The sound of a knock on the office door was drowned out by the ruckus of his frantic search. The blur of Seeley Booth was never still for longer than it took to look at one spot, realize that spot didn’t contain what he was looking for, and move on. When a second knock didn’t draw him away from the task at hand, the visitor spoke up. “Booth?”
“Huh?” he spluttered, turning his attention to the doorway. “Oh, Bones. It’s just you.” He leaned his full weight on the desk supporting himself with his arms.
“Are you alright?” the scientist asked as she took a step into the room. “You look tense.”
With a grunt he lowered himself into his desk chair. “Tense? Me? Nah.” He said with a wave of his hand. “So what brings you?”
“Well I was hoping we could go over some of the details on the case.” Brennan said, as she took a seat in front of his desk.
Booth folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not your case, it’s Cam’s… too much skin for you, Bones.”
“Either way,” she said with a smile on her lips, “It’s a fascinating ritual death. Blood drained from holes in the neck, you’re the psychology guy, what kind of person would do something like this?”
A cold silence settled over the room before he opened his mouth. “A vampire.”
“Vampires aren't real.” She said with an arch of her eyebrow and a bemused smirk.
“Look, Bones,” he said, starting from his seat. “You caught me at a bad time. I’ll talk to you later.”
As the figure of the FBI agent retreated from the room, Brennan couldn’t help but survey the office he’d left specially the inordinately large pile of sharpened number two pencils on the desk.
It made sense, she thought, a hellmouth in DC, there certainly was enough demonic activity even without the vampires. Still she smiled as she walked amongst the tombs, how many other slayers got to patrol at Arlington National Cemetery? Buffy Summers enjoyed these nights patrolling alone while the hordes of other slayers dealt with the day to day impending doom. She’d walk, watch the sky, dust some vamps, and just get a little perspective, and a little away from the swarm of teenage girls.
It wasn’t long into the patrol that she heard the familiar growl of a creature of the night vamping out and preparing to leap upon its prey. The sound that followed was not a familiar followup, a gunshot. Looked like some poor sap was gonna need her help.
It was a routine run, pun, and stake. “You know,” she called over her shoulder, “Guns? Never helpful.” She bent down picking up the badge that had fallen on the ground. “FBI, huh?”
“It’s been a while since I carried a stake,” a voice accompanied a grunt from the figure on the ground trying to sit up.
That voice. A shudder ran up her spine. “You… you sound like someone I…” she turned slowly to the fallen agent as her voice trailed off. “…Angel?”
“Hey Buffy,” he said wincing, a hand shooting to the oozing neck wound which he owed to his attacker.
“Angel… suit… that’s a… different look.” She said extending a hand to pull him to his feet. A tingle spread through from her hand to her brain and down her spine as their hands made contact. It took only the time for him to regain his balance and look down at their joined hands that she realized this was a different kind of tingle. A more tingle. A warm tingle.
“It’s not the only thing that’s different.”
It happened every time. They met, they talked, and it ended in a kiss. Tonight it ended in his apartment, eastern exposure. Tonight it ended in his bed. It ended with her arms around him, his lips on hers, her whispers in his ear, his hands removing her clothes.
His cell rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Brennan’s ringtone. He glanced at the blonde and then at the phone, and back to her.
Flip. Click. “Booth.” He replied. “Yeah… alright… I’ll be in, in ten, Bones.” He closed the phone and turned his attention back to Buffy. “There’s… a lead on the case I’m working. It looked like vampires but they found some DNA… looks like it might actually be a person… seems to be all my job sends my way nowadays.”
Buffy nodded as she fumbled with a button on the front of her blouse. “Well, Agent Booth, I will let you get back to work.” She slid off his bed and slid her shoes back onto her feet. “And I will get back to mine.”
The ghost of a smile lingered on her lips, as she turned for the door.
“Miss Summers, could I get your contact information, just in case we need to… question you… for the case.” He asked as he pushed himself off the bed.
Her hand on the doorknob she glanced back at him. “I can’t. It’d ruin the whole tragic romance thing. Besides, if Seeley ever wanted to find Buffy… he’s FBI, he could’ve found her a long time ago.”
And she was gone. And he had to get back to the lab.