His phone rang, it was probably Gus…yet again. It seemed after getting married and having a baby, his son was desperate to make Brian into a grandfather. No, thank you.

He didn’t have time to talk to anyone. There were accounts to work on and people to fire, most notably…his new accountant.

“Cynthia, get in here,” he yelled into his phone.

Minutes later Cynthia walked into his office, glaring at him.

“I need the numbers on the Hensley account.”

“Brian, it’s Christmas eve.”

“I do own a calendar. What does it have to do with anything?”

Cynthia sighed. “I sent everyone home, I’m going home. My son is coming over. Work yourself to death but you’re not taking all of us with you. Ted was enough.”

She slammed his door on the way out. He hated when people blamed him for Ted’s heart attack. It wasn’t his fault that Ted abused drugs for a while and it finally caught up with him. Just because Brian had been yelling at Ted when he keeled over from a heart attack didn’t’ mean he had the caused it.

Later that night, he was still working hard when an ice-cold chill seemed to cut through him like a knife. His office door blew open causing papers to fly off his desk.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

Standing up, he crossed to the door to shut it. After slamming it shut, he locked it.

“I always wondered what it would feel like being Brian Kinney.”

Brian was proud of himself for not screaming. He turned around, clutching his chest. He blinked a few times at the man in his chair. Ted Schmidt, but not the Ted Schmidt that fell over and died in this very office. No. This Ted he had never met. This Ted looked to be about twenty-one. The age, stress and everything else seemed to not touch him. Brian hated to admit it but he was quite the looker when he was younger.

What kind of drug flashback was this?

“You’re dead,” he told the hallucination.

“That I am. I want to thank you for taking care of Blake for me.”

“Blake’s already moved on with someone else,” Brian said meanly.

Ted laughed. “Well, I should hope so, he’s only forty-five. What a terrible, lonely life he would lead if he didn’t.”

“Go away. I didn’t want you here when you were alive, I definitely don’t want you here now you’re worm food.”

“I was cremated, as you know. Since I was sprinkled in the Atlantic Ocean, it’s a better guess I was fish food.”

“You probably gave them food positioning.”

This was ridiculous, he was arguing with a figment of his own imagination. “And get out of my chair.”

“Still the same old Brian Kinney. I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised you were working on Christmas Eve and not home with your family.”

“My family isn’t home,” he snapped before closing his mouth. He hoped ghost Ted thought he was talking about Gus.

“Still? After all these years? Justin wouldn’t want you to still be grieving.”

“I’m not,” he lied.

Twenty years ago, everything inside of him died along with Justin. He never forgave Lindsay for pushing him into getting Justin to go New York. Justin had gotten a job as a bartender. One night a drunk didn’t like getting cut off. According to witness he didn’t even see the knife the man pulled, Justin’s back was turned at the time. The man leant over the bar and stabbed Justin in the neck before anyone could stop him. The jugular was severed, he died gargling in his own blood.

Brian was accused of losing all sense of humanity after that. He guessed that was partly true. He fought for years not to let Justin close. Then one day a drunk with a knife on the fourth of July took it all away from him.

His relationship with Gus was strained to say the least. If his son wasn’t such a good person, he would have written Brian off years ago.

Brian hadn’t even gone to Carl’s funeral, or his own mother’s. Blake chose to have a small ceremony on board of Ted’s boat, Brian had been there.

“It’s okay to still love and miss him. But it’s not okay to shut everyone else out.”

“Shouldn’t you be haunting your own husband.”

“Blake is happy, you on the other hand are the furthest thing from happy.”

Brian growled in frustration. “Go away, Theodore.”

“Why? You killed me. I thought you’d like to know.”

“You had a heart attack, that’s hardly my fault.”

“Let’s see. I had been working eighteen hour days. Not getting enough sleep, not eating right and the pressure of your screaming in my face. It was just too much for my old ticker.”

“Shut up.” He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“I will after I say what I need to say. Tonight, is the night for you to see that error of your ways. Before the stroke of three, you will be visited by three ghosts.”

“Let me guess, past present and future?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“On the nose, bye Bri,” Ted said before disappearing.

“I was kidding,” he yelled at the empty chair.

Looking at his office, he decided he needed to go home to bed. If his hallucinations were that real, he needed sleep.

Once he was home, he crawled in to bed. The room was huge, but it missed a blue-eyed blonde. After all the bought this house for him.

“Get up, lazy bones,” a voice interrupted his sleep.

Opening his bleary eyes, he saw a short, fat, round man with a white beard.

“This has got to be someone’s idea of a joke,” he bitched.

“Fraid not, kid.”

“I didn’t believe in Santa when I was a kid, no reason to believe in him now.”

“Here I am taking time out of my busiest night of the year to help you. And what do I get? A smart mouth. We have people to see and all that.”

“If I do this will you leave me the hell alone?” He couldn’t believe he was going along with this insanity. Thankfully, he was still asleep, and this was a nightmare.

“Your awfully bossy,” the man that looked like a mall Santa said. “Fine, fine. First, take my hand.”

As soon as Brian’s skin touched the man’s, they blinked away. Even for a dream it felt very real. His vision cleared, and he saw they were in an old house. It looked vaguely familiar.

There was a small tree in the corner with a little girl lying beside it, staring at the lights. He didn’t remember Claire that young, she looked about three. A baby’s wail filled the small room, and Claire jumped up. It was only after the she ran to the small cradle, that he saw him. Even as clueless as he was when it came to babies, he knew he was much too big for the cradle. The sides were low, if it was Christmas time he had to be eight months old.

“Shy…Brian, don’t wake daddy,” Claire said petting his head, she could barely reach.

He looked around expecting his mother but didn’t see her. He saw his old man passed out on the couch, he had forgotten the man had ever been young. He would’ve been twenty-five.

“Oh look, she’s trying to take care of you,” Santa said.

Brian looked and sure enough, Claire was using all her might to pick him up out of the crib. It looked like it was something they did a lot, he half crawled over, and sort of just fell on her. She giggled quietly, “Brian, we got to be quiet. Are you hungry?” she whispered.

Baby Brian made grabby hands, which he guessed was a yes. She went into the kitchen and he crawled after her. Brian followed them.

Claire pushed a chair up to the counter. She then climbed up on it, Baby Brian using the chair to stand up. Claire then climbed on top of the counter. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal. Baby Brain saw the bounty of their hard work and clapped his hands together.

He moved fast when Claire went to get down but her foot missed the chair and she fell to the ground. She fell through his arms like he wasn’t there.

“Sorry, can’t interact,” Santa said.

Brian ignored him, and looked at the two kids. Claire was rubbing her knee and baby Brain was petting her on the head. She wiped her eyes.

“Mommy should be home soon, but no baby. Aunt Car said the baby wasn’t strong enough.”

“Baby? What baby?” Brian asked.

“Didn’t you know?” Santa returned.

“Know what?”

“Well, Jack did tell her to get an abortion with you, and she refused. Jack didn’t take no for an answer this time, he beat her until she lost the baby. The damage was so severe she couldn’t have anymore. Saddest part was, she was leaving him. She had enough money to run and a place for you all to stay.”

“What happened? Why didn’t she leave?”

“She felt losing the baby and being infertile was her punishment for planning on leaving her husband.”

“This the stupidest bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Brian said.

“Where are you two brats?” Jack’s slurred voice yelled.

Brian watched as Claire stood up and handed Baby Brian a handful of the cereal.

“Shh…we got to be real quiet. He’ll go back to sleep.”

Baby Brian shoved the entire handful in his mouth. That continues until Baby Brian started making another gesture with his hands.

Claire nodded her little head, “I’ll get it.”

He watched her repeat the thing with the chair. This time she put water in a bottle. Thankfully, she didn’t fall this time.

“Take my hand,” Santa said.

“We can’t leave them alone,” Brian said.

“It’s already happened. They lived, as we know.”

Brian hesitated but took the man’s hand. They blinked away again. This time they were in the childhood home he remembered. He saw himself hiding in his usual space, behind the couch.

“Brian Allen Kinney. Come out of there, right now,” his mother yelled.

She had a fading bruise that wasn’t hidden well with the makeup. Little Brian squeeze out from behind the couch.

“Yes, mama?”

“Time for presents,” she said happily.

“Yay!”

“Claire Eileen Kinney, you come in here too.”

Claire ran in, the whole side of her face was black and blue. Brian couldn’t help but to notice his child self was favoring his left arm. No doubt bruises covering him under the pajamas he was wearing. He was about four and Claire was about seven.

His mother placed two wrapped presents in front of them.

“Go on now,” she encouraged.

Little Brian tore into his gift. As soon as he saw it, memories flooded back. A baby doll. He had begged his mother for one. His father heard and knocked him into the wall. Later, Claire had snuck him one of hers. His father saw, claimed Claire was trying to turn him into a fag. He hit her…hard across the face.

Their mom got a punch for trying to stop him. It was one of his first memories.

“You must hide it, and only play with your father isn’t home,” his mother said. He had forgotten her like this, before the alcohol and bitterness turned her into the woman he knew now.

Tears streamed down Little Brian’s face. “I promise, Mama,” he said hugging the little blonde doll to his chest.

“Away we go,” Santa said before grabbing his hand again.

The house was dark, not even the crappy tree in the corner was lit.

A girl’s laughter could be heard down the hall. Brian followed the sound, walking to what he knew was Claire’s bedroom. The door was open and he walked in.

Inside was fifteen-year-old Claire and twelve-year-old Brian.

“I can’t believe you said that to him,” Claire said, setting off in another fit of giggles.

“He’s lucky, I didn’t clock him,” Pre-teen Brian grumbled.

Brian watched the exchange, he had forgotten how easily Claire and he got along at one time. He couldn’t remember when it changed.

“Enough about him. Guess what?”

“What?” Preteen Brian asked, rolling his eyes.

“I met a boy.”

Then he remembered it all. It was jealousy, first on his part later it was Claire’s.

“And?”

“And he likes me back.”

That was the start of the end. He stopped talking to her so openly. He stopped every loving feeling he had. The saddest part was, at the time she had done nothing to warrant the treatment. Now that he was on the other side of fifty and Claire was in a home he paid for, he wasn’t as upset at her. Pissed beyond belief she was willing to believe that fucking monster of a kid of hers. But as the years went by and Gus grew older, he put himself in her shoes. A sibling they hadn’t talked to nicely in over fifteen years, and his child said they were abused by them. He might have done worse than her, why would she talk to him. He had never encouraged it.

“Can we leave?” he asked Santa.

“Sure thing.”

Like that, they were gone again.

“Michael Charles Novotny, get your little ass down here now.”

They were in Michael’s bedroom. Brian was smoking a joint while Michael was freaking out, pot always made him paranoid. Brian laughed at sixteen-year-old Brian and Michael.

“God, I can’t believe we were so young.” Seeing Michael again eased his heart.

“Shit, Brian put that out. My mom is going to come in here any minute,” Michael said, grabbing some air fresher and spraying it.

“Don’t spray that stuff on me,” Punk Brian said.

“I said put that out. My mom is going to flip.”

Brian smiled at the scene. He remembered this, it was Christmas Eve and Deb had invited him to stay for the holiday. She had finally realized that his parents were nothing like parents should be. Even though she barely had enough money to feed and clothe her and Michael, she had gotten him the same amount of presents she had for Michael. She had gotten him his first leather jacket. It was one of his best Christmas memories.

But he also remembered that in five minutes Deb bursts through the door and screams at them for an hour. The air fresher did not fool her one bit.

“We should probably get going,” Brian said to Santa.

The next stop was his loft, he was around twenty-five and in middle of an orgy. While Brian smiled, Santa rolled his eyes and they blinked out again. This time, he was in the loft with Justin.

His heart ached seeing the blonde again. So young, so full of life. So Justin. It had been their first Christmas knowing each other. Debbie was making Justin stay with her and Vic on Christmas. She didn’t want him being sad about not being able to be home. It was right before his parents announced their impending divorce. But Christmas Eve was all Brian’s, he’d be damned if he let Justin know he was happy to have him there. God, how much time had he wasted trying to push him away?

“You got me a present?” Justin asked excitedly.

“That’s for Michael,” Mean Brian said.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

Mean Brian turned back to the computer, so he didn’t see what happened next. For the first time, Brian saw Justin walk away from Michael’s present and grab a gold and silver wrapped present under the bed.

“Brian, I have something for you,” Justin said, his smile a little forced.

“If it doesn’t involve your mouth and my cock, I don’t really have time for it,” Mean Brian said without looking up.

Brian watched Justin’s face fall and he shoved the present back under the bed.

“He never gave it to me,” Brian said. “What was it?”

“Do you care?” Santa asked.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“A ring. A silly little ring from a love-sick school boy, that’s all.”

Brian knew at the time, if Justin would have given it to him, he would have thrown it back in his face. But now, he wished more than anything he had it. In their life together, Brian hadn’t really allowed Justin to give him anything. Just like his drawing, he had to buy that himself, even knowing Justin would give him anything he asked for.

The next stop was all too familiar, Kinnetik. He knew instantly what Christmas Eve it was, the first one after Justin died. There was no sign of Christmas to be seen in the entire building, he had forbidden it.

“Brian, Ma would really like for you to come to dinner tonight,” Michael said, his eyes pleading with Brian.

Lost Brian didn’t look up, he just kept typing. “I don’t have time.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. Jennifer is going to be there, Molly too.”

“Why would that make me want to go.”

“You aren’t the only one who lost him, Brian. We can’t lose you too.”

“Is there anything you need?” Lost Brian asked, his tone void of emotion.

“Yeah, my best friend back.”

“Didn’t you hear, he died.”

Michael sighed and turned away.

“He was only trying to help you,” Santa said.

“I know, but at the time…I didn’t want help. I wanted to work and drink myself to death.”

“At the time?”

“Fine, still do. I lost them all. I lost Michael, he couldn’t keep pulling me from the edge without falling over it himself. He had to make the best choice for himself and his family. I don’t blame him and Ben for moving to Canada to be closer to the girls and kids. Then I lost Emmett, or should I say, I made him leave. He needed help, I couldn’t be that for him. Ted tried but I wouldn’t let him have the time off. Emmett couldn’t stay around all that sadness anymore. The depression was going to kill him. I’d lived with mine so long it was part of me, but it was killing him. I pushed Debbie away, kept Ted at a distance. Let’s get out of here.”

They blinked away, and they were back in the house he bought Justin.

“So, what did you think of your past?” Santa asked.

“I was there the first time. What do you want me to say?” he said, his voice like steel. His heart had been ripped over and over during their little adventure.

“Nothing, your next visitor will be here soon. Get some rest, Brian.”

And like that, he was gone.

Brian didn’t think he could handle any more visitors. If the next one was present, he wouldn’t get to see Justin again. This night sucked. 

Something tickled his nose. Batting it away, his hand met soft skin. Opening his eyes, he knew he had died and gone to heaven.

“Justin,” he said breathlessly.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Justin said lightly.

Brian couldn’t stop looking at him. His hair was long, a little longer than it had been before he left for New York. All Brian wanted to do was grab him and hold on to him forever. He grabbed Justin’s hand, just to tell himself this was real. Even if it wasn’t, he never wanted to wake up.

“God, Sunshine, I’ve missed you.”

Justin smiled, though it seemed a bit vacant, not his usual sunshine smile.

“I’m not Justin, just the spirit to take you on your next journey. The fates did believe you would go with this version anywhere.”

Brian sadly let his hand fall. “They were right. Where to now?”

“Grab my hand and find out.”

They blinked away arriving in an unfamiliar house. It was dark with no Christmas decorations. Clean but very devoid of any character.

“Where are we?” he asked Fake Justin.

“You don’t know?”

“Why would I ask if I did?”

“Why don’t we just watch and see.”

Brian looked around the kitchen they were standing in. It was a normal kitchen, but he couldn’t imagine anyone he knew with such an unassuming home.

He heard footsteps on stairs, turning he saw an elderly Jennifer walking into the kitchen. She was wrapped up in a dressing gown, one that reminded him of the grandmother on the Walton’s, not that he ever watched the show…really.

She walked to the stove and grabbed the kettle off it. After she filled it, she placed it on the stove and turned on the burning. The phone started ringing but she didn’t make a move to answer it. Soon the answering machine picked up.

“Hey, Mom, I was wondering if you were coming over tonight? The kids really want to see their grandma. Please, Mom, answer the phone. Answer the phone.”

Brian listened to Molly pleaded with her mother to talk to her.

“Why doesn’t she answer the phone?” Brian asked.

He hadn’t seen or heard from Jennifer or Molly in about ten years. Even then, he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what they said. Seeing them always reminded him of what he lost. Of what he could never have again. Of what he couldn’t protect.

“Same reason you don’t answer the phone when people call, she doesn’t want to talk.”

“Why not? It can’t be because of Justin, it’s been twenty years.”

“Really, on what year did you get over his death?”

“That’s different.”

“It is, he may have been the love of your life, but he was her baby. She carried him in her womb, she birthed him. She taught him to talk, walk, sing the alphabet. She held his hand on his first day of school when he cried. You weren’t the only one to lose him, and this may be surprising to you. You aren’t the one most devastated by it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked angerly. Fake Justin was nothing like the real thing.

A cruel smile came over Fake Justin’s face. “You made his death about you. Everyone, including his own mother and sister had to walk on eggshells around you.”

“I did not do that.”

“Of course, you did. You pushed everyone away that tried to comfort you over his death, but who did you try and comfort? Molly was only fourteen, she broke down at school and had be go through extensive therapy. Jennifer ended her relationship with Tucker, she didn’t want happiness if her son was gone. She even tried to kill herself. Molly found her and saved her life. Did you ever come over or call to see how either of them were doing? Check on Debbie? See how Daphne was handling the death of her best friend? We both know that you weren’t there for Emmett.”

“Fine, I get it, I’m a shitty friend. Next stop,” he said, angrily grabbing Fake Justin’s hand.

The next place was vaguely familiar. A baby’s cry could be heard in another room. The crying stopped, and a familiar face walked in with a baby into the living room he was standing in.

“Daddy’s got you. Who’s a good boy? That’s right, you are,” Blake said.

“When did Blake have a baby?” Ted had only died a year ago, wasn’t that a little fast to be moving on with his new man.

“That’s Theodore Lucas Schmidt. Ted and Blake’s son. Blake doesn’t know who the boy’s biological father is, but I’ll tell you a secret. It’s Ted. Blake just got the news that the surrogate was pregnant a few days after losing Ted.”

“I didn’t know. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t Ted tell me they were trying to have a baby?”

“Ted was overworked and underappreciated. You didn’t allow personal lives in the office, and you never talked to him outside of it.”

Brian was really starting to hate Fake Justin, he may have the face of an angel but the heart of a fiend.

“Next,” he demanded.

The Fake Justin gently touched Brian’s hand, for a second, Brian could convince himself it was the real Justin. Then in a blink they were gone.

They appeared in a place that looked like St. Nick threw up. It was so over the top, he had no doubt who lived there. He wasn’t surprised when Emmett came rushing in with several bags. A man was sitting on the couch watching Emmett with a bemused smiled.

“Don’t just sit there, Henry, go get the rest of the bags,” Emmett told the other man.

“Who did you even have to shop for this close to Christmas?” the man asked.

“Well, I was just going to the store and buy a few things for the baby. But, well, things just got a little out of control.”

“What? Emmett has a kid too?” Brian asked, his eye widening.

“Just watch,” Fake Justin said.

Soon there were several sets of stomping feet. Brian watched as several kids from the age of seven to seventeen ran into the room. Brian counted six of them.

“What did you get?” a little blonde girl asked, she was around ten.

“Nothing that you need to know about yet,” Emmett tittered. “No peeking, go back upstairs until I call you.”

The kids grumbled but left.

“You really shouldn’t spoil them, remember what the social worker said,” the other man said.

“I stick by what I told you. While these children are in our house, they will be cherished. And anyway, they’ll be ours soon enough.”

“Em, I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Stop it or I’ll think you’re trying to be a Christmas Grinch, and the world already has one of those.”

“Have you talked to Mr. Kinney yet?” the man asked.

“You don’t know Brian, I can’t just walk into his office and tell him, he wouldn’t listen anyway.”

“If he finds out from someone else, he’ll be livid. Michael said it was for his own good to find out from friends.”

“Michael can be a bit naive.”

“What the hell are they talking about?” Brian demanded.

This didn’t sound good.

“Maybe we should visit Michael,” Fake Justin said.

“Fuck yes we should.”

Grabbing Fake Justin’s hand and they were gone. Now they were in a house that he had only been in once. It was the house in Canada that Michael and Ben bought almost fifteen years ago.

Right away he noticed Michael sitting at a kitchen table with paperwork in front of him. That kind of shocked him, Michael wasn’t really a paperwork kind of guy. Even when he owned his own comic book shop Ted helped him with it more than Brian thought was normal.

“Are you still looking over that stuff?” he heard Ben ask.

“There has to be another way. I can’t let this happen to Brian.”

Brian looked at fake Justin then back at Michael. “He can’t let what to me? I haven’t seen Michael since we spread Ted’s ashes. What is he talking about?” he snapped at the spirit wearing the love of his life’s face.

The Fake Justin just smiled and turned to look at Michael.

“Michael, I don’t think there is a way around it. Brian is in such a state, he doesn’t really see what’s going on around him. He needs help, real help.”

“Maybe we should try and tell him one more time.”

“No, Ted tried. Ted spent the last year of his life trying to warn Brian of this. He wanted Kinnetik to go public, so he could expand. Ted told him that he had enough to do it on his own. But Brian wouldn’t listen.”

“There must be a way to save Kinnetik. Brian will die without it. Ted died trying to save it.”

“Save it? What are they talking about?”

“I think maybe you should look at the top paper,” Fake Justin said.

Brian walked over to the table, two words jumped out to him. “Hostile Takeover,” he whispered.

“We’re done here,” Fake Justin said before grabbing his limp hand.

They blinked into a house with several people he recognized. Mel and Lindsay were cuddled on the couch with a toddler across their lap. The toddler was a dark-haired girl of about two, his granddaughter. Gus had sent him pictures of her at every milestone.

Looking around he saw Gus and his wife, Shannon. Judging by the look of Shannon, they were due to have another baby any day now. Why hadn’t any of Gus’ messages said anything?

“Have you called your father today?” Lindsay asked.

“Mom, he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t talk to anyone,” Gus said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You have to make him. Justin could always make Brian talk to him, even when he didn’t want to,” Lindsay said with a sad smile.

“Well, I’m not Justin. I’m just his son.”

“You may be Brian Kinney’s son, but you have Justin Taylor’s attitude. I guess the studies say is true, kids get their personal identities by age three. You were so much like him. So smiley and bubbly. I think that’s one of the reasons your father had such a hard time being around you.”

“That wasn’t it at all,” Brian said.

“Then what was it?” Fake Justin asked.

“I didn’t deserve the happy ending. You…I mean the real Justin was the one who deserved it.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing for twenty years. Punishing yourself?”

“I thought you knew everything?”

“I know more than you want me to know. We have one more stop to make.”

“Fine, but when this is over, I don’t want to hear about how much of a bastard I am.”

“You won’t hear it from these lips,” Fake Justin said.

They blinked away to a place that smelled like a hospital.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Don’t you recognize it?”

“No.”

“This is the place you sent Claire.”

Brian looked around, remembering the place he had been only once. Two years ago, Claire had a debilitating stroke. Her kids didn’t want to take care of her, so it was left to him. He picked a home off a list of them. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. Pretty middle of the road.

“Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“Oh, she’s not here anymore.”

Brian looked at Fake Justin shocked. “What do you mean? I just wrote the check for her care this month.”

“It’s been two years Brian, no one visited her. Not you or her children. No one to pay attention when she died in her sleep one night.”

Brian shook his head. “No that’s impossible. I would know.”

“Really? Brian you’re the opposite of Scrooge. You pay people, so you don’t have to deal with anything. While he coveted his money, you spend it, so you don’t have to care.”

“That’s not true,” he lied. He knew it was the truth. It was the truth even before Justin died. But it wasn’t really about not caring then, just an inability to show that he cared.

“Sure.”

“So, let me get this straight. The present you want me to be a part of is a bunch of sad, depressing sacks. Claire’s dead. Gus is better off without me. My old friends are better without me. Apparently, my agency is about to be taken over by some larger entity because I didn’t listen to Ted. What is the lesson supposed to be?”

“That’s not for me to tell you. Grab my hand.”

Brian did what was asked, they blinked back into his bedroom. Now they were back, he knew Fake Justin would leave. He couldn’t stand the thought, even if he wasn’t his Justin maybe he could be for a little while.

“Don’t go,” he said to Fake Justin.

“Why?”

“Just can’t you let me pretend you are Justin, just for a little while?”

Suddenly, he wasn’t Fake Justin anymore, he was just Justin.

“You missed me?” Justin asked, his real smile in place.

“More than life itself.”

“You need me?”

“Like I need my next breath.”

“Come here,” Justin said.

Brian went to him and leaned down, kissing the lips he so greatly missed. Arms circled his waist. Brian buried his face into the long blonde hair. How could he still smell the same?

“Make love to me,” Justin whispered.

Brian didn’t even have to think about it. He couldn’t deny Justin if he tried. “God, yes.” 

An ice-cold chill woke Brian up from his restless sleep. He knew instantly that Justin, fake or otherwise was already gone. Was he ever really even there? He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

Sitting up, he saw a black hooded figure in the corner of the room.

“Christmas future, I suppose?” The hooded man nodded. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

The figure put a skeletal hand on Brian’s shoulder and they blinked away. He recognized the house as the one Emmett had been in. Unlike before there was no tree, no decorations, not even a bit of mistletoe. It didn’t look like Christmas Eve at all. The man from before was sitting at a computer desk typing away, his face solemn.

Emmett walked in, his usual swish visibly absent.

“Hey, hon, I was thinking we could stay in and spend the night together,” the man on the computer said.

Emmett looked up, his mouth in a hard line. “I’m visiting the kids,” he said, his voice dropping.

“Em, please don’t do this to yourself. They won’t let you see them.”

“I have to try.”

“Why? So, they can have something to use against you in court. I hate to say this, but I think it’s time we should just drop the whole thing.”

“No, I promised those kids I wouldn’t give up on them”

“Em, even Lisa said it was time to just drop it. Maybe if we support her, she’ll be able to get them out of foster care.”

“An eighteen-year-old kid is more responsible than two fags, right?” Emmett snapped.

“What happened? I thought they were close to adopting all those kids?” Brian asked.

The figure didn’t say anything, and his hand clamped down on Brian’s shoulder again.

They blinked into a house Brian didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like any place he had ever been. It was dilapidated and dirty. There was no sound except the whimpers of a child. Brian found the source. A five or six-year-old shaking the clearly dead body of Blake. There was drug paraphernalia all around him. The boy started to cry harder.

“Daddy, please wake up. I’m scared. Daddy.”

“The baby?” Brian asked the hooded figure.

The figured nodded and then pointed at a piece of mail that was laying on the table. Brian was able to pick it up and read it. It was an eviction notice by one Brian A. Kinney. The date to be out by was Christmas Eve.

“I wouldn’t. Not to Blake and Ted’s son.”

A loud pounded on the door sounded. “Sherriff’s Department,” a loud voice yelled.

“Daddy, wake up.”

Suddenly the door opened and Brian along with four sheriff’s deputies walked in. He was older, but the thing that he noticed the most was his face, it was completely void of emotion.

“Uncle Brian, Daddy won’t wake up,” the boy said, running to Future Brian.

Future Brian looked down at the boy with disgust. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not your uncle.”

“He’s dead,” one of the cops said.

“What do we do with the boy?” another asked.

“He has no living family, call the CPS,” Future Brian sneered.

“No, I would never do that to a child. None of this is possible,” Brian said. It couldn’t be true. He was an asshole, he’d fully admit that but to do this, it wasn’t him.

“I want Auntie Em,” the boy cried.

“Does he have an aunt we can call?” the first cop asked.

“No, it’s just some old queen. I want him and dead boy over there out.”

The cops exchanged a look but didn’t say anything more. Future Brian left, leaving the crying boy.

“Damn, that was harsh,” second cop said.

“That was Brian Kinney. He used to be an alright guy, a little of a workaholic until his company was taken over and he was put out to pasture. That was when he decided to buy up most of Pittsburgh, and become a slumlord,” first cop said.

“What are we going to do about the kid?”

“What else can we do, call the social worker.”

The skeletal hand surprised him a moment before they blinked away.

It was Ben and Michael’s house. There was Christmas music playing in the background.

“At least, Michael and Ben are alright,” Brian said.

A twenty-something year old, with a body that showed years of gym use, walked through the living room.

“Who is that?” Brian asked. He didn’t expect an answer from the hooded man, and wasn’t disappointed.

“Sean!” a voice yelled before an elderly Michael walked into the room.

“What?” the other man asked, his voice filled with venom.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner tonight?” Michael asked, his feet shuffling some.

“Why in the hell would I? Just letting you touch me turns my stomach. I only do it for the free home and board. Dates though, are out of the question. I would be a laughing stock.”

“I thought we had something,” Michael said sadly.

“We do, you have this place, and I have a nice body. Not that you can get it up anymore.”

“I just want to talk and have company.”

“You want company? Get a dog. Hey, or maybe find a man your age. You won’t though, too worried they’ll croak like your husband.”

Brian watched as his best friend was berated by this young asshole.

“Why is he letting him talk this way to him?”

Brian shook his head, he knew why. Michael had gotten extremely lucky with Ben. If it wasn’t for him he was a good target for abuse. He was used to bowing down to a domineering mother and Brian. Damn.

The next thing he knew he was in a large house, a forty-something year old Gus was standing by someone’s bed.

“It’s okay, baby, I understand,” a frail elderly female voice said.

Brian stepped closer and noticed Mel laying on the bed, her body weak and tired.

“Mama, I can’t leave you. Not when you’re this sick.”

“You’re needed elsewhere.”

“I’m needed here.”

“Gussy, my sweet Gussy. I’m tired. I want to see your mother again. My family. You can’t let your father take the shelter away from all those kids. You’ve worked too hard for it.”

“Fuck him, he’s no father of mine. He’s never cared about me. I don’t really believe he ever had a heart, I sure never saw evidence of it.”

“Oh, Baby, he had one. He just got so wrapped up in his grief he forgot to live. Then when the one thing that got him through that time was taken away from him, he stopped caring all together.”

“Even about me?”

“I don’t think so, but he let his pain overrule him.”

“I wish he never met Justin the night I was born. I wish he had been my father, I wish he had been a part of our lives. I wish he hadn’t kicked Blake out of his home. I wish Theo hadn’t been lost to foster care never to be heard from again. I wish he would have helped when Mom got sick. I wish he would have helped when Emmett begged for help. I wish so many things but it all started with him meeting that man the day I was born.”

“Sunshine. We were all better for having a little sunshine in our lives. I think your dad just got lost in the dark without the light.”

“He’s shutting down the homeless shelter right now because he knows I want to be here with you. He’s no man, he’s a monster.”

Mel’s hand reached for Gus but after only getting halfway there, fell back to the bed. The life left her eyes, leaving a sobbing Gus.

“No, I would never hurt him like this,” Brian said, shaking his head. The skeletal hand came down on his shoulder again and they blinked away again.

This time he had to ask no questions about where they were. A cemetery, a casket was being lowered into ground. Besides the workers lowering the body, there was only a single person. A woman dressed in black, her face solemn but she wasn’t crying. The cemetery was familiar, the area where he was standing was familiar. He looked over and saw Justin’s grave next to the one being buried. He had meant to buy that plot for himself but kept putting it off. Then about forty years ago he found out it was already sold.

“Miss, is there anything you want to say?” a man in a suit asked.

She was older maybe around sixty. Familiar but as hard as he tried to place her, he was unable.

“Yes, thank you.” She threw a single red rose into the open grave onto the casket. “Brian, you were a mean bastard these last forty or so years. I get it, I truly do. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t let you be buried in a pauper’s grave even after your own son turned away. Justin would have wanted me to make sure you had a proper burial. But I don’t blame Gus, you seemed to make it your goal in life to make everyone as miserable as you.  You would think a man with the money you had would have made a plan for his death. I guess you thought you were too ornery to die. I hope you finally find the peace you have been seeking.”

“It’s Molly,” Brian said, realizing who the woman was. She was a girl the last time he saw her, no older than thirteen. He turned to the hooded figure. “What can I do to change this? I still have time to change, don’t I? I still have time!”

The figure grabbed his shoulder and he was back at his house. What surprised him even more, Ted was there also, his young spirit self. “What are you doing here?” Brian asked.

“Christmas Past has given you a gift, don’t waste it.” With that he was gone. 

The phone ringing woke him up, Brian groaned and grabbed it. “Kinney,” he sleepily muttered.

“Daddy!”

“Gus?” Brian shook himself awake. Gus was an adult, not a little boy. But why did he sound like a little boy?

“Silly Daddy. Mama said to call you and tell you happy Fourth of July.”

“It’s Christmas,” he said, his brain sluggish.

“No, it’s not. It’s Fourth of July. Mama said we can watch the fireworks on the TV.”

“Gus, can I talk to your mama?” he asked.

“Okay. MAMA, DADDY WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

Brian moved his ear away from the phone. His boy was loud.

“It’s noon, Brian. If he woke you up from your late-night partying, that’s on you,” Mel said, evenly.

“Gus seems to think it’s Fourth of July.”

“What are you on, Brian? Of course, it is. Haven’t you been listening to Justin go on about it. If he has been talking to you like us, you know he’s excited to see the New York firework show. He promised Gus to videotape it. I do hope he gets to go and his boss doesn’t make him work tonight.”

The words of Ted came back to him. “Christmas Past has given you a gift, don’t waste it.”

“I gotta go, I’ll call Gus later.” He hung up. That was when he noticed he was in his loft, not the house he moved into after Justin was killed. He had time to save him, he did. If he saved Justin, none of what happened would transpire, at least he could change them too.

Witnesses said that it was just after seven that the man killed Justin, it was just after twelve o’clock now. Was this real? Was it another dream? What if he did everything and it was all a dream? Was he willing to chance it? Yes. The answer was yes. He would chance a hurricane to save Justin.

Brian first tried to call Justin, no answer. Then he called the bar, they had acted like he was insane. All the flights were booked solid so that just left one option. Driving. Just outside of Pittsburgh his car sputtered to a stop.

“NO!” He hit the dashboard. It was like the forces of evil were working against him. He called Michael, Ben, Emmett, Ted, Debbie, Carl, Jennifer, Cynthia, Blake, Daphne, no one was answering their phones. He then called every cab company and car service, they didn’t have anyone until it was too late to save Justin. A crazy insane thought came to him. And the words from earlier came back again. “Christmas Past has given you a gift, don’t waste it.”

After a moment, he remembered the number and dialed.

“Hello,” a hesitant voice said.

“I need help.”

“What do you need?”

“I need a ride to New York.”

“Where are you?”

“Penn-Lincoln Parkway.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Claire?”

“Yes?”

“Please hurry.”

He had a little over six hours to get to his destination. It was about a six-hour drive give or take. After he disconnected, he tried Justin again, no answer. He called the bar again but this time they hung up on him right away. He had to get there on time.

Claire pulled up a little later in a minivan. His eyes widened when she got out. “You’re pregnant?”

“What gave you that idea?” she asked dryly.

“Okay, dumb question.” She looked to be about eight months pregnant. Brian vaguely remembered that she had a younger daughter, but he had never met her. This must be when she was pregnant, and he never knew. “Can you drive this far?”

“Nope, but you can. I’ll just ride shotgun.”

She walked over to the passengers’ side and slid in. He got into the driver’s seat. “So, little brother, why are we going to New York?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got six hours to kill.”

Five and a half hours later, he was going out of his mind. Seven o’clock was coming soon. After telling Claire about his supernatural blasts from the past, present and future, and that this was still the past, she seemed to be a little wary. That didn’t stop her from trying to call Justin, or anyone in New York that could help. It was like the universe was working against him.

“We’re never going to make it,” he said, as panic set in.

“We will. We have to, there is no other option.”

Early in the trip she apologized for not talking to him when John made his accusations. He had told her that it still bothered him but at least now he understood to some extent, he just wished she would have tried. She told him she hadn’t believed it when John told her and their mother. But Joan had got into her head and made everything jumbled until she believed it too. That sounded like St. Joan.

It was four minutes after seven by the time they pulled up outside the bar.

“G0! I’ll park it. GO!” Claire yelled.

He didn’t need to be told twice, he threw the van in to park and jumped out. Running inside the bar, he made his way for the bar. Justin came into view but so did the man who killed him. Without thinking, Brian tackled the man. A knife flew out of his hand, the man fought to get the knife back. It was no real fight because he was drunk and uncoordinated.

“Brian, what the hell?” Justin said, looking at the scene in front of him.

“Hey, Sunshine. I want you to come back to me. To Pittsburgh.”

“Well, you could have just called me,” Justin said, a smile on his face.

His phone went off, waking him up. “NO NO NO.” It couldn’t have been a dream. It couldn’t. Grabbing the phone, he answers, his voice raspy with emotion.

“What?”

“Hey, Dad. I was just calling to say Merry Christmas.”

Gus, adult Gus. The Gus that was in his present. “Not Fourth of July?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Of course not, Dad. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, never better,” he answered, a tear escaping his eye. He had known it was too good to be true.

“I got to go, I’ll call you back soon. I promise,” he told his son. He didn’t want to break down on the phone.

“Sure, Dad. I love you.”

“You too, Sonny boy.”

He sat there in the silence for what felt like years. He couldn’t shut himself off. That was what caused all the trouble. He would grieve but care about others. He needed to check on Blake and the baby. Then see what he can do for Emmett and the situation with the kids. Maybe he would be able to help him with the adoption. But first, he needed to check on Claire in the nursing home. She couldn’t be dead. That had to be a lie by Christmas Present. Right?

Just as Brian opened the bedroom door the smell of cinnamon and bacon rose up to him. What the hell? More steps, he could hear laugher, children’s laughter. He followed it to the kitchen, where his heart studdered in his chest. Justin was there, older but beautiful, he was cooking breakfast. Two children were giggling at the table. A boy of about five and a girl of about eight.

“Daddy!” the boy said, as soon as he saw Brian. “Papa, Daddy’s awake, that means presents right?”

Justin laughed. “No, we have to wait until Auntie Claire gets here. She’s bringing Maggie.”

Both kids squealed with delight.

“Maggie?” Brian asked.

Justin laughed, his beautiful laugh. “I knew you and Ted worked too hard last night. I know the account was important but remember what the doctor said. Ted has to watch his stress. The heart attack last year could have been way worse.”

“Ted?” Ted was alive? Impossible, he had a massive heart attack, he was dead before Brian was able to call for help. Of course, Justin being alive was impossible too.

“Here, have some coffee, you need to wake up.” Justin handed him a cup filled with hot black coffee. “You’ll need it. Ted and Blake will be bringing Mary and Theo a little later.”

“Who is Mary?”

“Brian, did you hit your head? Do you want me to kiss it and made it better?”

“Eww,” was chorused from the table.

“You two hush.” Justin walked over and put his lips Brian’s lips.

It was like a lightening bolt. Memories he knew he never had before rushed his mind. Claire going into labor in the van. Them having to rush her to the hospital. Maggie’s birth had been quick and traumatic. Somethings a brother should never have to see.

Justin and Brian getting married, finally. Claire had been there. Claire and Justin got on well after he forgave her. One day he came home, and Justin was bursting with excitement. Brian knew he should have run right then. Their idea was to harvest Claire’s eggs, that way they could have a child that was blood related to both of them. He was adamantly against it. So, of course it happened. Natalie was born using Claire’s egg, Justin’s sperm and a gestational surrogate. Three years later, Samuel was born using a fertilized egg from the same batch as Natalie.

Because Brian wasn’t working Ted to death, Blake and Ted had their children earlier. Mary was there oldest daughter at fifteen and Theo was a precocious seven-year-old. Emmett’s brother, Terry had died leaving a bunch of orphaned children. None of his other brothers or sisters had room for the children. Emmett had just officially adopted them, with Brian helping with paying the lawyer.

Mel and Lindsay didn’t stay in Canada, they moved back when the prop was demolished. Gus loved his brother and sisters. He was in his last year of law school, taking after Mel. Brian had to bite his tongue on that one.

He had gotten what he had wanted, needed. How? He didn’t know. He didn’t care either. It could be aliens, that was alright with him. He wouldn’t waste it either. Never again.

“Can we open one present?” Sam begged.

“What do you say Dad? One present?” Justin asked.

“One present, that’s fine. But for me, I’ve got everything I need right here,” he said before hugging Justin to him.

“Geez, Brian, don’t you think it’s too early to be drinking?”

“Shut up you little twat, I’m being sincere.”

“Daddy said twot,” Natalie said.

“What’s a twot?” Sam asked.

“Daddy said Papa’s a twot.”

“No, Daddy’s said I’m a twat. Wait, why I’m I correcting this? No presents,” Justin said, glaring at Brian.

Brian smiled, he didn’t know why Christmas Past gave him this gift, but he would be forever grateful. Not only for giving him Justin back, but Ted and the rest of his family. And giving him a family he never knew he wanted. And a family he thought he left behind in childhood.

“Merry Christmas everyone,” he said smiling.

“Okay, give me your flask,” Justin said.

The End.