Author's Note: Hey, two chapters in a week! How about that? Some reviews would be lovely.
The Twelfth…
Kate Beckett glanced at the fancy black watch on her left wrist, sighing when she noticed it was 11:45. At night. She'd spent the better part of her afternoon at the precinct, pouring over what few details she had with relation to Marc Velazquez's murder. Other than the murder weapon – which had no prints or other trace evidence – there wasn't much for her to go on.
Kate thought back to her conversation with Buffy Summers the day before, the one where she learned of a vampire named Spike who had once made his name ramming railroad spikes into the heads of his victims. But to hear Buffy tell it, Spike had died – and before that, he had been reformed. A good vampire, so to speak.
Like Angel, only…not.
Truth be told, that tale alone deserved its own white dry-erase board. Only problem was, Kate couldn't prop it up here at the precinct, because then everyone would know her secret. As it was, she was uncomfortable with the fact that three civilians knew it – never mind the fact that two of them were also Slayers themselves.
In a way, Kate thrived on anonymity – a luxury she was no longer going to have with Richard Castle's novel Heat Wave just weeks from publication. Since she was the inspiration behind the main character – she could just drive a stake through his eye for calling her Nikki Heat – Kate fully expected a heap of unwanted publicity coming her way.
As if she didn't get enough grief from other cops. Being a woman in a male-dominated career was already a minefield of sorts, but to be a playboy writer's muse on top of all that? She cringed at the thought of the blowback she would encounter.
"Detective?"
Roy Montgomery's voice broke through Kate's train of thought, and she looked up at him with a frown. "Sir?"
"My office." He had a scowl on his face she had rarely ever seen. "Now."
No sooner did Kate wander into Montgomery's office and shut the door – silently asking herself why he was still here at such a late hour – Roy stood behind his desk and shook his head. "What's this I hear about you assaulting an attorney today?"
Kate sighed and fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Sir…"
"Now, I know Lindsey McDonald can be a Grade-A pain in the ass," Roy said with a smirk, "and frankly, I would've liked a front-row seat, but he's threatening to go to One PP with this."
"Sir, you cannot be serious."
"But he is," Montgomery countered. "Which would reflect poorly not only on you, but on me as well." The captain sank into his leather seat with a sigh, shaking his head and staring out the window. "One PP is on my ass as it is, Beckett."
Kate frowned. "Why?"
"They're questioning my leadership," Montgomery said with a shake of the head. "Allowing an untrained civilian into the precinct, allowing you to occasionally enlist the help of a private eye. The fact that we have the highest closure rate in the city seems to mean nothing to these people."
"They're looking for a reason to get rid of me?"
"More likely it's me they want." Montgomery shook his head. "I hear the whispers. Some call me the Affirmative Action Captain. Have ever since I took over the Twelfth. Seems like people have had it out for me from day one, but now they wanna use Castle's presence as an excuse."
For reasons Kate couldn't quite fathom – or didn't want to – the implication made her shudder. She folded her arms across her chest and approached the captain's desk with a shake of her head. "You gonna throw Castle out, sir?"
Montgomery shrugged. "That's up to you."
Kate blinked. "Sir?"
"You want Castle gone, he's gone."
"But what about the mayor?"
"The mayor doesn't run this ship," Montgomery smirked. "I do. You say the word, he's gone. I've only kept him around this long because I've seen how good he is for you."
Kate blinked.
"You're the best cop I've ever had," he explained, "but until Rick came along, you weren't having any fun. You can act tough and nonchalant all you want, Beckett, but you're smiling more than you ever have, you love that espresso machine in the break room, and your shoulders sag just a little bit more on the days when he doesn't show up."
As much as Kate hated to admit it, Montgomery was right. The nine-year-old on a sugar rush had proven helpful on several occasions, and as she had gotten to know him, she began to peel back the veneer of the debonair playboy and saw a doting father and a man who was far more insecure than he let on.
She also saw someone who enjoyed sticking his nose in places it didn't belong, but even that attribute had its moments.
"That settles it, then," she said with a shrug and a half-smile. "Castle stays."
Castle's loft…
Buffy Summers and Angel were pacing around each other in Richard Castle's office, moonlight pouring in from the full-length mirrors to give the room a certain ambience with which they were both familiar. Buffy eyed the bookshelves surrounding the door to the office because while she was glad the writer offered them his office for privacy, she knew they could still eavesdrop.
Because really, who uses bookshelves for walls?
"You look good."
Buffy's gaze shot from the shelves to the vampire standing across from her, every bit the shadowy brooding figure she remembered. The Slayer supposed, in a way, that would never change.
"So do you," she offered with a terse nod. He really, really did, but Buffy couldn't let herself think that for so many reasons. "So…back to the PI thing, huh?"
"Yeah, you know," Angel shrugged. "Back to the basics, I guess."
Buffy had so many questions she wanted to ask. Why Angel had agreed to take over the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart in the first place. How was it he had survived the battle with the Black Thorn when seemingly no one else did? How he wound up in New York, and for that matter, his history with Detective Beckett.
To say nothing of the dark-haired Slayer and the mystery writer in the other room.
None of those questions made their way from her brain to her mouth, though – Buffy's brain seldom worked as it should whenever her first love was around. To say nothing of the fact that she was in town because her Watcher dropped the dreaded "A-word" on her. Life had been so much easier in several ways for Buffy since Willow cast the spell that turned all of the world's Potentials into Slayers, but if an Ascension was afoot, she needed to be a part of this, because she was the only Slayer ever to experience one.
"Have you heard about the case Detective Beckett's been working on?" she asked. If nothing else, shop talk was safe.
Angel shook his head. "Been a bit busy working my own case."
Buffy arched a brow, tempted to ask about that, but in light of what information she had, she let it slide. "Guy murdered near train tracks. Railroad spike clear through his head."
Angel's posture stiffened. "Railroad spike."
Buffy pursed her lips. "Mm-hmm. Not to mention, Mr. Castle and his daughter both claiming they saw a vampire last night with platinum blond hair and a black leather trench coat."
With a shake of his head, Angel leaned back against Castle's desk. "But…Spike's dead."
"Please," Buffy rolled her eyes, "you and I both know death means nothing."
The kitchen…
Castle joined his daughter and Faith at the island, where the Slayer and the redhead were both eating out of a pint of ice cream. He leaned his elbows on the surface of the island, biting his lower lip and widening his blue eyes as if he were an excited child on the verge of barreling downstairs on Christmas morning.
"So," he offered, grabbing a spoon and helping himself to the ice cream, "what's their story?"
"Oh, we so do not have time for that," Faith quipped between scoops of ice cream, glancing over her shoulder. "You could write a trilogy on their forbidden love."
"Oh, now I have to know," Castle countered.
"Come on, Dad," Alexis blanched, "forbidden love with a vampire? Isn't that a bit…Twilight for you?"
"Well, I haven't seen Angel sparkle yet," Castle said, "so I'm already ahead."
"You know," Faith said, "for a mystery writer, you sure know some interesting people."
Castle only answered with a shrug, his eyes clearly fixated on the door leading into his office. He could tell Buffy and Angel were doing their best to keep their voices down – suddenly realizing what he considered privacy in the loft might not work for them. The writer scooped out another spoonful of mint chocolate chip.
"A Slayer and a vampire with a soul," he mused. "A romance more tragic than anything the Bard could've penned. She's a teenage girl still grappling with the reality that her life is no longer a matter of malls and boys, but instead prophecies and destiny, and he's wandered the earth for centuries, wracked with guilt over all those he has slain.
"They find comfort in each other, the irony not lost on the young Slayer as her fingers trace over the ridges of her undead lover's forehead for the first time. She knows it can't last. She's read the old texts, talking of the vampire's former exploits, and she knows that if people find out about them, they'll take him away from her. Stake him, even."
Alexis and Faith exchanged an amused glance.
"Forbidden as their love is, it works. They team up together to battle the forces of darkness, stealing a glance here, a brush of the fingers there as they had off their weapons. Then, one night, when things seem bleak and hopeless, the skies open up and when they finally look one another in the eye, they realize…it's time."
Alexis arched a brow. "Time for what?"
Castle swallowed his spoonful of ice cream with a cringe. "Uh…for us to fast-forward to the next morning, when the Slayer awakes only to find her lover nowhere to be found. Her youth, her naiveté, leads her to think nothing of it…at first. But as the minutes pass to hours, she starts to wonder and worry."
"Alright, Writer Boy," Faith teased as she set down her spoon. "You think you've got this all figured out, what happens next?"
"See, the tragedy of it all is, the vampire with a soul only has a soul because he's being punished. Hundreds of years ago, he killed the wrong people, people steeped in centuries of magicks and the occult. So they curse him, force him to live out the rest of his nights with the terror and the guilt over all that he had done. But the curse had a loophole: if ever his suffering is alleviated, if ever he finds happiness, the soul goes away and the monster is re-born."
Alexis smirked as Faith arched a brow. "So…what? They sleep together and he goes evil again?"
Castle shrugged. "That's how I'd write it. A perfect metaphor for the plight of teenage dating."
Midtown…
Kate Beckett wasn't about to drive home for the night, even though walking would take her almost an hour. She had slacked on her patrolling in recent days, because the workload of her cases and upcoming court appearances had sapped whatever energy she had. It wasn't so bad on days when her writer was there to supply her caffeine fix, but when he wasn't, she increasingly found herself going without.
She kept telling herself it was because she hadn't yet figured out how to work that espresso machine, but the little voice in the back of Kate's head that she hated listening to kept insisting it was something else.
Kate wandered through a series of dark alleys, essentially doing everything people tell women not to do at night. But between her cadge, her service piece, and the stake on the inside her coat pocket – not to mention her supernatural strength and reflexes – Kate was sure she could handle anything that came her way.
The sound of something crashing against a dumpster around the corner caught Kate's attention and she immediately backed herself against the brick wall, one hand on her gun as the other reached into her coat for her stake. A feral growl reached her ears, and Kate leaped around the corner in time to see a figure covered in black leather hunched over a woman. Her head was tossed back, eyes rolled into the back of her head, an arm hanging limply at her side.
"Drop her!" Kate yelled, drawing her stake.
The leather-clad figure did as asked before straightening his posture and turning to face Kate. She swallowed thickly when she saw the platinum blond hair and the harsh ridges on the man's forehead, and her blood ran cold when he sneered and ran the tip of his tongue along his blood-stained fangs.
"Stay right there!"
"Or what, you gonna arrest me?" Spike smirked and put his hands up as he sucked in his cheeks, his eyes focused on the badge still latched onto Kate's belt. "Not sure your cell could hold me, love."
"Got one that'll give you a nice view of the sunrise."
"I bet you do," Spike countered, still holding up his hands as he slowly sauntered toward Kate. "Don't suppose that stake is police-issue, though."
"That's what the gun is for."
"You know that won't kill me."
Kate shrugged. "It'll hurt, though. Sometimes, that's just as good."
"Well, aren't you a saucy one," Spike smirked and slowly circled around Kate, like a predator sizing up its next meal. "I like you. What's your name, pet?"
The swagger was annoying – far more so than anything her shadow ever said or did – and whatever sexiness might have been inherent in the accent was washed away by the disgusting visage, the demonic eyes, and the trail of blood running from the vampire's lips down his chin.
"You talk like this to all the Slayers?" Kate never once moved her eyes off of Spike, tightening her grip on her stake and turning in a circle as he continued to stalk around her.
"Just the ones I plan on killing."
"And how's that working out for you?" Kate asked, catching movement out of the corner of her eye. The woman wasn't dead after all; she was actually just now staggering back to her feet, and Kate hoped to keep the vampire busy long enough that the woman could get away.
"Bagged two in my day," Spike said with a shrug. "I don't like to brag, but…" His face morphed into a huge grin, made all the more monstrous by the ridges on his forehead. "Oh, who am I kidding? I love to brag!"
"Why am I not surprised?"
Kate decided then to make her move, lunging toward Spike before he could react, tackling him to the pavement and clamping her thighs on either side of his hips. When she brought her stake up over her head, the vampire burst into laughter.
"Someone's eager," he quipped with an arched brow. "In more ways than one."
Spike pushed himself off the ground, sending Kate staggering back and fighting to regain her footing. By the time she did, Spike was on her again, pushing her back against the wall so hard that she lost her grip on her stake. Spike chuckled when the wood clanked against the pavement, his face hovering so close to Kate's that she could smell the stench of death.
Fighting the urge to gag, she never once broke eye contact.
"Not yet, love," Spike whispered, running a finger along Kate's jaw. "But soon."
"What, you think I'm just gonna let you walk outta here so you can terrorize more people?" Kate straightened her posture and set her jaw, drawing her gun and pointing it against Spike's ribcage. "Why would I do that?"
"Cause you're not ready, Detective," Spike snarled. "And I like to play with my food first."
Rolling her eyes – because god, that was disgusting – Kate pulled the trigger, pushing herself off the wall when Spike staggered backward, clutching his open palm against the bleeding wound on the right side of his chest. She whirled around and clocked the vampire in the jaw with a roundhouse kick, the tip of her heel cutting a gash into his cheek.
As Spike continued to stagger, Kate leaped into the air and rammed her right elbow into the back of his head. Spike grunted as he hit the ground face-first before rolling onto his back, blood trickling down his nose as his face morphed back into its human form.
"Tell you what, Spike," Kate grinned when the vampire glared at her. "Yeah, I know who you are. How about we make a pact: you get the hell out of my city, and I don't jam my pointy wooden stick into your chest."
"Now why would I take that deal, love?"
"Because if you don't, it won't just be me you have to worry about." Kate smirked again when Spike arched a brow, lifting himself onto his elbows with a cringe. "Oh, you haven't heard? I'm not the only Slayer in town."
"Yeah, you and Faith."
"Oh, no…" Kate rolled her eyes and got down on her knees, her face inches from his. "There's three of us now, and trust me when I say Faith and I are the least of your worries."
Before Spike could respond, Kate grabbed her stake again and slammed into his chest, just below where his shriveled-up heart was, and he gasped when he felt the sharp wood pierce him in the chest and then again in the back. The stake was large enough that it dug into the ground, effectively pinning the vampire to the pavement.
Kate stood straight again, holstering her gun and wiping her hands off. "You've got some time to think it over," he said before turning to leave the alley. "But not too much. Sunrise is in about six hours."