-- The Cricket on the Hearth, A Fairytale of Home,
by Charles Dickens

Chirp the Third

The college chapel was grander than anything Buffy would have imagined. She'd thought it would be a small place for a few students to gather for worship. Instead, she found herself before a building that would have been impressive had it been called a cathedral. It was a tall, narrow, gothic church with an even taller tower at each corner. It was built without the flying buttresses that shored up the walls of most European cathedrals. The clean lines of the walls emphasized the height of the roof, and colored light spilled out of the massive stained glass windows onto the fresh snow of the courtyard.

It was built facing the river. Buffy and William had approached along a riverside walk, and they stood now at the riverbank looking up to the church.

"Chapel?" Buffy said incredulously.

"Yes, a nice one isn't it?" William said mildly.

They could hear the organ from the church playing a Bach cantata.

"Shall we go in?" William asked, offering her his arm again.

Buffy nodded. "It's strange. I'm trying to remember the last time I went to a church service. The best I can say is: It's been a while."

William smiled. "The church is always eager to welcome back its prodigal sons and daughters."

Buffy stopped and looked at William. So strange to hear him say that, knowing what she knew of William's future. She wanted to tell him to never forget it -- but knew it wouldn't make any difference. This wasn't William. It was an image of William. She couldn't warn him to stay out of London stables, or stay away from dark-haired women who promised immortality. Nor would she want to, she realized. If William sidestepped his fate, she would never know him. She'd miss both the mortal enemy and the immortal lover. Would she do it if she could? Could she bear to give up the Spike she'd known if it meant William could live out his life as a man?

Such cruel turns of fate lay ahead for this gentle soul.

Would it even be right? Was William's life worth more than Spike's?

"Miss Summers?" William asked, noticing her reluctance to move forward.

"Could I ask you to do something for me?"

"Certainly! If it's within my power, it's yours."

Buffy smiled.

"Call me Buffy."

"Buffy? I thought your name was Anne..."

"It's a pet name they have for me at home. It would make me happy if you'd use it as well."

"Very well... Buffy. Nothing would give me more pleasure."

They proceeded up the walk to the church and went inside. It was filling up, and they had to take a pew near the back. The interior of the church was lit by candles and decorated with miles of evergreen roping. William took a hymnal from the rack and began bookmarking the songs listed on the board at the front of the church.

Sitting was neither comfortable nor relaxing. Buffy had thought it would be good to get her weight off her feet, but in practice, the bustle and corset made the sitting position awkward. She had to perch on the edge of the seat with her back ramrod straight to manage it at all.

William regarded her little squirming attempts to find a better position with mild amusement.

"You're really not accustomed to dressing this way, are you?" he asked quietly.

Buffy shook her head. "We're a bit more casual out West," she said.

William took her hand in his. "The trouble you've taken was well worth it... Buffy," he said. "The clothing may not be what you're accustomed to, but I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Buffy smiled back at him. "And what would you think if you saw me dressed in blue jeans? Would you still think I was beautiful?"

"I don't think you're capable of anything else," he said earnestly. "I think you would be beautiful in any clothing at all."

The organ struck up the processional, and the choir began its march up the main aisle. William's attention was drawn to the pageant, but Buffy's eyes stayed on him.

As the service went on, the warmth of the church began to tell on Buffy. She was sure that if she had been able to sit back in her pew, she would have fallen asleep. The thought was disturbing. This was a dream, she reminded herself. If she fell asleep in a dream, would it mean the dream was over and she would wake up? She didn't want to wake up now. The church, the Christmas music, the fragrance of incense and pine, and her hand cradled in William's -- it all felt so safe and right.

William let go of her hand for a moment to change the page in his hymnal. It was time to stand and sing along. Buffy moved closer to William -- ostensibly to share his hymnal, but she had to admit that it was really about being close and feeling the warmth of his living body next to hers.

"Angels From the Realms of Glory" the curate announced.

William began to sing.

Angels from the realms of glory,
Wing your flight o’er all the earth;
Ye who sang creation’s story
Now proclaim Messiah’s birth.

Come and worship, come and worship
Worship Christ, the newborn King.

He had a lovely tenor voice. Buffy joined in, but felt her contribution was weak in comparison. The song continued through several verses.

Sinners, wrung with true repentance,
Doomed for guilt to endless pains,
Justice now revokes the sentence,
Mercy calls you; break your chains.

Buffy stopped singing. Hearing William sing those words robbed her of her voice. How strange it all was. Could it be coincidence?

As the service ended, they filed toward the door, where the priest was stationed, greeting his congregation as they left. There was a bit of backup in the vestibule, and they stood in the crowd, William close behind her, his hand on her waist.

When they got to the reception line, the priest shook Buffy's hand and wished her a merry Christmas.

"Thank you, Father," she said. "And you as well."

As she spoke, there was a chirping sound. Buffy looked around.

"A cricket," the priest said.

"It's good luck, or so I've heard," Buffy replied with a smile, though the sound left her vaguely uneasy for some reason.

William pumped the priest's hand enthusiastically.

"An inspiring sermon, Father," he said.

"Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Smith," the priest replied.

They headed down the church steps into the crisp night air. The snow had stopped, and the sky had cleared. There was a canopy of stars overhead, glittering in a velvet-black sky. A thin crescent of moon cast pale light on the fresh snow that glittered back at the stars.

They walked along in silence for a while.

"It seemed like the cricket bothered you," William said after they had reached the river walk.

Buffy stopped and looked at him, memorizing the innocent, untroubled expression on his face.

"It was the third one I've heard today. I think it means something."

William tilted his head to give her a puzzled look. It was a gesture so typically Spike, that it squeezed her heart.

"I think my time here may be nearly up."

"Oh... You have to go back to your family..."

Buffy nodded.

"Of course..."

Buffy took both of his hands in hers and looked up into his face. "If I could grant you one wish with a kiss, what would you wish for?" she asked.

William thought for a moment.

"I would wish that I could be with you forever," he said. "I would wish that a century from now, you'd still be with me."

Buffy stood on tiptoe to give him a quick, light kiss on the lips.

"Make that a hundred and twenty years, and I might be able to deliver," she said with a chuckle.

"What about you? If I could grant you one wish with a kiss, what would you wish for?"

"I would wish that I could tell you something and you would believe me, and remember it always."

William bent down and kissed her, slowly and gently, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"Tell me, then. I promise I'll believe you, and I don't think I could forget if I tried."

Buffy swallowed hard. Her throat was tightening.

"I want to tell you that forgiveness is always possible -- always. And redemption happens. I've seen it, and I know it's true."

She spoke the words and wished with all her heart that they could transcend this pleasant dream and find their way to the real William's bleak future.

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with wonder. For a moment Buffy could believe he understood.

She pulled away from him.

"I have to go now."

"I'll walk you back to your hotel," William said.

"No... I'm sorry. There isn't time."

"But, Buffy..."

He was fading away, along with the river by their side, the snow banks, the church in the distance.



"Willow told me to let you sleep, but come on, Buffy, it's almost nine o'clock and it's Christmas!" Dawn was saying.

"Mmmph?" Buffy answered, pulling the covers over her head.

"Come on! I want to open my presents!"

Buffy sat up.

"What happened to 'I'm not a kid?'" she said muzzily.

"It's Christmas! What point is there to not being a kid on Christmas?"

"OK, OK... I'm getting up. There'd better be some coffee waiting when I get downstairs."

Dawn swept out of the room in triumph.

Buffy sat up and glanced over at the nightstand. The empty mug was still there, and beside it was the paper where she had written her request. She picked it up and looked at it.

"Show me Spike when he was my age," she'd written. She looked at it now and thought about her "holiday" as Willow had called it. She certainly felt rested now -- more so than she had in weeks. And her determination was renewed.

"I'll find you, William," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Spike."