Title: Green Eyed Christmas Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters are mine. Feedback: Love some, thanks. Part five.... Three hours crawled by. Buffy sat in the living room, staring hypnotically at the twinkly lights of the Christmas tree. She had run all the way home, trying to outdistance the hurt that was threatening to overwhelm her. It hadn't done a bit of good. When she'd stopped and turned around, all the pain of her missed chances was still there, taunting her, waiting to pounce. At first, she'd been so upset that she hadn't been able to get the front door unlocked. After dropping her keys three times, she'd had to sit down on the porch swing and place her head between her knees, fighting off a wave of nausea. Five minutes later, she'd taken another shot at the door, and had been successful. Stumbling into the foyer, she'd come face to face with a note that Dawn had taped to the mirror. She'd been invited to a last minute caroling and tree trimming party at her friend Petra's house. Petra's mother had come to pick her up, and Dawn had written the address and phone number at the bottom of the page. Forcing her voice to remain calm, Buffy called and spoke with both her sister and Petra's mother, a jolly and chirpy sounding woman with the strangely suitable first name of 'Tippy'. With no one else in the house to occupy her thoughts, Buffy had wandered around like a lost child. She'd changed into her pajamas...while thinking about Spike. She'd watered the tree and plugged in the lights....while thinking about Spike. She'd loaded the dishwasher, and wiped the peanut butter off the kitchen counters....still thinking about Spike. When there was nothing more to be done, she returned to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa like a dying swan...and promptly began to think about Spike. Knowing that the whole mess was all her own fault, didn't lessen the pain of it one iota. She wanted to cry...to scream...to stamp her foot; all useless gestures that hadn't even worked when she'd been a child and such things had been expected of her. Until now...now that it was really starting to set in...Buffy hadn't actually known that such pain was even possible. It made the pain she'd suffered at the loss of Riley seem like a paper cut in comparison to an amputation with no anesthetic or bullet to bite down on. How the hell she was going to get through it was a mystery to her. Especially if she was going to have to be a regular audience member at the 'Spike and Melinda' show. No, she couldn't deal with that. She would have to avoid them as much as possible. Of course, the others would ask questions, wanting to know why she never called on Spike for help any- more, but she would deal with that later...when she could think about it without dissolving into a weepy mass of quivering hurt. This unrequited love business was agony, and she didn't know how Spike had managed to deal with it for so long. Now that the shoe had been transferred to the other foot with such dazzling speed, Buffy was quite sure she wouldn't be half as good at it as he had been. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hating the depressive silence in the house, Buffy flipped through an old box of her mother's CDs. Most of it was definitely not the sort of thing one should listen to when suffering a fresh wound to the heart. Joyce Summers had been a sucker for love songs, both happy and sad ones, and she'd amassed an extensive collection of each variety before she'd died. Buffy rejected disc after disc, finally seizing on one with a selection of Christmas music sung by various artists. Figuring that 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' was her safest bet, she loaded the disc into the player and fiddled with the volume control knob. When she had it at a level that would drown her gloomy thoughts without causing the neighbors to summon the noise police, she sank down on the sofa and began her contemplation of the tree lights. Singing along with the yuletide cheer, she made it through 'Rudolph', 'Winter Wonderland', 'White Christmas', and 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' without obsessing over the man who no longer wanted her. But her calm was all shot to hell when the next song began to play. "Christmas future is far away Christmas past is past Christmas present is here to stay Bringing joy that will last..." She couldn't bring herself to sing along with this one, al- though neither did she get up and change the song. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light >From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.." Whoever was singing had a deep, soft voice. It reminded her of the way Spike's voice had sounded during their more intimate moments, when passion was temporarily sated. A husky whisper in her ear, telling her how much he loved her...would always love her. Yeah, well.... "Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay >From now on, our troubles will be miles away..." Sitting as rigidly still as an Easter Island stone effigy, Buffy struggled to keep her mind out of places it had no business going. But it was no good, and she quickly lost whatever tiny advantage she had gained. Mentally throwing in the towel, she was about to lay down and indulge in a good, old-fashioned holiday cry fest when the front door suddenly swung open. Upon seeing who was invading her dungeon of misery, her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of surprise when Spike walked in and closed the door behind him. Their eyes met and held for a long moment, neither of them saying a word. He came into the front room, reaching for her hand, draw- ing her to her feet and into his arms. Buffy gave no resistance, melting and molding herself against him like hot wax. They stayed that way, their bodies moving in a slow dance to the softly playing musical accompaniment. "Here we are, as in olden days Happy golden days of yore Faithful friends who are dear to us Gather near to us once more..." She closed her eyes, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when she felt him brush a gentle kiss against her hair. "I'm sorry." "Through the years, we all will be together If the fates allow Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.." Clinging to him, Buffy's eyes opened to meet his...and she knew...knew without being told...that he had been in the same pain as she had. The look on his face told the story, eloquently. "And have yourself a merry little Christmas now..." (Well, there you go.) TBC: The...'ahem'...make up sex.