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Holiday at the Hyperion (2/2)

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Shanna

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24 Dec 2000, 22:06:3324/12/2000
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Angel was still squinting at the branch he held, trying to figure out where it
belonged. I took it away from him and put it in what looked like the right
place. "You go get the ladder and put the top part on. You're tall," I
instructed him. Actually, Wes is just a little taller than Angel is, but
Angel's stronger, and I needed to talk to Wes. While he was gone, Wes and I got
to work assembling the tree. I took advantage of Angel's absence to whisper,
"What did you find?"

"I'll have to do some more research, but it appears that the figures on the
wreath may be the source of the effect we both experienced," he whispered. "I
found a reference to using these doll-like figures to capture spirits of sorts,
or the essence of spirits."

"So you mean someone really may have captured Christmas Past? What about
Present and Future?"

Before he could answer, Angel came back with the stepladder. "Okay, now what?"
he asked.

"You climb up and I'll hand you the top of the tree," I told him. "Wes, why
don't you put on another record?"

I waited until Angel was in position, then handed him the top part of the tree.
Meanwhile, some old guy started singing about going on a sleigh ride. Angel got
the top of the tree in place and straightened out the branches. "Now, what?" he
asked.

"Stay up there for a second. While you're there, you can put the angel on top."
I laughed. "Angel putting the angel on. How appropriate. Now, where was that
angel? Wes, do you remember?" I walked over to where Wes stood by the record
player and whispered to him, "Let's forget about the ghost stuff for now. This
actually seems to be cheering him up, and that's the most important thing right
now."

"I would have to agree," he murmured. Then out loud he said, "I think the angel
was in that box over by the counter."

"Oh, right. Now I remember." I found the angel and handed it to our Angel.
"This goes on the very top. Make her face the front door." The top of the tree
taken care of, the three of us quickly finished putting in the other branches.
There were a few missing branches, which wasn't surprising after all these
years. "Don't worry about the missing branches," I told the guys. "The holes
just make it look more like a real tree. We'll cover the blank spots with more
tinsel, or something."

Angel stood back and looked at the tree. "So, now we have a fake tree in the
lobby. What next?"

I turned to stare at him. "What? You've been alive for nearly three hundred
years, and you don't know about Christmas trees? You haven't been paying
attention."

"I told you, Christmas was different in my day. We didn't have trees. And I
wasn't exactly focused on the decorations after that."

"But you were good for a hundred years after that. Didn't you at least notice
some of our customs?"

"I sort of hid away during the holiday season. All those people being happy
just made me more miserable. And sometimes it made the temptation worse."

Once again, that bordered on too much information. "Okay, crash course in
Christmas. We decorate the tree. It looks festive. We have fun. We've got the
music going, we're here with friends. This is cool. Wes, you got the lights?"

He came over to the tree with a neat coil looped over his arm. "I ought to
check them to see if they still work. None of the wires are frayed, but there's
no guarantee all the bulbs will work."

"Let's see what happens," I said.

He plugged the string of bulbs in, and they all lit up with bright colors. They
were the old fashioned kind with big bulbs instead of the twinkle lights we
have today. The three of us passed the coil around the tree, winding it higher
and higher until the guys had to take over to get the lights to the top. Just
as we got the tree covered, the lights all blinked out. "Oh," Wes said,
sounding disappointed. "Something must be wrong."

"You can figure it out later," I said, not wanting to let his usual "it's all
my fault" routine bring down Angel's mood. The last thing I needed around here
was two depressed guys. "Let's just get the ornaments on." I handed Angel a box
of ornaments. "Here, just hang them on the tree."

He stared at the box he held. "How?"

"They have hooks on them. Put the hook on the branch. It's a piece of cake."

"But how should they go?"

I rolled my eyes. This was ridiculous. How could he be as old as he was and
still so clueless? "It doesn't matter. Just scatter them. You don't want too
many of the same kind near each other, and don't let there be any big, empty
spaces." I then handed Wes a box. "And these are for you. I take it you don't
need directions?" He gave me that particular "oh, please!" glare of his and got
to work. After hanging a few ornaments, they both looked more cheerful. My plan
was already working, but if I'm going to have to be morale officer around here,
I deserve a raise.

Within half an hour, it was really starting to feel like Christmas. We had the
festive music going on, and the three of us were talking and laughing as we
decorated the tree. Well, I was laughing. Wes gave the occasional chuckle, and
once or twice he actually smiled. Angel came closer to smiling than he had in
weeks. Then just as we were getting into the spirit of things, the front door
banged open. "You have got to be kidding!" a familiar voice boomed. We all
turned to see Gunn staring at us like we were insane.

"What?" I asked.

He waved his hand around the decorated lobby. "What's up with all the ho, ho,
ho?"

"Checked a calendar lately?" I asked. "It's December. Decorating for Christmas
is traditional at this time of year."

"I just didn't expect vampires to be all into Christmas."

I put my hands on my hips. "Just how many vampires do you see in here?"

"How'd she get you into this?" Gunn asked Angel.

Angel, like the big macho weenie he can be sometimes, quickly hung the glass
Santa Claus he was holding on the tree and tried to look like he wasn't
enjoying himself. "Just helping with some of the high branches," he said. "You
need me for something?"

"Yeah. New nest of vamps in my neighborhood. I figure we could give 'em a good
scare."

"Let's go." Angel dropped the Christmas decorating thing really fast, but a
mission was almost as good for getting him out of the Darla blues. "How much
manpower do we need?" In other words, did they need Wes and me along for the
fight?

"Just you and me. Like I said, I want to scare 'em off, spread the word to stay
out of that part of town."

Normally, being brushed aside like that would really piss Wes off, but he
didn't say anything. He knew as well as I did that this was our chance to get
back to figuring out what the deal was with that wreath. Angel grabbed his
coat, and he and Gunn were off. Wes and I waited for a count of five after they
were gone, then we both dashed over to the office. Wes opened his book to the
place where he'd left the Post-it, and I sat down at my computer.

As I sat, I glanced at the Polaroids sitting on my desk. Something caught my
eye, and I picked up the photo. I angled it the way the wreath had been hung,
then tried to remember where my hands were on the wreath when I'd tried to
adjust it. Then I tried to remember how Wes had placed his hands when he hung
the wreath. "Wes!" I called out, "I think I know where Present and Future are."

He turned around. "Where?"

"They're on the wreath, too." I held up the Polaroid. "See, didn't you hold it
like so?" I angled my hands like I was holding an imaginary wreath so that one
hand was on one of the figures and the other hand touched the wreath itself.
"The way we had the wreath hanging, we only touched one of these things. There
are two others."

He took the picture from me, then closed his eyes and angled his hands like he
was hanging the wreath. "You're right," he said.

"But if Christmas Past, Present and Future are on this wreath that's been in
the basement of this hotel for fifty or so years, how have we had Christmas all
this time?"

"It's not possible to capture the spirit of something like Christmas in its
entirety. Perhaps what someone was able to do was channel some of the spirits
into these figures so they could then be controlled."

"So, the story's true, all that stuff about Scrooge and the Ghosts?"

"It appears it may be. This may even be how such an experience was inflicted on
Scrooge."

"Cool. But didn't the ghosts do a good thing for Scrooge? They made him better.
How could they then go and cause all that trouble here?"

"How familiar are you with the story?"

"I haven't actually read the book. They show a few versions of the movie on TV
every year. I kind of like the Muppet version."

"Which is surprisingly true to the text, aside from the talking pigs and frogs,
of course."

It was hard to believe that an intellectual snob like Wesley would have seen
any Muppet movie. I definitely needed to do some digging. But for now, we had
other issues to deal with. "I take it you've read the original?"

"I re-read it every Christmas Eve," he said, blushing slightly. It was kind of
sad if reading some old book was his idea of celebrating Christmas. I was even
more glad I'd come up with the idea of having a party. It would be good for him
-- well, aside from making him relive a brutal childhood beating.

He perched on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest. He was
going into professor mode, but this lecture might actually be interesting, for
a change. "The Spirits themselves are neither good nor evil. They merely
reflect what you have within you, assuming the story is accurate. I hate using
a fictional work as source material, but it's the best account we've got to go
on. According to the story, as cold and cruel as Scrooge was, his time with the
Spirits wasn't an unpleasant one, for the most part. He had fond memories of
the past. That experience was bittersweet merely because it brought up the
choices he'd made that affected his future life. It was the awareness of his
own choices that saddened him."

"For Angel, the past would be time before he became a vampire, which means all
sorts of regrets about the kind of life he might have had otherwise. Plus all
those years of evil with Darla, for some world-class brooding. And then a
couple of Christmases with Buffy, for even more brooding. Not good," I said.

"Scrooge quite enjoyed his time with Christmas Present. He shared vicariously
in all the Christmas celebrations he was missing. That experience made him
realize the joy of Christmas that he'd been missing."

"For Angel, Christmas Present means seeing where Darla is now that she's been
re-vamped. Or seeing Buffy with that big Boy Scout she's dating now. Not good.
We really need to keep Angel away from this wreath."

"Christmas Yet to Come was the experience that was most painful for Scrooge,
for he saw the way his life would turn out if he remained on the path he'd
chosen, and he saw what little regard others had for him. It was that
experience that urged him to change his life."

"Future might not be bad for Angel. He could see what it's going to be like
when he becomes human again, and that might give him the hope he needs to keep
fighting, even after all those setbacks recently -- unless there's some sort of
wicked loophole in the prophecy, or unless you didn't translate it right."

"Of course I translated it right. The last time. I'm sure that translation is
accurate. Reasonably sure."

"So, if the ghosts made Scrooge a better person, why did they make all these
people here kill themselves and each other?"

"I imagine it was the combination of the spirits and the Thesulac demon. On
their own, the spirits may have brought about a reformation among the residents
of the hotel, but the demon's influence would have twisted the effects of the
spirits. Instead of using regrets about the past and fears of the future to
change lives, the demon could twist those feelings toward a destructive end."

"So instead of feeling bad about the things they'd done in their past and
wanting to change, people would just feel bad and blow their brains out or kill
someone else."

"Very likely. Of course, it's just a theory. We don't know yet what effect
these other figures will have."

"There's only one way to find out," I said, standing up. "Let's go." He
followed me down to the basement, where we took the wreath out of its box --
carefully holding it by the greenery -- and laid it on the floor. "That one's
Past," I said, pointing to the figure dressed in white. "That's the one we were
holding. Which one's Present and which one's Future?"

"The dark one must be Yet to Come. See, its face is obscured. The other one
looks jolly enough. It must be Present."

"So, wanna give Present a try?"

He didn't look too thrilled about the idea. I wondered if maybe he didn't want
to know what his family might be up to. "I'll do it. Maybe I can spy on my
parents," I said. "But if you touch me, you can come along for the ride and see
what I'm seeing so you'll know what it's doing."

"What?"

Oops. I forgot he didn't know about before and that I wasn't planning to tell
him. "Oh, right, that," I said. "Well, you know when you were taking the wreath
down and I was making sure you didn't fall? I picked up a teeny bit of what you
were going through. Not much, and I let go right away. I'm sorry, Wes." I
didn't know what I was apologizing for -- the fact that I'd eavesdropped on his
flashback, the fact that I hadn't told him or the fact that he had such a
horrid childhood.

But he didn't respond. He merely knelt next to me and held out his hand. I took
it, and with my other hand I reached to touch the figure we'd decided must be
Present. I was back in Sunnydale, but not at my old home or anyone else's. I
was at the hospital. A pathetic little two-foot tree that looked like something
out of the Charlie Brown special sat on top of a small chest of drawers. It had
tiny ornaments and a string of colored lights on it. There was a selection of
Get Well and Christmas cards scattered under the tree. Buffy's mom lay in the
hospital bed, a big Santa hat covering bandages on her head. Buffy and her
little sister -- sister? -- sat on the bed next to their mom. They all looked
tired and stressed, but happy to be together.

When I blinked back to the present, I had tears running down my cheeks. "Poor
Buffy," Wes breathed, and I knew he'd seen the same thing I had.

"Oh God, I had no idea there was anything wrong. Giles or Willow or somebody
should have told us."

He shook his head. "No, they probably didn't want to disturb Angel, or have him
disturb Buffy by rushing in."

"I take it we shouldn't tell Angel about this."

"It's the last thing he needs right now, and I imagine that Angel in his
current state is the last thing Buffy needs at the moment."

"I'll call Willow tomorrow and find out what's going on."

"And perhaps we should send something, from the two of us, some flowers maybe."

"Do you know how much flowers cost? I know you know how little money we have.
We can get a card. A really nice one. But what do we do about this?" I
indicated the wreath. "Do we just leave these spirits here? Or maybe we could
give the wreath to Wolfram & Hart and see what happens."

"I'm not sure even these spirits are capable of that kind of miracle," he said
dryly. "I suppose we ought to free them. At this point in time, the world needs
all the Christmas spirit it can get, and it can't have been pleasant for them
to be trapped here all those years, especially seeing the pain caused by their
presence."

"Let me guess. More research."

"More research," he agreed, standing and offering me a hand up.

I put on another record and made a pot of coffee while he dug out a few more
books. It didn't take too long before he said, "Got it!" with a smug smile.
"This shouldn't be too difficult. A simple incantation, and we have these herbs
on hand." Still holding the book, he went to the supply cabinet and took out a
couple of small jars. "Do we have any candles? Preferably white ones,
unscented."

"I think there were some in one of these boxes. They used to be white. Now
they're kind of yellowish." I got the candles, then the two of us headed back
to the basement with our magic supplies. Wes sprinkled powder from one of his
jars on each of the three figures, then made a ring around the wreath with some
dried leafy stuff from the other jar. He took the candles from me and put them
around the ring of leafy stuff. Then he snapped his fingers and muttered
something under his breath and the candles lit and the ring of leaves flared up
then settled back to a sweet-smelling smolder.

"Wes!" I said in shock. "Since when can you do stuff like that?"

He shrugged. "Fire's easy, strictly elemental manipulation. They teach Watchers
that much. It's easier than remembering to carry matches, or, if you're like
me, remembering to remove the matchbook from your pocket before you do
laundry."

"I always thought Giles knew magic from his black magic juvenile delinquent
days."

"A Watcher's education is fairly eclectic." He opened his book and knelt next
to the burning circle. I stepped back. If those spirits were ticked off from
all those years in captivity, I certainly didn't want to be the first thing
they saw when they were released. Wes began chanting something in some foreign
language that I didn't recognize. I was pretty sure it wasn't Latin, Spanish,
French or human. Then there was a blinding flash of light and a rush of wind. I
threw my arm over my eyes to shield them. When I thought it might be safe to
look again, I cautiously peeked from behind my arm and had to stifle a gasp.

The dark basement was flooded with a warm glow of light. Three figures stood --
more like floated -- just above the wreath. The candles had been blown out, and
Wes must have been knocked flying, for he was just pulling himself back up to
his knees. His glasses still lay where he'd fallen. The three figures were
right out of a movie, one of the good versions of 'A Christmas Carol.' One wore
white robes and had a bright glow of light. The other was bearded and merry in
a green robe. The third was dark and scary, its robe covering its face. The
sight was kind of awe-inspiring. I could see now how old Scrooge could have
been changed just from seeing these ghosts.

"You freed us!" the green-robed one -- Present -- said in a booming voice.

"Y-yes," Wes stammered. I decided to let him do the talking.

"It has been many years," Past said in its clear voice. Future just lurked in
the background.

"I suppose it has been," Wes said, sounding a little calmer. "I have no idea
how long you've been trapped, but it's not good for you to have been like that,
particularly in this place. In fact, it could be quite dangerous for one person
here."

"Our intent was never to cause pain, only to change lives," Past said sadly. It
stepped forward and rested a hand on top of Wesley's head as if it were
blessing him. "We are sorry if we brought pain to those who do not deserve it."

"You keep Christmas well, in your own way," Present boomed.

"Well, we try," I put in. "We wouldn't have found you if we hadn't put the
decorations up. And boy, let me tell you, we need you guys around here. There's
this law firm we know that would keep you busy for years." Wes turned to give
me an unfocused glare. He hadn't yet bothered to pick up his glasses.

"We thank you for our liberation," Present said. "How can we repay you?"

I could start with a shopping list at Tiffany's, but somehow I didn't think the
spirits would go for that sort of thing. It might seem kind of shallow. "Past
and Present may not be able to help much right now, but I think Future could do
us a favor," I said. "We've got this friend, you see, who's already well aware
of what he did wrong in the past. But lately I think he's given up hope for the
future. If you could show him that things will work out okay, then that might
make him feel better."

"And nothing for you two?" Present asked. "You have no wish to revisit a past
Christmas, to see your loved ones this Christmas or to look into your future?"

Wes shook his head. "No thank you. I'll take each day as it comes, and I'd
rather keep the past in the past."

"Yeah, been there, done that on the past and present thing, thanks to the
wreath," I said. "And I'm not so sure about wanting to know about the future. I
already get these visions, and then there are all those prophecies. I'm kind of
burned out on the future."

"Very well, Our brother will grant your friend a vision of the future. And you
will carry with you our blessing on your Christmas." Present waved his torch at
us, sprinkling both of us with sparkly, sweet-smelling stuff from his torch.
Then the three of them began to fade from sight.

Wes found his glasses and put them on, then stood, brushing off his knees.
"That was interesting," he said. "I shall have to reread the book."

"You go on upstairs, I'll clean up down here," I told him. There wasn't much
cleaning to do. All the herbs had vanished when the ghosts appeared. There were
just a few candle stubs on the floor. The wreath was still there with its
figures, but they no longer had that eerie glow to them. I wondered if it would
be okay to put up now. We needed a wreath in that showplace location.

I was about to go back upstairs when I felt a presence. If the ghosts were
still there, I had one more thing to tell them. "Hey, Future? You still here?"
I called out. The dark-robed figure reappeared. "I just thought I'd warn you,
if you come to people in their sleep, our friend is more of a night person, so
you may have to readjust your schedule, okay?" It nodded and I turned to go up
the stairs. Then I hesitated and turned back. "Is the offer still open for a
teeny peek at my future?" I couldn't resist the chance to see if I ever got all
the fame and wealth I deserved. I mean, what was the harm? According to the
story, the future the ghost showed me wouldn't be definite, just what would
happen if I stayed on the path I was on. I could change it by changing my life.

The ghost nodded and held out a bony hand. I took it, and images flashed before
me. It felt like only a split second before it was over. I thanked the ghost
and ran upstairs. Apparently it had been longer than I thought, for Wes had the
tree lights working again. That chick from "The Wizard of Oz" was singing "Have
Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" on the record player and the rest of the
lobby lights were dimmed so the tree really stood out. "Oh, there you are," Wes
said. "I was wondering what happened to you. Cocoa?"

"Yes, please." He handed me a mug, then picked up a mug of his own. We both
went over to one of the sofas facing the tree and sat down side-by-side. After
a couple of sips of cocoa, I said, "You know, we make a pretty good team."

"I suppose we do. We solved the mystery, freed the spirits and did something
good for Angel."

"Not to mention we got all the Christmas decorations up. Oh, who are we
kidding? We rock!" I paused in thought. "Hey, if one of us draws Angel's name
for the gift exchange, can we count this as the gift?"

"I really don't think so. We'll just consider this our good deed." He frowned,
then added, "I hope it's a good deed. I hope it helps him."

"You mean you hope the ghost doesn't show him some scary future where everyone
he cares about is already dead before he becomes human?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"It'll be okay," I assured him. After all, I'd had my own look into the future,
and although it seemed kind of strange that things would work out that way, it
didn't seem bad at all, and I had a feeling that after I'd gone through all the
things I'd have to go through to get to that point, the result would make a lot
more sense. I looked up at the tree. "This looks nice."

"It does, doesn't it? It was a good idea to do this. Thank you."

"Well, you know what they say," I said, raising my mug toward him. "God bless
us every one."

The End

Author's note part 2: I'm leaving it to the imagination of the reader what
Cordelia saw of her future. Writing that out would be asking to be Jossed.

Djinn

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24 Dec 2000, 23:03:0624/12/2000
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This was a great story, Shanna! You had the voices dead on! - Djinn

--

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Yahtzee63

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29 Dec 2000, 01:57:4729/12/2000
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Nice work! I always love seeing Wesley and Cordelia work together, particularly
when, as here, the author has doen such a great job with the character voices.
Thanks for sharing!

Paul Gadzikowski

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31 Dec 2000, 10:59:2931/12/2000
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Shanna wrote:
> Author's note part 2: I'm leaving it to the imagination of the reader what
> Cordelia saw of her future. Writing that out would be asking to be Jossed.

I know what you mean:

http://members.iglou.com/scarfman/dwxst.htm#tk

--
Paul Gadzikowski, scar...@iglou.com
http://members.iglou.com/scarfman

"Why does she even HAVE that lever?"

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