A/N: Quick note - in this universe, Angel and Spike died in the attack in LA. It's not really important what happened to the rest of Angel's gang, but it is worth noting that both Angel and Spike are definitely dead. And it was a few years ago, within the story, so Buffy and the others are over any grieving.
Patrick stared at the woman who looked up at him with childish delight in her eyes. A new toy? That was ... different. And possibly the creepiest thing he’d heard in a long time. He wondered how Red John had won her over. Wondered how he could explain how much danger she was in.
“Whatever he’s promised you, he’s going to kill you,” he said, filling his voice with as much conviction and sincerity as he could. He was unprepared for the way Red John started to laugh.
“I’m going to kill him,” she said sweetly, and laughed with joy. “He’s going to be my new Daddy. My old one died, you know,” she told him confidentially. “I like you. Your blood is singing to me, calling. I like that.” She reached out and ran one finger down his chest. “I can hear it singing. Can’t you hear it singing?” she asked Red John.
“No, dearest one. But I would like to hear him sing. Can you make him sing for me?”
“I like music.” She drifted around him, moving to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around him. Patrick twisted his head, trying to keep an eye on her. “No, no. You stand still. We want you to sing, not dance.”
“I don’t think I know any songs,” he said carefully. Whoever she was, she was clearly insane.
“No one knows the songs I like,” she said dolefully. “I think only the stars really know how to sing.”
“Probably.” Maybe if he agreed with her, he could make friends with her. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was making friends. “Why don’t we go look at the stars?”
She sighed. “No. The stars are hiding from the sun now. I don’t like the sun.” She was certainly as pale as death. “And I’m hungry.” He looked over his shoulder and took a ragged breath. The delicate features of the girl had morphed into the monstrous visage of the vampire. She smiled at him, revealing her fangs and Patrick closed his eyes.
The sting as her teeth broke through his skin was like a hundred injections all at once, the pain starting out as shock before deepening into real agony. He felt her take a long swallow, drawing his blood out and the pain made his head swim. The world shrunk to contain just him, just him and the pain in his shoulder, a fire that was slowly spreading through his body, burning along every vein. He felt his head droop forward, all strength abandoning him and gave in to the weakness that seemed to be taking over
So this was how he was going to die, he thought absently. He’d always thought it would be Red John himself who killed him, not someone else.
As he thought that, he felt her move away from him, her teeth tearing at him as she withdrew. He moaned softly, barely conscious, and heard her stamp her foot. “He didn’t sing.”
“You will make him sing next time, dearest one.”
Patrick managed to raise his head, unbearably weary, and found himself staring into her eyes. “Next time, you must promise you’ll sing.” Then she was gone, leaving him alone with the pain and the promise of next time.
Jason Remington did not currently look like a vampire. He was short and slight, with light blond hair that was tied up in a greasy ponytail. He really didn’t look intimidating, Lisbon thought, despite needing ten agents to take him out, three of whom were still in the hospital. She reminded herself of those agents, and the fights that she had seen since she met Buffy Summers. She sat on the edge of the desk, just inches away from the vampire and forced her voice to harden.
“You’re going to tell me everything you know about where Patrick Jane is, and then I might consider letting you go.”
“Or you’ll what?” he sneered. “You’re a cop. Cops have rules.”
“Yeah, we do. But only for actual suspects. You, you’re technically dead. I can do what I like to you.” She shrugged carelessly. “And I should mention, at this point, just so you know, I’ve met both Buffy and Faith.” She figured she wouldn’t need surnames, and sure enough, the vampire recoiled as though she’d hit him. “Yeah, that Buffy and Faith. They gave me some tips.”
“Buffy said that I should always offer both carrot and stick. The carrot is the possibility that I might let you go. The stick,” she paused and moved the large wooden cross to immediately in front of Remington. “This is the stick.” She picked it up and moved it to a couple of inches from his face. He flinched back, but she moved it forward again until she heard a sizzle and saw a small plume of smoke from his face.
“All right! All right!”
She leaned back, and the seared cheek on the vampire’s face made her feel a little sick. She’d just tortured someone. She’d just... She took a deep breath. This was for Jane. “Fine. What do you know?”
“Not much,” he warned. “Look, I was hired to grab the guy, that was all. This chick made me do it. She said,” he hesitated and looked frightened. “Look, there are some people, some vampires, that you just don’t cross. You didn’t cross Angelus, you didn’t cross Spike and you don’t cross Drusilla.”
“Drusilla. Never heard of her. You’re going to need to do better than that.” She picked up the cross again.
“No! No! Look, I promise you, I was told to grab that guy, and drive him to this other car park, when we gave him to this other guy. That was the last I saw of him! I swear it!”
“What did the other guy look like? Did he say anything?”
“He said that if I got caught, I was to tell you that Red John said hi.” He looked confused. “Who’s Red John?”
“Nothing that you need to worry about.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Cho, you can escort our guest to the front door. Make sure you take him out the front way.” She smiled. “It’s kind of sunny out there, but you’ll be fine.”
“Drusilla?” Van Pelt shook her head. “So now what?”
“Now we call Buffy and Xander again. Now that we have a name, maybe they can help out some more.”