"You look right pleased with yourself," a bleached-blond stranger said in a British accent.
Blue eyes gazed at her with...interest. He looked like Billy Idol, only younger, thinner and with better defined muscles, at least from what she could see beneath his black leather duster. Why was he dressed like that in the middle of an LA summer? Whatever the reason, it certainly completed the look of...cool. So why was he speaking to her? He took the seat next to her at the bar. He seemed intent on remaining there, his eyes focused more on her than his drink.
She nodded. "I am a little, yes."
"Surprised you're not in a classier bar."
She snorted. Was that a pick-up line? A variation of the old 'what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?' "I don't go to bars often. But this seemed as good a place as any."
It wasn't really. It was a dive. But she'd come in feeling….like she could take on the whole world. It wasn't rational, but she was enjoying it anyway. The...bikers were pretty harmless so far, and they were all keeping their distance. Well, they were since one man had gotten close enough to catch a glimpse of her gun - and badge. He had backed away, quietly, muttering something about not wanting any trouble. There was something about her alleged frigidity too - she was cursed and blessed with good hearing, but it had its uses in her line of work. So, the city ruffians were keeping their distance. In that sense, it wasn't much different from her life with the LAPD. The beer was...well, it was beer. She wasn't much of a beer drinker, but her day seemed to warrant further celebration than her usual glass of Riesling at home.
He nodded his assent. "They let me read my poetry earlier, at least." He glanced around to gesture at the men at the other end of the bar. "I feel a bit at home with this crowd."
She profiled him a bit. A biker-poet was unusual indeed. At least it seemed so to her. "You write poetry?"
"Not for a long time. Angel, the wretch, stomped it out of me. I was just reciting my old ones."
She turned to face him. "Angel? Is she your girlfriend, or ex, rather?"
He snorted. "Angel is a he. Although I can see your mistake. Awful fancy-boy former mentor and an all around pain in the ass. And no, for the record, we never dated."
She laughed. "Let me guess - he's a co-worker."
He frowned slightly. "I guess you could call him an associate. He'd tell you he's my boss, but no one bosses old Spike around. I'm my own man now."
"Spike? Is that your name?"
"It's not my given name, if that's what you're wondering. I was William. Then Angel said I needed a better name and Dru started calling me Spike." He shrugged. "It suits me."
She gave him her full smile. "Well, Spike, I'm Sharon."
He flashed her his smile. It must have gotten him far in these...situations in the past. And certainly wasn't hurting him at that moment. "A copper if I ever saw one."
"Does it really show?" Not that she minded, but she didn't think she could be spotted for a cop. Not when she was wearing jeans and a knitted top, anyway. As far as she was concerned, she looked...casual, at least as casual as she was capable of being.
"Don't worry, luv. You have a way of carrying yourself. It's probably why I came over here."
She nodded. She did have a way of carrying herself. She always had; working in a field that wasn't kind to women until recently-and even now was far from perfect-had made her….strong. "I had a good day today."
"Yeah? What happened?"
"You really want to hear?" She raised a brow. It wasn't normal for her to connect with a stranger, especially not one like Spike. And certainly not one who looked like him.
"Let's just say, talking to you will be the highlight of my day. I could use a bit of good news before..."
"Before what?"
"Before the end."
He said that so quietly, almost in a whisper. He was sad and...frightened about something.
If speaking to him would do him a service, she was willing to do that - and more. She told him about her work as the department's "hall monitor." He snorted at that. "You look like a rule follower."
Only he didn't say it like it was a bad thing. Just like it was part of who she was and that he understood it. She hmmed. "You have no idea."
She went on to describe the car chase, her first in years, and how it had ended with her shooting a man between the eyes with a beanbag gun. How the Major Crimes division had looked at her with a kind of respect for the first time...ever.
"They sound like the Scooby gang," he said with disdain.
"Scooby gang?"
"A bunch of self-righteous do-gooders. I associated with them for a time, but I was never part of them."
She snorted. That sounded a lot like the Major Crimes division. "Is your 'scooby gang' run by a petite blonde woman who thinks she knows everything?"
He looked at her as if she were a clairvoyant, or one of those mystical beings she didn't believe in. "Why, yes. Do you know her?"
She laughed. The wonders never ceased. "I think we have a good bit in common, my friend."
"Well, I know that. That's why I came over in the first place."
For a pick-up line, it had an almost disturbing layer of...truth. Time to up the ante. She laid her hand on his knee. It was a bold move for her, but she was old enough to handle the consequences - he'd either fold or hold - and she was fine with either outcome. "I told you mine; now it's your turn."
"I'm beginning to like this game, luv. Too bad I don't have more time to play."
It wasn't an escape line. She was his escape. A temporary release from the stresses of working with Angel. Whatever their work was, it wasn't like hers. It wasn't something he could leave behind when he went home. Not like she was able to do.
"How long do you have?"
"Another hour or so before I have to meet Angel."
She raised a brow. "What do you do exactly?"
He smirked. "I knew you'd be smart. Cautious. Your training and occupation, I imagine."
"And years of disappointment and lies."
He nodded. "I won't lie to you. Telling you won't hurt anything. Not that you'd believe me."
He didn't mention disappointment, but she knew they wouldn't be acquainted long enough for that to be a possibility. Plus, she had faith he wouldn't. He held...too much promise.
She squeezed his knee. "Try me."
He laid his hand on her thigh. She could feel the pressure but not him. He leaned toward her and said, "Let's get out of here" into her ear.
She nodded. It had been inevitable, decided from the moment he sat down. "Where?"
"Your place."
"And then you'll leave?"
"I don't have a choice, luv."
She hmmed. "I know."
She paid her tab. The bartender nodded in Spike's direction. "Be careful with that one. Seems dangerous."
She smiled. "I'm counting on it."
Spike beamed at her, and she took his hand. It was...cold. And there was no...pulse. But she didn't let go of him. She squeezed his hand tighter, trusting that he would tell her everything she needed to know.
When they got outside, she let go of his hand. He shot her that smile. "It's all right, luv. I don't bite." He widened his smile. "Not unless you want me to."
She laughed at his levity and smacked his arm. It was...solid. Whatever he was, his presence...he was...real. Maybe the realest thing in her life at the moment.
He shrugged. "As long as you're sure. Not everyone wants to sleep with a vamp, you know."
A vampire. That was the name. The label. It explained a lot but not everything. Like why she wasn't running from him.
"You're not afraid of me. Not even a bit. Curious, attracted, sympathetic, and a bunch of other conflicting emotions, but not fear."
"No."
He put his hands on her shoulder and placed his mouth against her ear. "I'm gonna show you my world, luv. Before they take it away."
And there it was. Something was happening to this...man. That night. Something bigger and stronger than a vampire (or two, as it seemed likely Angel was one as well) could handle. Something that perhaps she needed to prepare for too but couldn't. And what did it matter? If a...champion was afraid for his life, what hope did anyone have?
"Show me, Spike."
He walked her to her car. She gave him basic directions to her place, but she waited as he went to his car, leading the way once he turned on his lights.