Author's Note: Can you ever forgive me for not finishing this when I should have? Well, here goes. Really going to make it happen this time.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

At the Sinclair household, the last of the guests had emptied out. Mr. Sinclair had fallen asleep in the armchair watching It's a Wonderful Life, while Mrs. Sinclair languidly wrapped leftovers. Heather stood at the end of the drive-way, enjoying a hard-earned secret cigarette. She had waited all day for the relatives to leave so she could enjoy a moment of solace.

The solace was broken by the clunkety-sputter-what-the-hell rumble of an unsightly 96' Civic rumbling down their pristine street. Her shock was mild at first, but shifted quickly into outright horror when the hideous vehicle turned into her very own drive way. She glared, and the mere power of her venom eyes slowed the car to a near-halt.

The driver-side window rolled down as she peered in suspiciously, puffing menacingly on her cigarette. A familiar and unwelcome face popped out of the window.

"Ho-bag Heather!" Jay Hogart chimed cheerily at the sight of her. "It's been too long, my sweet."

Heather snarled. "I can only assume you are strung out on drugs, you wretched plebe. Get the fuck out of my driveway."

Jay's smile only widened. "Your wit hasn't dulled with age, I see. Wish I could say the same about your hips..."

There wasn't a second of a hesitation before Heather smacked him straight in the face with her free hand.

Jay nodded. "Fair enough. Listen, I know you hate me, but I have something that belongs to you, and there's just no room for it at my apartment, see."

Still snarling, Heather peered into Jay's run-down car and saw, curled up in the ugliest afghan she'd ever seen, her baby sister, fast asleep. Her eyes narrowed. "Explain yourself, quickly, or I go in for another hit. Then I call the cops."

Explain? Jay thought. Explain this? He was easily stoned enough to just laugh, unable to put anything, really, into words. How could he explain a drunk sleeping Holly J Sinclair on Christmas Day in the back of his car? Just a few short months ago, the answer could only be something obscene. Now, suddenly and with surprising ease, it was simply the way of his existence. Out of nowhere, his friendship with Holly J was one of the most solid things in his life.

"She needed a ride home," he answered simply. "And typically I would expect you to accuse me of a variety of lewd acts, and typically you'd be right, but I can assure you that she came to me already drunk. I gave her nothing but Cheez-Its and couch space."

"And gonorrhea?"

Jay threw up his hands. "It never ends with that shit..." he muttered to himself. He smiled tiredly at Heather Sinclair. "No, no, none of that. I have actually managed to acquire just a smidge of common sense since I was fifteen. I'm just here to drop the kid off. She can keep the afghan."

"That thing is coming nowhere near my house." Heather sighed and stomped out her cigarette on the concrete. "I believe you, but more because of my faith in Holly J's intelligence than in your chivalry."

At the mention of her own name, Holly J wriggled in the passenger's seat and blinked open her eyes. She blushed a little at the sight of her sister. "Um, hey, Heather," she rasped. "Merry Christmas."

Heather nodded and assessed the situation with cold logic. "Hello sweet sister. Follow my instructions carefully. Get out of this nightmare, leave the flea-ridden blanket behind. Walk around the tennis court and wait for me at the window by the guest bedroom. I'll get to your room without Mom seeing you."

Holly J nodded sleepily. "Well, thanks, Stinko," she said softly to Jay, placing a casual kiss on his cheek. As she climbed out of the car and scurried around the back of the Sinclair household, Jay could feel Heather's eyes shooting venom once again.

"Things at home have been difficult," Heather began. "I haven't been around, and I'm sure it's all very hard for Holly J. I can't imagine what lapse in judgment ever brought her to the likes of you, but it ends now. Hear me? You are not to speak to, look at, or even think of my little sister again. She's too good to even be near you, in any capacity."

Jay felt his stomach squirm just a little. Heather Sinclair hadn't lost her touch at all since high school. And the sad thing was... she wasn't totally incorrect. Holly J was too good for him, and he knew it.

Heather continued. "So kindly pull this piece of shit out of our driveway, and never come around again. I will find out. And I will find a way to make your life miserable. Merry Christmas, cretin."

The shielding smile on his face had vanished. He looked into Heather's cold eyes, drinking in the cold truth they reflected. He gave her a limp captain's salute before backing his car out of the Sinclair driveway.