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Xander pulled the curtains away from the window, peering into the night once more before sighing resolutely, pulling his shirt over his head and getting into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin, snuggling into the soft comforter.
A week before Christmas, and all his friends were dead or thousands of miles away; he missed them terribly. The measly little twig in the corner of the cabin glowed slightly from the half-burnt out strand of lights draped over it.
Strong arms around him, whisper of, “Okay, love?”.
A silent shake of his head, and the embrace grew tighter.