TITLE: Christmas in New York 1/?
AUTHOR: Claudine
EMAIL: claudine423@yahoo.com
PAIRING: W/G, W/E
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: If I beg ???? :-)
NOTES: This is a future fic.
DISCLAIMER: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. Nor do I own the rights to The Grinch or any of the other stories/songs I mention. Gimme a freakin' break Mr. Copyright man - I'm merely a humble fan havin' some fun. No infringement is intended. Say goodnight, Gracie.....

Willow Rosenberg walked slowly through the bustling metropolis, taking in all the holiday sites and sounds of the city. New York on Christmas Eve was a wonderful, spectacular place to be, even if you happened to be Jewish. Not that her religion defined her. At least not at this stage of her life.

She breezed past Radio City and mused at the line of people gathered five deep all the way around the block waiting to get in to see the Rockettes. With a quick twinkle of her nose she worked a little magic that changed the front-row-center seats of a stuffy, old curmudgeon that she passed with the last row, ‘limited-view’ seats of a family that had, no doubt, spent an entire month’s salary just to get in to see the show.

After some elbowing, she managed to get close enough to watch the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center. The music, the lights on the tree, the sea of faces full of smiles - it was magical. She was in awe of everything, but down inside, she was lonely.

Her parents had moved to Florida after a rich relative that nobody ever knew even existed died and left them over a million dollars. Aunt Eloise. Good old Aunt Eloise. Willow's name was in the will, too, and her precious, but never mentioned, aunt left her a hundred thousand dollars. At least that's what Willow's parents were led to believe. But after the reading of the will her parents, bound for sunny shores, took off before Willow even had her coat on. The lawyer stopped her and closed the door so that they would be alone. "Your aunt wanted this to be given to you privately. There were strict instructions in her will that you were the only person to know about this." The attorney handed her an envelope. "Eloise was a little, shall we say...eccentric. There are over eighty keys in this envelope, each with an address to a bank somewhere in the United States and a safety deposit box number, most of which you will find in New York City and the surrounding area, though I think I saw one or two for Hawaii in there. I'm not sure what you'll find, Miss Rosenberg, but if I had to venture a guess, I'd say your aunt squirreled away hundreds of millions of dollars and she's left it all to you. But don't quote me." After a rollicking adventure hunt with Giles cross-country, Willow settled in New York. The city fit her like an old glove, though she'd never called anything but Sunnydale 'home' in her entire life.

Now, at the age of 30, filthy rich and free as a bird, Willow's life was one with meaning. She helped people. Angel had L.A., and Willow had N.Y. The city was hers for the three years she’d been living there.

Buffy and the others ended up in Cleveland after Sunnydale fell into the hellmouth. Faith, Robin Wood, Andrew, Kennedy, Xander, Buffy and Dawn all settled in and made lives for themselves in Ohio along with a slew of potentials. But Willow was restless, her soul eager to explore and find out who she was and where she belonged. She left behind a few million dollars for Buffy and the gang and the she and Giles hit the road. Xander had mumbled something about Kerouac and how Giles was trying to recapture his youth, but someone made sure the Watcher never heard the statement.

Willow fell in love with Giles, truly in love with him on their journey. They'd given up the Watcher's responsibilities to Buffy and the others. Giles was no longer needed and Willow, well, she never quite fit in after the whole 'dark-roots-kill-your-friends' era.

Though she had been rehabilitated in England with Giles' help, after her trip home she just never felt like she belonged with the Slayer's family any more.

Giles traveled with her, his smile as bright as a child's on Christmas morning with every stop they made. Each bank vault held new secrets, more money, ancient books, Wiccan heirlooms and each stop promised more power for Willow. Turns out Aunt Eloise was a kick-ass Wicca who had been keeping an eye on Willow all her life. There were journals detailing Willow’s progression with magick throughout the years, from her very first pencil-levitation to the spell that restored Angel’s soul to the dark times after Tara’s death. Eloise had eyes around every corner, it seemed. In one of the books there was even a ‘prophecy’ that Willow and Giles would end up together and produce a child who would ‘bring balance and harmony at a time of great need.’ Luckily their affair had started before that book was found, otherwise the prediction may have scared the Watcher away.

They lived in New York City together for over a year after the four-month treasure hunt ended. But he didn't know how to be part of her life without being the one who provided for the two of them. They helped people, yes, hundreds of people, but at the end of the day, Giles wanted to be the one who signed the checks that paid the bills. In fact, he needed to be the one. His ego couldn’t handle it. Foolish, yes. Selfish? More than he ever imagined he could be. "I have to go, love,” he lied, “England is calling."

"If I beg," she asked, her body lazily draped against his frame, her fingers tracing delicate circles through the tufts of warm fuzz on his chest as the snow fell like angel's kisses on the skylight above their bed.

He just shook his head no.

She wanted to cry, to scream. She wanted to beg. She wanted to use magick to keep him, but she swore she never would. Not on Giles, not like that. Willow leaned up on one elbow and looked deep into his eyes, searching his soul. "I love you," she spoke softly.

"I know," he whispered as he stroked her hair. They moved together as one, their bodies a tangled blur beneath the moonlight and the falling snow. He was gone before she woke the next morning.

She was stirred out of her memories by a voice, distant and helpless. It was calling to her. Willow pushed past the crowd that had gathered around her and made her way through the streets, trying to hone in on the cry for help, the voice of a child in danger. A few blocks away she found a girl, tiny and frightened as a vampire was just about to sink its teeth into her. "Hey," Willow called and the vamp spun around, the child in its grip like a lifeless mouse.

"Oh, goodie, another present," it said, "and I thought Christmas was just for you pathetic mortals."

Willow smiled, her hands glowing bright yellow as the energy crackled between them. "It is." She didn't even have to chant anymore, the magick flowed freely from her body.

In an instant the vamp was dusted, the sunshine that Willow had conjured enveloped the beast and disintegrated it before the child even saw the face of the thing.

"You're ok," Willow said, helping the little girl up.

"Who are you? What was that?" The child's face was scrunched up, her eyes full, the tears ready to fall. Before Willow could answer, the girl's mother came running into the alley and scooped her up. Willow never even had a chance to catch her name.

Willow reached down to pick up a bag she had dropped, blowing the dust off of it before she cradled it against her body.

She stepped back out into the nightlife from the shadows. As much as she needed to be her own person, every time she slayed a vamp or a demon she gave a silent nod to Buffy.

I really should call them, Willow thought to herself. But the thought left her mind as quickly as it had entered.

A few blocks away, across the street from St. Patrick's Cathedral, a crowd had gathered as a choir began singing Carol of the Bells. Willow stopped and listened, the magic of Christmas erasing her loneliness as they sang.

She stood there for half an hour until the music had stopped. The crowd never parted, though, and Willow wondered why. She was intrigued, so she waited. After a few moments, she heard a voice booming through the streets, the timbre of it only slightly familiar.

Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot

But the Grinch, who lived just North of Who-ville did NOT !!!

Immediately she was lost in her thoughts again. She was ten years old and she and Xander were snuggled up under a blanket with a bowl of Jiffy Pop at his house watching holiday shows like The Grinch and A Charlie Brown Christmas.

The memory faded again when the choir's voice rang out to sing the Who-songs whenver the narrator paused. Willow had never seen anything like it - the children were mesmerized, all crouched down around this man who recited the famous poem. And that voice...she couldn't place it. If only she could get a look, but the crowd was too big and she was too far away.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her features. The city was alive, the spirit of Christmas all around.

And what happened then...? Well in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!

And the minute his heard didn't feel quite so tight,

He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light.

And he brough back the toys ! And the food for the feast !

And he, HE HIMSELF...! The Grinch - Carved the roast beast.

The voice! The realization hit Willow like a ton of bricks. She pushed through the crowd, her goal to stop the man, but the poem was over and the crowd quickly vanished around her. She saw him standing there in his red sweater and scarf, his holiday spirit so obviously insincere to Willow's eyes. She almost broke out in a run, though she wasn't sure what she would do when she reached him. "What did you do to them?"

"Excuse me?" He was standing in front of her wrapping the microphone cord up, looping it around his hand and then around his elbow. "Do to whom?"

"You did something. I know it. You put a spell on every kid in New York City on Christmas Eve. Why? So you could steal their presents or something?" For a woman of 30, she prattled on like a teenager.

"I did no such thing." He was calm. He was amused by her accusations. At one time they would have been true, but not now. He had turned over a new leaf. And he had found a home and a purpose in New York City.

"Oh, please. You expect me to believe that?" Willow's hands crackled with magick, though she tried to hide the yellow glow from any passers-by. "Silence now thy lying words, bring forth the truth that should be heard."

He smiled. "You doubt me?" He handed his things to a woman who was helping clean up the area. "I speak the truth, Willow."

"And yet, somehow, I don't believe you. Funny, isn't it?" She was annoyed more than anything. How infuriating to stand before someone so sure of yourself, and have them dismiss all of your ideas as if they were silly.

"Well, why don't you let me buy you a drink and you can ask all the questions you want. You can find out for yourself that I'm a changed man," he met her gaze, "And it's one helluva story."

Just then a young boy walked up, pulling an even younger boy by the arm. "Hey mister - you know Santa Claus?"

Willow's eyes grew wide, about to stop this man from her past from answering the boy's question. But he bent down so that he was eye level with the boys and said, "No, not personally. But we do have a lot of the same friends. What's your name?"

"Tyrell. This is Sam. Can you tell your friends to tell Santa me and my brother needs someplace to live?"

"Where are you living now, Tyrell?"

Willow watched the exchange carefully, silently weaving a protective spell around the children.

"We stay with foster parents, but they don't want us. I heard the dad on the phone with the social worker telling her to take us back. They're gonna send us back tomorrow unless Santa can help us." Tyrell looked over his shoulder. "I have to go. The mom is waiting for us over there. I told her Sam wanted to meet the man who told the story so she would let us come over alone. Please help us."

"I will." His voice was sincere, his heart almost broken as the boys turned quickly and left.

But Willow didn't see it that way. "You're sick. How can you lie like that to those little boys?" They need help and you're standing there lying, telling them you'll help them find a place to live? Is that fun for you?"

"I'm not lying. And I can help them. I will help them. I'm a new man, Willow. And if you just give me some time to explain you'll see." His eyes were almost twinkling, reflecting the blinking Christmas lights all around them.

Everything in Willow's head told her to say no, but when she parted her lips to speak, the only thing that came out was, "Ok."

He smiled. "O...k...not the enthusiastic response I was hoping for, but it'll do." He turned to hand the last of the equipment to the woman who was helping clean the area up. "Good night."

"Good night, Ethan. And thanks again for helping us out in a pinch - the kids really love your voice."

"My pleasure." Ethan turned back to Willow and smiled. "Shall we?"

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