My last-minute entry to the DIRslash Christmas Challenge.



Memories of a Dream


Christmas was Will Stanton’s favourite time of the year.

This year was his first year after leaving university, and he was back at Stanton’s Farm, where for the first time in years the entire Stanton family had gathered for Christmas. Paul and Robin were there, and Robin’s wife and infant son. Barbara and her fiance had arrived on the evening train. James had come home, and Max was due to arrive at any moment. Mary and her boyfriend were there, and Stephen was home on leave. Gwen had been home for two weeks already.

This year the Welsh cousins were here, Rhys and Aunt Jen and Uncle David, and at the last moment, as a surprise for Will, they’d invited Bran along. It was never the same, of course, though Will often thought he saw a flicker of remembrance in Bran’s tawny eyes. It could just be the motif Will had never been able to abandon--the circle, quartered by the cross, in his jewelry designs.

It could be there were rules against that sort of thing, but he was careful about letting his pieces fall into the wrong hands, and so far his father indulged these odd fancies. Besides, every time he wondered if this were forbidden, he was smacked in the face with two things--first, the lingering resentment that he should be left here alone as a watchman, alone, with no one else who understood...or at least, no one else who understood that remembered. Secondly, he thought of a beautiful bronze circle, quartered by a cross, engraved with the words Liht met heht gewyrcan--"The Light ordered me made."

Christmas was the time of year when men bought their wives and girlfriends trinkets, and in Hunter’s Combe they came to the Stantons for that. It wasn't that Will didn't enjoy working in his father's shop--he was the only one of the children who'd followed in his footsteps, and he knew Roger Stanton was pleased that Will took such an interest in it. Besides, he enjoyed putting little bits of the Light into the jewelry he created.

If, by any small acts of his own, Will Stanton could bring some of the Light into people's lives, he would do it.

The bell on the shop door jangled. "Happy Christmas, Will!"

He looked up to see who had entered, and drew in a shocked breath.

Before him stood a tall lanky young man of perhaps twenty, his tousled white-blond hair starred with snowflakes, his blue-grey eyes wary. He wore a mischievous grin, but it only underscored the wariness in his gaze. And with good reason.

It hadn’t been a particularly vitriolic falling-out. It was more like the Drews didn’t have time for Will anymore. Simon had his practice, and his wife Alice, and his son. Jane had a fine career in journalism and a handsome fiance. Barney had--Will had always wondered why Barney had let go; for some reason it had hurt more, losing that friendship.

"Barney," Will said, wondering what his face said. He wanted to hide his feelings, to guard himself, to build the wall higher between Old One and world. But he’d learned the hard way that was not a wise course of action.

"How’ve you been, then?" Barney asked, shoving a hand awkwardly in his trouser pocket, holding his pack in the other.

"I’ve been--" Will broke off. "I don’t know how to answer that," he said finally.

Barney nodded. "Me, too. All of us, really. Ever since Gumerry died--" He shrugged. "I never thought he would, you know? And, I mean, right after the holidays and all. And then we lost you, too."

Will looked down at the ring he’d been resizing for Mrs Fallon. "I’m sorry for that," he said in a low voice. "I didn’t ever mean to hurt anyone."

"People rarely do," Barney said, and he had the odd tone in his voice that had always made Will pay attention to him, the tone that seemed to suggest he were old beyond his years, that he might actually understand just a little bit, if Will would talk to him...

Will shook his head. "You look frozen. Do you want a cup of tea while I finish this?"

Barney’s smile seemed more genuine this time. "That would be brilliant, thanks."

His father was in the back office, listening to Christmas music on the wireless and cleaning up. "Was that the door I heard?"

"Not a last-minute customer, don’t worry. Surprise visit from an old friend. Do you think Mum will mind an extra mouth at tea?"

"Mind? I imagine she’d be overjoyed," Roger Stanton said mildly. "Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Barnabas Drew. You remember, the chap I met on holiday with Merriman Lyon in Cornwall."

"Blond fellow, an artist, wasn’t he?" His father grinned. "I remember thinking I’d like to see him try his hand at jewelry design. Is he staying, then?"

"I haven’t asked. I came back to get him a cuppa."

"I’ll get it. You go on and finish Mrs Fallon’s ring, or I’ll never hear the end of it."

Will grinned back at him, feeling suddenly very happy indeed with Christmas Eve. He went back out to his visitor. Barney had lowered his pack to the floor and was bent over the showcase, squinting at something.

"This is marvelous!" he exclaimed. "Where’d you get the idea for all those funny whatd’youcall’ems, rune things?"

"Mmm. Just came to me." Will knew without looking that Barney was studying the bracelet he’d designed, thinking of the Greenwich and the Grail, and how fine the bracelet would look on Jane Drew’s wrist. Just as he’d once designed a circlet for Bran and a pair of bracers for Barney. Just as he’d thought of designing something for Simon, and somehow had managed only a money clip which he’d never made.

Barney tilted his head to look at him through a curtain of hair. "Do you know," he said slowly, his voice odd, "sometimes I dream of things like that--runes, and swords, and people speaking in Welsh. I expect it’s a leftover from our holiday there. But I remember...I remember..." His voice strained, searching, and then he sighed. "And then it’s always gone. Just like a dream."

Will smiled. "You have good dreams," he said.

Barney grinned back, a crooked grin that somehow made Will catch his breath painfully. "Sometimes," he confided, "I even dream about you. You and Gumerry, and all of us in Wales. Except--except of course he never got to Wales. But..." He shrugged, and the ancient knowledge in his eyes was gone and he was all boy again. "But they’re my dreams, and anything can happen."

"Yes," Will murmured, believing it. "Anything can happen."