Chapter 10: Unexpected Kindness

“Hey, Susan, can I ask you a question?”

The raven-haired reporter glanced up from her computer. “Sure.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

Buffy wiped away her smudged mascara defiantly. “I’m fine. I need you to tell me everything you know about these attacks.” She placed a clipping of Susan’s article on the desk in front of her. She knew she was using one set of responsibilities to avoid another, but she felt overwhelmed by her financial problems, so she turned to the one problem she knew how to solve. Demons.

Susan looked at her with curiosity. “Morbid interest you’ve got there.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

Susan eyed her carefully, but gestured for Buffy to pull up a chair while she opened a file on her computer. “The girl was a student at UC Sunnydale,” she said, “found a few blocks from her off-campus apartment. The man was an engineer, worked at a firm based in L.A. He was attacked at his car, parked on a side street downtown.”

Buffy nodded. “And they didn’t know each other. It was random.”

“And the killer covered a lot of ground in one night,” Susan pointed out. “The campus is all the way across town. Plenty of time, though. They think the man was first, maybe around nine. The girl was supposedly pulling an all-nighter at the library, according to her roommate. The police think she was killed around four in the morning, on her way home.”

Buffy let out a sigh. Didn’t people know by now not to walk home alone at night in this town? Not even the university campus was safe from demons.

“The only thing they had in common was the puncture wound,” Susan continued, bringing Buffy’s attention back to the case.

“The puncture wound,” Buffy repeated.

“Yeah. The police still haven’t figured out what the weapon was. Whoever did this, they must have used something unusual.”

“But the de – I mean, whatever did this, it stabbed them and then ran away, right?”

Susan nodded, noticing Buffy’s use of what and it rather than who, and filing it away in her mind. “Looks that way. Nothing was taken, no money or valuables missing, so it wasn’t a mugging.”

Buffy paused for a minute then asked quietly, “How’d they end up crazy?”

“No one knows.” Susan shrugged, scrolling down through her notes. “Like it says in the article, no history of mental illness. Could be from the stress of the attack – post-traumatic, you know. That’s what the doctors are saying. But, really, they’re just guessing.”

“And whatever it is, it’s still out there,” Buffy said angrily. “This could happen to someone else.”

“Police have no leads,” Susan admitted.

“Come on, you live in this town,” said Buffy, urgency creeping into her voice. “You know there’s stuff out there the police can’t handle. You write about it every week.”

The reporter’s eyebrows shot up when she saw the expression of determination on the younger woman’s face. “You think you can stop it.” It wasn’t really a question, but there was surprise in her tone.

The Slayer set her jaw. “I thought I might try.”

*****

Buffy’s determination to solve the demon mystery gave her a boost of energy that got her through the rest of the day, but on the way home from work, her feet seemed to drag more with every step, and she felt the overwhelming weight of responsibility come crashing back onto her shoulders as soon as her house came into view.

The house that, in a few months, she might no longer be living in.

She was mentally running through her list of options – which pretty much included taking Giles up on his offer or winning the lottery – when she came in the front door and stopped in her tracks as a bizarre sound reached her ears.

When there’s no one else in sight
In the crowded lonely night
Well I wait so long
For my love vibration
And I’m dancing with myself

Contemplating the likelihood that Dawn had taken their financial matters into her own hands by turning their house into some sort of retro dance club, Buffy approached the kitchen, where she took in a scene that equally matched the music in its strangeness. Spike was at the stove, bobbing his head in time to the beat while stirring a saucepan of veal cubes and mushrooms in a creamy sauce that smelled heavenly. Dawn, to the best that Buffy could determine, was hopping around the kitchen like a little kid on a massive sugar high.

Oh oh, dancing with myself
Oh oh, dancing with myself

Spike held out the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir, and Dawn danced her way over to him and sang into the makeshift microphone.

Well there’s nothing to lose
And there’s nothing to prove
I’ll be dancing with myself

Dawn grabbed Spike’s hand and twirled under his arm, catching sight of her sister in mid-spin.

“Buffy!” she cried.

“Oh… my… God,” was all Buffy could manage. She looked up at Spike for some kind of explanation, but he adopted a devilish expression and started to sing into the spoon.

If I looked all over the world
And there’s every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself

“Come on, Buffy! Dance with us!” Dawn danced her way over to the Slayer, pulling her into the mix. Buffy indulged her for a few bars, shooting another incredulous glance at Spike. He just smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye as his hand slid seductively southward from his belt buckle. Buffy broke away from Dawn and placed herself in a strategic position between her sister and lewdness.

“Really, Spike… Billy Idol?”

“Bit’s idea.” Spike turned back to the stove with a sheepish expression, returning the wooden spoon to its intended use.

“I guess you’ve already got the look.” She reached up and ruffled his hair, and he swatted her away. “You could use a date with L’Oreal though.” He gave her a funny look, so she added, “Roots. You’re starting to show.”

“Yeah. So?” He spooned out a sampling of sauce and tasted it, then offered the spoon to Buffy. “Your taste buds are better than mine. Always make things too spicy ’cause I can’t taste ’em.”

She opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed, and he brought the spoon up, watching with fascination as her lips closed around it. “Needs more garlic,” she declared, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Oh! Does that… I mean, can you eat…?”

“It’s fine, love,” he chuckled. “Bit of heartburn, but it won’t kill me.”

“Good. Wouldn’t wanna off you by accident.” When he’d seasoned the food, she said, “So, you stopped bleaching it?”

“What?”

“The hair. You stopped bleaching it on purpose?”

Spike shrugged. “Haven’t since Dru.”

“Are you growing it out?”

Another shrug. “Decided it was time for a change.” His expression clouded over, indicating to her that it was more than just a cosmetic decision, but he brushed it off quickly, shutting down his emotions and returning to his saucepan.

“Oh oh oh oh,” Dawn crooned, oblivious to the serious conversation taking place.

Buffy shook her head, stifling her giggles. “You’re a terrible influence on my sister.” Her eyes widened. “You didn’t tell her what this song’s really about… right?”

“Why ruin it for her?” Spike grabbed Buffy, twirling her around then pulling her close to him. “Dance with me?”

She blushed as he danced her across the kitchen to the refrigerator, and then pulled out an armful of fresh vegetables. Dropping them on the counter, he bumped his hip in rhythm against hers, knocking her toward the island. “You can make the salad,” he said.

So let’s sink another drink
’Cause it’ll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I’d ask the world to dance
And I’ll be dancing with myself

*****

“So, what brought that on?” Buffy asked later, matching Spike’s long, loping strides as they patrolled the cemetery.

“Sounded like you were a bit skint lately. Plus, Bit was complaining you were starving her.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“So, we nipped out to the grocery store, stocked up. Then, I figured there’s no way you’d know what to do with all that stuff, so I thought I’d best cook it myself. But don’t worry,” he teased. “We bought enough microwavable food for you to do on your own.”

Buffy stopped, bowled over by this act of kindness. “Spike, you shouldn’t have…”

“Wanted to.”

He started to walk away, but she caught his arm and reeled him back in, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Really, Spike. Thank you. You have no idea how much this…” She trailed off, too overwhelmed to speak.

Spike shrugged. “Just thought you could do with one less thing to worry about.”

Unable to reply, Buffy leaned in, going up on tiptoe to graze his cheek with her lips. She placed another soft kiss on his mouth before dropping back to a flat-footed stance.

“Buffy…” Spike said, his voice husky and uncertain. He locked his eyes on hers, and she didn’t pull away. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, slid up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, then back down to their original position, as if he were unsure what to do with them. Swallowing hard, he dipped his head toward her, when a startled look crossed his face. “Vampire. Behind you.”

Buffy spun to face the snarling vamp. “I’m sorry, we were having a conversation.” She punched him in the face. “You’re interrupting.”

The vampire growled and punched her back.

“Well, that was just rude,” Spike said, coming around from behind Buffy with a sideways kick to the vamp’s head. “Someone ought to teach our boy some manners.”

Buffy followed him with her own kick in the chest, knocking the vampire backwards over a tombstone. “Can’t we just kill him?”

Spike shrugged. “Whatever you like, pet.” He hauled the vampire up off the ground and tossed him at Buffy. “Catch.”

Buffy held her stake steady at chest level and let the vampire fall into it. “This is getting too easy.”

“Careful what you wish for, love.”

She stepped closer to him, one possessive, intimate hand on his elbow. “So, um… where were we?”

“We were, uh…” He gestured in the direction they’d been heading.

Buffy nodded, chastened, and started walking again as Spike fell into step beside her. It was nice, she thought, having someone to keep her company on patrol. It sort of reminded her of having Faith around – during the better times, of course, the days of synchronized slaying and ragging on Wesley, when Faith wasn’t crazy or trying to kill people. Not that Buffy didn’t like having Giles or the Scoobies along, but it was nice to be with someone she didn’t have worry about getting killed all the time.

Of course, it never got this sexy with Faith.

“Cooking,” Spike managed. “We were talking about…”

“Right,” said Buffy, not sure if she should be thanking their vampire attacker or cursing him for interrupting the moment. “So, yeah, I’m thinking I want to have Thanksgiving dinner at my house this year.”

Spike cocked one eyebrow. “That right?”

“It’s the first one since Mom died, so I want it to be as normal for Dawn as possible.”

“You’re having Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah.”

“Dawn says you can’t even make spaghetti.”

Buffy shot him a dirty look. “And you believe her culinary assessment? She thought peanut butter and jelly pizza was a good idea.”

“It’s not gonna be like the last Thanksgiving I had with you lot, is it? Two years ago?”

Buffy wrinkled her nose, thinking back to that year. “Oh, with the crazy Native American spirit guys? God, I hope not. I really prefer to celebrate the holidays while not under siege.”

“I meant more the part where you tied me to a chair and wouldn’t give me anything to eat.”

“Depends on how many times you insult my cooking.” She gave him a good-natured shove, but Spike caught her by the wrist and pulled her in front of him. Half playful, half predatory, he seized her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and growling in her ear. She shivered at the sensation and spun around to face him.

Then, she grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him roughly to the ground.

“Ow! Bloody hell –” Spike cut himself off as he caught sight of Buffy sparring with another vampire. She fought the vamp backwards until he was right by Spike’s feet. He kicked out with one leg, and the vamp fell to the ground next to him. Buffy bent down and staked the vampire, then extended a hand to Spike.

Which he used to pull her down onto the dust pile where the vamp had just been. “Coulda warned me, Slayer,” he growled, rolling over and planting one leather-clad arm on each side of her head.

Buffy tried to stay calm, even though her mouth went dry and her senses were screaming Bite me! while her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his jaw, twitching with amusement and feigned anger.

“Picked up the assist anyway, didn’t you?” She slid her hands inside his coat and let them linger on his muscled chest before sending him flying backwards with a shove.

“Lucky for you,” he replied, kipping to his feet, “I recover quickly.”

As they were brushing the dust and dirt off their clothes, a voice startled them.

“Buffy?”

Buffy spun around. “Susan! Hi… uh…” She realized she was still holding a stake and, after a brief, one-handed scuffle with Spike behind her back, managed to shove the stake in his duster pocket. “What are you doing in a cemetery… in the middle of the night?”

“I might ask you the same question.” Susan folded her arms across her chest, as though it were unusual for Buffy to be there but it was perfectly normal for the reporter. “You kids realize you’re trespassing, right?”

“Ye – uh….” Buffy looked to Spike for an answer, but he only returned her helpless expression. “We were just, um, taking a walk.”

“In a cemetery? In the middle of the night?”

“We’re… um, creepy.”

“Morbid,” Spike added. “With all the dead people and such. Ow!” he yelped as Buffy pinched his arm.

“What, um, what are you doing here?” Buffy asked again.

“Research.”

“Oh.” That sounded a little off to Buffy, but then again, she was slaying mythical creatures that weren’t supposed to exist, so who was she to question other people’s business in cemeteries? “Researching what?”

“You.”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “Huh?”

Spike pushed Buffy aside and challenged Susan, indignant. “What gives you the right? You been spyin’ on her?”

Susan set an appraising eye on Spike, taking him in with a coy smile. “I don’t know, cutie. You wanna tell me that guy I saw didn’t just poof into nothing?”

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, both at a loss for words.

“I’ve been watching you, Buffy,” said Susan. “I know there’s something about you, something you’re hiding. And I’m pretty sure it has to do with that vampire.”

“What vampire?” Buffy asked, glancing at Spike in alarm, but quickly averting her eyes, lest she give away Spike’s undead status.

“The vampire you didn’t kill with that stake that’s not sticking out of your boyfriend’s pocket.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Buffy blurted out. “Uh… that’s not the part of that sentence I should be focusing on, is it?”

“Not really, no. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Not really, no,” Buffy said under her breath.