EveryValley

Part 1 of the Christmas Cards 1999 Series

Disclaimer: The characters and situations from �Buffy the Vampire Slayer� and �Angel� aren�t mine and never were mine. The are and remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB Network. The author has received NO monetary recompense of any kind whatsoever.

Archive- Sure, but email me and let me know where it�s going.

Feedback- Absolutely.

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Angel sat alone in the darkened office, utterly still and unblinking, as only a vampire can be. He had given Cordelia the day off, the whole weekend, in fact, and he now only listened to the silence, and thought.

Brooded, most of those who knew him would call it, and he had to allow they were probably correct. But he had spent a long time living inside his own head, and if he felt, if not safe there, at least on well-worn ground.

He was surprised to realize he missed Doyle, missed him terribly. The young half-demon had known him and understood him better than anyone except Buffy. No, probably even better than Buffy, because his eyes had been unclouded by romantic dreams. Angel wondered, not for the first time, where he might be. Well, not exactly him, but his essence, his soul. Angel knew souls existed, know it better than anything in his life, but he knew precious little about them. In his long life his soul had spent more time outside his body than in it, but Angel was damned if he knew where it went. Giles had spoken of the ether, but that was terribly vague. And Angel knew there was a hell, knew all too well. But other than that�

His mother had said that when you died, you were received into the arms of God, and Angel had the strange image of Doyle, cradled like a baby, suckling on a bottle of 12-year-old Bushmill�s, but that seemed too simple, a reassuring tale told to children. And then there were The Powers That Be, which sent Doyle his visions. They had some power in the world. Did they control everything, Angel wondered?. Did they have a final resting place for mortal souls? Were they God? If they weren�t, did God exist? If God existed, why would He allow these �Powers� to have control over His creation, or even any part of it?

For that matter, Angel thought bitterly, if there is a God, why would he allow me to exist? For His own sick amusement, no doubt. Black holes in deep space weren't a big enough contradiction of natural law to suit the Almighty's sense of irony, apparently.

And now there was the added confusion of the oracles, and the various prophecies from the demons he had come in contact with. If the future could be forecast, did that mean it couldn't be changed? Were they all just helpless participants in some cosmic puppet show? He had to admit, it sometimes felt that way.

He rose and put on his coat, exiting into the street. The sun had set many hours before, and the air was starting to get chill. Angel started walking, without a clear destination in mind. There was still a lot of activity on the street: people visiting and headed for church services, last-minute shoppers, Salvation Army bell ringers hoping to collect a few more coins.

Angel found himself on a sidewalk, bathed in a mosaic of multi-colored light. Above him, a stained-glass window depicting the Good Shepherd shone like a beacon in the darkness. A sign on the wall said �St. Cyrinus Church.� Within, faintly, Angel could hear a single voice singing with uninhibited joy.

"Oh the holly she bears a berry, as white as the milk. And Mary she bore Jesus, all wrapped up in silk. And Mary she bore Jesus, our Savior for to be. And the first tree that's in the greenwood, it was the holly..."

There is a woman without a doubt in her mind, Angel thought. And he entered, hoping he might find an answer to his own doubts.

The church's sanctuary was brightly lit, and one nun, working alone, was distributing small candles in cardboard holders among the pews. She went on singing. Angel glanced around the church. Not ten feet from him was the font of holy water, and beyond that the sacristy, holding the elements of communion. All these things would cause horrible burns if they touched him, he knew. And at the end of every pew a brass cross gleamed against the dark wood.

Angel shrank back. He had forgotten.

Suddenly the nun's singing stopped, and Angel looked at her, startled. She was blushing as she realized he must have been there watching and listening.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I didn't mean to interrupt..."

The nun put down the basket of candles. "Not at all," she said. "I'm Sister Katharine. Can I help you? Are you here for the service? It doesn't start until eleven, but you're welcome to wait."

"No," Angel said, "I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm sorry to bother you..."

She approached him slowly. "Did you want to talk to Father Kendall," she asked.

Angel backed away as she came close, watching the large crucifix around her neck. "I shouldn't be here," he said.

She came right up to him and took his hands in hers. "Please," she said, "sit down. Let me talk to you."

Angel allowed her to lead him to a pew and sit down beside him. He was trembling, and realized she must think from his actions he was totally mad.

"Are you a Catholic," she asked.

"I... not anymore."

"Why have you come here?"

"I had a friend," Angel said. "He died. It was senseless. I have so many questions." He covered his face with his hands. "About God... I mean, knowing what I know..."

The nun touched his arm and Angel flinched away from her. She is a bride of Christ, he thought, she mustn't touch such a foul creature as myself.

"Won't you stay," she said. "Take the sacrament. Talk to the Father."

Angel had the sudden image in his mind of his spectacular death were he to accept the host, and he almost laughed. "I shouldn't be here," he repeated. "This is no place for me."

The nun took his hands again. "Nothing can separate you from God's love, my child," she said.

This time Angel did laugh. "I've made a mistake," he said, rising and pushing past her. The nun followed him to the door.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I've said something wrong. Won't you please stay."

"No," Angel said, "you've been very kind. My being here is wrong."

"I don't believe that," the nun said firmly, but Angel was out of the church, and away down the street, before she even reached the door.

Part 2- Hang A Shining Star
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