directly towards them, so Cyborg kicked at the door with all his might, sending it soaring at him.

"NOW!"

Their enemy saw the door bearing down on him, and slapped it aside with a lazy flick of its chains…only to reveal Cyborg, swinging down a leaf rake.

"Tin nioron h'hevak natou! Q'otrik wuna SK'LLAS'DANE!" the monster roared angrily, using its chain as some form of defense, managing to absorb the impact, but leaving himself completely open to the tiger's lunge.

He hissed in agony when the great hunter's claws tore into him, and his tongue lashed out to wrap around Beast Boy's neck, pressure cutting of his oxygen almost instantly and forcing him to let go.

Pressing on the advantage, the hairy beast tightened its slimy grip, before Cyborg got him in the face with his weapon, making it scramble away.

"I know it's the season of giving," Cyborg yelled as he struck away, "but I think I'd prefer to rake in your pain!"

"…WHAT?" Beast Boy shouted in between gasps for breath.

"Hey, neither Gauntlet or Metatron are here," Cyborg called back, not slowing, "someone's gotta to the quips!"

"I'm right here!"

"Oh yeah, like that's mattered since The Epic of Gauntl-" but the Author's refusal to break the Fourth Wall was too strong, as the battered rake finally exploded into a million splinters from its violent usage, "-oh, SHI-"

That was all Cyborg managed to get out – conveniently censoring his inappropriate wording as well – before he was head-butted into the ground, the thing giving a mad war cry as it returned the favor tenfold, his powerful arms hammering into his backs like a drum, dozens more of the tiny dents forming in less than three seconds.

"Cyborg!" Beast Boy, morphing into a hunting hound and pouncing onto the demon's back, clamping down on its neck.

Screaming, the thing flailed and tried to pry him off while Cyborg was left to recover, but Beast Boy held on strong and it couldn't get a proper hold…that is, until it, instead, pulled out one of its birch rods.

Beast Boy's eyes widened and he jumped away just in time for the creature to hit himself on the back, enraging him as much as hurting him.

Reverting to human form for better footing, Beast Boy was not ready for his opponent's mad lashing out, and was unable to duck the knee that sank into his gut, bending him over it as the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

The demon roared triumphantly, raising his rod to Beast Boy unprotected back with a wild grin, and…struck.

The changeling's eyes widened in as much surprise as pain. "O-OW!"

Cackling, his captor struck again, and again and again.

"OW! OW—HEY! STO—OW! OW, OW! SON OF A B—OW! STO—I SAID STOP!"

The last word came out as an animalistic roar, as red flooded the 'boy's vision and he transformed into the savage, gargantuan beast that took over during moments of extreme duress: The Beast Within. The Primal hunter.

Primal roared angrily, his hand seizing the demon's entire head like a baseball and bringing it up close to him.

Even he seemed surprised by the beast bearing his fans at him.

"Tatuini…?"

CRACK!

The devastating punch thundered throughout the battle site, the demon flying in a wide arch before crashing into a building – also abandoned – nearly a mile away.

"B!" Cyborg called, limping over.

Primal snapped his head towards him, a rumbling growl coming from him.

"Whoa!" Cyborg said, raising his hands. "B, it's me. It's Victor."

The hulking mass of muscle before him hesitated…but then he was shrinking back to human, gasping for breath. "Ugh…"

"What happened?" Cyborg asked worriedly.

"What happened?" Beast Boy snapped. "That thing spanked me!"

Cyborg stopped moving entirely and stared, incredulously. "Say what?"

"That thing!" Beast Boy stammered, going red with indignity, "It spanked me! What the hell kind of perverted thing are we fighting?"

Cyborg stared. "…The Krampus."

"Huh?"

"That thing's the Krampus!"

"What the hell is a Krampus?"

"It's-"

But the roar caught their attention, and they both turned to see their demon enemy rushing towards them, angry.

"It's a Christmas legend!" Cyborg replied, getting ready.

"This thing's about Christmas?" Beast Boy cried. And then blinked. "We're fighting an evil Christmas entity? Again?"

"It's a demon!" Cyborg explained, picking up his old weapons as his mechanical eye shined the way Beast Boy knew meant he was scanning the internet. "Christmas demon, according to legend he's partners with Santa, and while Santa gave gifts to good kids, the Krampus punished the evil ones, spanking them, beating them. Hell, apparently Austria has a tradition to dress up as him to scare children!"

"…What the hell is wrong with Austrians?" Beast Boy could only think to ask, turning into a Big Foot as the Krampus bore down on them. "…Wait, if he's real, does that mean Santa's r-?"

"Don't tell Ryce."

"Right."

And then they were both forced to duck as the black hairball of Christmas lunged for them.

"But we're heroes!" Beast Boy protested. "We're not evil!"

"Not children eithe—oof!" Cyborg yelped as the demon's tongue wrapped around his ankle and swept him off his feet, the box falling off its compartment.

The Krampus dove for it.

"Ack! B! Hot potato!" Cyborg yelled, kicking the box away, where Beast Boy caught it and jumped out of reach.

Their enemy turned towards him, growling, but Cyborg pulled him back.

"Oh, Mr. Krampus, I know you've been a Grinch for the longest time, but I'm sure if we hit hard enough, we can dig up some Christmas spirit!" he yelled, breaking a shovel over his head.

"Don't start that again!" Beast Boy moaned.

"I'm distracting him so he doesn't go after the box!" Cyborg defended through clenched teeth, his friend looking momentarily ashamed. "Let's you and I bury the hatchet!" he grinned, swinging a mud-crusted hatchet.

Beast Boy's shame died, "that one doesn't even make sense!"

He winced when the Krampus, this time ready, smacked the weapon away with a malevolent grin.

But Cyborg was ready too. "No, huh? Then looks like it's curtains for you!" he announced, throwing a tattered old curtain over the entity, blinding it.

Beast Boy just groaned as their resilient enemy fought his way out of the cloth.

What greeted him was the sight of Cyborg standing over him, with a garden hoe in each hand.

And then he was being beaten with them, "HOE, HOE, HOE!"

"Oh my god, Cyborg, just shut the HELL up!"

Cyborg grinned at him, clearly having more fun than he should have, "Man, these hoes are some baaaaad motherfuc-"

"Shut your mouth!" Beast Boy replied automatically.

"I'm just talking about hoes!"

"T'hu Krampus dig it!" The Krampus roared, viciously lashing out with a length of chain and almost imbedded itself into Cyborg's chest, sending him crashing back with a surprised scream.

"Oh god, this thing likes Shaft!" Beast Boy said, stupefied at the absurdity of it all.

"We're going to DIE!" Cyborg moaned in response. "I'm also out of weapons!"

"At least it's not all bad ne—Cy!" Beast Boy yelped, throwing the box at him just as the Krampus tackled him into the ground.

Cyborg caught it and moved to help.

"Wait!" Beast Boy shouted, struggled with the powerful Christmas… demon, "Cy, wait! You know this thing right? What are its weaknesses?"

"I only know of it in passing!" Cyborg replied, "Kinda hard to surf the net while fighting!"

"In case you haven't noticed," Beast Boy strained, wrestling one of its rods from it and pushing it away. "I'm doing the fighting! I got this! Research!"

"J'ill no tama II yDtu lalC," the Krampus hissed.

"Right back at you!" Beast Boy spat before lunging, brandishing the rod like Excalibur.

Cyborg hesitated, but complied.

"Anytime now!" his friend shouted, quickly realizing the folly of using the Krampus' own weapon against him.

"…No weaknesses!"

"What?"

"I don't know, I can't find any anywhere! He's a Christmas thing to scare children, he's pretty much invincible!"

The demon cackled.

"Fantastic, boosting the other's team morale," Beast Boy growled, taking the opportunity to kick him in the face as an orangutan, and stalk around him as a puma. "What do we know about this thing?"

"Well, he's an expert on torture."

"Of course."

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, I'm the technology guy! All I have is all these Wikipedia articles about what he can do, how he punishes children, and how he sometimes takes the really bad ones and opens the gates of Hell, to drag them with him! That's…literally…everyt…"

Silence fell on the lot, as both Beast Boy and the Krampus turned to look at him.

"…Cyborg," Beast Boy said, as a massive grin bloomed into the demon's face. "…You are the biggest moron I've ever met."

And then the air was getting colder, and a slight pull caught them both.

Eyes wide, they turned to the Krampus, to find his watery eyes wide with excitement, carrying his strawbag like a missile launcher…as a tiny, grey light lit up at the bottom of it, and a breeze colder than any winter brushed past them, seeping into their very bones.

"…Crap!" Cyborg cried, arming his cannon and forgetting it did nothing, as a terror so primal that had been there, all his life, in the back of his head, roared to life and demanded that he flee, escape, leave his friend behind and run.

But even if Victor Stone would have been willing to do that, the pull suddenly became all powerful, like a switch – as if it had been waiting for the thoughts to enter his head before denying them.

"No!" Cyborg screams as he was dragged, and he tried to claw out, to escape. "B! B! Transform into a bird! FLY!"

But Beast Boy too was being dragged, and Cyborg knew it was with the same absolute grip that held him, the same undeniable certainty that they weren't escaping. The same hushed voiced, whispering incomprehensible nothings to their ears, shaking them to their very souls, and the same feelings of fingers, barely touching, but all the same exploring every part of their bodies… identities… existence…

They met eyes. "…I'm sorry," Cyborg croaked out.

Beast Boy swallowed. He nodded.

They couldn't have heard it.

But the Krampus was laughing at them.

And then it was over, and the Titans were flat on their backs on the cool – but warm, so impossibly warm – snow, on the abandoned lot. Alive. Safe.

It hadn't worked, whatever the Krampus had tried to do.

And then they sat up, looking around in confusion and ignoring the wetness around their eyes. They could no longer remember how the presence of that place had made them feel…but they knew what it had been.

The Krampus stood there, still holding his bag, and looking flabbergasted.

Between him and the Titans, stood… a child. A little girl sucking on a candycane, wearing a pink winter jacket, and a fox-ear black cap as she stared up at the creature, who stared back, unsure.

"Whatchu doin'?" she asked.

The Krampus frowned, putting his bag down, and tried to wave her away. She didn't move.

"You're kind of ugly," she pointed out. "My mommy's makeup kit can help!" she produced a large case, filled with… makeup stuff, I don't know. "C'mon! I'm going to make you pretty!"

"Kid," Cyborg stammered, finally catching his breath, "get away from here."

She turned to him, large blue eyes studying him curiously, before giggling. "Toaster," she whispered under her breath.

"It's dangerous," Beastboy tried, shakily standing.

The Krampus sprang to life, his chains flying towards the green man…and also towards the girl as a result.

"NO!" Cyborg yelled, trying to protect her even as Beast Boy ducked.

He didn't make it in time. He had to watched as the chain touched the girl's head…and instantly reflected back at Krampus, hitting him square in the forehead.

"…buh?" Cyborg and Beast Boy said.

The girl giggled, unbothered. "Tickles!"

The Krampus looked hurt…but not surprised. Annoyed, like he had been expecting that to happen. Once again, he made obvious motions to shoo away the girl, get her to leave.

She just smiled widely at him.

The Krampus scowled, "Yu wick'wend tah'ranta 'lariss cantuga fel."

"That's not a nice thing to say," the girl pouted.

"What the hell is going on?" Beast Boy demanded, shaken, and so, so tired.

The Krampus growled and lashed out at him again.

Eyes wide, the green hero did the first thing he thought off: He picked up the 5-year-old girl and held her up in front of him, as a shield.

The chained bounced off harmlessly, and the Kampus said some…very unkind things.

"B!" Cyborg yelled, scandalized.

"Hey, it sounded like a good idea! And it worked!" Beast Boy defended, looking down at the girl. "…Hey, can this guy hurt good children?"

"I'm a girl," the child said.

Cyborg stared at her, and at the Krampus, who looked like he'd been caught on some sort of ponzi scheme. "…well, he doesn't. Didn't think that he couldn't."

Beast Boy frowned…and then walked up to the Krampus, holding the child.

"Careful, B," Cyborg warned.

Nodding, Beast Boy held her up to the demon.

…It shifted away uncomfortably.

"Unbelievable," Beast Boy shook his head tiredly, and then addressed the girl. "…Sweetie? Can you tell him to go away?"

The girl blinked up at him, and then turned to the creature. "…K," she reached over and kissed his forehead. "Bye!"

The Krampus stared. And then fell to his knees, vanishing in an unceremonious 'poof'.

"…Unbelievable!" Beast Boy repeated, releasing the breath he had been holding. In his hands the five year-old dangled, lifting up her small hands to pop the candy cane into her waiting mouth. Despite the chaos and violence, the tiny tot managed to look bored. A few snowflakes drifted up with the wind to spiral about the silent trio, their eyes peering suspiciously into the quiet night. No sign of the hairy horned monstrosity rearing its ugly head up from the shadows. A sigh of relief that had been held fell from both their lips.

"…you tell NO ONE that I hid behind a five-year-old," Garfield grumbled, casting a dark look to his teammate.

"You can hide behind a whole NURSERY full of five-year-olds for all I care, B. So long as we don't get thrown into the fiery pits of Hell," Cyborg said before straightening up from leaning on the cool metal of his knees. A curious look came over his face in the next instant as he turned to look at the green changeling in confusion.

"What, in the name of God, is a five-year-old doing wandering through an abandoned shipyard by herself on Christmas Eve?"

Eyes widening, Garfield glanced down to the still dangling child. Gently, he turned the girl to face him, her large blue eyes twinkling at him in quiet disinterest for her predicament. From beneath her fox-eared, black, woolen cap, a few strands of wispy blond hair were poking out. The puffy arm of her coat and a tiny mitten flew up to offer the Titan her half-sucked-away candycane.

"S'chocolate mint!" she quipped.

"Um…sweetie?" Victor started, "Why are you out here by yourself?"

She smiled softly at the two – and dear God if they did not KNOW that smile from somewhere. When she spoke, it came out in a quiet hushed whisper, yet they heard it clearly over the moaning wind, "M'your guardian angel, of course. Sent from on high to protect you this Christmas Eve."

They stared in quiet shock and perhaps some level of questioning awe, Garfield whispering, "…really?"

And then her tiny features twisted into a bored-looking scowl as her eyes rolled sarcastically in her little head, "No, you jackass. M'takin' a shortcut with my daddy. Now put me down! M'gonna be late for the doorway home!"

An embarrassed blush flared across both the young men's features as they set the blond child back down unto the snowy pier. Yanking roughly away from them, she looked back to shake her head in what seemed to be disgust.

"I'm a bit unclear on how this brat is not on that thing's 'naughty' list," Beast Boy grumbled quietly for Cyborg's ears only.

Yet, still the little girl's eyes widened, before narrowing into a glare. Beast Boy started a bit, knowing it to be silly. There was NO way she could have possibly heard tha-

"M'not a BRAT!" she shrieked, lifting her little booted foot and stamping it down on his own. A pained yelp ripped out of the shifter as he began to hop on one foot and hold the injured one up away from the snow and angry child. With a tiny glare and indignant, 'hmph,' she turned her back. In the turning Victor caught sight of a tiny ear, poking out from beneath her hat…and oddly pointed, tiny ear.

"Daddy!" she gave a singsong yell, scuttling down the pier and towards a figure that neither Titan had noticed until now. Standing so far away, it was hard to make him out, but he looked to be in his late twenties, clad in a dark sports coat, some sort of graphic tee shirt and a gray fedora hat. The wind carried his amused laughter on it. When their unpleasantly-moody savior reached him, she was instantly scooped up into his waiting arms and tossed into the air. Joining his amused laughter came a happy shriek before she came back down into his waiting arms. The man turned his attention back to them and lifted his hand in a wave.

"Thanks for findin' her, boys! Merry Christmas toy to ya!" he shouted back, before turning and ambling his way out into the night.

"…I know that kid," Cyborg mumbled to himself.

"Yea tell me about-OH CRAP!" Beast Boy's face dropped into a horrified grimace as he checked the time on his COM. Startled, Victor peered over his friend shoulder to look and see what it was that had upset the man. The time blinked steadily back at him.

Six, fifty-six.

"FOUR MINUTES!" the green shifter shrieked, "How…but…I gotta go!"

His form shrunk and melted into itself, feathers ripping out all over him. In a split second, in the green youth's place was an emerald-colored falcon. It screeched unhappily and took to the night air, while Victor wave up at him.

"Go on, man! I'll meet you there!"

Beast Boy did not wait to be told twice.

Cyborg sighed and watched him go. All in all, it could have been worse. But, he realized with a sad frown, there was still the fact that the courier had been killed. That was going to put a damper on everyone's Christmas.

And then the man in question stepped out of an alley, sans coat and hat and looking one hundred percent less mysterious. "Ack!" he cried, scaring the life out of Cyborg. "Have you seen a hobo around? He jumped me and took my coat! And hat!"

"…You're alive?"

"…Well of course. It's a Christmas story."

Cyborg stared. "…Ok, you know what, you can get yourself to the hospital, I don't care anymore."

And then he got into his car and drove off.

---

It was seven-ten by the time the T-Car pulled up to the curb in front of the jewelry store. Dread began to bubble up inside the driver as he saw his younger friend standing stock still outside the shop. Shifting the car into park, he climbed out to come up and stand beside him. Beast Boy's forehead was leaned up against the store window, leaving a mark in its wake against the clean glass. Eyes shut as if in pain, the young green man sighed.

"Seven-oh-three. I got here at Seven-oh-three."

Victor frowned and looked into the dark shop, "And the guy wouldn't just cut you a break?"

Garfield's eyes cracked open, half lidded and tired, "He wasn't even here. Can't say I blame him…it's Christmas Eve. Wants to get home to his family. I can't BELIEVE I messed this up."

Cyborg sighed and lifted a hand to pat him on the shoulder, "She'll understand, B. Just tell her what happened."

"That's not the point, Cy. I know she'll understand," he sighed pushing away from the window and walking back to the car. His teammate followed him silently, opening the passenger side door as Garfield muttered, "That just makes it worse."

---

"I need the cheese, Lardo!" Terra growled

"You will get it when I am DONE!" Sophie responded.

"Y-stell'bsna orr'e n'gha mnahn' fm'latgh."

They turned to see Ryce staring at them quietly from the stove, plunging them both into silence. They gazed back at her for a few moments, before Sophie quietly handed the grated cheese over to Terra's waiting hands. A glare from Ryce ensured a quiet meek mumble of thanks was given in return.

"See? Isn't it so much more FUN when we all get along?" Ryce quipped, "And do everything I say."

Neither woman seemed willing to answer that question as they worked on their assigned task without complaint. As for Ryce? She began to hum a quiet little carol as she checked the temperature on the boiling cider. Behind the group, a door slamming somewhere in the Tower was noticed but not responded to. No doubt it had to be Victor and Garfield returning from whatever madness they had to decided to engage themselves in this evening. Ryce tried to rein in her annoyance at their timing. Footsteps approached the kitchen, soon so close as to be placed right outside the door.

Turning around with the warm cider in her hands, she began to point out, "Guys, s'sevent twenty-five. I've spent the past three days cooking. You too better be ready to eat in five minutes cause m'not 'bout to let the food get coooooholy pumpkin spice…what happened to you guys!"

Terra and Sophie started at the alarm in their younger friend's tone, both women turning to see what it was that had caused it. They did not have to look for very long before their eyes found Beast Boy and Cyborg's utterly battered and bleeding forms standing in the kitchen door, clothes torn and faces bruised. Tara dropped the knife in her hand onto the floor as she rushed over to her beaten boyfriend's side.

"Your dad…has some WEIRD as all hell enemies, Ry," Cyborg sighed as he limped over to the kitchen table. Both Ryce and Sophie finally snapped out of their shock and placed their cooking implements down. The heavier of the two ran off into the annals of the Tower to seek out their resident healer as Ryce pulled out a chair for Victor to fall into.

"My dad? But…what does he have to do with this?" she asked.

Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Cyborg was placing the battered 'present' up on the table. The bow had long since been ripped off in the battle, pieces of the formerly bright wrapping torn away to reveal the brown cardboard container beneath. Both Ryce and Terra stared at it in quiet confusion, Ryce releasing the back of the chair to pick it up in her hands.

"What is this?" she asked as Beast Boy shot his best friend a glare.

"Vic! He said not to tell anyone," he hissed as the cybernetic man shrugged.

"Yea…cause he didn't want her involved while we were picking it up. It's safe now so whatever...B, I have snow lodged into circuits and joints that should never see snow. I'm not thinking up a lie right now, okay?" Cyborg sighed.

Ryce, however, no longer seemed interested in lies or the lack there of. Her attention was raptly being held by the ripped and torn paper and the package it was hiding. Ignoring their cries of protest, she tore the paper the rest of the way to reveal the bent and beaten packaging. She turned the brown box over in her fingers, shaking it, even sniffing it as she studied it carefully, "Where did you to get this?"

"You're dad sent us…he said it as imperative that it not fall into the wrong hands. We think it contains some sort of ancient artifact of destruction or something," Garfield informed her.

Victor nodded and reached out to paused her hands, "So please stop shaking it. I don't feel like meeting that creepy Po'tse Mag mage in another dark alleyway, thank you."

Something seemed to light up in the half-angel's eyes and a deep frown crossed her face, "PO'TSE MAG mage?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth another voice called out from the other room, "Mr. Logan! Mr. Stone! Well my boys, how went your mis-" Azrael strolled into the room a content smile upon his handsome face. Until, that is, he saw who was holding the package, "sioooooh…you told her. I told you not to tell her."

Rage began to work its way across his daughter's reddening face as she lifted the box towards him, "PO'TSE MAG MAGE?"

The most interesting of things occurred. Azrael actually began to look nervous, backing away slowly with his hands out in front of him, "Now lovely, remember what the doctor said about your temper and controllin' it."

"YOU STUPID, PICKLE DIPPIN' DIMSUN!" she shrieked and began to hit him with the box. The archangel's eyes widened as he lifted his hands up to defend himself from the assault.

"Oi! Stop that! Ow! Young lady, I am talkin' to y-OW! ALARYCE!" he barked, his hand snatching and ripping the box out of her hands, "Now, that is enough!"

"You could have gotten them killed!" Ryce growled.

Victor stood from the table with a wince, reaching out a hand to place calmingly on Ryce's shoulder, "Ry…calm down. This is part of being a Titan. It's what we do. It wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't have some apocalyptic nightmare breathing down our necks."

"Apocalyptic nightmare!" A humorless bark of laughter ripped out of the girl. Before Azrael could quite slink from the room she ripped the box out of his hand again and pulled out a pen from her pocket. Hastily, she scrawled 'PO'TSE MAG' across the brown cardboard, before shoving into Beast Boy and Cyborg's faces, "Read it BACKWARDS."

Blank looks greeted her for a few seconds before they both peered at the letters. Then, slowly, the color began to drain from their faces which twisted into looks of disbelief. The group turned to look at Azrael, who had suddenly become very interested in the molding on their doorframe. Ryce gave a snarl before ripping the box right in half, freeing the smaller box inside to tumble out onto the table.

"Call of Duty," Ryce hissed, "You nearly got them KILLED for Call of Duty."

"…Call of Duty 2," Azrael pointed out sheepishly before he was pelted in the head by the game box. "Ow! Oh c'mon…you can't be this mad. No one got hurt…everything ended up fine. Your friends did me a favor and got to prove themselves against the Krampus and now I can snipe Dream and Pangloss and listen to them whine like little girls!"

"OUT!"

The Angel of Death gave a decidedly feminine 'eep' before his form faded in a swirl of dark haze and black feathers. Ryce cursed in the only way she currently could and returned to her cooking, a pointed look from her sending the other two women to do the same.

Garfield…could only stare at the torn brown box in silence. The universe was laughing at him. It had to be. All this…for a stupid game. He had lost his chance and months of meticulous saving and scrounging and picking up extra work. And all for a GAME. If he wasn't so sure it would end with him in tears, he would have laughed at the whole situation. Instead, he shambled into their living room and up to the Christmas tree to stare at it solemnly.

"Guess I should write her a nice letter and explain what happened," he sighed, eyes scanning the mountain of gifts at its base.

And then he saw it.

Wrapped in bright gold paper that flickered with the tree lights blinking. A white gauzy bow had been meticulously tied around the small present, careful not to obscure the tag that clearly addressed its contents to Tara. Disbelief etched into his features as he picked it up from its place atop her other gifts. It was clearly a jewelry box under the paper. No one else was about to buy his girlfriend jewelry…which could only mean…

"You can give me the money tomorrow," a voice said softly from beside him.

He turned to look at their petite maid who was smiling quietly up at him. She pointed to the tag and whispered, "Miiiiight wanna fill that out, though."

"Why…How…when…" the shifter sputtered.

"One: 'cause you're my friend…and I thought you might mess this up. Two: I spend more of my father's cash in that place then you can EVER imagine so m'good friends with the owner…and three: before I had a nervous breakdown and assaulted a man with a plastic candy cane," she replied with a tired smile, "Seriously…fill that thing out…get healed…and wash the crap off of you. If my food gets cold I'm goin' to probably go into a psychotic break and I don't think tha's very festive."

---

And so dinner came to pass, with laughter and mirth. Even the bickering and baiting between Terra and Sophie seemed to take a break in the face of the holiday merriment. Dessert followed dinner without a hitch – unless you were to count Ryce's fondue flambé nearly setting the fire alarm off as a problem…and no one seemed to.

Before any of them knew it, they were gathering about the festive tree in their living area looking through the respective gift piles. Most were attempting to select their evening gift. Another year of their tradition of opening one gift and saving the remaining for the morning.

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Nigel slipped up next to the tree, eyes shifting from side to side in watch. Confident he was not being observed, he leaned down and attempted to tape a box of nicotine patches to the top of one of the presents.

"Nigel."

The doctor turned to find Sophie glaring at him. Looking from her to his addition he pouted, "...I got her a hat too… don't give me that look."

As Sophie attempted to convince him to remove the inciting item, their housemates continued to mill about, sipping their Christmas-y – and for most of them nonalcoholic – drinks and looking at the presents curiously. A few even began to settle in and toss parcels to their respective parties. Some were shaking the boxes to guess contents...some just talking with one another animatedly.

Someone...was missing.

Robert noticed relatively quickly. After all nothing was blowing up and no one was launching into manically loud fits of laughter. Once again wondering why she would ever not find him attractive – I mean that's just silly, what possible reason could she have, c'mon – Robert stood, wanting to voice his concerns to his teammates.

But once he had looked at them, enjoying each other's company in the simple – if not slightly materialistic – pleasure of gift-giving, he seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth with a soft sound, shaking his head. Getting lost in the chaos, he turned to start making the rounds.

"Outside smoking," Noel pointed out to him as he walked by.

Rob paused at the words, momentarily feeling like he had been caught with his hand on the cookie jar. He cleared his throat in a poor attempt at nonchalance, nodding and walking towards the door. There was perhaps a 'thank you' in his retreat, but it was really impossible to tell with all the other background noise.

For a moment, Noel watched him leave, looking like he might have been on the verge of saying something. Yet, he too seemed to think better of it, and with a shake of his head returned to the festivities.

Meanwhile, as Robert waited for the elevator, his eyes moved up to the frame around the metal doors... and found the forgotten mistletoe in the middle of it. With a grin, he swiped it – no one had thought to make use of it, so it was rather pretty pointless anyway – and slipped it into his pocket, as the soft ding of the elevator alerted him to the opening doors. He entered, a saunter in his step.

Within a minute, another of the musical – at least they were to him this night – chimes sounded, and he stepped, first out of the elevator, and then out of the Tower entirely. The snow had fallen fresh again. The blond had to question if they had overdone it with the weather…again. Then again, even if they had, no one could say that it was anything but quite pretty, the whole of the landscape white and frozen. He couldn't help but hope that Noel didn't look outside and threw a fit over their messing with the climate again.

But really none of that mattered. Standing on their front stairs, he could see her – the reason he was even out here in the first place – sitting in the snow some yards down the way. Her back was to him and she did not seem aware that anyone had come out of the Tower.

He smiled, at first. But as he made his way down the walk, a frown began to form in his approach: She was in the cold, apart from the others. A glaring reminder of how she used to be.

Ryce was humming quietly, sitting cross-legged in the snow, she did not seem to care that the cold and wet mixture was probably soaking her pants through.

"Christmas Eve...will find me...Where the love light beams..." she whispered quietly, her fingers drawing little patterns in the snow. The rest was lost in wordless humming.

"If only on my dreams?" Rob continued tentatively, announcing himself as he sat next to her.

Only to shoot up a second later, letting out a yowl of surprise as he jumped to his feet, slapping the shockingly cold snow out of his rear, "JEEBUS! How can you stand that?"

Ryce flinched in surprise and tried to jump up to her feet, which ended in her slipping and tumbling back down onto her rear. Rob reached out to catch her, managing to take some of the impact out of the fall. This at least allowed her to sit back into her spot.

"Stand what?" she asked, head tilted in confusion.

"The snow," Rob pointed out the obvious, "You know. Wet? Cold? Leaves an..." he frowned at the back of his jeans, "embarrassing stain. How long have you been out here?"

"...oh...aye...aye, you're right. S'kinda cold," she said distractedly, working her way to her feet once more. She made a point to not address his other question, her foot sliding something behind her out of his sight.

Rob blinked, her movements lost on him. He smiled a bit though, "Ryce... you do know there's a Christmas celebration going on behind us, right? You didn't get confused and think standing out in the snow is a tradition or something?" His smile widened encouragingly, "'Cause...you are invited, you know. We do want you there. And your singing's not that bad."

Standing there in the snow, she looked at him for a moment as if not getting that he was teasing her. The blank look held up for a few seconds, before she gave a shake of her head. A laugh fell from her mouth, and the shaking turned to a nod, "Hehe...yea…I know I jus'...um I came outside to..."

She trailed off, biting her lower lip and looking down at the ground as if she did not quite know why she was out here now that she had been asked. Nearly a full minute of uncomfortable silence passed between them. Enough to worry Robert a bit.

"Ryce?" Rob asked, confused.

"...aye?"

"You just trailed off," Rob shrugged, bending a bit to be at eye-level with her, "Are you sure you're ok? I mean... I know it's been pretty crazy, but I think it's been as nice a first Christmas as they get with us."

A thoughtful look crossed her face as she looked up at him and smiled softly, "S'been an awesome Christmas Rob...best I've ever had in fact...m'jus'..." her eyes lit up and a hand flew to her pocket, pulling a small cardboard and foil pack from inside, "Came out to have a smoke! Tha's it!"

She quickly shoved one of the cigarettes into her mouth, holding it there, her words a bit muffled and slurred by doing so, "Indeed...shigarettes tha'sh it"

"...Wow..." Rob blinked before adding in an impressed manner, "You have NEVER been this transparent."

Regardless, he just kept smiling, and moved over to be closer to her. "Ok. I don't really like it when you have cig-breath," his fingers unconsciously touched the mistletoe in his pocket, "but if you want. We go in afterwards though, ok? We can be with the others."

She nodded, pulling a book of matches from her pocket and trying to strike them. Her hands fumbled with them though, sending the first match tumbling into the snow with a barely audible hiss.

"...shure...get rid of the nicotine craving then in we go," she added, her fingers once again losing another match.

"Your hand is numb, you know," Rob reached for the box, taking it from her pale hands gently, "Here, let me."

His own fingers did not fare much better, equally as fumblesome with the matches – he was no expert at using them either, after all. Eventually, though the match gave a pop and sizzle as it flared to life. Ryce cupped it gently from the wind and leaned her smoke into it. The end sizzled, lit, and she leaned back inhaling the acrid taste.

Rob threw the match into the snow and settled back, watching her profile. "So...how was it?"

"How was what?" she asked, her breath and the cigarette smoke floating from her lips.

"Everything, I guess," Rob settled on after a moment's thought, "It's not often when I can ask a fully-grown woman how her first Christmas was."

She chuckled and nodded, looking up at the night sky, "Chaotic...bit tiring. Could have done without the pants-peein' terror of Santa. But over all? S'been nice. Real...warm and nice."

"And happy, right?" Rob grinned, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

"..." silence fell over her, her eyes somewhere else, before she finally gave a wan little smile and nodded again, "...yea."

Her eyes glanced down to the snow – towards her feet – before darting back up. This time Robert did notice, blinking and following her gaze. What he ended up finding was a box sitting in the snow behind her. A present to be exact, meticulously wrapped in shiny black wrapping paper. Where she had found black wrapping paper, he had no idea, but there it was just the same, with a bright yellow bow tapped about it.

She noticed him looking and drew it behind her with her foot again, "As I said...Best Christmas I've ever had...sorry for the crazies."

"Um... Don't worry about it?" Rob began tentatively, "...Ryce? Won't it get spoiled if you leave it on the snow?"

Her eyes widened at his comment, and she quickly snatched it back up from the ground. With a hiss, she began to quickly wipe the snow from the bottom, "Shirt! Shirt shirt shirt! Stupid tractoring me," she grumbled, drying it on the front of her pants.

The Titan could not help but chuckle at her distress, using his scarf to help her dry it off, "I'm sure you're not a tractor, Ryce. You're a scooter at most!"

The joke drew a few snickers from her, eyes rolling about at how corny it was. Almost unnoticed, her cigarette had burned low to the filter, nearly singing her fingertips. The sudden warmth was what brought to her attention. Before he could say anything, she took out another one and used the nearly spent twin to light its end.

"Ah ah ah ah," Rob said, catching her and taking the cigarette away from her lips, "We said one, remember?"

Even her pouting did not seem to sway his opinion on this one.

"Come on," he prodded gently, "Let's go inside. It's warm. And, I know you like your fixes, but you can't like it more than spending Christmas with us, can you? There's a pile of gifts waiting for you, too."

She looked over to the cigarette in his hand and then at him. There was something going on behind her eyes. Something he could now quite put his finger on even as he flicked the smoke out into the snow to be rendered useless. He expected a fight on that…or at least a whine. What he found was her turning, slowly, to look out over the bay...down the beach...even up at the sky. With every passing second she deflated more and more.

"...y-yea...warm," she, finally, agreed, voice cracking. Yet, when she turned back, her eyes are dry and unreadable, "You're right...let's go see what nicotine-addiction aid Nigel's wrapped up for me."

A smile formed at the corners of her lips and it was quite real. But even with this honesty, there was something else to it. Something held back. Rob noticed it immediately, and his brain started racking ways to change that for her, most of them involving the little leaf he was half-taking out of his pocket.

"Oh I think he'll surprise you," he smiled and offered his hand.

"...which just means he didn't wrap it," the smaller girl countered as she took it. She cast just one more glance over her shoulder, eyes filling with a quiet longing… "...Well...he said he'd try," she sighed quietly to herself.

The look immediately faded, gone as if it were never there. In its place was content – if not muted – smile.

Rob frowned slightly, "who-?"

"C'mon! Le's go get out of these wet clothes," she quipped, completely ignorant to the double-meaning as she began to pull him inside.

Rob choked on his words, eyes bulging wildly at the myriad of images that flashed past them and devolving into a hacking, not-at-all flustered cough as his face glowed red, "…k…" he squeaked in a tiny voice, playing it 'cool'.

"Y'alright Robbie? Y'look like your comin' down with a fever," she frowned in concern.

"Y-yeah," Rob said, and, to his credit, the slight crack in his voice was pretty much unnoticeable, "...My pants are wet," he explained before his eyes widened and he hastened to add: "'Cause of the snow. And it's cold. So... wet. And cold. T-that's why. I just need a change...'Cause of the cold."

Ryce stopped and tilted her head to the side. The look she gave him was one of bemusement before she started to laugh.

"You're an odd duck," she said smiling, clearly meaning it as a compliment.

"Quack," the blond man said solemnly, looking into her eyes as he cracked out a grin.

She could not hold back the giggling at his silliness, giving him a light and playful push to the arm. Shaking her head, she managed to rein in the laughter…but kept the smile, "Geek."

A happy grin exploded onto his face, and then – after a moment's hesitation – reached into his pocket and started to pull out the mistletoe, "Ryce..."

"Hm?" she asked looking up at him, the odd not-thereness from earlier no longer seeming to glimmer behind her eyes. She was even smiling. Bright little circles of red colored both her cheeks, because of the cold, contrasting against the paleness of the rest of her face.

"I..." he started, stepping closer and raising his hand.

Her head tilted curiously at his odd speechlessness and she shifted her weight…

...only for her feet slide right out from under her.

She pitched forward with a yelp, attempting to grab at something to steady her as the ice beneath them completely threw her off balance. All she managed to do, however, was launch Robert backwards as well, the ice turning against him.

"Crap!" Rob cried, arms flailing.

And then he was caught by a pair of thin, but strong arms, chuckling reaching his ears as he was steadied.

"Timing!" the lighthearted voice quipped, an unknown voice (but…known? ...no... ...yes...?) brimming with amusement. Yet, there was also an apologetic undertone to it.

Robert blinked in confusion, looking up at whoever had caught him.

A complete stranger looked back at him. An older man, in his mid-to-latish 30's, if Rob were to guess, with a friendly, unshaven face. There were laugh-creases on his eyes and mouth, and short, slightly curly/unruly brownish hair atop his head. He was wearing a dark brown winter coat over jeans and a t-shirt and scarf, and his brown eyes shined with a strange youth and kindness that Rob found himself momentarily mesmerized by.

"Oh this is not helping the rumors about you being gay, Rob," the man chuckled happily, steadying the younger boy and patting his back.

"Um…hi," was all Robert could seem to muster up in quiet response, his mind oddly blank and unsure of what else he could possibly come up with. He blushed and began to frown when the man's words finally seem to click.

"Hey," the man greeted, looking past him and smiling at the Tower, brimming with light and happiness, "Don't mind me; I'm just making a delivery."

"Yea...sure," Rob said with uncertainty...before he remembered that he had not caught Ryce. Eyes widened as he ripped about on his heels, nearly slipping again to see if she was okay.

What he saw was kind of confusing, even without the soft snickering coming from the man beside him, but he could at least be assured that his friend hadn't fallen after all, and had in fact been caught as well…though beyond that he had no clue what to make of the scene, as Ryce sank into her bizarre-looking 'savior' in a crushing hug that could only be called hungry, a tremulously hopeful expression in her face.

She would have explained, if he'd asked, that when she'd tripped, she had been nearly instantly caught. For all of one second, she thought it had been Rob who did it, but then realized it could not be: Rob did not feel this way. She knew this touch far too well to mistake it. She did not HAVE to look up to see who it was. Instead, her hands had moved without a second thought, to grip at the arms holding her, and she breathed the person in.

Rob stood awkwardly beside them, hesitant to say or do anything, and confused at the tiny weight he was feeling at the pit of his stomach, "…Um…" he started.

The strange figure – person? – holding Ryce shifted slowly.

"Hey guys," it – definitely a 'he', actually – greeted cheerfully. Though his voice was heavily muffled, which was only to be expected, Rob supposed, it was still…familiar.

"….Met?" Rob blinked.

Metatron…Adam Matthews...sort of looks like he had shrunk. Or maybe like he was wearing a tent.

He wore a way-too-large eskimo coat over his frame, so thick that it gave the impression of him having gained several hundred pounds around the waist. Equally thick pants joined them beneath fuzzy, heavy boots and matching mittens. A thick scarf was wrapped around his face – subduing his voice – and the hood of his coat covered his head and closed around it protectively, refusing to let any cold air in. It was such a ridiculous ensemble that Rob thought it odd he didn't find it more funny.

Ryce, Rob had noticed, had yet to move...she seemed afraid to, still holding on to Metatron without a sound. It was his words that finally made her muster up the courage to look up, and even then it was with the air of someone who was worried she would find something...horribly disappointing.

Rob swallowed, wondering if he should perhaps say something, tell Ryce that despite the current attire that left the half-demon unrecognizable to anyone, that this was Met, just so the girl's hopes wouldn't be shattered…

...but there was no mistaking those eyes. Not to her.

Met tried to wave, but movement seemed to be HEAVILY restrained in his little get-up. It was pretty much the same as watching someone trying to move around in a sumo suit.

Ryce still stared up at him silently, her face one of disbelief and cautious hope.

"I made it," his muffled voice announced softly.

"...so you did," came a flat grumble, that Rob almost instantly realized had come from him. He nearly brought his hand up to return the halfhearted wave, when he noticed the mistletoe still clutched between his fingers. Quickly, he tucked it back into his pocket...that time had passed.

The man next to Rob shrugged, reminding him of his presence, "He almost didn't: Adam was kinda lost when I stumbled into him... again. Got the dimension right, and even the planet and country. …He missed the state, though," he gave the pair a warm, quiet smile as he explained the crazy things. A smile they both could not help but want to return, "Figured I'd give him a ride home. 'Tis the season and all…Plus, there's the laugh factor," he amended quickly.

"Here meaning that I was to wear this thing during the entire trip back," Met explained to the young woman in his arms, making a doomed effort to point, "Instead of obviously more complicated and unnecessary methods such as one of my steam shrouds."

"For all we knew, we could have stumbled into a raging blizzard where your powers were conveniently useless, and where would you have been without the suit, huh?" his companion pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"In a tropical beach once you got us out of there," Met replied promptly.

"…Your waddle-walk is funny to watch," the other defended.

"...hi," Ryce suddenly said quietly – if not a bit dumbly, apparently still stuck on that part of the conversation. It was as if she didn't even realize it had continued around her as she just looked up at him in a quiet, uncharacteristic manner.

"Hi," Met... smiled? It was too hard to tell with the scarf, but Ryce was sure he did. He tried to bring his arms up and closed them around her, but, much like before, he failed miserably, "Merry Christmas!-it's still Christmas, right?"

"Yep," the older man answered.

"Fantastic then," Met seemed pleased, before looking back down at Ryce. "I got you something."

Throughout this, the Uberton-raised man watched them both. In an instant, something in Ryce's face had changed before him. Some seemed to shift, like a hidden panel along a wall. A ridiculously wide smile had broken out over her and before any of them could react, she let out a happy cry, launching at Met to hug him tightly.

"Yay!" Met cheered with her...even as he flopped over into the snow, unable to retain his footing, "I can only assume the prospect of materialistic gain has done the trick," he reasoned into the embrace, "I can only image what you'll do when you actually open the present. I bet it'll involve the works of Victor Hugo…done cheerfully."

A happy peal of laughter came giggling out of her as she simply continued to hug him all the tighter, her arms completely disappearing into the thick fluffy of his coat.

And all that was left for Gauntlet to do was watch as all the pretense and shields crashed down and away from her face...layer by layer. They were peeled back until all that was remaining was her – really her. Something finally started to click into place for him as a hand fell onto his shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at the stranger.

He smiled at Rob, a sort of apologetic sadness to it, just like his voice before. He did not say anything, just squeezed his shoulder. It was oddly comforting…but not enough.

Ryce, in the meantime, was still hugging Met tightly, nuzzling her face into the fluffy coat, while he could only wiggle on the ground – it was unknown if he was trying to hug her back or just get up. Either way, he once again failed miserably at both.

...However, if he was trying to imitate a turtle caught on its back, he was doing perfectly.

"...want to get up?" she giggled, quietly amused by his movements.

"Can we go inside?" he asked, and there was even a whine to his tone – that was new, "I want to take this thing off. We can take it from the top there. I believe in us giving one-hundred-and-ten percent!"

"Yeah, speaking off," the man said, clapping his hands once with a grin, "I've done my good deed of the year. I think I'm done here. Happy Christmas and all that jazz."

He saluted them all as Ryce glanced back at him...acknowledging him for the first time since they arrived. The unreadable and quiet expression that fell over her face as she stared could only mean that she recognized this man.

This was somewhat alarming to Rob, as previous experienced had shown without fail that anyone they came across that Ryce knew was never fully human, and while that was ok with him, there was also the fact that they were usually insane, cruel monster from the depths of insanity. Her reaction to the newcomer did not seem to promise a change from the nor-

And then, before the man could so much as blink, Ryce pulled herself up and off of Met and threw her arms around him instead.

"Um…" Rob blinks. "…Okay then."

The man stumbled a bit – being fairly skinny himself – before hugging her with the happy laughter of someone that felt good about themselves.

"Thank you," she said softly, pulling away to look him in the eye.

The man before Ryce smiled, before reaching up and poking her forehead, "You asked."

In the background, Met was still wiggling pathetically in the ground, "My kingdom of dust and ashes for some help?"

Rob frowned at his struggling friend for a moment or two, the reality of this all crashing down on him rather unpleasantly. Though even then, it only took him a moment or two before he stepped forward and seized one of those flailing hands. With a tug that was a bit rougher than necessary, he pulled Met up to his feet.

The Morning Child gained his stance with a bit of a bounce. Giving another one of those probable-grins to Rob in thanks, he waddled over towards Ryce and the man, rather looking like a giant penguin.

…The stranger was right. It was funny.

Rob took some pleasure in that.

Ryce, in the meantime, nodded quietly, shifting back so as to be able to take one of Met's hands, not noticing as her blonde friend's eyes narrowed, "...Happy Christmas, Alex."

"It's merry," Rob corrected her…even surprised himself at the snappishness of it.

"Anything works actually," 'Alex' replied cheerfully, "I'm certainly not one to stick to tradition. Anyway, I should go back to Mardi Gras!" he announced, clearly excited, "I'll see you kids later."

"...Mardis Gras isn't until March" Ryce pointed out, her face blank.

"Oh that's the public Mardi Gras," Alex replied, already walking away and speaking as if to an awe-struck child, "The Underground one carries all year long! Santa might show up after his rounds," he added with a wink.

Ryce flinched a bit at the name's mention...apparently losing what little bit of nerve she had shown during that moment in the mall a few days ago. In her unease, she backed up into Met, her hand sneaking into his currently-sausage-like fingers. All the while, Robert watched on in silence, wondering how he could have possibly missed this.

Yet they were both seemingly oblivious, Met smiling at her as the man disappeared under the snow's cover, "You know, he really is a nice guy. We once saved Christmas together."

"...Le's go in inside," she said quietly after a moment...a bit tiredly, in fact.

"THANK you," Adam nearly yelled in fervent honesty, eagerly waddling towards the building.

A giggle from the petite half-angel was the response as she was tugged forward with him. Her other hand reached out to take Robert's as well.

For a moment, he considered yanking it away from her. But even as he considered it, he could already picture the hurt on her face. She had not done anything wrong really, in the end. So he let her fingers curls around his own as she began to tug him towards the Tower, still giggling at the other's eagerness.

When they arrived, opening the doors robotically, Metatron pretty much dived through them. Not bothering to try and get up, his clawed hands started to rip at the thick clothing with the air of a child that finds himself wearing a really itchy shirt. With a giggle, Ryce released Rob's hand to stride forward and help him in removing them.

Soon, Met was bare, flustered and kinda sweaty, but looking really content and happy with his normal clothes, lying flat on the ground.

"I'll take that hug now," he pointed out with a smile to Ryce.

She did not need to be told twice, relishing in the feel of him instead of the wintry jacket that was now in pieces in the lobby.

"...gonna...head up," Rob interrupted quietly, "I'll see you upstairs."

Without another word, he brushed past the two, trying to keep the bitterness off his face. The elevator opened and swallowed his form in silence. Unseen to either blonde, yellow-gold eyes had followed his path to the elevator, only breaking their stare after the doors had closed. When they had? The gaze shifted down to the tiny blond currently snuggled into his arms. He did not say anything for several minutes, happy to just hold his friend gently, but then asked softly, "So, you rejected Rob, huh?"

Curled up against him, breathing in the scent she had missed so greatly, she nearly missed the question. When it finally did sink in, she started, pulling away to look at the demi-demon questioningly, "Rejected? Wha...huh?"

Metatron tilted his head, studying her for a moment before a spark of realization lit up his features.

"...Ah," he said quietly, reaching out and caressing her cheek. A million responses raced through his eyes, Ryce noticed, all the while knowing that not one of them would be lie, "...Rob likes you, mutchkin."

"Well...yea he liked me. We're friends, Adam," she answered, staring blankly, clearly having no clue as to what he was saying.

"As in, he wants to hold hands, kiss, likely fondle your breasts and eventually work his way up to a very uncomfortable and probably unsatisfying first-time love-making – which would hopefully get better with some practice," he frowned slightly at that, not really entirely sure why, "I assume he'd eventually may want to marry you too."

"...WHAT!" Ryce squeaked, nearly tumbling backwards in surprise.

"Well, don't panic," Met smiled, sitting up and tugging her up with him, "I was just adding that 'hopefully' to cover all my bases. I'm sure he'd get better."

Oblivious – though she was sure he was pretending to be this time – to the disbelieving and guilt-ridden look on her face, he pet her head fondly.

"No...not that...urgh...cheese itz," she growled, clutching her head, "How did I miss this?"

"You're kinda dense, Ryce," Met grinned, "Especially about how people feel about you. I don't know where you get that from."

"...but...I didn't reject him, Adam" she argued, starting to edge into hysterics, "He never said anything...or...or did anything!"

With a smile, he pulled her close, "Breathe," he whispered into her hair. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But...I don't. When could I have rejected..." she sputtered.

And then her eyes found it. Resting, neat as you please, in the center of the hall that led to the closed elevator doors. There was nothing like a big ol' Christmasy badge of what an oblivious jerk you were staring you right in the face.

"...Crap," Ryce sighed, seeing the lost mistletoe lying in a lonely heap on the ground.

"Hm..." the dark-haired youth mused quietly, seeing it as well, "If my arrival was what stopped it, he could have just tried later... no, something pro'lly made him realize you weren't interested – actually, ARE you interested?"

"No," she whispered without so much as a pause of hesitation. "You know that would never work and why."

"Not sure, actually," Met pointed out, "It could. So long as you see him for who he is…But it's not as easy as that," he rubbed her back comfortingly.

Quietly nodding, she leaned into his touch subconsciously, "I...should go talk to him."

Met was silent for a heartbeat, but then his hold slacked, letting her go.

"Make sure to come find me later," he smiled, helping her to her feet and pulling her towards the elevator. "I brought you something," he reminded her with a smile.

"I did too...well...I mean," Ryce paused, looking a bit confused for a moment before she corrected herself, "I bought you something, too."

"Great. I was worried you wouldn't be told you were my inter-dimensional secret Santa."

"...Can we ...um...not talk about Santa please" Ryce whimpered as they climbed into the elevator and began to make their ascent.

Met tilted his head, raising a brow, "This is going to be an interesting story to hear, isn't it?"

"Apparently people like to make me think that Santa is a sex-hungry, crazed cannibal, looking to beat me to death with a rock encased in a sock," she said flatly as the elevator dinged open to the party once more.

Met seemed to seriously consider this new information. "…Eh, I don't think so," he shrugged as they stepped from the lift into the room, "Alex says the wildest he's been was during his hippie phase back in the 1640s – turns out the Nevernever had a hippie craze WAY before us – when he got hooked on Cardbury Eggs. He got clean, but never got his figure back. Did you know they were in a rock band together?"

The pale and ashen pallor to her face would have been hard for anyone to miss, but if they had her whine would have been alerting enough, "...T-tim said he wasn't real," she whimpers before her mentioning of the talk.

"Well, you know how the Nevernever is," Met explained, pulling her close into a warm embrace she eagerly took to, "he wasn't real at first, but the idea and the faith gave magic its form. Though there are rumors that he was shot down by Soviet Missiles during the Cold War. Don't know much about that."

Ryce let out a soft as she processed his words. Met chuckled and nuzzled her cheek gently, comforting her.

"Though he's not a cannibal," he was quick to also add, "Nor does he approve of beatings. That's the Krampus you're thinking of – but he was sealed away, so don't worry about him. As for sex-hungry... well, I guess he is. But he's married too."

"..." Ryce stared in silence.

This simply earned her another smile, "Think of it like Jesus."

Whatever this would have meant to the tiny girl was never addressed. Her only response was to widen her eyes a bit and nod as she said, "Ooooooh. Right. Gotcha."

The mystery of Santa Claus had been resolved!

After that, it soon had become apparent that there was really nothing left for the two to say to one another. There was no more time left to stall. Looking about at her assembled and oblivious friends, Ryce bit her lip.

"...I guess I better go have that talk then," she sighed before standing up on her tiptoes to plant a light kiss to Metatron's cheek, "...thank you."

Met smiled back at her, gentler than ever, and reached over, rustling her hair.

"You're welcome, I suppose, though not sure why," he thumped her forehead gently for encouragement, "Everything will be work out."

"...I hope so," she whispered, before turning and making her way down the hall.

In the end, Tim had gotten it entirely right: Met knew exactly how to speak 'Ryce'.

---

The walk was a short one, a few uninteresting minutes at most. The sounds of her friends – family – and their festivities faded into the background and then to silence. Soon, she found herself standing outside Robert's door. Not knowing what else to do, she knocked softly.

The Robert that answered... kinda looked like he hadn't slept well. A strange sight, considering they had just seen him perfectly alright a couple of minutes ago. When he realized who it was standing before his door he straightened, surprise clear on his face.

"Oh," he said, fighting to keep his voice casual. "...What's up?"

"...we need to talk, I think," she answered quietly.

He tensed, there was no hiding that, "I... w-why?"

Ryce looked back, waiting to see if he would be able to admit this himself. The silence that greeted her instead did not bode well for the conversation that had to occur. When he did not make any move or give any indication of continuing, she gave a sigh and tilted her head to the side, "You have a hole in your pocket."

For a few moments, she wondered if he was going to play dumb or just honestly did not realize what it was she was telling him. In those seconds, Robert stared back, gaze unwavering. In the end, though, his stance deflated and he gave a sigh. He stepped aside to allow her in, "You never even considered it was Met's?"

She lifted her hand from her own pocket to place the mistletoe on a shelf as she walked in, "You and I both know s'not."

Pausing, she looked around the room in silence for a few moments. And then she sighed, "...I guess I could tell you that m'really sorry I hurt you like this, Rob...but that isn't goin' to make this suck any less for you...and s'kinda self-serving."

"...Yeah," Rob said quietly, looking away, "...Look, I'm not mad at you, ok? I know you didn't mean... anything. Can you leave?"

"No," was her all too simple response.

"...It's my room," Rob replied, beginning to look annoyed.

"And you're my friend," she countered, turning about to look him in the eye, "And s'Christmas. You shouldn't be in here alone just because of some silly stupid girl."

"You're not..." Rob started, "...SOME girl."

"Yes, I am. In this aspect? I am."

Rob looked at her wearily, "I don't get it."

"...Rob," Ryce sighed, running a hand through her hair with a tired expression, "m'some girl that you can find a dime a dozen for out on the street. Please step back from this...and think about how I treat you sometimes. You don't want nor do you deserve that out of a romantic interest."

When Robert frowned, and Ryce was not sure what to make of it. All she could do was stand by and watch and wait for him to be able to pull the words together.

"...I still don't get it," he admitted after a few seconds, "I don't exactly have a lot to compare to..."

Ryce nodded understandingly, "M'a witch, Robbie...and beyond that, I've got more issues than People magazine and you don't need that in your life."

"And that's your call?" Rob snapped bitterly before he could stop himself. How silly it sounded hit him instantly, "...Ok, yeah it is. But it still hurts!"

Wincing at the bitterness in his voice, knowing full well she earned it, Ryce could only nod and agree, "I know...I know it hurts...I wish I could make it not. All I know is s'gonna hurt a lot less than if I pretended to be able to give you something that m'not capable of."

"Why aren't you capable of it?" Rob demanded tiredly, "I mean...I thought there was... something. Earlier. When we hang out. I thought we had... moments...Whatever."

"We had moments of friendship Rob. M'sorry if I ever lead you on, or made it seem like something more," she told him, seeing his distress and building frustration clearly, "You're...one of the people M'closest to here, and I guess I was too selfish to stop and think that I wasn't being fair."

All Rob did was... just look at her. He did not seem to know what to say or do. Nor should he really, she knew.

"M'not...very good at this," Ryce admitted honestly, "In fact, I really don't have any idea what m'doin'. All I know is...I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have. And hurt is all the road you're lookin' at is goin' to lead to."

Quiet overcame them once more. Robert swallowed, an almost childish look coming over his face. His eyes dropped from hers.

"Maybe I don't mind the hurt," he muttered to himself, forgetting about her hearing and how easily she would pick this whisper up.

"You will," she promised him quietly, a sad smile playing its way across her face, "Right now...you can still walk away. You can still cut your losses…" she hesitated, "don't fall for someone who can't love y'back like that, Rob."

"You say it like it's impossible..." Rob said quietly, in a sort of hurt tone. He would not look up to meet her eyes.

The sound of it made wince, recognizing it for what it was and hating herself for causing it. She took a deep breath and exhaled carefully before she spoke again.

"I say it like there is a chance that you could end up in that position...and I...don't ever want you to have to feel that."

Robert asked without missing a beat, "Like... you?"

The moments in which Ryce stared at him silently passed at an absurdly slow pace. Like molasses through a colander, it ticked by, until it was beginning to feel stiflingly awkward. If either were to be told, they would have been shocked to find that it had been mere seconds that had gone by and not the minutes – or hours even – that it had felt like.

"...You really don't think he...?" Rob started, hoping to break that tension.

When she finally smiled at him it was just a touch hollow, her shoulders giving a tired shrug, "No...I don't. But this isn't 'bout me."

"But..." Rob seemed conflicted, like he could not believe he was saying this, "...Why don't you just... try? At least you'd know."

"Because if m'right? And he can't or doesn't or whatever...everything changes," she laughed at the absurdity of what she was about to say, unable to justify it beyond her own mind, "Adam...was the one stable thing I had for so long, Rob...and I can't lose that."

She sighed heavily, bringing her eyes up to finally look back at him, simply saying, "M'not strong enough to try," she said simply "Not yet at least."

"...I... don't think he's the kind to let things change badly," he grumbled. There was a bitterness to his voice, but it seemed like he wanted to help in spite of it, "...But it's not... any of my business."

"No, he's not. But there're some things...that you can't stop once they've started," Ryce smiled sadly, "Anyway... like I said, this isn't about me. S'about getting' you back to the party before Noel starts trying to bring up current events in Russia and bore us all into a yuletide coma."

She was clearly trying – and probably failing horribly – to get him to smile, if even just the smallest of attempt. The hope of it clear in her eyes as Robert looked at her, and there was a ghost of it in his expression.

"...I'm not ok," he confessed, "...To be honest, I just want to slink into bed right now, and sleep things off."

That hope began to dim in her eyes. He caught it and continued, "...But... I am better...and it's Christmas."

She nodded, looking back down the hall towards the celebration continuing on ignorant to what was going on a few yards away, "Indeed...it is."

Pausing, she looked back at him, "I can make myself scarce."

"No!...no... wait. I don't want to lose you," Rob said, a little too quickly before pausing to groan and hold his head, "Ugh…That wasn't meant to sound creepy."

The beginnings of a grin tried to quirk up the corners of her mouth, but she stifled it as best she could, "S'okay...we're all a lil creepy...it keeps us interesting…And truth be told? I don't wanna lose you either...selfish as that is," she added, quietly.

With a sigh, Robert offered her a tentative smile. "I guess we're stuck with each other, then."

She returned it – relief clear in her eyes – gently tilting her head, "Could be worse?"

"Yes," Rob nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. "I could have cancer."

She could not stall the snicker that fell out of her, "Li'l dark for Christmas, isn't it?"

Fidgeting a bit, she just watched him quietly. It was clear that she wanted to do something but seemed unsure if she would be allowed. The uncertain silence that had fallen over them seemed so fragile and the mood so easily shattered.

"...So now what?" Gauntlet asked, looking not much better than her, afraid to do anything and yet, at the same time, also afraid of doing nothing.

"..." Ryce opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her arms seemed to jerk up for a moment, about to step forward before she thought better of it. Looking back at her, clearly just as unsure as he was, the Titan cleared his throat in an attempt at breaking the tension once more

"...Yeah... ...Met's probably waiting for you," he said quietly, seeing she was not able to find her own words, "the others too. And your gifts..."

Finally, this seemed to spark something in her as she nodded before extending a hand to him. That tiny, barely there smile was back, "They're waitin' on you too. You know full well how annoying and persistent I can be. Probably easier if y'jus' come with me now.

"Please?" she asked quietly, almost an afterthought. There were no sad eyes...no manipulation. Just a simple request from a worried friend.

Standing there, Rob looked at her hand. Instantly, his eyes lost some of their glow, dimming sadly. Ryce saw it happening and her hand almost wavered. But she did not falter or let it fall. She would not.

"...If I asked you to please leave me be for now, you'd respected that," he pointed out quietly, neither a question nor request. It was a statement of fact that he knew with certainty.

The girl in the hall stared back at him, shoulder nearly slumping in disappointment before she caught herself. Awkwardly, she lowered her hand, curling it towards her to her side, "...Okay...if tha's what you want."

Silence greeted her words. Robert looked on without a word. Hesitating.

Not wanting to pressure him, Ryce turned without another word and made her way out the door, starting to close it behind her. Her eyes did not bother to hide how much she disagreed with this...but she was not about to contradict his wants. Not after what had transpired tonight. Unseen to her, as the door began to creak shut, Robert looked at her back, clenching his fists and conflicted.

Finally, a sort of annoyed grunt escaped his lips and he strode over, grabbing the door and opening it, "Wait!" he said, out of breath somehow, looking at her with tired, annoyed – but not at her – eyes, "...I'm no good at this emo crap."

She paused, looking back at him, "...You're not built for it."

Then, offering up a wan smile she shrugged and added, "Sides...all 'emo' in the Tower s'immediately pulled into Noel...I think he feeds on it."

"...I'm... not ok. But I will be," he admitted, looking back at the tiny teenager, before a small smile broke out on his face, "...And it's Christmas. Your first. Should be special and junk."

"No one would expect you to be 'okay'," Ryce whispered, "But that doesn't mean you need to be alone either. Trust me...bein' 'not okay'...s'a lot better when s'with other people."

Once more, she looked about to give him a hug, clearly wanting to. Again though, paused and thought better of it, instead running a nervous hand through her hair, "Le's head back...if it makes you feel any better, I have a full gallon of hard eggnog in the fridge that m'gonna probably finish and pass out."

"...I have no idea how that's supposed to make me feel better," Rob said, walking up to her, "but ok. I'm... up for it."

"You won't have to put up with the mean-spirited tramp who upset you," she pointed out, a cheeky smirk on her face as they began to make their way back to the holiday celebrations. She was trying to make what was probably an awful joke and judging by Rob's flinch it had failed horribly.

"...Don't do that, please," Rob frowned softly his voice quiet, "You aren't, you know."

Face falling, she nodded and gave a sigh, "...M'sorry...really not helpin' m'I?"

Whether or not she was failing in her attempts to help, Gauntlet gave no indication. Instead, he gave her a sideways glance.

"...Sides," and there was soft grin working its way across his face, changing the subject, "you're not any easier to handle when you're drunk."

"I will have you know Mr. Candide that m' a VERY dignified drinker," she responded in a tone of faux offense that would have been far more believable without the smile.

"According to one selfish lover, you're actually a whiny drunk."

"...'Lo pot...your hue...well... I do not know how to say this but it bothers me," Ryce grumbled, already thinking of a litany of charming words to deliver to their resident Oedipal Complex when she was allowed her vocal free will once more.

"I don't think Noel can get drunk – Shimmer filters it out," and she had to wonder if the blond young man was simply trying to goad her on now.

"I was talkin' bout the whinin'...and 'sides there was that time in three seven o-" she paused and shook her head, "Actually no...let's just say you're 100 percent right and leave it at that."

"K?" Rob grinned, as they reached the living room, where the rest of the titans where. Most of them looked up, and waved in different manners, still celebrating together and clueless to the drama occurring elsewhere in their home. All that is, except for Savior, who gave Rob a calculative look before nodding as well. Nearby, Raven was talking animatedly with Metatron.

Ryce looked around at them quietly, and she could not help but smile warmly at the people in the room around her. It was a look that was so bemused for all its contentment as if she still could not understand what she was seeing. As if the very thought of it had never even occurred to her as a possibility.

As she watched the room, she was watched in turn by Robert. He could not help the tugs on his heart...but also could not help his desire to ensure that that expression stayed in place. Knowing this, he nudged her with his arm, getting her attention and then nodded toward the black-and-gold-haired half-demon. He accented his nod with a gentle push.

The touch made her start a bit, breaking out of her quiet reverie to look first at the blond Titan and then in the direction in which she was being guided. Seeing what – or better yet WHO – she paused and turned to look back at him, "...out of line if I ask for a hug?"

With a soft frown, Robert mused, "No. Friends hug. I don't think they nuzzle, though," yet he had opened his arms.

"I'll...stop doin' that, then," she said, a nearly undetectable – and embarrassed – blush coating her cheeks. Yet, despite this, she did not need to be told twice, stepping forward into the welcoming arms to hug him tightly. Into the hug, Robert sighed, something melancholic passing through him as he tightened his hold. It did not seem like he wanted to let go...

But soon his grip slacked. At the first sign of his being done with the embrace, she broke the hug, pulling away to look up at him, "...thank you, Rob. For...not telling me where to go. For understandin' as...as much as you could."

He smiled, "...We're going to be ok... aren't we?"

A chuckle bubbled out of her as she smiled back up at him, "You said it...we're stuck with each other."

The words seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear – or as close to it as she could honestly mean what she was saying – a lopsided grin breaking out over his lips. It was a good grin. It was a comforting one. It was not 'okay' as he had put it several minutes ago, but at least it was him.

"Go," he nodded, "You have something for him, right?"

There was no waiting around for an answer, and quietly slinked off to talk to some of the others. Within seconds, he had blended in to the crowd of his teammates, leaving Ryce to herself.

The response to her solitude was a nod, more to herself than in response to his non-question. Then, when she looked up at the crowded and busy room around her, her eyes found him. It did not take minutes or even seconds to find him. As soon as her eyes lifted, they had locked upon him sitting across the room talking to his fellow demonling. The smile on her face grew just a bit wider as she made her way over to stand beside him.

Met looked towards her before she made it to his side, as if sensing her. He smiled, searching her expression with protective fondness. And a smile was given back in return, "Lo."

He offered his hand, "Lots of hello's today, Ryce."

A tired chuckle, "S'been a long dang day...can't keep track of the 'los'," she said in jest, taking it as soon as it was offered. It felt warm and right against her palms and fingertips.

As soon as she did, he gently pulled her close to sit next to him, her legs moving on top of his comfortably, and he began to caress her head, "Shopping, cooking, psychotic breakdowns and love troubles. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he mused, "Sounds like this Christmas had it all."

"You got here in the end," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, S'what counts ya know...funny thing is out of everythin' the dang love troubles were the worse part."

"Hmm," Met mused quietly, his hands playing with one of her own.

A soft weight fell into it, and Met curled up her fingers around it, gently. Looking up in confusion, she tilted her head before gazing back down at her closed hand, cupped by his. She did not make any immediate move to see what it was, waiting for his explanation.

"I stumbled into a forge," Met smiled quietly, looking at her hand, "Well, it wasn't much of a forge. More like a spaceship. That was melting."

She relaxed to listen to his story and he continued, "it was just something I thought of on the moment...which the group of people I was with at the time had a hard time grasping the importance of. Weird people, they were," he paused and tilted his head in thought, "...Huh, now that I think about it, I hope they're still alive. Sorta jumped before I could confirm it."

Nevertheless, his concerns seemed short-lived as he turned his gaze back down at her hand, "But not before I made this."

Eyes clouded with bemusement, she lifted her hand and opened her fingers, gently cupping the contents. When she looked inside she found some…misshapen. Her first impression was that it was horribly wrapped...and this impression was correct. A shapeless, wrinkly thing of various colors and an oversized blue bow on it – almost bigger than the gift itself. Smiling, she pulled the bow carefully, letting it fall to the sides of the gift. With equal care, she peeled away the paper hiding the gift.

The paper fell away to reveal a tiny – very rough-looking – flat, metal raccoon staring back at her. Its blocky arms and legs, and the little mask over its face, seemingly done with all the expertise of a five-year-old. On its chest, a little heart had been carved with care, and its little eyes seemed to look up at Ryce, there was a little hook on the back of its head. It was a necklace pendant.

Ryce could only stare for the first few seconds in quiet wonder, her fingertips caressing the rough details with the tender gentleness one would typically reserve for precious stones. Her eyes were half-lidded and soft, shining quietly.

"Not bad for 4 hours of work," Met nodded.

Without a word, she reached up to her neck and removed her constant necklace, fingers nimbly working the clasp that held it. She slipped the raccoon unto its new home, the soft clinking of it coming to rest against the Celtic knot, nearly unheard in the noise of the celebration. Once more, her fingers set to work, reattaching the clasp around the back of her neck, the knot and raccoon resting against her pale skin just over her heart.

Before he could get a word in, her arms were around his neck, her body against his as she hugged him for all she was worth

"Thank you."

Met just smiled, returning the hug, with quiet, even breaths, one of his hands reaching up to caress the little pendant. Her head rested in between the crook of his shoulder and his neck, her hold loosening to a more comfortable grip but never letting go.

"Merry Christmas, Adam," she whispered quietly, turning her face into his neck.

"...Merry Christmas, Fionnabhair," Met murmured into her forehead, kissing it. Ryce chuckled and shook her head at her stupid middle name, settling into this position quite comfortably. Something occurred to her though.

"So where were you?" she asked.

"Well…" Metatron tilts his head, thinking.

A couple of days ago!

"It sure was nice for you to stop by, Adam," Bumblebee said happily as her team sat on their kitchen table with the often-lost Titan.

"Yeah, and with dinner too," Speedy grinned, serving himself a big scoop.

"I was around. Eventually I'll get to the right tower," Metatron grinned.

"I have to say, though," Aqualad said in-between bites, as he sat across from the half-demon, "this 'chili con carne' is great!"

"¡Sí!" the twins spoke in unison. "No sabemos porque uzaste pescados, ¡Pero al iguál salió delicíoso! ¿Puedes darno más, por favor?"

"It's a special recipe," Metatron explained, resting his head on his hand lazily.

"Yeah! This is really good!" Aqualad ate happily.

"First time with chili?" Speedy chuckled. "Careful, it's kinda hot."

"Don't care," Aqualad grins, taking another serving. "You know, maybe the whole water-slash-fish-commanding thing's been played out," he reasons, "I could come up with a whole new heroic identity revolving entirely around this dish," he ignored his friends' snickering. "No, really! All I need is a new name. Like… Hot Chilli. Chillad! …The Chillinator?"

"How about KingFish1212?" Metatron suggested, eating.

Aqualad choked on his food, startling everyone as he struggled, looking at Metatron with wide eyes, "W-what?"

"Yes," the golden-eyed boy nodded pleasantly, his lazy manner akin to a cat bathing on the sun, "I'm afraid your super-duper secret identity in a public forum couldn't stand up to the might of the average two-bit hacker, Zen. Especially when you put 'Atlantis' as place of birth, and 'Titans East Tower, California" as current residency in your profile. Really? Shame on you."

Aqualad swallowed very slowly, confusion evident on his teammates' faces.

"It also escaped your notice that not only were your posts made into a public forum where anyone could see what you did," Metatron continued, his claw-tipped finger trailing along in a little circle on the sturdy oak table, "but they might affect others beyond your intended target, like a couple of children stumbling into it due to the festive season, and being heavily traumatized, leaving some pissed-off parents behind."

"…Erm…" Aqualad tried.

"Not to worry, though," Metatron assured, smiling comfortingly, "I took the heat off of you. I approached many of these parents, before they could do something they'd regret, and sat down and talked to them about healthier ways to deal with their anger, and help their children at the same time. You see, making use of California's eternally sunny weather, I suggested outdoor activities, like soccer, jogging, knife-juggling and fishing. That last one was especially popular for some reason. They must have caught hundreds."

Aqualad made a croaking noise, going green. "They killed-"

"After they had been such good sports by, y'know, promising to let go of this and not make it into a public scandal and destroying all of your reputations," Metatron continued without so much as a blink, "I decided to give them a treat: I offered to buy their fish for an admittedly outrageous sum of money. Needless to say, they didn't really hesitate and there are probably more than a few families planning to spend Christmas in Disneyland, good on them. However, I now had the dilemma of having to drag around over thirty pounds of fresh, gutted fish," Aqualad cringed at the reminder, unable to look away from the man before him, "It was gonna go bad soon, and fish is always tastier the sooner you eat it, so I figured I'd cook something up. After a night with the meat-mincer, I was all ready to stop by and visit you all…And, of course, feed you your chili."

Metatron waved vaguely to their nearly empty bowls, all their eyes dragged to them, Aqualad's wide open.

"Do you like it?" the half-demon asked in a soft, quiet voice, making the Atlantean look back up at him. Metatron leaned forward into the table, his hands propped up and fingers interlaced before him as he watched. "…Do you like it, Zen? I call it… Marine Paradise Chili."

Aqualad dumped the spoon he had somehow managed to keep hold of all this time, pulling his bowl to him and staring inside. "Oh my God."

And then he reached over and pulled out a fin.

"OH MY GOD!" Aqualad screamed, throwing it and the bowl away, looking seconds away from throwing up.

"…Jesus Christ, Adam," Bumblebee stared. Metatron winked at her.

"Oh GOD!" Aqualad sobbed, pulling at his hair frantically, pressing his head against the table and banging his fists. "NO! …NOOO…!"

"Oh since I was already here," Metatron announced cheerfully, "I invited Tempest, Aquaman, and Mera, Aquaman's seldom-seen wife, to join us. Here they are now!"

The trio stepped in, smiling…their greetings, however, died on their mouths once they took in the pathetic sight that was Aqualad.

"…Geez, what a little crybaby!" Mera said, frowning.

"You gonna cry all day, crybaby?" Tempest sneered.

"You know, everyone has problems," Aquaman rolled his eyes, "doesn't mean you have to be a little crybaby about it. You don't see me whining about my hand. Which I cut off myself."

"Come on, guys, let's go," Tempest sighed in disdain, "this kid is totally not cool."

"Yeah, that's the most uncool kid I've ever met," Aquaman agreed, turning on heel and leaving, his companions following.

"Little crybaby!" Mere mocked nastily, making an L with her fingers before leaving as well.

"N-nnnno! Wait!" Aqualad cried after them, but he was ignored. "W-waaaaaait! Oh, my GOD, OH MY GOD!" he broke down into new, incoherent sobs.

His teammates could do nothing but stare at Metatron.

"…Oh," Metatron nodded, and then grinned happily, lashing out with a double thumbs-up. "And a Merry Christmas."

Silence, beyond Aqualad's sobs.

And then Speedy reached for his bowl and resumed eating.

"NAT!" Bumblebee cried, horrified.

"What? It's good!" Speedy whined.

And with that bit of mental scarring finished…

"Mostly trying to find my way here, actually," Met confessed truthfully. "Also, I may have been banned from ever stepping foot in the state of California," he paused, "…And Atlantis."

"Ah, business as usual."

"Yeah. Want a vial filled with the tears of unfathomable sadness?"

"DO I!"

"...Merry Christmas," Met repeated, pulling the girl closer and kissing her cheek, "...Ryce."

---

And so closed another Christmas Holiday. As to be expected with all times such as these, there was laughter, and there were tears…both elation and worry. But above all else, in the end there was love and there was warmth. So, before the chapter of their lives was left completely behind…the Titans had one more thing to say…

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," Robin nodded raising a cup of eggnog.

Beside him sat Starfire with her head upon his shoulder, "Let your heart be light."

"From now on, our troubles will be out of sight," Beast Boy sighed as he nuzzled his girlfriend.

Terra giggled a bit, "Have yourself a merry little Christmas."

"Make the Yule-tide gay…oh come ON…why do I get this line!" Gauntlet whined.

("Rob, stop ruining the song and just say your line," Tim groaned.)

"From now on our troubles will be miles away," Cyborg managed to drown out both of them.

Across the room Raven sat, leaning back against Noel, her tea cupped gently between her hands, "Here we are as in olden days."

"Happy golden days of yore," Savior said softly as a nearby, Scalpel smiled and propped his chin on Sophie's head hugging her from behind.

"Faithful friends who are dear to us."

Sophie glanced up lovingly, "Gather near to us once more."

"Through the years…We all will be together," Metatron whispered softly, wrapping a blanket over himself and Ryce as she dozed in his lap.

("…is someone gonna wake Ryce up for her line?" Garfield asked quietly as the small girl in Metatron's arms began to stir, cracking open an eye.)

"If the Fates allow…Hang a shinin' star up'n the highest…up'n the high-," but a yawn cracked through as Ryce's eyes drifted back shut.

"Bough!" Adam chimed in, finishing for her before planting a soft kiss to her temple.

Some quiet laughter drifted through the room, carrying – though a bit muffled – out into the chilly air of the encroaching Christmas morning. The wind kicked that laughter up, carrying it as it swirled high up towards the cloudless starry sky above. Below the warmth and laughter laid a silent night not unlike that of the song that bore the same name. Watching over it all from their roof, stood a Woman in Black and dark-haired Man in a Suit each holding a single lit candle with only one request of you.

"And have yourself a merry little Christmas now."

They winked, leaned forward, and blew their candles out.

The End.

Meanwhile!

The extravagant mansion was bigger than most football stadiums, and thrice as tacky.

Inside one of its many rooms, one Reginald Bridgeton, the Third, resided, laying restfully on a comfortable easy chair that cost more than your—or your parents'—car. Around him, many beautiful nurses paraded by, checking his vitals and spending thousands of dollars to make him marginally more comfortable.

"I'm sorry, dear heart," he spoke in a hollow, deathbed tone, shifting the meat over his black eye slowly, "But I'm afraid your doll will have to be exported directly from Japan. I've sent twelve of our fifty private jets, but the impracticality of having them be jewel-encrusted slows them down enough so that they won't be back until the twenty-sixth," he met his daughter's eyes sadly, begging her to understand. "I can only hope your new pony stables, miniature sports car, diamond tiara, truckful of fashionable clothing, and new superpowered suit fashioned in the shape of a female Iron Man will be enough until then."

Gabrielle Bridgeton looked at her weakened father.

She had expected possible bad news when her father's secretary had fetched her from her personal amusement park, and had jumped on her pet-slash-steed panda, rushing to his side.

But now, now that she heard what has happened, the tragedy and scope of it all.

For the first time in her short life, reality dawned on Gabrielle. And she understood, finally, what it was like to be… poor.

"Oh daddy," she whimpered, trying to be brave, but it was so hard. Sinking to her knees, she covered her face with one of her disposable, $1000 each, handkerchiefs, and started sobbing heartbreakingly. "Christmas is ruined!"

"Pumpkin…" Reginald whispered weakly.

We will leave this family to their pain. To their privacy.

It's the respectful thing to do.

---

OMAKE!

"Eat, Miss Mori! Eat!" The Lord of the Night declared in his most serious of tones, shoving pieces of Ryce's fruitcake into his mouth once he ensured it was not in any way poisonous.

"…Why, Master?" Marissa Mori questioned for once in her months/years of servitude to the shadow 'god', her fork picking at the pastry.

"We must eat it… For EVIL!" The Lord explained, deathly serious.

"…I don't follow."

"They would expect us to throw it out," The Lord explained shrewdly. "By eating it, we defy their expectations and leave them unsure and hesitant. Never become predictable, Miss Mori, and you will win the war. That is how Metestasnathean has survived this long. It is the one lesson to be learned from him."

"…But I don't like fruitcake," Marissa finally admitted, a petulant little tone in her voice.

"Try it with icecream. Makes it yummy."

---

SLOTHSOUL: Wonder how long till Ricky and Marissa discover that's a… 'special' fruitcake they're eating. Oh, and for those that think Aquaman, Tempest and Mera wouldn't act like that with Aqualad… …well… …They were actually holograms. Yes. Holograms. So there.

Also, sorry it's late… my fault.