As much as Buffy loved her family, she had to admit sometimes it was nice when they made themselves scarce. Between the throngs of teenaged girls she dealt with every day and the chaos that tended to go on at home, Buffy was grateful for the rare moment of peace.
Of course, in what she had long ago accepted to be her lot in life, the peace didn’t last long.
Buffy was startled by frantic pounding on the front door, and she hurried to answer it, fearing apocalypse. Instead, she was almost knocked over as Anya rushed into the flat, brandishing a newspaper, which she shook in the air, mere inches away from Buffy’s face.
“Santa Claus has come to town!” Anya exclaimed, her eyes wide with what looked suspiciously like panic.
“Um, yeah. It’s December. He sorta does that every year,” Buffy replied, taking a step back.
Anya rolled her eyes. “Not that Santa. The real one, the one where the legend started. Only he doesn’t come by your house to leave presents. He comes by your house to eat your children.” She shook the newspaper. “I have a child, Buffy! Santa could eat her.”
“I’m not going to let anything eat Rebecca,” Buffy assured Anya. “But what makes you think Demon Santa is here in London?”
Anya opened her paper and shook it again, her red-tipped nail tapping against an article. “Here.”
Buffy took the paper from her and started to read it, though Anya gave her summary before Buffy could even get through the first line. “Three children have gone missing this week. In every single case, the house was locked, and there appeared to be a trail of soot leading from the chimney to the child’s bed, and in the child’s place was a lump of coal. That’s his MO, Buffy.”
“So he what, turns the kids into coal?”
Anya rolled her eyes. “No. That’s just his calling card. He kidnaps kids, twelve to be precise, and then takes them back to his lair until it’s time for his feast.”
Buffy quickly scanned over the article and saw everything Anya had recounted was indeed correct – and majorly weird. She knew at one time she wouldn’t have put much stock in Anya’s theories, but in recent years she’d found the ex-vengeance demon to be an invaluable source of information. After all, centuries as a demon had made for some great networking, and Anya knew pretty much everyone. Including, it appeared, Santa Claus. Or, at least, demon Santa Claus.
“Okay, so he’s not going to eat the kids until he has twelve, right?” Buffy asked as she folded the paper closed.
“No. Every few years, he has to feed, and it has to be a meal of exactly twelve children. But kidnapping twelve kids at a time is pretty hard, especially if you’re so hellbent on the whole down the chimney, leaving coal thing, so he takes one at a time and keeps them locked up until he has all of them.”
“Okay, well, at least I still have time if he needs nine more before he can start feasting,” Buffy replied.
“Are you going to send some of the girls out after him?” Anya asked.
“No,” Buffy answered with a shake of her head. “I’ll take this one personally. This is too important to delegate – there’s kids in danger. I’ll get Spike to go out looking for him with me as soon as he gets home. Could you take Will and Anne for a bit?”
“Of course,” Anya replied with a smile, glad to be helpful. “Rebecca’s been telling me she wants Anne over to bake cookies with. Or, you know, biscuits, since she apparently learned the word for them from her father. I never know when she’s suddenly going to come over all British.”
Buffy bit back her smile at Anya’s completely tangential comment. That was another trait she’d once found annoying that had somehow become more endearing than anything else over the years. She did, however, try to direct the conversation back to the important stuff by asking, “Do you know how to kill Santa Claus?”
As soon as the question was out of her mouth, Buffy frowned. Even for her, this was weird…
“Oh, yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Anya replied with a beaming smile. “And you’re gonna like this one, too – a stake through the heart.”
“Oooh…I do like that. I’m totally good at the whole stake through the heart thing. I’ve got it down.”
“It has to be a stake made from ash, though. The tree, not little burnt up bits.” Anya frowned, contemplating that for a moment, then said, “I guess a stake made of ashes wouldn’t do any good. It would just fall apart. And get your hands really dirty.”
“I think I’ve got a few ash stakes,” Buffy replied. “And if I don’t have any in here, I know there’s some downstairs. Anything else you know that can help me, Anya?”
Anya was smiling again, and Buffy knew it meant a lot to her to feel useful. “Yep. See, he casts a glamour over the entrance to his lair, so no one can see it – unless you’re wearing a garland of mistletoe and chestnuts.”
Buffy cocked an eyebrow. “Mistletoe and chestnuts?”
“Yep. They have both hanging up in the cafeteria. Some sort of festive decoration. Really, I thought it was pretty ugly when they put it up, but I guess it’ll come in handy now.”
“Okay,” Buffy said, letting herself slide into Slayer mode, “you go downstairs and snag the mistletoe and chestnuts, I’ll dig up some ash stakes, and when Spike gets home, we can go kill Santa.” She frowned. “And I really can’t believe I just said that.”
“Don’t be fooled by that whole jolly, eye-twinkling nonsense,” Anya replied, her tone and expression both gravely serious. “Santa Claus is a cold-blooded child killer.”
“Not gonna be fooled by the jolly twinkling,” Buffy assured her. “Santa is so getting a stake to the heart.”
“Good,” Anya said with a nod. “And I’m off to pilfer decorations.”
As the door shut between Anya, Buffy sighed. Of all the things to do at Christmas…
“Well, Slayer,” she muttered to herself, “Merry Christmas.”
Spike was beyond exhausted. He’d spent all day trying to keep up with the kids, a task that seemed impossible even with vampire speed. And he certainly hadn’t made anything easier on himself by letting them have sugar…
By the time he was following the two bounding children down the hall to their flat, all he wanted to do was go to sleep.
Which is precisely why he was not at all surprised to come home to find Buffy obviously gearing up for a fight.
The children were either oblivious to the stakes laid out on the counters or too used to them to pay them any mind as they ran into the kitchen to regale their mother with tales of the day, speaking so quickly and over each other that Spike knew Buffy had no idea what they were saying despite her genuine show of interest.
Spike shoved the bags he’d been carrying into the closet before joining his family, eyeing the stakes. “Vamps?”
Buffy looked up at him. “Not quite. Kids, you’re going over to play with Rebecca for a bit, okay? Mommy and Daddy have to work.”
Spike could tell from Buffy’s body language and tone of voice that there was something she wanted to shield the kids from, and he decided to hold his questions until they were gone. Whatever it was, it must be bad for her to be jumping right into it now.
“I’m going to get them ready to go over there if you want to rest for a bit,” Buffy said, earning her a look of gratitude from Spike. He knew there was a reason he loved his woman.
“I’d appreciate it, pet,” he replied.
Buffy knelt down to kid-level. “Did you two monsters wear Daddy out today?”
“We were good!” Anne insisted. “I didn’t run away at all, even when something looked fun, and Will and I both held Daddy’s hands the whole time.”
Spike ruffled his daughter’s hair. “They were good – if a bit energetic.”
“We can’t help that, Daddy,” Anne said with an eye roll. “We’re kids.”
“You’re definitely that,” Buffy replied as she wrapped her arms around both the children and pulled them to her. Spike saw a sheen of tears in her eyes and gave her a questioning look, his head cocked to the side.
Buffy shook her head, letting him know it was more or less okay and they’d talk about it later. Then she kissed both Will and Anne on top of their heads and let them go. “All right, let’s get you two looking presentable.”
As Buffy took the kids off to clean up, Spike went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed staring up at the ceiling as he wondered what exactly had his wife so upset. He’d expected his worrying to keep him from getting any rest, but the next thing he knew, Buffy was leaning over him, waking him with a kiss. He reached up and tangled his hand in her long hair, keeping her against his lips for a moment before he let her up. “How long was I out?” he asked.
“About an hour,” Buffy replied. “Are you too tired to go on a patrol with me? I can go get Emma if you’re…”
“No, I’m fine,” Spike replied. “I think that did the trick.” He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already rumpled curls. “What’s up, Slayer? You had stakes, but you said it’s not vamps…”
“No, it’s not. It’s, um, well…it’s Santa Claus.”
Spike blinked. “Wait…am I still asleep, because I’m pretty sure I just heard you say you want me to go help you slay Santa.”
“Yeah, I know, pretty crazy even for us, but Anya says he’s actually a child-eating demon, and it looks like he’s here in London, making with the kidnapping. After talking to her, I looked it up in the library, and sure enough, the demon’s in the books. If Anya’s right and he’s in town, then he’s already snatched three kids on his way to gathering twelve. He won’t actually eat them until he has all twelve, so we need to hunt him down, find the missing kids, and kill Santa before he can ruin Christmas.”
Spike shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. “This shit only happens to us, doesn’t it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, at least we won’t have to tell the kids we’re heading out to kill Santa. Can you imagine the therapy bill on that one?”
“On top of what they’ll already be paying?”
“Yep.” Buffy leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “Anything happening to kids these days, it hits me really hard. Ever since Anya told me she thought Santa was in London on a kidnapping spree, all I’ve been able to think about is how I would feel if anyone ever took our babies. I’d be a mess, Spike. I don’t think I could handle it. And there’s three families going through that right now because some demon came into their homes and took their children while they were sleeping.”
“I know, kitten,” Spike said, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “I feel the same way. But we’ll find the demon, kill it, and get the kids back to their families in time to open presents from a Santa of the non-demon variety.”
Buffy smiled slightly. “You always know just what to say.”
“I try,” Spike replied, kissing her again. “Now let’s get up and save Christmas.”
“Okay, that just sounds weird,” she said, though she stood up. “Honestly, I think when we’re done, I’m going to need therapy.”
“As opposed to before this when you didn’t?” Spike asked, eyebrow arched.
“Ha ha, Spike,” she replied, though she was smiling slightly.
Spike stood up and took her hand. “You know I love you when you’re crazy.”
“That’s because you have some bizzaro fetish,” Buffy replied. “Really, it’s weird.”
“As weird as having a job that requires you to hunt down Santa armed with wooden stakes?”
She gave him a dirty look. “I’m not answering that.”
Spike laughed, unable to keep from kissing her again, on the lips this time. “Come on, pet. We’ve got an evil jolly elf to slay.”
Buffy took his hand and together they walked out of the bedroom.