Chapter Two

The victim’s name was Warren Benson. 

He was a Professor at the University of Kansas. He was single, in his forties and had moved to Lawrence from Oregon two years ago to accept the position on campus. Unlike most unmarried college professor in his early forties, he did not date pretty young co-eds as frequently as the semesters changed. Warren had moved to Lawrence with his fiancée Diane, who was paediatrician’s nurse by trade. Diane’s family lived in Lawrence and the move had been precipitated by his desire to keep his future wife’s family close by since he himself was an orphan. 

On the day of his death, he and Diane had been shopping for home wares for their new apartment. They’d made the run of the specialty stores in downtown Lawrence, including pausing a few local galleries and an antique store. Eventually, they ended their day at Buffalo Bob’s Smoke House on Massachusetts’s Drive. In the middle of the entrée, Warren had left the table to use the rest room in the rear of the restaurant. It would be the last time that Diane saw Warren Benson alive. 

They found him lying next to a dumpster twenty minutes later, after Diane had gone to search for him when he’d failed to return to their table. His body lay on the grimy floor, blood pooling around it amongst the rotting remains of discarded produce with his throat torn open. Warren appeared as if he had been mauled by an animal. However, there had been no sound of an animal or for that matter Warren’s cries while he was being attacked. Whatever had murdered Warren, had done it without either making a single sound. 

Sam and Dean’s first port of call was to investigate Buffalo Bob’s Smokehouse. Impersonating Agents Hope and Ehart of the FBI, another homage to Dean’s everlasting love of mullet music, they’d conned their way into the place and examined the crime scene. While the body had since been removed, the evidence of Warren Benson’s death was left within in the yellow police tape enclosing the spot he had fallen. The ground had since been scrubbed clean of blood and only a faint patch of clean remained of it in an otherwise filthy alley. 

Dean’s nose curled at the stench of garbage and disinfectant battling for supremacy and creating an unholy odour that did neither side any favours. He walked up the length of the alley, trying to see where this animal could have come from. If it was an animal at all. Perhaps there was a pet shop or something in the vicinity. However he discounted it because a dog would have attacked more than just the man’s neck and Warren’s injuries had been confined to one specific area on the man’s body. Nevertheless, it was smart to find a logical solution before deciding on a supernatural one. 

“Dean,” Sam called suddenly. “Come look at this.” 

Sam was standing at the wall next to the dumpster, staring at the brick wall. It was intact but the cement holding the bricks together had fissured in a half meter section of the wall from the top down to the base. The cracks in the concrete was not great enough to dislodge any of the bricks but a fine mist of mortar and cement dust had accumulated at the base of the wall. Sam ran his fingers along the concrete filling between the bricks and felt some of it crumble upon contact. 

Dean stared at the wall from side to side and had to agree. “It’s just this section of wall.” 

“That’s weird right?” Sam looked to his brother. 

“Pretty weird,” Dean agreed and produced the EMF meter tucked away in his jacket. He hadn’t thought they’d need this piece of equipment but like a boy scout, he liked to be prepared. Of course if anyoneever called him a boy scout, they would be killed as a lesson to the others. 

Flicking on the device he had built from bits he’d found at Bobby’s junkyard and an old Walkman, Dean’s eyes widened when the needle on the thing immediately perked up with life. The low cracking sound it made when it had detected unusually energy readings grew louder in intensity as he ran the EMF over the section of wall. 

“Could we be wrong?” Sam spoke out loud, not really expecting an answer. “Are we dealing with a ghost?” 

“This doesn’t feel like a ghost,” Dean retorted, lowering the device and considering the evidence before them. “But there’s something else going on here. We need to talk to his girlfriend, we need to see where he’s been.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, agreeing with him. 

*****

Buffy’s first order of business after she had left the Slice was to head back to school and her office. She communicated daily with Giles, Willow and Xander through emails, instant messenger and Facebook. Faith usually checked in with a text message from whatever location she was at to tell Buffy she was dropping by and get ready for a night out on the town. While their conversations were mostly social, when something relating to slaying cropped up, Buffy found that a phone call was the usually the fastest way to get in touch. 

It was 8 pm in England when Buffy called, hoping she got the mental calculations right before dialling. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up an old Watcher when he was trying to get his sleep. It made him really, really…wiggy. 

“Hi Giles,” Buffy spoke. 

“Hello Buffy,” Rupert Giles replied, the smile on his face as he sat at the desk in his study. “How are you?” 

Hearing his voice made Buffy burst into another bright smile, akin to the one that had bedazzled one Dean Winchester a short time ago. She never tired of hearing that reassuring voice that could make everything seem better when she felt things were at their worst. Even if she had accepted Hank Summers’ financial restitution for being a non-father, Giles as far as Buffy was concerned was her real dad in every way that mattered. 

“I’m good Giles,” Buffy answered, “but unfortunately this isn’t a social call. Something’s come up.” 

“Oh?” He asked and Buffy imagined him sitting straighter in his chair, pushing up his glasses further along the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”

“I overheard two guys at lunch today, talking about tracking a creature that they think killed somebody in town. I checked the news and there was a killing four days ago. The police don’t have any leads and it could well be a vamp but these guys…” she thought of Dean with the voice that moved over her skin like molasses and shook her head, “these guys were talking like they were used to catching monsters and they mentioned something called a rugaru. Does the Council have a crew in town and not told me about it?” Buffy asked though she didn’t think that Sam and Dean were Watcher material. Still it never hurt to ask. 

“Of course not,” Giles said automatically, almost offended that she’d asked. He’d never sanction any team being sent to Lawrence without telling Buffy first. “A rugaru you say?” He asked again. 

“Yes,” Buffy nodded. 

“Hold on a moment,” he told her and Buffy heard him putting down the receiver. The comforting sound of old pages being flipped was transmitted across the Atlantic as Giles consulted his books. 

As she waited, she considered what she would wear that evening to meet Dean. Woah, you’re there to pump him for information remember? Buffy groaned. She couldn’t believe her mind just went there. 

“Here it is,” Giles said a moment later, snapping Buffy out of sinful thoughts about Dean and his hotness. “This is very interesting, the rougarou is a shape shifting creature from the French-speaking communities of southern Louisiana, ‘garou’ meaning ‘a man who transform into an animal’.”

“Like a werewolf?” She asked still unhappy that she hadn’t known what the creature was, now that her mind was back on business. 

“Not quite,” Giles returned. “They do not affect a physical transformation like a werewolf but they do have change eye colour, into black if this picture is correct. It appears the condition arose from three hundred years ago when some settlers lost in the Louisiana bayou. Starving, they were forced into cannibalism and it was somehow transmitted through their genetic line. The present day rugaru are descendant of those settlers.”

“How come I’ve never heard of this?” She demanded, her tone almost accusatory. 

“They’re very rare Buffy,” Giles huffed. “There’s been only one or two reported cases. You say these men were aware of it?”

“Not just aware of it,” she retorted. “They sounded like they’d come across them before.” 

“Hmm…” Giles said in a tone she knew all too well. “If you’re willing to come out of retirement, it might be worth investigating who these men are.” He suggested. 

“Oh I’m already on it,” Buffy replied. “I’m meeting one of them for drinks tonight.” 

She could hear his disapproval over the phone. “Relax Giles, he thinks I’m some cute blond who finds he’s hot. I’m just doing it to get more information. I’ve handled vampires, gods and cyber monsters, I think can handle one cute guy in a leather jacket.” 

“Oh really?” Giles retorted. “I seem to recall….”

“I’m hanging up Giles,” she said shortly and did just that. 

******

Agents Hope and Ehart had hoped to find Warren Benson’s fiancée, Diane Lee at campus housing at the University of Kansas where the victim had taught. However, the woman had given up the residence and gone home to her parents who lived in a nice home in Hancock. The nurse was still in a state of shock and it had taken some convincing by Sam and Dean for her parents let them talk to her. They were first generation immigrants from China who still viewed American authorities with some suspicion and would only consent to having Diane greet them on the front porch but no further. 

Even in her bereaving state, Diane was somewhat more hospitable than her family. While she did not disobey her parents’ determination to keep the FBI out of their home and their affairs, she did join Sam and Dean on the porch to allow them to carry out their interview. She was a young woman in her thirties, pretty and kind. The type of girl you spent your life with and Dean couldn’t help feeling angry for her loss. You get life all planned out and some monster with impulse control ends it for you from the time it takes to leave the restaurant table to the time it takes to get to the bathroom. 

Life was a bitch alright. 

“I’m not sure what more I can tell you,” Diane sniffed. Her eyes were red from crying and she was doing everything she could to maintain her composure as she sat on the swing porch in front of the two men in their dark suits. The tall one could use a haircut, she thought offhandedly. “I told the police everything I know.” 

“I know ma’am,” Sam spoke kindly, “and we’re sorry to make you rehash it all. We’re operating on the possibility that this might not have been an isolated crime and we just wanted to check our bases before we make that determination.” 

“Alright,” she nodded. “How can I help you?” 

Dean dropped to his knees so that he could make eye contact and asked, “Can you tell us what you did that day. Was there anything out of ordinary? Anyone you might have come into contact with that seemed odd or out of place?”

She didn’t speak for a second, considering the question. “We were shopping for the new apartment. We hadn’t been there very long and Ren didn’t have new linens. We were just shopping down town, went to a few of the department stores to buy things at the apartment. We stopped at the Framewood and Phoenix Galleries and our last stop was the Lawrence Antique Mall. Then we went to Buffalo Bob’s.” 

“Did you buy anything at the antique store?” Sam asked. There were all kinds of mystical objects that could appear perfectly innocuous to the unsuspecting buyer until their true nature was revealed, usually to fatal consequences. 

“No,” she shook her head. “We were just browsing.” 

“Too bad,” Dean grumbled, drawing a puzzled expression from Diane before he recanted quickly. “I mean too bad that this happened to you ma’am. I’m real sorry.” He apologised for the gaffe. 

Sam frowned, thinking that antique store might be worth a look anyway but at present this appeared to be a dead end. Unfortunately, the only thing to do now was to wait for another body and see if there was a pattern they could follow. Dean had fired off a few more question at the woman at where the antique store was and whether or not Warren had any enemies. However, other than a few students who were unhappy about their grade, the man had never harmed a soul in his life. 

“Thank you for your help ma’am,” Sam said after Dean was done, “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

*****

“What now?” Sam asked as they headed back to the Impala. Dean was already loosening the tie around his neck. 

“Well you look kind of wasted,” Dean said eyeing his brother. It concerned him that Sam’s condition as he completed each of the goddamn trials to close Hell’s Gates was taking its toll on him. “Let’s get back to the hotel, you can get some rest and we’ll check out the antique store tomorrow. It’s getting late in the day anyway.” 

“You just want to meet up with your blond cheerleader,” Sam retorted, giving Dean a knowing look. 

“Hell yeah,” Dean grinned. “That smile Sammy. Right here, right between the eyes.” He tapped the middle of his forehead. 

“I think your aim’s off,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Try a little further south.” 

“That’s cold man,” Dean returned with a smirk but didn’t deny it. 

*******

Buffy had never been to been to the Dynamite Saloon even though she had seen a number of times when she was walking down Massachusetts Drive. It was situated across the Buffalo Bob’s Smokehouse and as Buffy parked her car and walked towards the place, she suspected that the only reason that Dean had picked the establishment was because it was across the street from the crime scene where the body of Warren Benson had been found. 

If she had any doubt that she was out of practice with…well just about everything, it was how long it took for her to get dressed to make her date with Dean…what was his last name? Damn, she hadn’t even gotten his last name! Infuriated at her lapse, she was determined to get what she needed from him, one way or another. Keeping a different set of clothes in a tote bag on the back seat, Buffy dressed for a date. She wore a V neck kimono type blouse of pink Japanese silk that provided an ample but tasteful view of cleavage, a straight white skirt with a high slit and a gold sling backs. 

If this outfit doesn’t get him talking, nothing would, she told herself. 

Walking into the Saloon, its décor was a mixture of wood panelling and deep burgundy colours. The lighting was ambient and the seats were mostly private booths although there was a row of stools against the bar. It was a Wednesday night and the bar wasn’t as very busy. She sought him out among the faces leaning against the counter, ordering drinks. Buffy saw him standing up, his gaze meeting hers and once again, he gave her that look. The one that lacked the swagger of their first encounter, the one she couldn’t quite read. 

Walking up to her in the middle of the saloon floor, Dean ran an appreciative gaze over her from head to toe. “Damn,” he exclaimed, clearly pleased by what he saw. “You look incredible.” 

Even though this was supposed to be business, Buffy was rather flattered by the reaction and a bloom of colour appeared in her cheeks. “Thanks,” she offered him a grateful smile when she saw his sharp intake of breath. 

“Come on let’s sit down,” he stepped back and gestured to an empty booth. “What are you drinking?” 

“Uhm... I’m not so good with alcohol,” she confessed but didn’t want to seem like a complete dysfunctional. “What would you recommend?”

Dean tried not to smirk, “I’ll get you some iced tea.”

“That sounds good,” she said relieved that he hadn’t got her scotch or something stronger. 

Dean went to the counter, ordered himself a beer and got Buffy a Long Island ice tea before returning to the dimly lit booth where she was waiting. When she’d walked into the bar, she’d literally left him jaw on the floor. The surge of desire that surfaced in him was so strong, he almost considered asking her if she really wanted to waste time with drinks when they could be doing the nasty right this minute. With all the crap that was going on right now with the trials and Sam’s deteriorating state as he tried to complete them, Dean would take all the comfort he could get from a pretty face. 

And damn, what a pretty face it was. 

“So what’s a gorgeous thing like you doing in a town like this?” Dean asked when he slid into the booth across her. 

“Well that’s a little better than asking me if I know a good motel,” Buffy teased. “Really, is that your best pick up line?” 

Dean laughed and leaned forward, a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes, “well it definitely wasn’t my worst. I once tried to pick up a single mom with the line ‘kids are great’, like I had any experience of that.” 

“Ewww,” Buffy made a face at him and joined in his laughter, liking it that he wasn’t afraid to make that revelation. “That one does kind of suck.” 

“Told you,” Dean admitted smiling, “so now that we’ve established I suck at pick-up lines, what is a nice girl like you doing in Lawrence?” 

“Rolled into town one day three years ago and decided this was a good place to settle.” Buffy replied.

Three years ago. She’d mentioned it before but he hadn’t realised its significance until he thought about it now. Despite himself, he couldn’t help wince inside. He had also been in Lawrence three years ago. When Lucifer had taken Sam and the Apocalypse had been averted. He’d lost Sam that day and had walked away from the life or so he thought. 

Shake it off Dean, he told himself, shake it off. That’s in the past and tonight is about the girl and her killer smile, not to mention her terrific body, he thought as he snuck a peak down the blouse she was wearing, tantalised by the creamy skin of her partially exposed breasts. 

Recalibrating to the business at hand, which was the woman in front of him, Dean admitted, “I used to live here when I was kid,” he volunteered. “It’s a nice town.” 

“You did?” She asked, feigning surprise when she recalled him saying so when she had been eavesdropping on him and his brother. “Why did you move away?”

What a question, Dean thought and decided he had opened the door in the first place. He was past the days when talking about his mom elicited sorrow and pain. He and Sam had been through much worse traumas since then. “When my mom died. My dad moved me and Sammy out of here.” Dean answered, deciding that the best answer was often a half-truth.

“Oh,” Buffy’s expression dropped, not wishing to bring back what was obviously a painful memory bythe effort he took to hide in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I lost my mom a few years back too. It’s never easy is it?” Without thinking, her hand drifted to Dean’s. 

Dean lowered his gaze to the hand across his and felt a rush of feeling. At that moment, he didn’t just want to fuck her, he wanted to spend the whole night making love to her. It was just so out of character for him.

“No it isn’t,” he said quietly, finding himself trying to regain his cocky demeanour. What the hell? In the past, Dean could use stuff like this to ride right into a chick’s bed. Why was it so goddamn hard to be that guy again? “But hey,” he perked up again, “life happens right? So you moved here three years ago and what do you do now?”

“I’m a guidance counsellor,” Buffy answered before taking a sip of the iced tea that was set on table by the waitress. She noted his discomfort at allowing her to see his grief, even if it was mutually shared and let the matter slide. She could understand his need to be so guarded. There was a time when Buffy was similarly armoured but these days empathy was part of the job description. 

Dean was just about to take a swig of his beer when she answered and he held the bottle still as his jaw dropped in surprise. “Get out. You’re a guidance counsellor? Man if they had guidance counsellors like you when I was in school, I’d be seeing you every day.” 

“Oooh, you’re getting better at this.” Buffy said impressed. 

Another grin escaped him and Dean retorted with typical confidence, “Darlin, you have no idea how good I can be.” He winked at her and drank. 

It would be so easy for Buffy to get lost in his bravado and his voice but she reminded herself that she had a job to do. “So what do you for a living, Dean?” She asked as she took another sip of her iced tea. It tasted yummy and she had to give him credit for knowing how to order a good drink.

“Vermin control,” he said automatically. That wasn’t exactly a lie either, just a gross understatement of the job. 

“Vermin control?” Buffy actually laughed out loud. She knew that he was some kind of amateur monster hunter and supposed vermin control could be a way of describing it. Thank God she never had to come up with an excuse to give people about slaying. Then again, she had made some lame excuses in the past too. “And your brother?” 

“He rides shot gun and screams whenever he sees a mouse,” Dean declared with a smirk and then added more seriously, “He’s my partner.” 

“That’s sweet,” Buffy replied, suspecting that there was more to it than that, “like a family business.” 

Dean stared at her and that odd smile crossed his lips again, “Yeah something like that.” 

“Okay, what is that?” Buffy replied, catching the look and wanted to know what it was about. 

“What?” Dean asked caught off guard. 

“You have something face.” She pointed out. 

“I have what?” He exclaimed, staring at her incredulously. This chick was crazy but he liked it. “What’s something face?”

“You keep giving me this look,” Buffy said half teasing and half wanting to know. “I can’t figure it out.” 

“That just makes me mysterious,” he eased back against the seat, smiling cockily because she was so damn cute, even when she was trying to be serious. He liked her and Dean was surprised by how much. 

“Mysteries are just stuff you haven’t figure out yet,” she returned with narrowed eyes. “Fess up Dean, what are you thinking?” 

Okay honey, you asked for it. 

He was either going to get slapped in the face or get very lucky. Dean was gambling on it being the latter because he knew she was into him and to his surprise, he was into her as well. Not just for sex but that was a good start. “I’m thinking,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, gesturing her close so he she could hear him before saying huskily, “I’d like to get you in a room somewhere, where I can spend the night spreading you open and tasting you until you come screaming my name.” 

Buffy turned bright red, trying to formulate thought when his voice created such vivid imagery in her head. He was trying to unbalance her like he did this morning. However, when he stared at her with such heated intensity, it was hard to avoid being affected. 

“Does that whole…uhm line… ever work?” She asked after a moment, somewhat flustered but still maintaining some semblance of control. 

However, Dean was cheering inwardly. She hadn’t slapped him which meant she was interested and he knew the signs of aroused woman. “You tell me,” he spoke, still using the same seductive tone. “You’re still here .” 

“I’m trying to decide whether or not you think you’re that irresistible or I’m that easy,” she finally managed to respond. 

Despite her return serve, Buffy was uncertain how to take his brash manner. Angel had never been that way and while Spike was, she knew he was masking his own lack of self-worth and that evened out the balance between them. Riley was always so sensitive and well Parker was just an asshole. She was struggling to decide if Dean was being a jerk who just wanted to get into her pants or did he feel some deeper connection that had no need of the usual rules of courtship. 

“Darlin’ I don’t think you’re easy,” Dean replied on surer ground. “I think you’re fucking spectacular and I meant every word I said. Come on Counsellor, take a ride with me on the wild side.” 

That damn drawl again, the one that moved over her skin like molasses, making her heart pound and her breathing shallow. Had it been that long since the last time she had been with a guy that he was affecting her this way? Or was it the connection she had felt the instant their eyes had touched this morning? Buffy forgot all about her plan to learn more about him and attended to her own personal wants. When it came to men, she had the worst luck and she liked him, liked his swagger and the oh so obvious alpha male thing he had going. 

She just didn’t want to make a fool of herself, again. 

Buffy opened her mouth to answer Dean when suddenly someone started screaming.

TO BE CONTINUED