Santa Claws  by  Lilachigh
 
 
 
 
Chapter  10     Let him go. ‘   
 
 
 
The day dragged by – Spike prowled round the house for a while then vanished into their bedroom and lay in the darkened room, waiting.
 
Buffy tried to pretend everything was okay: she made a quick visit to the local market, did laundry, ordered pizza for lunch and tried not to ask Willow too many times if she’d discovered anything yet.
 
Willow dug deeper and deeper into magic, trying to stem the waves of anger that were beginning to overwhelm her.  All this was so unnecessary. If Buffy and Spike had never got together, then they wouldn’t have befriended Eric, Spike wouldn’t have been bitten and, what was even more important, Xander wouldn’t have decided to play the martyr and condemn himself to a year or more of servitude as Santa Claus.
 
She stopped using the computer keyboard and let her magic take her deep inside the streams of knowledge that only she could access.  She missed Xander so much – oh, she knew that he thought he loved Anya and perhaps in some bizarre, demon-loving way he did, but he was still her best friend and it wasn’t fair that he wasn’t there for her now.
 
She broke off working and pulled herself back to the real world as Spike appeared, silently as usual.  “Buffy’s gone shopping,” she said swiftly. “She’ll be back soon.”
 
Spike flung himself down on the sofa.  “Any luck with the – ” he waved towards the computer – “magicals?”
 
Willow shook her head.  “But it’s early days yet. This is a very odd type of demon. Not much known about how Sylvamalkyns infect humans.”
 
“Or vampires!”
 
She nodded.  “OK, yes, much not knowing of the vampire connection, but hey, trying hard here. I know how worried you and Buffy must be.”
 
Spike looked at her, his expression suddenly shrewd.  “You really don’t approve of me and Buffy being together, do you, Red?”
 
Biting her lip, she turned back to the computer.  “She’s my friend. I don’t want to see her hurt again.  I was there through all the Angel thing, don’t forget. We all suffered in different ways from that passion.”
 
“I won’t hurt her; I couldn’t. I love her.”
 
“Love!”  The word sounded bitter from her lips.  “Oh, we can all fall in love, Spike.  That doesn’t mean it has to end in roses and puppies, white dresses and confetti. It doesn’t stop people getting hurt. I should know!”
 
He arched an eyebrow at her expression, wondering at the depths of her feelings.  Oz, Tara, both loved, both lost but they weren’t the cause of this distress. No, he had a shrewd idea that behind everything was Willow’s unrequited love for Xander Harris.
 
He knew love came in all sorts of shapes and sizes:  he’d spent years loving Dru and he couldn’t even begin to understand his feelings where Angel were concerned, so he didn’t try.  But his love for Buffy was – he struggled to put it into some sort of words – right. It was as simple and straightforward as that.
“I’d rather stake myself than see Buffy hurt the way Liam hurt her.”
 
“Oz was terrified he would hurt me.”
 
“I liked Oz. Never said much, but he was a cool guy. He’d understand.”
 
“He left the country,” Willow said carefully. “Went right away, to be sure he couldn’t harm me.”  There was a silence, then she added, “So if I can’t find a cure for the Sylvamalkyn infection, what will you do?”
 
He stood up, pushing his fists deep into his pockets. “I have no idea, but I refuse to put Buffy and Dawn in any sort of danger.”
 
Willow nodded and watched him lope away back to the bedroom he shared with her friend, where noises she knew they were unaware of disturbed her sleep every night, filling her with an envy, a jealousy she hadn’t known before.  A jealousy that frightened her with its black depths.
 
She turned back to the computer and was apparently hard at work when Buffy came back from the market, and the rich, sweet smell of fresh raw meat filled the house.
 
“I bought steak and pork,” she said in explanation.  “I thought if we had plenty of raw meat on hand, Spike wouldn’t need to hunt for it.”
 
Willow nodded enthusiastically. “Good plan,” she said, but didn’t believe for a second that it would work. From what she had learnt during these long hours, it was the hunt that drove Sylvamalkyns.  They wanted to eat raw flesh but hunting and catching it were the important parts.  She didn’t think a plate of cutlets was going to help at all. From what she'd discovered, even the chip in his head was over-ridden by this infection. He could kill exactly what and whom he wanted.  But she didn’t tell Buffy; the last thing she wanted was for the Slayer to ask where she’d got her information.
 
As dusk was finally falling, Spike came downstairs again. He held out his hands towards Buffy and she felt a chill run through her body as she saw the first faint silver hairs beginning to grow on his arms.
 
“It’s happening again, pet. Just like Eric said it would.  Look, Buffy, I’ve got to get out of here.  I’m going to be too dangerous to live with.”
 
Buffy turned to Willow in despair. “Nothing?  You’ve still got nothing?”
 
The red-head shrugged and pretended to turn off her computer. “Bits and pieces, Buffy, that’s all.  As far as I can tell, once you become infected, you should turn into a Sylvamalkyn every night.  But I think Spike being a vampire alters all that.  He didn’t change when Eric first bit him, did he?  I think it has to do with the moon.  So much magic does.”
 
“Like a werewolf?”
 
“Yes, sort of.”
 
“But is there a cure?”  Spike asked, uneasily aware that the demon power was beginning to grow and surge through his body once more, the tingling on his skin as the pelt began to grow, the feverish hunger for hot, raw flesh consuming his mind.
 
Willow stared across the room to where the two of them were sitting on the sofa, Buffy’s hands tightly grasping Spike’s as if she would never let him go, her eyes dark with anxiety.  This was all wrong!  Buffy was the Slayer; she had a mission, a purpose in life that she was ignoring because of her infatuation with Spike.  Willow had no doubt at all that it was just that – an infatuation:  there was no way her friend was truly in love with another vampire.  Angel had been kind of cool and Willow had seen the feelings they had for each other, feelings that had resulted in Angelus.  And she could recall clearly all the pain, death and misery that relationship had caused.  She refused to believe that Buffy was prepared to go down that road again. She wouldn’t let her.
 
“I couldn’t find any mention of a cure on line,” she said slowly, waiting for them to ask about finding one some other way.  But they didn’t.  They just sat, wrapped up in each other, not  listening properly to what she’d just said.  ‘And I didn’t lie,’ she thought righteously.  ‘I didn’t find the cure on line.’
 
Spike stood up. “So, that’s that. Listen, pet – no, don’t look like that! – I have to go.  I’ll move back into my crypt.”
 
Buffy stared at him. “And how is you moving away from me going to help?  You’ll still go all pantherish every time the moon is full. You’ll run wild and hunt for flesh.  If you’re living here, I can help you, stop you. ”
 
Spike cupped her face with hands that were now fully covered in silver fur. “Buffy – Slayer – this isn’t like wanting to drink blood and being able to cope with pig or cow.  It’s a hunger far beyond that.  It’s the hunt, the tearing, the killing that I lust for – I don’t think there’s anything you can do to stop that.  I mean you could tie me to the bed and – as much fun as that would be at other times –  no sodding bonds will hold me when the moon is full.”
 
“Like tonight?” she whispered, her throat dry with pain.
 
Her lover nodded, his hands dropping away from her cheeks as long curved claws began to grow from the end of his fingers. A shimmer slid across his face and she took a small step backwards as his eyes slanted upwards and she could see the pelt beginning to appear on those high cheekbones she loved so much.
 
“And it happens so fast,” he muttered. “I have to go. I want to go, now! Don’t try to stop me!” and with a snarl, he pushed her hard, flinging her back down onto the sofa and throwing open the door, fled out into the night.
 
“Spike!” Buffy’s despairing shout rang through the room and she started after him, then stopped.  She knew that she had no chance of catching him: in the dark, with his vampire vision enhanced by Sylvamalkyn powers , he would be out of range before she reached the sidewalk.
 
“Let him go, Buffy,” Willow said. “He’s doing the right thing. We’ve no idea just how dangerous he might be.”
 
Buffy whirled round, eyes flashing. “You never gave up on Oz when he went all wolfie!”
 
Willow bit her lip, backing away from the anger on her friend’s face.  “But we knew how to deal with werewolves. There was so much information.  But this is demon infestation, totally different.” She hesitated, then went on, “And he really did want to go. You heard him – he said ‘don’t try to stop me’.”
 
Buffy flinched. “Did he say anything while I was out?”
 
Willow shook her head slowly. “Nooo, just, you know, worried about the future, Dawnie, you. He mentioned Angel.”
 
“Angel?”  Buffy felt a coldness invade her body. A vampire who’d walked away from his problems – oh, for what he would insist was a valid reason, but he’d still walked.  Was Spike beginning to think that his grand-sire had done the right thing?
 
“Buffy – ”
 
“Yes?”
 
“Don’t – I mean, listen for a second – this relationship with Spike – I mean, it’s so new, so unusual, do you think that perhaps, well, it’s a realisation on his part that it’s all too difficult, too complicated. First there was Dawn, then Eric and now this demon thingie, maybe, well, perhaps he just – ”
 
Buffy stared at her, her face very pale.  “Just say it, Will.”
 
“Perhaps he just wants to leave. And perhaps, if you love him as you say you do, you should let him.”
 
tbc