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Bells will be ringing
The glad, glad news
Oh, what a Christmas
To have the blues.
My baby's gone,
I have no friends
To wish me greetings
Once again.
Choirs will be singing
"Silent Night"
Christmas carols
By candlelight.
Please come home for Christmas
Please come home for Christmas
If not for Christmas
Then by New Year's Night
Friends and relations
Send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
For this is Christmas
Christmas, my dear
The time of year
To be with the one you love
~ “Please Come Home For Christmas”
Cordelia stared at the foot tall Christmas tree on her coffee table. Dennis had left it entirely alone, save to straighten the star on top. “Not exactly the most festive decorating job ever.” But the spirit of the season somehow had passed her by, leaving only quiet depression and a need for something just out of reach.
“Ugh, even Christmas with the Slayer and her icky friends would be better than this!” Cordelia grabbed the nearest pillow and held it tight against her chest. She even considered calling Angel. Dull company is better than no company at all. But it wasn’t Angel she wanted to see.
Rubbing her head, Cordelia willed herself to have a vision. It had never worked before. And it wasn’t working now. “If I’m going to have these damn things why can’t I see what I want to see? Who I want to see,” she added in a whisper. It had been almost two months. “One month and twenty-four days. And I’m counting. Yeah, that makes this so much less pathetic.”
She had learned not to bother fighting the sudden bouts of helpless rage and sadness. “Damn it!” The pillow became both punching bag and confidant. “Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he just let Angel . . .” But she already knew that no true hero would let someone else suffer when they could prevent it. And Doyle was a true hero. “We had just gotten everything out. All the cards were on the table. The only thing left to do was date. And could TPB let it happen? Oh, no! Couldn’t let something fuzzy and happy happen in my life. The world might end.”
After throwing the pillow at the wall, Cordelia winced. “Sorry, Dennis. My bad.” Tired of her brief exercise in self-pity, Cordelia reached across the table and grabbed a box of matches. She carefully lit the two bright red candles and focused her energy on them like Willow had once showed her. “Wherever you are, Doyle, I want you to know that I miss you.” After a moment’s pause to swallow her tears, Cordelia continued, “I think it’s supposed to get better when you lose somebody. But it gets worse. I miss you more every day. I think about you a lot. And it feels so lonely! Even now that Wesley’s there too, it still feels like there’s this huge empty place in my life where you’re supposed to be. So, if you can hear me, I want you back. We deserve a chance, right?”
Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks and blurred the candles in her vision until they looked like a single flame. “Please don’t leave me alone,” she begged the silent air around her. Cordelia sat watching the flames and crying until the candles burned themselves out.