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A Sylar/Claire, Buffy/Spike, Willow/Tara, Xander/Anya fic.

Chapter Fifteen.

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Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.

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A/N: Sorry about the long wait! I'll try to get this finished. If you've given my profile a read, you know that because of my ADHD, I get distracted and move on pretty easily, so it's hard for me to stick with a longer fic. I promise I haven't abandoned this; I do intend to finish it!

Thanks for all the great reviews/alerts/favorites so far, guys! You rock!

I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

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Sylar found sleep impossible that night. Christmas with Claire had been a relatively pleasant experience, and her "I.O.U." had been thoughtful, touching, and all the other nice descriptive words. Perhaps it was that thought that kept the ever-restoring unconsciousness from his grasp. That, and he was feeling the all-too-persistent pull of his blasted hunger. It had been so long since he'd acquired a new power, so long since he'd felt the power seep into his own body.

Lying on the floor of Claire's bedroom, the hard wood digging into his firm body, he found himself tapping his hands against his naked stomach. He needed to move, he needed to go out there and prowl the streets ... maybe find that redheaded witch's room and slip in all quiet like.

Sylar closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to his head and brushing it down over his eyes. No. He couldn't do that. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to be good, he wanted to be someone that Claire could be proud of.

That thought struck him deep in his core, not even realizing the impact of it until the silent words fluttered through his buzzing mind. He wanted Claire to be proud of him ... he wanted her to like him. Maybe even love him. Was such a thing even possible? Somehow, she managed to push down his hunger, with the most insignificant personal facts. Like her favorite color, or the ticklish spot under her ear. A fierce desire coursed through him, wanting desperately to rise up to the bed where she slept and brush his fingers over that spot again. Just one touch, he thought. That's all I need.

Sylar shook his head, knowing that wouldn't go over well. The tender truce that had manifested between them would be forever tarnished if she woke up with him hovering above her, his fingers on her body.

Sweat was beginning to pour over his brow, his body fighting with itself as the hunger grew and grew. Finally, he decided that he would have to wake her up. Get her to tell him something new about her that he didn't already know, and hope it would push down the murderous and/or sexual desires that flooded his blood. Sylar turned onto his side, hoisting himself up onto his elbow and opening his mouth.

Before he could speak, however, Claire turned over on her bed, lying flat on her stomach with her closed eyes facing him. She didn't wake, but her right hand dropped off the mattress, hanging over the side of the bed.

Sylar's eyes traveled from her face to her hand, back and forth repeatedly. With his heightened hearing, he could listen to her steadily pumping heartbeat. She was still in a deep slumber. Slowly, cautiously, Sylar lifted his left hand off of his side and closed the distance between their two hands. He waited a breath before touching her, their hands millimeters apart for a couple seconds before he finally touched his rough skin against her soft hand. A small, static-electric spark was created at the touching of their hands. It was enough to make Claire's hand twitch slightly, and pause her breathing slightly.

Sylar stared at her with slightly widened eyes, hoping she wouldn't awake and see him grasping her hand.

The seconds ticked by, and then Claire simply turned her head so that it was facing the wall, falling back into a deep sleep. Her hand remained hanging over the side of the bed, well within his reach.

Sylar scooted his body slightly closer to the bed, making it easier for him to hold onto her small hand. After a little while, he used his telekinesis to carefully open her hand and enable him to link his fingers with hers. His eyes continued to flicker between her hand and her head, making sure she didn't stir. When he was sure she wouldn't awaken, he lowered the elbow that he was using as a perch, tucking it under his head on his pillow. He bent his fingers slowly, softly against her hand. He was about to use his powers to fold her own against his hand, but before he could, he felt them twitch of their own accord, and then bend down into place.

Sylar stopped breathing himself, blinking a few times as he stared at their joined hands. She was still asleep; the even inhale and exhale of her breathing told him that. She had unconsciously accepted his hand in hers.

A strange feeling began to fill his body, completely dragging the hunger out of his mind. With his hand folded underneath hers, Sylar felt his body relax. He felt content for the first time since she'd given him the verbal promise of forgiveness. It hadn't really been that long ago - a few mere hours - but it felt like a lifetime.

Sylar closed his eyes and focused on her hand; the warmth of her skin against his, the light dip of her lifelines, how each knuckle felt nestled comfortably against his. He used her as his crutch and his anchor, not needing to put much effort now into pushing the homicidal thoughts from his mind.

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Claire spent the next few days after Christmas alternating between research and patrolling with Sylar and Buffy's 'gang'. She had grown closer with Willow and Xander, and with Tara, who was less shy around her now. Sylar's hunger was still touch-and-go, but she had gotten pretty good at sensing his discomfort, and coming up with some tidbit about herself that seemed to ease the strain. It boggled her mind that such seemingly insignificant facts - like the fact that she was ticklish behind her ear, or that she'd once hidden a kitten in her room because her parents wouldn't let her keep him - could "tame the beast" within him, however temporarily.

He seemed to regard her differently, as well. Ever since she'd told him that she wanted to forgive him, he'd been different around her ... calmer, maybe. He didn't taunt her as much, or try to get under her skin ... truth be told, she was actually starting to miss it. It was that odd thought that had her mind unfocused while they were on their patrol with Xander, Anya, and Spike.

Claire was blindsided by a vicious, growling creature. He slammed her to the ground, crushing her body beneath his. Before she could even attempt to get out from under him, her neck was snapped, and everything went black.

It took Claire under fifteen seconds for her bones to heal and snap back into place, and in that time, Sylar had killed the demon that had attacked her, and then the group had been surrounded by men in camouflage toting guns and wearing masks.

"Hostile 17, get down on the ground," one man shouted.

"Keep your hands where we can see 'em!" another one ordered Sylar, whose fingers twitched dangerously in response.

Claire was slightly disoriented, but stood shakily from the ground.

"What the hell?" a few of the soldier-looking men commented, training their guns on her.

"Freeze right there, blondie," one man told her.

"You're going to want to point those things somewhere else," Sylar warned them, stepping in front of Claire.

"What's going on?" Claire asked, looking at the men who surrounded them.

"Claire, Sylar, meet The Initiative," Xander commented, his own hands raised. "Don't shoot us, we're the good guys," he told them.

"Yeah, right," the leader of the masked men replied. "That's why you're traveling with a vampire, a guy who can freeze and dismember a demon in 5 seconds flat, and some weird-ass chick who can survive her neck being snapped."

"You might want to consider that, and back off," Claire suggested, knowing that Sylar would only be able to restrain himself for so long.

"Not another word," the leader commented. "Take aim, boys. We're bringing these ones in alive."

"You're not taking us in anywhere," Sylar commented, and before Claire could stop him, he sent half of them flying back with a flick of his hand.

The ones remaining took their shots, hitting Xander, Spike and Sylar with electricity from their guns.

Sylar attempted to use his sound manipulation power to clear the rest of them away, but the constant stream of electricity was subduing the effectiveness of that power. He only barely managed to push them back a few feet, but the weapons remained trained on them. Xander and Spike hit the ground with the force of the electricity.

The men eased up on Xander, apparently realizing that he was human, but Spike and Sylar got a longer treatment.

With Sylar shielding her, Claire was safe from their attacks, but could hear the pain that it was causing Sylar. More than that, she could see his anger rising with his inability to defend himself. Glancing down, she could see the power stirring in his hands - the stolen, nuclear power that had nearly destroyed New York City. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled a couple of stakes out of the bag she carried. Taking a quick, deep breath, she stepped around Sylar and thrust the pair of stakes towards their attackers. One stake imbedded in the thigh of the man who was shocking Spike, the other struck Sylar's attacker in the right shoulder. Both attacks severed immediately.

The one who'd stopped his attack on Xander turned his gun on her.

"Finn, you alright?" he shouted, moving into a better position to hit Claire with his gun.

Sylar recovered slowly from the attack, but had enough power and anger within him to bark out a fierce shockwave, knocking them all off their feet. Their reprieve was short-lived, as the men that he'd sent flying back before now rushed back to the mayhem. "Come and get it!" Sylar roared, his hands fully alit with a bright, glowing energy.

"Sylar, calm down," Claire spoke, raising her hand to his arm to try and get him to focus on her.

Spike was attempting to get up to rejoin the fight, and Anya was cooing over a wounded Xander, cradling him in her arms.

Sylar didn't show any response to her words, the light from his hands expanding with every passing moment.

"What's going on?" Anya asked Claire in a loud, worried voice.

"You all need to leave, now!" Claire shouted, both to Anya as well as the men intent on "bringing them in".

Anya didn't need to be told twice, and she pulled Spike over to help her haul Xander off the ground. "What about you?" Anya called out to her.

"I'll be fine. Get to Buffy, tell her what happened, and tell her to get everyone as far away from here as possible!"

The leader heard Claire's words, the mention of Buffy's name. He stood up as straight as he could, pulling the stake out of his shoulder and nursing the wound. "Move out!" he ordered the men, sparing a long look for Claire.

The soldiers didn't need to be told twice, wary of Sylar's ability to toss them around like they were rag dolls, and equally confounded and fearful of the strange glow in his hands.

Claire kept an eye on the soldiers as they retreated, her eyes particularly following the leader. He seemed to pause and stare at her longer than the others, though she couldn't be sure with his mask on. She watched them until she couldn't see them any longer, and then squeezed Sylar's arm. "Sylar, they're gone. Calm down."

Still he didn't respond, his fury only increasing. His body shook with maddened tremors, and the rest of his body began to glow, a light orange seeping in with the white.

"Sylar!" Claire shouted, stepping fully in front of him and grabbing his other arm. "Stop, Sylar! Focus on me! Look at me!" She shook his shoulders to emphasize her words, but he was lost to them. "Dammit, Sylar! I ... I cried when I lost my first tooth!" she told him, saying the first random fact that came to her mind. "I chopped all my hair off when I was seven because my mom left the scissors out. I ate worms on a dare once, and then threw them up when I got home. Before I met you, I used to hate watching scary movies - now they all seem so fake. Sylar, dammit, look at me!"

Her words were futile. He couldn't hear her. He couldn't control the power within him; all he could do was stand there and let it out.

Claire didn't have time to think about what to try next, she just trusted her instincts. She raised herself up on her tip-toes, stretching her arms around his shoulders and pulling him against her. "It's okay," she told him, her hands holding tightly to his back. "It's okay, they're gone. They can't hurt us anymore. You saved me. Just breathe."

His body was warm. That was a simple way of putting it, really. His body was radiating a dangerous heat that luckily didn't hurt Claire. A constant throb was coursing through his body, one that she hadn't felt before she'd wrapped her arms around him. His power didn't seem to be increasing, but it wasn't going back down, either. She wondered if she finally had some shred of his attention.

Swallowing heavily, Claire prepared herself to continue into un-chartered territory. "Put your arms around me," she told him, hoping simultaneously that he could, and couldn't hear her. She wasn't sure where this would lead, she just knew that she had to try something.

A long couple of seconds passed, and then his bright, hot hands came slowly up to rest on her back.

Claire nodded against his shoulder, feeling her own body temperature rising. She credited it to the radiation seeping off his body, not her own hormones. "Tighter," she instructed.

Again, it was a long moment before he reacted. When the message did seem to get through to him, he opened his glowing, fisted hands and splayed them across her back, holding her tighter until his palms gripped her sides.

"This is how I like to be hugged," she told him in a low, quiet voice, making him pay close attention to each sound and syllable. "Loose hugs feel weak, like there's no real effort being put into it. Big, bear hugs always would squish me too much, and it would always hurt my ribs and take the breath right out of me. But, this kind of hug? It's perfect. My dad can't quite do it right ... he still thinks that he'll break me, even though I can't stay hurt. My mom used to hug me like this when I was little, and I love it. It made me feel so loved and secure. No one else knew how to hug like this ... this is a good hug, Sylar."

His hands squeezed a little bit tighter. Claire found that without the pain, the warmth in his hands on her sides felt really nice. "I ... I like the way you hug me, Sylar," she confessed honestly, hoping it would be enough to bring him out of it. She felt a light rumble in his chest, almost as though he were growling, and then she saw the light coming from his body start to dim. His body slowly began to cool. Claire continued to hold him, not wanting to let go too soon and chance another outburst of nuclear energy.

The light faded, but his body continued to tremble with the aftershocks of the electricity, and the near explosion that had emanated from within him. There was no more danger to the town around them, but Claire still held onto his shoulders, pressing her body against his. "We're okay," she told him, not allowing herself to think of what she was doing. She couldn't let herself realize that she was clinging to a serial killer who had cut her head off, and killed her "frien-emy" right in front of her. She couldn't let herself dwell on the fact that she was supposed to hate him, and here she was, soothing him. All she thought of was that he was trembling, almost as though he were afraid, and she couldn't let him deal with that fear alone.

Sylar's fingers curled slightly against her sides, gripping her non-existent love handles in the palms of his hands for a while. "Thank you," he whispered, almost too soft for her to hear.

Claire bent her head down so that her forehead was resting just beneath his shoulder. "We should go back the house ... before those guys come back."

Sylar nodded, but didn't let go of her.

Claire breathed deeply through her nose, noticing for the first time the scent that was purely Sylar. A deep musk mixed with some kind of wood mixed in ... possibly because he'd been sleeping on the hardwood floor in her bedroom. The scent of his shampoo and body soap could also be smelled, and an unexpected vision of him standing in the shower, water cascading down over his soapy body, filled her mind. Claire blinked several times, pulling her head away from his body and looking up at him.

His dark eyes met hers, gazing down at her silently.

Claire felt her breath catch in her throat when his head dipped down ever so slightly, and her tongue darted out without permission to wet her quivering lips.

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End of chapter fifteen.

So terribly sorry about the long wait! I hope you can forgive me! I'll try to put some "fun stuff" in the next chapter to make up for it.

Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it?

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!