Another legacy of all the time she had spent there was her knowledge of the place. If the badly injured woman was indeed the Valkyrie they were looking for, then it was likely that she would be in ICU. There were always plenty of staff swarming around the critical patients, and if they were going to reach her, then they would have to be sneaky, and Spike’s appearance, for all his sneaking skills, was like an attention beacon. They would have to forgo all the main routes through the hospital and creep around the less busy areas to get to their destination.
And it had been going well, she thought. Spike had been reasonably quiet and had kept his hands to himself, the Admin areas and the Mortuary had been empty out of hours, and they had got through without challenge, but as they had entered the unit before ICU, it had all gone terribly wrong. Buffy had seen Ben and the plan had unravelled big time. She couldn’t be seen here. Ben would ask questions, and Spike would be his obnoxious self, and coffee would be forever out of the question. Then she’d have to spend the rest of her life as a lonely spinster, wondering what could have been if a vampire with a smart mouth had only kept it shut, and she was over thinking it again, and she’d better stop and do something. Like… hide!
She dived behind a drinks machine and peered round it. Ben was talking to some concerned relatives of a patient and hadn’t noticed them. Good.
“I can’t go down there,” she whispered to Spike, who, from his expression, was trying to figure out what on earth she was doing.
He squinted at Ben and chuckled. “Oh ho, it’s Doogie Howser himself.”
“He can’t see me with you!”
“Why not?”
“He’ll think we’re together or something!”
“So I’ll ruin your chances, eh?” Spike looked pleased at the prospect, and Buffy couldn’t work out if that was an evil thing or a jealously thing, or just Spike’s thing, which would probably be a bit of both. “Maybe he and I should chat it out…”
“Nooo!” She grabbed his arm as he went to leave. “Spike. Please.”
He looked at her as she pleaded. There was a glint in his eye for a moment that she didn’t like, but it softened and she knew he was only teasing. Bastard. “Alright, I’ll keep it to myself. So what are we going to do instead then, Slayer?”
“We’ll split up. You’ll have to go this way, and I’ll go back through and meet you up in ICU. And please,” she begged, “don’t talk to him.”
“You have my word. Scout’s honour and all that.”
That would have to do and it would be the best she’d get anyway. She couldn’t take Spike back through the hospital; she would have to trust him. Oh hell.
Buffy crouched low behind a tub of leafy plastic plants, their broad waxy leaves obscuring her from the nurses manning the desk. She would be safe hiding here for the moment.
She’d been here in ICU reception for twenty minutes and Spike was still nowhere to be seen. She’d been back through the entire hospital, up and down the stairs; he’d had to go through three sets of double doors. He should have been there ages ago. So much for trusting him. She was going to give him five more minutes and then she was going to ditch him.
She looked around, seeking the elusive vampire. Still nothing. How much longer was she going to have to wait? She’d just given up and was starting to get up from her hiding place, when Spike sauntered in through the main doors.
And you couldn't miss him. The stark monochrome of his pale hair and dark coat drew every eye in the room to him as he paced around the lobby. Under the strong lights his skin looked ghastly, no longer cool and pale, moonlight-loved, but the otherworldy white of the dead.
"Spike!" She tried to get his attention in a whispered hiss, hoping his super-advanced hearing would pick it up and that twenty-five years of blasting punk music into his ears hadn't ruined them for good.
She saw him furrow his brow and sniff. Yes! He would smell her and she wouldn’t have to give herself away to get his attention. Instead, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette and lit up. Buffy rolled her eyes; with that stink going on he'd never find her.
As he began to puff away in the middle of the lobby, a couple of orderlies appeared to confront him and there was a small altercation when he protested. Buffy put her head into her hands, praying that he wouldn't show them his game face; he couldn't have been less subtle if he’d tried. Eventually, the dispute was settled and the cigarette was put out in the compost of the planter. Spike looked peeved as he dumped himself into a plastic chair, his knee bouncing in nervy agitation.
"Spike!" She tried again, using this chance to get his attention while he was close.
"Buff…" He started, but stopped when she shook her head in panic. Instead, he mouthed, "What?"
“Follow me.” She looked about. No one appeared to be watching, they were all too busy with their jobs to notice her slip out of her hiding place. As she passed him, she grabbed the vampire by the arm and she darted down a quiet corridor, pulling him along as she went.
“Watch it!” he asked, yanking his arm out of her grip.
"You should've been able to smell me!" she hissed, still annoyed that he hadn’t found her straight away.
He gave her a confused frown. "Why? You got that stinky perfume on again?"
"It's not stinky! It’s Yves Saint Laurent!” she protested. “I thought you could smell my scent or something. You know, predator senses."
He frowned. "Oh, those. Luv, I can’t smell anything over the antiseptic. Makes me want to sneeze."
“Where were you anyway? I was here way before you.”
Spike patted the pockets of his duster proudly, blood bags bulging inside them. “Just grabbed a spot of dinner is all.”
Oh no. Did she have to watch him every second? “You put them back right now!”
“No. What you going to do about it? Get out your stampy foot?”
“I’ll kick your ass!” Then she remembered where they were. “Later, maybe.”
His grin was victorious as he moved past her. “It’s a date, pet.”
She gritted her teeth as she stomped after him. He made her blood boil! “Get out of my sight.”
“Seems I’m going your way.”
The fact she was following him did indeed erode her moral high ground. “Shut up and help.”
“I was helping!”
“How exactly? The only helping I’ve seen you do is helping yourself!” It wasn’t strictly true, but right then she didn’t care.
“Fine.” He was losing his temper now too. He pulled out a couple of blood bags and dumped them onto the nearest a trolley. “Satisfied?”
She didn’t have a chance to reply, as she caught sight of a security guard heading their way. “In here. Now.” She shoved Spike through the nearest door and jumped inside herself.
Great, a closet, just her luck; she wondered why the door couldn’t have led into a nice roomy laboratory or a big trolley store. No, it had to be a tiny linen closet with barely enough room for them both to stand in. In the cramped space, she found herself pressed way too close against the one person she wanted to be as far away from as she could.
“Don’t say a word,” she warned him.
“Weren’t planning to.” In the dark, his voice was a low, rumbling whisper.
He brushed a knuckle across the skin of her bare arm, and she felt herself blush furiously. She thanked several deities that Spike wouldn’t be able to see her – unless he could smell it or some other vampy thing. Now she had to admit – but just to herself of course – that this wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but he was still Spike and therefore completely disgusting. That didn’t stop her trembling as he stroked her again.
He chuckled.
“This is not funny,” she snapped.
“No. But you’re enjoying it though.”
“I’m not,” her tiny whimper wasn’t the least bit convincing.
His hand stopped its lazy caress and she wanted to tell him not to stop.
“There’s someone coming,” he whispered.
Oh crap. She prayed no one would open the door. “What are we going to…?”
Her words were stopped by his mouth; velvet soft and cool as the grave, meeting hers in a lusty kiss. And whoa, she hadn’t expected him to kiss so well. She had memories of Willow’s spell, sure, but she’d thought all those hot memories, which had fuelled all of her naughtiest fantasies, were only the effects of the enchantment, but this was something else. She wanted more of that please. A hint of tongue brushed her lip and she accepted it inside without thought. Despite herself, despite that stupid stunt with the chains, despite the fact that not so long ago he’d been trying to kill her, she fell into the kiss, closed her eyes, and returned it.
A sliver of light, breaking the darkness like the corona of an eclipse appearing from behind the moon, filled the closet with light as the door opened. With more disappointment than she would ever admit to, she broke off with the smooching, feigning her surprise at the interruption, until she recognised their discoverer.
“Ben!” She exclaimed, mortified.
And Ben looked as shocked as she did.
“Don’t touch me!” She snapped at Spike, slapping him away as she extracted herself from his wandering hands. She faced the young doctor with her dignity apparently only slightly compromised. “This is not what this looks like…”
“I apologise if I’m interrupting…” Ben said, looking at Spike with a confused recognition.
Spike looked as smug as a cat that had eaten the canary, but when he started to speak, Buffy got there first to offer her excuses. “He’s…Ugh… He’s a friend.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
“We got lost,” she continued. That excuse hadn’t worked earlier; maybe it would this time. “Big hospital. Lots of rooms… It’s roomy!”
Doubtfully, Ben nodded. “Right. And the kissing thing?“
“He was feeling sick. I was trying to make him feel… better.” She cringed as she said it, but at least Spike had the decency to look reasonably ill, and with the stark lighting enhancing the paleness of his pallid vampiric skin, he looked convincing.
“You don’t look so well,” Ben said to him. “Maybe I should check you out…”
“Piss off.” Spike backed away slightly as Ben reached for him.
“That’s okay,” Buffy reassured the doctor. “We were heading for ER anyway.”
Spike nodded his support. “Yeah, I don’t think I have much time left. Very painful. You know where it is?”
“It’s downstairs,” said Ben, flatly. “It’s two floors away.”
“Then we’d better get going; unless Buffy here wants to make me feel better again.” He winked conspiratorially at Ben. “Makes the world of difference.”
“That’s it. We are going!” Buffy’s glare made the polar ice caps seem positively toasty. “I’m sorry Ben, I’ll call you and I’ll explain everything.”
She felt guilty about leaving Ben in bewilderment, but as they rounded the corner out of his sight, she couldn’t help gasping with relief.
“That did not happen,” she told Spike unequivocally. “There will be no mentioning of this evening anytime ever. Understood?”
“Right,” he growled. “Be our little secret.”
Buffy could see his frustration as he sucked in his cheeks. “No, not even a secret. Eradicate it from your memory. Complete mind wipe.”
He nodded grimly. “Better get this over with then.”