SquidgeWorld Archive

It had been a long time since he had ever even wanted to remember what it was like. Decades of denial had become a century with a new voice and a new manner. But now with everything that he had lost he wanted to remember wanted just for a few days to be the man who had been long forgotten.

After the battle in the alleyway he had been left alone. Angel was still around somewhere, but they had both walked away without looking back. Unable to bear the memories of the deaths that lay between them, the soldiers they had failed to save.

To his great surprise he had ended up back in England. With no desire to reconnect with any that may have been there he kept a low profile. Found a small flat in London, found a job as a night watchman in a museum of all places. Patrolled the dark places when the need for violence swept over him.

It was the museum that triggered the need. They had put together a Christmas display tracing the origins of Christmas in England. He found himself wandering the exhibit every night drinking in the scent of pine and lightly touching the delicate glass ornaments on the trees. Remembering times before when a small boy would sit in wonder in front of a tree. Mesmerised by the abundance of treasures hung there imagination taking flight, and fingers even then itching to write down his feelings.

So as the nights stretched longer with winter cold he took out his seldom used card and went shopping. It had been strange to take on an identity again unpacking William from the dusty pages of time, but a job and flat required more than a crypt did. His job didn't pay that much but his needs were so few that there was a decent amount in the bank for him to gather what he needed. Really it was too soon to be putting it up but he had a hundred years to catch up on.

The tree filled his tiny flat with memories of sunshine and brisk winter days. Learning to skate on thinly frozen ponds and trying to eat too hot chestnuts with friends. Friends that he never understood the value of until he was left friendless time and time again.

He covered the tree in tinsel and delicate glass orbs that picked up the multi coloured lights strung around the room and reflected back rainbows. He found ornaments that looked like the paper filigree he remembered and bought organza bags to fill with sugared almonds. Finally he searched the city until he found, in a small craftsman's workshop, an angel that looked more male than female refusing to consider his motives when he paid the craftsman extra to give it dark hair.

He went out for drinks with his co-workers, enjoyed the occasionally offered company of both men and women, but never taking them back to his place. In the time between waking and sunset he penned memories onto small cards and hung them on the tree like teardrops.

Four days before Christmas he waved goodbye to Sam who had the morning shift and headed back to his flat. It was cold and damp and reminded him of why he had left England in the first place. He wanted to be home with a shot of whiskey warming his insides numbing his mind enough to sleep.

He almost didn't see the package on his doorstep and only just managed to step aside before he crushed it. Picking it up he realised it was his finished angel and he hurried inside to unwrap it.

It was even better than he had expected. Not the robed feminine creature that normally graced the treetop, but a winged warrior. Still garbed in white and not carrying a weapon but stern and protective anyway. And perfect for his tree. It had dark hair and dark eyes but Spike refused to see a resemblance of any kind.

Pouring a glass of whiskey he sat down and stared at the Christmas he had created. Putting the angel up would complete the scene and he didn't know if he was ready for that. Still holding the angel he finished one drink and then another finally falling asleep in his chair his angel cradled protectively in his lap.

When he woke up the angel was gone. In a panic he searched the floor around the chair but it wasn't there. He had almost torn the room apart before his eyes were drawn to the top of the tree where the angel rested. He had no memory of putting it there but he must have.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion he decided to pay a final visit to the craftsman to say thank you and just be certain there was nothing more to the angel than met the eye.

That night he found the tiny street where the shop was but could not find the shop. The space where he remembered it being was an abandoned real estate place obviously empty for years. Just in case he searched the length of the street but found nothing that came even close and nobody who remembered the narrow little craftsman's shop with the intricate Christmas ornaments in the window.

Turning around in disgust he nearly collided with the large figure standing at the end of the street.

"Bloody hell," he said and then stopped when his senses told him who was there.

"Spike what are you doing here?"

"Could say the same Angel," he replied.

"I was looking for a place to stay and the guy at the real estate agents rang and told me he had found somewhere that would suit." Angel's face was lowered in a frown when he saw the state of the shop Spike had been staring at.

"Don't look at me," Spike said to his unspoken criticism, "last time I was here it was a workshop. Fucking magic, too bloody Terry Pratchett if you ask me."

Angel's shoulders slumped and Spike took the time to look at the larger vampire a little closer. He looked tired and worn, but leaner than the last time they had seen each other.

"How long you been in England?" Spike said.

"Just a couple of days," Angel replied, "I was in Ireland but it just didn't feel right it wasn't familiar anymore. So I thought London might be," he laughed, "I had forgotten it was nearly Christmas, all the accommodation in town is full. I thought it might have to be a stable before the realtor rang, looks like it might still be."

"Stay with me," Spike found himself saying, "it's not much but it has to be better than a stable."

Angel looked surprised by the invitation but nodded gravely, "thanks." He hefted a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"That all you got?" Spike said.

Angel nodded briefly, "didn't seem much point in holding onto stuff."

They headed back down the street in silence both darted quick glances sideways trying to track any changes that two years might have wrought.

When they reached the door to Spike's flat he felt suddenly shy. He had made the flat more of a home than any before, decorated it with things that reminded him of his past and things he found beautiful. It was William's home as much as it was Spike's. He wasn't sure what Angel would make of the place. Angry at his fear Spike pushed the door open and gestured Angel through first.

Angel dumped his duffle on the floor just inside the door looking around curiously. His eyes were drawn to the gaily decorated Christmas tree.

"It's not much but it's more comfortable than that hole I was in back in L.A" Spike said his eyes on the shabby furniture and poky kitchen.

Startled Angel looked around the rest of the flat but his gaze kept coming back to the tree. "It's better than the drafty hovel I stayed at in Galway and the tree looks great."

"Okay," Spike was at a loss, "drink?" he asked to cover his confusion, "I've got egg nog."

"Thank you," Angel sat down on the sofa, "so how have you been?" he asked as Spike bustled about the kitchenette.

Spike looked back at Angel surprise and humour written across his face, "not too bad and yourself?"

"Okay." Angel looked down at his hands uncertain of how to relax around Spike. He took the offered glass gratefully and wrapped his hands around the warmth. Taking a sip he could taste the bite of whiskey and smiled. That at least had not changed.

Spike was so different from L.A it had disconcerted him at first. Aside from the clothing which was now far more English middleclass than punk, Spike's hair was no longer the harsh blond he remembered. It was still slicked back but now it was a dirty blond that suggested it had not been dyed for a long time.

They sat and drank in silence, neither certain what they were supposed to say to each other.

"So Galway?" Spike finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, thought it would be nice to go home but..."

"But it wasn't home," Spike finished for Angel.

"So London?" Angel said, "I kind of thought you were heading for Rome."

"Could say the same," Spike took a sip of egg nog, "same reason as when I was in L.A, don't want to find out if she was telling the truth or not."

"Me neither," Angel smiled wryly, "we're a fine pair of vampires."

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss the simplicity," Angel admitted.

"So what are you doing with yourself?" Spike asked.

"I paint a bit, do some freelance security work where I can, whatever it takes to make ends meet. What about you?"

"Security... at a museum," Spike confessed.

"So what bought this one?" Angel gestured to the tree.

"I missed the simplicity," Spike echoed Angel's words, "actually missed the mewling poet."

"He was a good man, you were a good man," Angel said.

"Trying to be again," Spike said suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. "You hungry?" he got up and went to the fridge.

"Thank you, I haven't had a chance to set up anything with a butcher yet," Angel said.

Spike heated up the blood in a saucepan and poured it carefully into two mugs.

"So painting huh?" Spike said as he sat down again.

"It's something I am good at," Angel shrugged, "one reason I came to London was because my agent has set up a small show for me. Its part of a larger show but still it's nice."

"That's nice," Spike said amazed at the soft expression on Angel's face, "I'd like to see them, your paintings."

"The opening is on New Years Eve, you could come if you like. They told me I could invite whoever I wanted but there wasn't anyone I could ask," Angel's pleasure faltered in embarrassment.

"Okay," Spike agreed. Once he would have felt the urge to tell Angel how lame it was, but sitting in his flat with his Christmas tree it wouldn't be smart to throw stones. Besides it was nice to have company he didn't have to pretend with. Sometimes it was hard to remember which part of him was pretend though.

It felt odd to sit in a room with Angel and not even feel the urge to argue. He did feel the urge to do some violence though, feeling suddenly twitchy sitting alone with Angel.

"Fancy a quick vampire hunt before we get some sleep?" he asked Angel.

"You still patrol?" Angel asked in surprise.

"Of course I bloody do, still a white hat aren't I?" the familiar irritation returned and Spike stood up. Opening up a cupboard Spike pulled out an assortment of weapons and tossed a sword to Angel. "Let's get going before I give in to the urge to stick this up your sanctimonious arse," he muttered heading for the door.

"I didn't," Angel caught the sword and followed Spike, "I just thought..."

"You just thought old Spike only played the hero to impress the girl and get a leg over, so why would he bother," Spike said.

"No, yes... stop being so defensive Spike," Angel replied getting annoyed.

"Stop being so judgemental Angel," Spike retaliated.

They headed into the night in silence. Spike led the way to the seedier parts of London and it didn't take long to find a clutch of vampires to take their frustrations out on.

Never one to let a bad mood get in the way of a good fight Spike was soon grinning with pleasure and making bad jokes. They fell into an easy routine fighting together and it didn't take long to dispatch the group.

Bouncing on his feet Spike looked around for more disappointed to see Angel finish the last one. "Drink?" he asked Angel.

"Sure," Angel said and Spike led him to a small pub.

"Two beers thanks Amanda," Spike said to the female demon behind the bar, "and how are you today?"

"I'm good thanks Spike, how you been and who's your tasty friend?" she said.

"Amanda this is Angel, a friend of mine from L.A by way of Ireland."

Amanda smiled at Angel as she pulled two pints for them. "You in for the darts tournament tomorrow night?" she asked Spike.

"Couldn't keep me away luv, me and your Brian have to finish our rematch."

Amanda handed over the pints and Spike led the way to a booth in the back.

"How did you find this place?" Angel looked around curiously at the mix of humans and demons in the pub.

"Dusted some vampires in an alleyway turned out they were trying to start a protection racket in the area. Amanda saw it happen and invited me in for a drink. It's a nice place to relax of an evening."

Silence fell between them again but this time it was more comfortable. Both sipped their drinks and watched the other patrons.

"Best be heading off," Spike said finally when they had finished their beers, "need to get some sleep before work."

Angel shook his head, "still can't believe you have a job. It's just so not the Spike I knew."

"You always have to see the worst in me," Spike said with a growl.

"Well I never saw you work before."

"Well you never looked very closely," Spike replied and then subsided with a laugh, "you wouldn't have found much. In L.A the soul didn't mind me skimming money out of Wolfram & Hart being as they were evil incorporated."

"You were skimming money?"

"You don't think I crashed all those cars do you?" Spike said with a smirk.

Angel looked annoyed and then he grinned, "Well I can't really talk since I blamed three extra missing cars on you."

"Bastard," Spike said without heat.

"It was always easy to get annoyed with you," Angel said as they headed out of the pub.

Amanda waved goodbye and made Spike promise to bring Angel with him the following evening.

"How do you manage the daylight thing with your show?" Spike asked.

"My agent thinks I am an eccentric artist who likes to paint at night," Angel said.

When they got back to Spike's flat he dug around for sheets and blankets, "couch isn't much but you should fit," he said to Angel, "sorry I don't have a spare bed."

"That's fine, it's better than a stable," Angel joked.

"Feel free to help yourself to blood if you get hungry, don't have a microwave but that pot is fine so long as you keep an eye on it." Spike went to turn off the lights on the tree but Angel stopped him.

"Leave them, I like the colours," Angel said.

"Okay then, see you later then," Spike headed for his bedroom leaving Angel to settle in.

Angel tossed and turned on the sofa. It was just a little bit too small for him, but more than that everything that had occurred since he arrived in London weighed on his mind.

Of all the people he had expected to see Spike was the last. When the blond had walked away from the alley Angel had felt the finality. All their friends had died the last reason either could admit to for them to be there was gone.

And this creature, this room, was not the Spike he expected either. Spike had never been that interested in his surroundings beyond being comfortable.

Giving up on sleep and giving into curiosity Angel got up and took a decent look around the flat. The furniture was not new and looked like it had come with the lease but everything was clean and tidy. There was a pile of books on one table, poetry, murder mysteries and some comic books. All were well thumbed and obviously well read. Normally he would have investigated the books to find out more about Spike, but he was drawn to the tree.

The delicate ornaments reminded Angel of the early days of Spike's turning when the four of them were in London. It looked like something Spike would have arranged for Dru in the past with twinkling lights and intricate paper lace. Angel noticed small scrolls gaily adorned with ribbon and couldn't resist slipping one free to read what was inside.

Carefully penned were four lines of poetry.

Little sister of my heart.
I never wished for us to part.
Morning sun arising
I will always watch your sleep.

Curious now Angel carefully re-rolled the scroll and chose another from the tree.

Golden sunlight in your hair
Loved you more than I could bear.
You forgave this worthless one
And set me adrift alone.

Spike's emotions were raw in the ink and Angel felt guilty about delving into them but it didn't stop him unrolling another.

Warm sunshine on my face
Mother's arms around me,
Running back from the water's edge
Father's laughter calling me.

Candle light on stone walls
Warmed by golden bronze.
Fractured colours from window glass
Pointing the way to heaven.

Memories mixed with remembrances of more innocent times these were glimpses of the shy poet with tears in his eyes as the last of that innocence was taken from him. As much as Angel wanted to deny the truth of his part in that he knew his own jealousy had torn the poet out of the vampire.

Marshmallow warm
Fierce guardian of all
You called your children,
Thank you for trusting me.

Anger boiling
Like the water for tea.
I understand why
You wanted to end me.

Sweet light in the dark
My taco queen I am grateful
You thought me worthy
Of being seen.

Little red wren
And my sweet quiet sparrow
Magical girls
So full of sorrow.

It was not difficult to recognise the subjects of the poems and Angel was almost afraid to open the last of the scrolls and find out if he featured at all.

My dark plum
You taught me pleasure
Gave me pain
Glorious doom upon me.

Angry man
Patchwork broken heart
Cannot save yourself
Cannot save the world.

Father, brother enemy mine.
Make me, break me apart.
Mentor, master never friend
Cannot lose you from my heart.

Angel carefully returned all the scrolls to the tree. He hadn't really believed that Spike would have written about him and the words staggered him.

He forced himself to think about the past everything that had happened between them over the decades. Spike, always glad to see him in the beginning then hating him by the end and with good cause since every meeting seemed to result in Angel pushing him away.

And yet, here he was in Spike's sitting room three days before Christmas with nowhere better to go and not really wanting to be anywhere else except perhaps a more comfortable bed.

Spike had heard Angel moving around in the front room. He had known that sleep would be impossible with Angel there and had only gone to his room to escape the inevitable discomfort around Angel when conversation died.

He knew Angel was still awake even when things fell silent. The atmosphere was thick with his brooding. Spike knew that the sofa was not the most comfortable thing to sleep on but there was no way he was prepared to offer to share his own bed.

Finally both slept allowing the exhaustion of the previous days to overcome their resistance.

Spike stirred as the sun began to set. He opened his eyes to the sensation that he was being watched but when he looked around there was nobody in the room.

He shrugged it off as having Angel in his space and stumbled out to heat up some blood.

Angel was sitting already dressed at his little dining table looking far too big for the space and incredibly uncomfortable. There were two mugs of still warm blood on the table.

"I was fixing myself some blood when I heard you moving around," Angel said.

"Cheers mate," Spike sleepily fixed his hair as he sat down. Reaching into the sugar bowl on the table Spike sprinkled some Burba weed into his blood and offered it to Angel.

A little surprised Angel followed suit and was amazed to find that it did in fact make the blood more palatable.

"I have to be at work in an hour," Spike said, "do you want to hang around here or have you stuff you want to do?"

"I have to touch base with my agent and go see the display space. Can I meet you at your work after?" Angel replied.

"Sure," Spike replied surprised that Angel would want to meet him anywhere, "here's my cell number, call me and I will let you in to wait." Spike scribbled a number onto Angel's hand and then went to get changed for work.

Angel stifled a laugh when Spike returned wearing a security uniform. Spike glared at him and then gave a rueful laugh, "this is why I'm glad I can't see what I look like."

"You look fine," Angel said to both of their surprise, "it's just a different look for you."

They left Spike's flat when the sun set both a little unsettled by the accord between them.

Angel turned up at the museum two hours before the end of Spike's shift carrying a portfolio case.

"My agent was holding it for me," Angel explained to Spike's enquiring look. He looked around the dark empty museum with interest. "This is not what I would have envisioned as a place for you to work."

"Me neither to tell the truth," Spike answered, "but once I got used to the quiet I started to enjoy it."

"It is incredibly quiet," Angel said, "you wouldn't know there was a big city out there right now."

"I've got to do another sweep of the building you can just wait in the office if you like," Spike gestured to the small security office.

Angel settled down in the ergonomic chair and watched as Spike's torch light faded around a corner. Looking thoughtful for a moment Angel pulled a sheet of paper from his portfolio case and started sketching.

Angel sat back and watched as Spike played his round of darts noticing again how relaxed the blond was around people and felt himself relaxing in reply.

Amanda smiled at the direction of his attention as she slid another beer onto the table, "he'll fleece them all and then let them win it all back by the end of the night."

"He does that a lot does he?" Angel asked with a smile.

"Almost every time but there is always someone who thinks they can take him on at his own game, normally Brian." She smiled back. Brian had turned out to be a floppy faced demon who actually owned the bar and in some way was related to Spike's friend Clem.

Angel sipped on his beer and watched Spike. When they had been at Wolfram & Hart he had not spent a lot of time considering the blond vampire except when Spike pushed into his face. But funnily enough after Spike had chosen to stay when he asked he had never considered the fact that Spike wouldn't be there.

Even after they walked away from the alley and each other Angel kept expecting to see the blond hair and hear the harsh accent whenever he turned around. And deep down a part of him always knew they would meet again, Spike was too much a part of him.

Angel was surprised when he raised his bottle to his mouth to find that it was empty. Feeling a little bit fuzzy he looked down to see a line of empty beer bottles, Amanda had been feeding him new ones so regularly that he hadn't noticed how many he had drunk.

A laughing Spike slid into the booth opposite him and Amanda placed a beer in front of him, "if I win the bar off Brian will you keep working for me?" Spike asked her.

Amanda laughed and smacked him lightly across the back of the head, "don't even try to pretend that you two ever go over ten dollars."

Spike grinned unrepentant and kissed her hand, "how about a couple of shots to finish off the evening." Amanda grinned and sashshayed back to the bar. "You're pretty quiet even for you pet," he said to Angel.

"Just enjoying the atmosphere," Angel said surprised to realise it was true, he was enjoying himself. He blinked blearily as Amanda put shot glasses in front of them.

"It's not the New Year yet but here's to absent friends," Spike said lifting his glass.

"Absent friends," Angel echoed and drained the glass.

"You alright?" Spike looked at Angel owlishly as the big vampire swayed back upright.

"Don't drink much anymore, think it's getting to me," Angel said, "didn't really sleep either."

"Should be getting home anyway, it's going to be light soon." Spike stood up and helped Angel stand.

"Why aren't we yelling at each other?" Angel asked.

"What?"

"We normally yell at each other and storm off after ten minutes in each others company," Angel explained.

"Maybe you grew up," Spike said.

"Me? Huh," Angel snorted, "I always had to be the responsible one, it's not fair."

"Try living in your shadow all the time," Spike replied.

"Try living in Angelus'," Angel replied equally as bitter.

"Sucks to be us," Spike said.

"Haven't sucked anything in a lot of years," Angel said. Spike snorted with amusement as they wandered back to the flat. "You know what I mean," Angel said.

They stumbled into Spike's flat and both stopped to look at the tree in silence. Spike sighed as his gaze fell on the painfully uncomfortable sofa knowing it was responsible for Angel's lack of sleep. Spike slung an arm around Angel and steered him towards the bedroom.

"What?" Angel said in confusion.

"Can't sleep on that monstrosity mate. Let you share with me but you have to keep your hands to yourself," Spike replied.

"As if I would," Angel snorted letting Spike lead him.

Spike let Angel fall onto the bed and kicked off his own boots. Angel watched as Spike undressed without seeming to care about his audience. Spike climbed into bed and kicked at Angel who was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Lie down and don't hog the blankets," Spike said.

Slowly Angel undressed and slid under the covers. His head was swimming and he was so tired that he couldn't even begin to care about being nearly naked in a bed with Spike.

Spike lay still until he heard Angel start to breathe. Angel only breathed in extreme circumstances and when he was deeply asleep. Spike allowed himself to relax then relieved that Angel had not made an issue of his impulsive offer. As he let sleep claim him Spike realised that this was the first person to share his bed since his return from the amulet and how sad was that.

When Angel woke up he was alone in the bed. On the table was a mug of still warm blood and a note from Spike, 'Gone to work, here's a key, see you later, Spike.'

Angel got up feeling more invigorated than he had for a long time. He had lots to do that evening and not a lot of time left. He wondered briefly if he should feel odd about sleeping in the same bed as Spike but nothing had happened and Spike hadn't seemed to want to make an issue of it. It occurred to him that he had slept better than he had since he made the deal with Wolfram & Hart.

When Spike got back to the flat Angel was there waiting looking very nervous.

"Merry Christmas Spike," Angel said before Spike could say anything.

"Merry Christmas Angel," Spike replied in surprise. Taking in the array of food on the table he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I figured it was Christmas and we should celebrate," Angel said.

"Fair enough," Spike said, "just let me get changed out of this uniform." Spike hurried to the bedroom and stripped off his clothes. Somehow he felt like wearing something a bit nicer than his usual jeans and tee shirt so he grabbed out the trousers and shirt he had bought for his interview at the museum.

Angel fussed around the room pouring out some wine and arranging the nibbles the woman at Harrods had organised for him. He hadn't known where to go but remembered the large store from previous visits and had gone there in desperation. It had not been cheap but it had definitely been worth it.

The Spike that came out of the bedroom was not the Spike he had expected and Angel was glad he had worn his favourite shirt when he saw how well Spike was turned out. No jeans and white tee shirt, instead there was a dark blue button down shirt tucked into a pair of charcoal grey slacks.

To cover up his confusion Angel grabbed two glasses of wine and handed one to Spike.

"Cheers," Spike took the glass and smiled at Angel's discomfort. He wasn't so big a man that keeping Angel off balance was not still an enjoyable thing.

They drank the wine and Angel even surprised Spike by sampling the Christmas fare with him. They didn't talk much but it was a comfortable silence. They swapped the wine for blood and then swapped back again to finish the bottle.

Angel sat on the sofa as Spike prepared some more egg nog for them. When Spike joined him they sat and looked at the tree until Spike noticed a parcel sitting under it.

Puzzled, Spike looked at Angel who smiled self-consciously and got up to fetch the parcel.

"Merry Christmas Spike," Angel gave him the parcel.

"Huh?" Spike looked at Angel with shock and suspicion, "for me?"

"Just to say thank you for taking me in," Angel said.

"I didn't get you anything," Spike said looking at the parcel like he expected it to explode.

"You didn't have to," Angel replied, "but you did by sharing your Christmas with me and well, open it up and I will explain."

Unable to resist any longer Spike tore open the parcel and carefully opened the box inside still not completely convince it wouldn't explode. Inside the box was a number of photo frames.

"The first night I couldn't sleep," Angel said as Spike removed the tissue wrapped frames, "I was looking at your tree and... well... I read the scrolls."

Spike looked at Angel in shock and a little anger.

"I know I didn't have the right but I did and they were beautiful and the words brought them all back for me. I had tried to forget the bad things and that meant I stopped thinking about them."

Spike's anger faded at Angel's words. Unwrapping each frame he found a drawing to go with each of his poems.

"I had to draw by memory so I hope I got them right," Angel said anxiously still standing in front of Spike.

Spike's fingers brushed over each picture lingering longest on Dawn and Fred, "I miss them all you know, even Giles. It seemed wrong to forget them especially at Christmas."

There was one slightly larger frame left and Angel stopped Spike before he opened it.

"What you wrote about me, did you mean it?"

"Course I bloody did," Spike replied, "don't write what I don't mean."

"I am in your heart," Angel looked intently at Spike, "it's not just the hate and the blood?"

"No it's not and yes you are..." Spike stopped when he saw what was in the last parcel and he looked up at Angel in amazement.

"You're in mine too," Angel finally sat down next to Spike, "I'm not so good with the words but I wanted to show you. Do you like it?"

Spike's answer was to lean over and kiss Angel quickly on the lips. Angel brought a hand up to touch his lips and smiled. Spike smiled and looked back at the small pencil sketch of himself and Angel, heads resting together looking out of the picture with almost smiles on their faces.

The lights on the Christmas tree reflected on the angel watching over the two champions celebrating their own peace on earth.