Notes: Some dialogue from Family has been mangled in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not mine, all Joss.
Chapter 3
“Where’s Dawn?”
The worry in Buffy’s tone was muted, and the others probably didn’t notice, but Giles heard it immediately and looked up from the book he was flipping through. Even without Buffy reminding him, he knew that he wasn’t being as helpful as he could be. On the other hand, he thought, pushing his glasses back up on his nose, she should know by now that once a librarian, always a librarian. I suppose that also goes hand in hand with being a Watcher.
He just wished there was something he could do to take away this additional strain on his charge. She was the first Slayer to have broken from the Council, the first to try to have a family and a life outside of her duty… and that desire for normalcy, no matter how thin the veneer, was wearing on her.
Not for the first time, he considered removing one of the decisions that must be weighing on her. She’d told him that Spike had been with her when the monk had spoken about Dawn’s origins, but that she’d let him live when he’d indicated that he wanted to help. Help! Giles thought disdainfully. As if that were bloody likely. We’d probably all be better off if he were dust.
As Buffy was about to leave the dorm room and go searching for her sister, Dawn breezed back in. “Some of your cds are my cds.”
For a moment, Buffy looked a little contrite. “Yeah, I know. Come help me fold?” As she herded Dawn over to the bed and the clothes strewn over it, she shot a quick glare at Giles, almost as if she somehow knew what he’d just been thinking.
Or maybe it was because he was still standing there holding the book.
With a cough, he dove back into the book, trying to hide his guilty flush. Buffy always want to believe the best of people, even someone as evil as Spike. And she seemed so relieved that she had Spike to help her. I only hope that this doesn’t backfire on us.
Peering over his glasses at his Slayer and Dawn, folding Buffy’s clothes in near silence, Giles made a mental note to remind her to be a bit less obviously protective of Dawn. Even without Spike’s rather ambiguous allegiance, it wouldn’t do to draw unnecessary attention to the girl.
***
He moaned when she bit his neck, his hands tightening around her hips and pulling her even closer. She wriggled against him, feeling the hard length of his erection even through her jeans and his, and groaned even as he did.
His hands snuck up under the hem of her tank top, and it was her turn to shiver at his touch. They skimmed quick and light up her sides, and she gasped when he reached her breasts; his fingers were just chill enough to bring her nipples to diamond-hard points…
With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Buffy watched Riley not-quite storm out the front door. Go, me, she thought. I’ve managed to piss off Dawn and Riley, and I’ve only been moved back in for five minutes.
Sighing heavily, she sat down on the couch, her head in her hands. Last night’s dream of Spike had been… well. And she hadn’t been able to get back to sleep afterwards, and that was making her paranoid today.
The sooner I get my patrol on with Spike – oh, that sounded gross – the sooner I can put an end to these dreams. They have got to stop. Because I so don’t relish the thought of clueing Riley in on what’s going on in my head right now.
Distraction would so be of the good. So I guess it’s research. “Dawn!” she shouted up the stairs. “Come on, we’re going to the Magic Box!” As she waited for Dawn to thunder down the stairs, she thought, Maybe I can sneak out and do some training in the back and no one will really notice…
***
Spike let himself in the back door of the Magic Box to the rhythmic dull thuds of fists hitting the sandbag. He knew well enough who it was, and grinned at the sight of the Slayer working out her frustrations. Her ponytail swung with every blow she landed on the heavy bag, and from the expression she wore, he could guess who it was she had pictured in the bag’s place.
“H’lo, pet.”
There was no response, just a grunt as she landed a particularly harsh blow, and he frowned. While it was true that he hadn’t actually been out on patrol with her since they’d been at the warehouse, it was also true that even for vampires, broken bones didn’t heal overnight, especially when the vampire in question only had pig’s blood on which to feed. Still, he thought, a bit huffily, that doesn’t mean she’s gotta ignore me…
A shadow blocked the doorway into the shop proper, and the stench of something very like gangrene made his stomach clench. Three Lai-ach demons huddled in the door, hissing and growling among themselves, faces and hands dead white but for the deep red of their never-closing sores.
For just a moment, heart sinking in spite of himself, Spike wondered how the Slayer was going to take the bloodbath that the rest of the store was likely in – then heard the unmistakable sound of Harris and his bird jabbering, and the Slayer’s sister’s indignant response.
They didn’t touch ‘em? Why wouldn’t… Never mind now. He shook himself out of his thoughts. The Lai-achs had no doubt seen him, but also apparently discounted him, and were sneaking up on the Slayer, bold as brass.
And the Slayer was still pounding on the heavy bag, as if she hadn’t an enemy behind her, ready for the kill.
Unable to believe that she didn’t know the demons were behind her, Spike still hesitated, watching, right up until one of the demons got up enough courage to tackle the Slayer from behind. Rolling his eyes at her cry of surprise, he leapt forward, jamming his shoulder into the gut of the next one in line and taking it to the floor. It struggled and clouted him around the head and shoulders. They wrestled for a moment, and he got the thing into a headlock as it snapped and fought.
“Giles!” the Slayer shrieked. When he dared spare a glance in her direction, he saw that she was flat on her back, trying to push the Lai-ach that had pounced on her away, but he didn’t have her hands braced nearly well enough to succeed. “Giles, there’s something in here!”
Just then, there was a series of crashes and screams from the rest of the shop, and Spike realized that the remaining demon had retreated to wreck havoc there. The piercing shriek of the Slayer’s sister made his ears ring.
It also galvanized the Slayer and she flung off the demon that had her pinned. It flew across the room and slammed into the wall. Something cracked loudly and it fell into an unmoving heap. In an instant, the Slayer was scrambling to her feet and out into the shop.
That moment’s distraction allowed the Lai-ach he held to thrash its way free from his hold. He climbed to his feet, only to be met by a punch that sent him staggering backwards into the wall.
Luckily, it was the wall with the weapons. He grabbed a vicious looking knife, grinning widely as he did. When it came at him again, he lashed out with a kick and knocked it down, then swung the knife in a lethal arc.
There was still scuffling going on in the main area of the shop, accompanied by a babble of voices, until the Slayer ordered everyone to shut up. He smirked. At least I’m not the only one sufferin’ that particular command….
There was an annoying trickle of blood from his nose – why does it always have to be the nose? – and he wiped it away with his thumb as he made his way out to see if the Slayer still needed a hand.
“Tara, can you see it?”
His sharp ears caught the whispered “Oh, God,” from Red’s girlfriend, and the muttered incantation to revoke the spell she’d cast.
So that was why… but why would she do that?
Almost immediately, the Slayer burst into action, just as the Lai-ach demon knocked the blond witch to the floor.
The door opened, bringing further distraction in the form of an older man and two kids. The Slayer threw the demon against the three short steps leading from the upper level, causing the man to stumble backwards. Before anyone realized what she was about, the Slayer had planted a boot on the back of the demon’s neck. The grunch of its neck snapping was sickeningly loud.
“What is that?” The man – his face was lined and stern, the corners of his mouth pulled perpetually down – was staring at the corpse in horrified fascination.
“Lai-ach demon.” Spike stepped forward a pace or two as he spoke, caught a hint of a smile as the Slayer nodded at him, and steeled himself against the hostility of the rest of the group. On the far side of the room, he caught the Watcher helping Dawn out from beneath the desk, and watched the Slayer sagged in relief. “Real big with sucking marrow.” He stopped a few feet away from the blond witch, huddled against the counter where she had fallen. “So, pet, you wanna explain what kind of mojo you were workin’ that made the Slayer not see the big nasties?”
The witch turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “I was t-trying to hide. I d-didn’t want you to see…” Her eyes were watery and pleading as she looked up at Red.
Then, of course, the whole sordid tale was spilled. As soon as the sour-faced man – poor chit, havin’ a father like that – said that there was demon in the women of his family, Spike had a hard time containing his laughter. What a crock!
But at first, it seemed that the others believed it, with their heavy anti-demon prejudice. Especially when the Slayer said, “You want her, Mr. Maclay? You can take her.” Her voice was familiar to him, that harsh, unyielding tone that brooked no argument, and Spike felt a stab of disappointment.
Right up until the point where the Slayer spun to face the old man, arms folded, and said, “You just gotta go through me.”
Spike grinned at her challenging posture, and the effect of her words, not only on the chit’s father, but on the rest of the Scooby gang. Red’s girl just stared at the Slayer, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“And me,” Dawn added, standing next to her sister and copying her pose. Well done, Nibblet, he thought, with a burst of feeling that was foreign.
“I’m not going to be threatened by two… little girls,” the old man exclaimed.
The Watcher stood up directly behind the Slayer and the Nibblet. “I think,” he said, his tone deceptively mild, “you’ll find you’re not just dealing with two little girls.”
“You’re dealing with all of us,” and Spike found he was shocked that Harris had spoken up at all. Even thinkin’ the chit’s a demon… huh. There might be a chance after all.
And that was why he said nothing, though the words burned on the tip of his tongue. Helping the Slayer because he liked the world was one thing; helping the Slayer because he wanted to be accepted into their little demon fighting clique was quite another, and he wasn’t about to let his big mouth run away with him and ruin his chance, slim as it was.
“Who are you to meddle in Tara’s affairs?” the old man demanded. “We’re her blood kin!”
“We’re family.” The Slayer’s simple statement left no room for further argument.
They tried, of course, but the boy backed down fast when Harris threatened him. And the little blond viper spewed out her poison about disgusting demons, but then couldn’t name what the good witch supposedly was when asked.
It seemed that hanging around the Slayer and her gang was going to be an enlightening experience; for the second time in a week, Spike felt realization burst upon him. I can end this bloody go round… I got the answer right in my head. Christ, this is gonna hurt… “Why don’t I make this simple?” he drawled. Stepping up to the blond witch, he tapped her on the shoulder, and then, when she looked up at him in surprise, punched her in the nose.
The pain seared through his head immediately, and they cried out at the same time.
“He punched my nose!” Tara whimpered through her tears.
Red, though, wasn’t slow on the uptake. “Yeah, and it hurt… I mean, him!”
The Slayer smirked at the trio standing on the upper level. “And that only works on humans.”
His head already throbbing mercilessly, Spike laid his hands on his temples. He’d pulled his punch as much as possible, to only hurt her enough to hurt him, but it still seemed like the pain got worse every time he set the chip off. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and caught sight of the black looks from Harris and the Watcher. The Slayer still had her back to him, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Nibblet, watching as Tara’s so-called family slunk toward the door.
Doubt suddenly assailed him. He hadn’t talked with the Slayer much beyond their agreement over the monk’s body, and wasn’t sure how much leeway he had for this little act of violent kindness. Before the bell over the front door had stopped ringing, signaling the Maclays’ departure, Spike had already slipped out the back.
***
It was a great thing to have a night off, especially after all that had gone on yesterday, and before. But Buffy still felt a twinge of guilt at going out to party instead of patrol, which she dealt with the only way she could – by promising herself she’d go out later. A short patrol is better than no patrol at all, she thought, and sighed. At least I know Tara will understand.
For a moment, she let the sight and sound and feel of the Bronze wash over her. The music blared, loud and throbbing in time with her heartbeat, until her every limb longed to dance. People crowded every inch, it seemed; the tables were packed, as was the balcony, and the only free space was on the dance floor. A lot of them were girls from the Wicca group on campus that Tara and Willow were involved with. And, of course, the whole gang was here, too, including Dawn and Giles… and except for Riley.
And Spike.
She kept doing that – including him in the group, at least in her thoughts. She kept softening toward him, and that, she was sure, was in no small way due to what he had done the night before. Even if he did sneak out before anyone could say anything.
If anyone had asked her who it was she was looking for, she would probably have said Riley… but it wasn’t the thought of seeing him that made her glance around the club every few moments, peering into the shadows as if she thought he were hiding.
And she realized that, too, when she saw the lights gleam off a familiar head, hair bleached nearly white, because a tension she hadn’t even been aware of just leached out of her.
Grinning, Buffy pushed through the crowd and the pulse of the music to stand just behind him at the bar. She knew he knew she was there – she had seen his shoulders stiffen when she was still several feet away. “Hey, Spike.”
Slowly, almost as if he were expecting violence to greet him, despite her pleasant tone, he turned around. “Slayer,” he replied, and everything about him screamed how distrustful he was. “Just so you know, I’m not here to crash your party for the little witch. Just came to get a drink.” He held up the brown bottle to emphasize the point. “So don’t go gettin’ happy with your pointy sticks, all right?”
For a moment, the hostility in him overwhelmed her – especially given our… well, what is it? she asked herself. I guess… a truce? – and all she could do was blink. She hadn’t seen him since last night, and she certainly hadn’t done anything to him then, or said… Oh!
Determined to be cheerful, no matter how out of sorts he seemed to be, she smiled a little sheepishly. “No, actually, I came over to tell you something else…”
If anything, his wariness increased. “Oh, yeah? What’s that, then?” He made a great show of pretending to relax against the bar, but she could see that it was clearly false. He took a swig of his beer, watching her carefully all the while.
Buffy could feel her good humor slipping away. How is it that he can aggravate me so easily? Here I am, trying to be nice… Letting her anger show just a bit, she gritted, “I just came over to say thanks, but if you…” She had to use all of her speed to sidestep the beer that spewed out of his mouth. “And can I say, eeeeww?” she finished with a raised eyebrow.
Still choking, Spike stared at her in disbelief. “What?”
Spike flummoxed – now there was a sight. She just grinned at him, good humor completely restored by his reaction.
“Slayer, you’re gonna have to say that again… it’s so loud in here I couldn’t hear a thing.” The sarcasm coming from his mouth was in direct counterpoint to the way his eyes suddenly seemed to beg… It struck her that that might be what yearning looked like.
Maybe… he just wants to be accepted? Gotta be pretty lonely when demons hate you because you sometimes help the Slayer… and the humans…
The idea made her soften even more, and she toned her grin down to a slightly chagrinned smile. “I just wanted to say thank you… for what you did for Tara yesterday.” Despite the noise surrounding them, she knew he heard every word clearly; she could tell by the astonishment dawning in his face. “I know Wills and Tara were too caught up in what it meant to say it, but I wanted to. It meant a lot.”
His expression became guarded again, but it was too late. She had already seen what he was trying to keep from her. “Figured you’d all be after my hide for hittin’ her.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “I suppose that if the others didn’t know why you’d done it – if Tara’s family hadn’t been there – they would have all been on the stake Spike! train. But they also didn’t see what I saw.”
He studied her, a flicker of curiosity in his still-shuttered gaze. “And what’s that, pet?”
Stepping closer – not that anyone was listening to them, but just to give him that sense of privacy – she said, “You pulled your punch.” This time, the surprise spreading over his face earned him a cheeky grin. “Like I haven’t been on the receiving end enough to know? Even with the chip, you still could have hit her hard enough to break her nose… but you didn’t, and I don’t think it was just self-preservation. It was just enough to hurt – it didn’t even swell or bruise any. So thank you, Spike… for figuring out what Mr. Maclay was doing, and for proving him wrong, and for not hurting Tara. We all really appreciate it.”
For a long moment, he was speechless, his mouth working without sound. Finally, he dropped his eyes and gruffly muttered, “Welcome.”
It was only when she heard his voice that she realized just how much those words – so simple for her to say – affected him. Wow. He’s all cute when he’s flustered…
She didn’t even berate herself for having that thought.
After a moment, he glanced up at her sidelong, wearing a smile that looked almost shy, and Buffy melted all over again. It was gone in a blink, and he was all bad boy Spike again. “So, Slayer,” he smirked. “Does all this gratitude mean you’ll take care of my tab?”
She couldn’t help it; she just laughed. “Don’t push your luck, Spike,” she told him, grinning playfully. “I haven’t got that kind of cash.” She glanced over her shoulder, toward where the gang was still gathered around Tara, then back again. “But it’ll definitely get you another beer… and an invite to join us, if you want?”
He took a quick look beyond her, and for one second, she thought she saw that longing back in his eyes again. Then his gaze returned to her. “Thanks for the offer, pet,” and it was her turn to be surprised, because he sounded both sincere and regretful. “But I really didn’t…”
“Come to crash the party,” she finished for him, and nodded. “It’s not crashing if you’re invited… but if you don’t wanna, it’s all right.” She caught sight of the clock over the bar, and though it wasn’t late, the time felt right. “Actually, I gotta go out on patrol.” She gave him a wicked grin. “You can come with, if you think you can keep up tonight.”
He arched one eyebrow in a way that clearly said I know what you’re up to, but let himself be goaded anyway. “Keep up? I’ll leave you in the dust, Slayer.”
“Oh, yeah?” Oh, yeah, she thought in satisfaction. He just can’t resist a challenge. “Maybe you’d better prove it.”
His grin was infectious and his eyes danced with devilry. “Oh, I’ll do that,” he purred. “Just you watch. Say good bye to your mates and let’s be off.”
Suddenly her mouth was dry. The way his voice rumbled through his chest, the seductive sound of it… Buffy suddenly remembered her dreams recently, and felt arousal start to heat through her. Somehow, though, she managed to nod. “Meet you outside?”
He was already on his way to the back door, pulling out a cigarette as he went.
By rote, Buffy said good night to her friends, hoping that none of them noticed her strange manner. After admonishing Dawn to have Giles take her home, she grabbed her jacket and followed Spike, pulling a stake out of the pocket on the way.
She never noticed Riley’s late arrival, but he saw her, slipping through the throng and twirling her stake. There was a bounce in her step that he hadn’t seen in a long while.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled his turtleneck higher on his throat and pasted on his best smile for Tara.
***
“Buffy said she was going to do a quick sweep…”
Willow’s words echoed in Riley’s head over and over. He glanced over at the clock and found that the hands hadn’t moved since the last time he’d looked. A quick sweep does not take three or four hours!
He was waiting in the Summers’ kitchen. Dawn and her mother had gone up to bed a couple hours ago, but Buffy still hadn’t made it home.
He was just talking himself out of going to look for her – because it was a sure way to miss her altogether – when he heard the sound of a key in the front door. Relief filled him as he moved through the dining room.
Buffy gasped and jumped when someone put a hand on her arm. Before she could do violence, however, she glanced over her shoulder and relaxed when she saw Riley. “Don’t scare me like that,” she complained in a good-natured whisper. “Next time, I might have a stake in my hand…” and she grinned up at him, “instead of just the house keys.” She deposited the keys on the small table in the entryway, and was quickly pulled back against his chest. Again, she couldn’t contain her sound of surprise.
“I missed you at the party,” Riley murmured into her hair. “Willow said you’d gone out on patrol…”
“After what you said yesterday afternoon… I wasn’t sure you were coming,” she replied, pulling away a little and craning her neck to look at his face. “You must have gotten there after I left.”
“Yeah.” He tightened his hold, just for an instant, but Buffy still felt too constricted. Before she could decide to break away, however, he released her. “So it must have been busy, then… for a quick patrol to take so long?”
Buffy rolled her eyes as she faced him. “Have you seen how many graveyards there are in Sunnydale?” she asked, her tone heavily laced with sarcasm. You know that quick patrols just hit the hot spots.”
Riley nodded, giving her a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. So how many?”
She ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed. “Three?” She peeked up at him through her eyelashes.
Just like that, he was frowning. “Three vamps in three hours?”
“Well, if you count how many times I was tempted to dust Spike, the total goes up considerably.” She winced, both at how defensive she sounded and for the smokescreen of excuses she was making. And it’s not like the total really goes up that much…I mean, really… maybe to four or five… What she didn’t want to admit was that she’d actually enjoyed her time with Spike, despite how annoying he’d still managed to be. “Spike got four, but that’s only because I let him have that last one, honest!”
She thought that would make Riley smile again, but his scowl only deepened. “You took Spike on patrol?”
She blinked at the unexpected anger in his voice. “Well, yeah.” Thinking quickly, she gave him her brightest don’t be upset with me smile. “I’ve kinda discovered that I like having someone there to watch my back.”
“But Spike? How far can you trust a guy you have to pay to go with you? And that’s not even considering that he’s a vampire.”
“He didn’t ask for any money this time.” She bit her lip as soon as the words left her mouth. Oops. Next I’ll be telling him about the dreams…
“He’s gotta be up to something, then. He’s probably setting the group up for some scheme he’s got going… One of us should go and dust him before he’s able to pull it off.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, trying her best to ignore the jolt of fear his words caused. “Riley, please. Spike’s not real big in the planning department. And he can’t lie worth a damn, so if he was up to something, he’d never be able to hide it.”
Riley gave her a look that told her without words just how naïve he thought she was being. Then his face softened. “Well, at least you won’t have to depend on Spike to watch your back any more. I can patrol with you from now on.”
Her brow creased in concern, and she laid one hand very lightly on his chest. “You sure?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t want you to push yourself too hard…”
“I’m ready, Buffy,” he said firmly. “I’m not a piece of glass. I’m not gonna break. I can take care of myself, and I can help you patrol… as soon as you let me prove it to you.”
For a moment, she stared at her hand, resting on his broad chest, considering. Okay, now, logically, I know I should be jumping at Riley being able to patrol with me again, all kinds of giddy and glad. So why aren’t I?
The reason, she decided, had to be because she would have to protect him now.
Or maybe… She really didn’t want to admit it, but the grand plan for getting rid of the Spike Lusty thoughts wasn’t so much with the working. And the other thing that she most certainly didn’t want to acknowledge was that…
I like patrolling with Spike.
Tonight’s patrol had been absolutely full of quick quips and witty repartee. Somehow, the vamp had a comeback for everything she said, and sometimes left her struggling for something to say, just so he wouldn’t have bested her.
With Riley, patrols were… smooth, almost mechanical – military! Sometimes there were kisses between the headstones and a little inappropriate touching, but for the most part, Riley was all business.
Until afterwards, anyway…
She and Spike, however, had gotten into arguments loud enough to warn just about anything remotely sentient that they were coming. Only the terminally stupid had strayed into their path tonight. But God, she thought, and she was shocked at the … fondness in it, it was so much fun!
It was with no small regret that she realized if the plan to remind herself how annoying Spike was, and how inappropriate he was for her wasn’t working, it was time to put an end to it, even if it had only been one patrol. She was only going to want to hang around him more, and…
And when did that happen?
So really – even though Riley wasn’t going to be as much of a help as he used to be, he was the safer choice.
She made sure that her disappointment was securely locked away, and she smiled up at Riley, molding herself to his front. “If you’re ready, welcome back,” she said quietly.
He pulled her up for a deep, hard kiss.
In a corner of her mind, she wondered if Spike would miss patrolling with her.
***
The door to the tomb opened with a horrendous creak, and that had Spike bolting up out of his chair, reaching for the battleaxe resting against the nearest sarcophagus and swinging it with a roar even as he turned around.
“Whoa, Spike!” The Slayer backed off a step, dropping into her fighting stance, clearly surprised by his reaction.
He let the swing fall short and the head of the axe hit the floor with a spine-grating scrape. He winced, knowing that would mean rather a lot of work with the sharpening stone once she’d gone. “Bloody hell, Slayer,” he growled, lifting the axe again to examine the blade. “Give a bloke a heart attack, why don’t you?”
She stared at him in shock for a minute, then her lips twitched, and she started giggling.
“What?”
In between her giggles, she managed, “Your heart… doesn’t… even… beat!”
He blinked. “Right.” The blade did not have a nick in it, as he’d feared. It needed some attention, but it was still serviceable. He set it against the sarcophagus once more.
After a moment, her laughter wound down. “So what’s with the ‘decapitate first, ask questions later’ routine?” she asked, looking at the battleaxe, then at him as he settled back into his chair.
Before he could answer, she hopped up onto the sarcophagus, sweeping up the axe in her hand as she did. “Wow, this is nice,” she said, hefting it.
“Yeah. Paid a pretty penny for it.” Spike watched her carefully as she gave it an experimental swing, then remembered her question. “About that… I didn’t know it was you. Sometimes company comes to call.”
“Company that requires greeting with an axe? Oh,” she said in sudden understanding. “That kind of company.” She looked down at the axe, tracing the design of the haft with one finger. “Is… is patrolling with me gonna make problems for you?”
For one second, Spike thought that the Slayer actually sounded…. concerned. Before he could read more into that than there likely was, he replied, “No more than I already get.” When she looked up at him, mouth opening to speak, he shrugged and went on, “It’s already common knowledge that you… get information from me. In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides,” and here he gave her a smug grin, “it was a bloody lot of fun bestin’ you on your own patrol.”
Immediately, her eyes flashed. “Oh, you so did not!”
“The dust count says otherwise, pet.”
“I let you have that last one!”
“If that’s what you want to believe, Slayer…” His smirk widened. “Maybe we could have a re-match.”
“You’re on!” Then she looked surprised at her own words, and for an instant, he wondered if she was going to wiggle out. “Just… not tonight. Tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?” and no, he did not sound disappointed. He ignored the feeling and the thought and stared at her, willing her to answer.
She shifted uncomfortably, staring down at the axe and twirling it in her hands until he plucked it from her grasp. “Riley wants to patrol,” she blurted out. “It’s a thing.”
“Right,” he drawled, setting the axe out of her reach. “It’s a…” She shot him a glare, and he quickly swallowed the words that would have impugned Captain Cardboard’s honor and manhood. “A thing,” he amended.
“Right. A patrol-with-your-girlfriend thing,” and the way she emphasized certain words made him think that it was meant for her more than him.
She slid down off the sarcophagus and headed for the door, and belatedly, he stood. “So. Patrol. Tomorrow.” When she got to the door, she grinned at him over her shoulder. “You can bring the axe. You know, if you need to feel a little extra manly…” She was out the door before he could summon a reply.
“Cheeky bint,” he muttered, but he was grinning even as he sat back down.
Continued in Chapter 4.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/209761.html
