ALL THAT IT CAN BE
Here I am with my tail between my legs. Actually, my head is buried in my folded arms, but it just feels that way. I’ve lost everything once, and then twice and now thrice. I should stop trying.
Losing my humanity came to me in a moment of hate for my father and pure research of hedonistic pleasures. I didn’t regret it as much as I should have, barely missing Kathy. I am sure she loved Christmas.
Losing Buffy was a choice, a soulful one. It brought me peace and remorse, sadness and joy, but most of all it gave me the Christmas that saved me. We couldn't understand why I was returned and how to go forward but I still learned that good could still be done and come out of it.
Losing my teammates, my friends and family to the evil of this world is soul breaking. Enough I thought to bring Angelus back or at least to kill the Angel they loved. How can there still be a Christmas to celebrate?
I am falling down, I am falling apart, my sanity departed.
I signed away what my Cordelia held the dearest, my Shanshu. How come I am still here, and Evil too?
I probably forgot to believe in Christmas.
Even Spike could take my Shanshu away. I just don’t deserve to believe in Christmas.
I don’t deserve a family, a lover, happiness.
It’s funny how warm it is at the bottom. Am I dreaming; have I lost it? Warm arms encircle me; my hunched back feels the weight of someone, my teary face feels kisses, my unneeded breath catches up in my chest when I finally recognize the scent.
“You're back!” I whisper to the form giving me a new strength.
“I never left,” is the murmured reply.
“I was so alone without you,” I manage before kissing her lightly on the corner of these curvaceous lips.
"Me too, big guy," she adds before ravaging my hungry mouth.
I know I am dreaming, but I want more. Her hands knead my muscles, her painted nails scrape my heated skin. Soft breathy pants fill my world. I suddenly want to believe. I want to feel alive. No, I want more. Simply, I want everything.
A kaleidoscope of vivid frames flashes in my weary brain, laughter and pain building to an array of emotions that I forgot to appreciate. It’s rawness called to my own passion, my own spirit and my own heart to spell without words why Christmas matters. It is the day where I can remember, not with sorrow but with glee that we all gave it all.
I long for the friendship shared with Doyle, for the intellectual stimulation offered by Wesley, for the battles fought along Gunn, for the empathy shared with Lorne, for the anchoring squabbling of Spike, for the open hope offered by Fred, for the affection and admiration of my son, for the companionship of my last love.
But moreover, I thank them all for giving me a life worth so much more than what I was set to accomplish as Liam, that held my chin up after the heartbreaking debacle of Sunnydale. We each found the purpose, the love and the approval we craved within our family; we found the trusty and caring rock no one on earth should do without. I’ll thank them all, here or in another plane and until then, I’ll share my epiphany with you, I’ll dream maybe even live, if I apply myself, those stolen moments of love, of everyday strength and faith, of subjugated hopes, of deeper connection.
Thank you Cordy for reminding me of how beautiful Christmas can be.