Chapter Two: Vampire Hunter, SBPD

* * * * *

She had missed the round of yells, her name included several times, along with unanswered orders of to "cease and desist," as if she were actually in a position to obey.

She was coming back, blinking, her mouth shaping a groan. A whirl of imagery, heavy black, pressed down on her, held her body against the floor; on her cheek, a glop of red, as if a brush full of paint had splattered, clotted. Foreign, a substance sliding in a curve down her neck, prickling, tightening her. She gasped, both voice and breath shuddering and dying in her throat— or was it in his? Trapped? Swallowed? Enjoyed? She shook herself hard, not wanting whatever it was her lips told her she wanted. I want to be fed. As she became more aware, it dawned that someone very strong was holding onto her by the shoulders, shaking them occasionally.

Feed me, a version of Shawn said within her with his teeth, not moving his lips. Shawn, with his orange-red bleeding twilight eyes, with his teeth, again, pulling his cracked lips into a grin. She shuddered, her hands flying to neck. Smooth— no wounds, no . . . blood. Juliet opened her eyes.

* * * * *

Juliet blinked furiously, as if sleep had covered her eyelids for ages— one hundred years in a couple of minutes. Or seconds, only seconds? She heard her name said twice, in a rush. She turned her head slowly towards her protector, realizing that Lassiter's arms were the ones around her, propping her up so her back wasn't on the cold floor. Another shake jarred her, stopped only by Vick. "Carlton, she's awake." The motion stopped, and he turned his face towards hers. His concern was obvious, stretched across his face like a Halloween mask— it had him at every edge and wrinkle. Juliet was already expecting that he wouldn't be able to throw his voice, and thus was able to suppress a wince when he started in immediately with questions.

"What do you last remember?" Lassiter asked her, somewhat gruffly. "Are you sick? Why didn't you say something to me when you came in? Not that you have any right to be sick on Halloween."

"Carlton," Vick chided.

Lassiter frowned, but couldn't help grumbling, "You should have told me right away, so I could have told you right away to 'walk it off'."

"Detective," Vick warned. His frown continued, but he said nothing more.

Everyone was peering at her, concerned. Shawn's pale face was standing out. "You okay, Jules?" he asked, his voice muffled by the teeth. Juliet averted her eyes, not having to feign embarrassment.

"Um." Juliet flushed slightly, her fingers reaching up to brush her forehead. She wasn't about to tell them anything— was there even the most minute of chances it could have really—? Juliet shook her head. "Coming into the office," she said. "And— Shawn— um, walking towards me." It was enough of the truth; she knew if she said "floating", it was to be a straight-jacketed psychological evaluation for sure.

The four of them exchanged a quick look that Juliet didn't miss, Shawn to Gus and Vick to Lassiter. "What?" she asked, glancing quickly at Lassiter, before skimming her eyes quickly over Shawn and Gus to settle on the Chief. "What?"

"Spencer didn't walk towards you," Lassiter told her slowly. "You were just standing by the door and then you keeled over."

"Oh," Juliet replied, furrowing her brow. "I must have . . ." her voice trailed off.

"Are you all right, Detective?" Vick asked, concerned.

She nodded. So, she hadn't screamed? She hadn't been bitten, repeatedly, she hadn't been sort of kissed and then devoured here, while they watched, while their figures darkened, while a white fog embraced the room? Leaving only herself and him to— "S-sorry, I'm fine now." She tried to untangle her limbs from her partner's grasp, insisting with her expressions that she was okay, because she wasn't certain she entirely trusted her own voice. Not right now.

"You were staring at me pretty intensely though, Jules," Shawn piped up. He raised both eyebrows, caked, it seemed, with some fake blood. "Did you see a ghost?"

Vick's eyes narrowed while Gus handled a flash of fear, covering it with a frown at his best friend. Juliet appeared frightened by the prospect, but looked away without answering.

Lassiter, acting unusually chivalrous, keep a hold of Juliet's arms as he helped her to her feet. When she tugged her arms, he cleared his throat and let her go, but remained close, as if he expected whatever spell that had touched her hadn't yet passed. She couldn't help her skewered sideways look in his direction— was he masquerading today as some kind of— white knight? Or would it be "gray" knight, because of the enduring rain cloud over his head? This little bit of humor to herself should have done in her tension with its familiarity, but she couldn't banish it, not with Shawn still standing in the room— especially when he was dressed like that.

But, wasn't it impossible? The fog, the floating, not to mention the biting— while everyone else faded to blackness as premature nighttime came in through the windows, the tighter he held her, the tighter he kissed her— Juliet swayed.

"Is that blood on your shirt, Shawn?" Juliet blurted out, feeling her partner's long fingers encircle her arm.

"Blood?" Gus cut in, some nausea evident in his voice. He cautiously peered around Shawn to examine the white shirt, and then rolled his eyes. "I thought you were going to wash that off."

Adjusting his steps to Juliet's slower gait— her face was flushed as if she were fevered— Lassiter walked his partner to one of the chairs in front of Vick's desk. "I'm going to get her some water," Lassiter informed Vick, who nodded. Lassiter glared sharply at Shawn before leaving.

"Geez, it was a just a jelly donut," Shawn was mumbling, still wearing the teeth. "I thought it made a nice effect."

"It grosses people out, Shawn," Gus said.

"No, it grosses you out. It's not even blood."

"It looks like blood!"

"That's why it's good effect!"

"It's not an 'effect'— it makes you look like a slob!"

"So what? Are all vampires really the neatest eaters? Come on, that blood stuff goes everywhere. Haven't you ever seen Psycho?"

"Psycho is not a vampire movie, Shawn. Scream Blacula Scream, now that was classic!"

"Don't you mean Blacula Is Beautiful?"

"Blacula used to give me nightmares," Karen muttered, smoothing out her "Against All Odds" t-shirt. Juliet scrunched up her nose, catching the low comment.

"I've heard it both ways," Gus retorted. He and Shawn pointed at each other. "Blood stuff?" Gus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Shawn said, as if he were saying "Duh". "Corn syrup. Ketchup. Chocolate syrup. That goo they make those blood flavored Jelly Bellies out of."

"Shawn, there are officially fifty flavors of Jelly Bellies, and 'blood' is not one of them."

"But don't some of those red ones taste like blood to you?"

Gus glared. "Noo." He sighed. "Damn, now I'm kind of hungry."

Shawn nodded. "Me too. But not all of them at once."

"Hell no."

"And make sure you keep the Crushed Pineapple ones away from me. They taste like sewage but are they addicting?!" Shawn paused for dramatic effect. "Yes! Yes they are!" He sighed. "Good times." Gus nodded. "But dude, back to what I was saying, Psycho was so too a vampire movie! I could have been the star!" He threw out his arms, causing the black cape to flap in the air— similar sounds to that of a bat's wings on the wind. He continued, "Janet Leigh in the shower, the midget zombie dressed like a grandmother yanking open the curtain, biting her brain repeatedly—"

Gus's mouth pulled into a tight line, signifying that he was not about to dignify that with an answer. He was not also about to say that he was now afraid to take a shower ever again.

Shawn opened his mouth wide, steering his teeth in the direction of Gus's head. "It won't hurt," he said with grin when Gus locked his knees and took two straight legged steps back. He tried to glare but failed, instead reaching up to pat his head as if Shawn had actually managed to get too close. "Don't joke about that, Shawn," he said quietly. Juliet hunched forward, her skin tinted green.

Behind them, Vick cleared her throat. She wasn't thrilled she'd been sucked into their banter. They turned, and she promptly cleared them out of her office with one stern look. Shawn couldn't help asking one more time on the way out. "It's for a good cause, Chief!"

"If the both of you are not in the hallway in five seconds flat, I will call Officer McNab down here to eat your brains— he's turned himself into a zombie for the day." Karen smirked as the pair immediately lost any eager, contrived smiles. She should have felt bad that Mr. Guster looked downright ill, but she didn't. The pair fought for a moment for purchase of the threshold, Gus winning out and vanishing down the hall in a flash.

Once they were gone, Vick took some time to eye the Junior Detective with more concern. When she had entered, Detective O'Hara had seemed just fine— but upon locking eyes with Shawn Spencer— Vick scrunched her nose and furrowed her brows. "Did Mr. Spencer say or do something?" she blurted without thinking it through, surprised to see Juliet inhale sharply then hold in the breath, leaning back in the chair to do so.

"Detect—" Vick began, startled, her metal bangles jangling against one another as she reached out for Juliet's shoulder.

Juliet exhaled, blinking repeatedly. She shook her head, then gripped the back of the chair and tried to stand. "This is silly," she muttered, her eyes drifting towards Vick, though she continued to speak as if only to herself. "It was a fluke. I'm fine. I have work to do." She was on her feet before Karen could stop her, but the Chief's hand did land on her shoulder. Juliet forced a smile, elongating her mouth to make it extra bright— it had to be convincing. "Chief, I'm sorry. I don't know what— it was nothing." She shook her head lightly, wondering what she could do to make Vick release her. "Carlton will gripe at me for a week if I don't go help him— he's right, Halloween is extra psycho overtime time."

"I resent that," Lassiter said, reentering with two small paper cups of water.

Juliet's smile shrunk, but a teasing bit remained on her mouth. "No, you don't. And you're right anyway."

Lassiter usually preened and puffed out his chest to hear such things— he loved to be right and he loved to hear it, but he took her comment with grace: a barely noticeable twitch that could or could not resemble a smile before his mouth set itself back to her care. "Drink," he said, handing over both cups.

"Sip," Vick instructed, as if Juliet had forgotten how to ingest water. "It's not a shot."

Juliet sighed under her breath, taking the waters and doing as asked, refraining from questioning either of her superiors. When she was finished, she stacked the cups one inside the other and crumpled them with a quick squeeze of fist. "Thank you— I'm fine, really." To prove it, she took the first steps away from them before recalling that Vick had requested their appearance. She turned, all business. "Chief, what did you have for us?"

Juliet was surprised when her partner and the Chief exchanged a quick look— those two were not the conspiratorial types with each other. She was a little angered by it at first, but she reasoned she could forgive them— she had obviously startled them with her— what was it? She couldn't dwell on what had happened; it made her feel ill that she couldn't explain it.

* * * * *

I've known you from dreams— I've known you all my life— every night, every night. You bend down as if to kiss me goodnight, a caress, something sweet— sweet meat, something raw, scratching your claws down my arms. I never asked— I never asked— but I want your kiss. I breathe your kiss. I . . .

Juliet bit her lip hard, twisting sharply in her chair, her spine popping twice. Daydreaming— she glanced around quickly; if her partner or the Chief were to catch her zoning out— She sighed. I breathe your kiss. . . .

"Hey, Jules."

Juliet jumped in her chair, running her palm quickly over her pinned back hair, as if, like in those dreams, her strands were loose, were tangled against the clothing he wore as he pressed down against her— Juliet blushed furiously, ducking her head. She forced out a smile, forced herself to look up at him, hoping the entire time he wouldn't use his psychic senses to see right through her. "Hi, Shawn. Is there something I can do for you?"

Shawn smiled wider; faltering slightly when his grin caused the plastic teeth to ride his tongue like a raft. Turning his head, he managed to spit them into his cupped palm with very little drool. Juliet was watching the whole time, finding herself relieved when the teeth came out, though she chided herself for being unnerved by plastic. Shawn cupped the teeth into a fist, dropping the arm to his side while wiping the string of drool on the back of his cape.

A hint of smile made it to Juliet's lips. She waited.

"I wanted to check on you," he said, trying to look humble and not at all sheepish.

Juliet's hand flew up, patting her hair again before gesturing over her head. "Oh, that? I don't— I don't know what that was." She glanced at his eyes to be assured of their correct color, and then looked away.

"You don't pass out," Shawn continued softly. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine." She sighed. "Tired, maybe, but who isn't? It wasn't anything to worry about— but thanks for your concern."

He smiled. "Jules, I think you should let me talk to the Chief for you— get her to send you home, where I'd tuck you into bed, all snuggley-wuggley—" He hugged his arms around his own body as if to demonstrate what she was missing out on.

She felt her cheeks grow hot, yet also felt as if the color was draining from her. Juliet rolled her eyes then. "Get real."

"Come on, Jules," Shawn continued, advancing her quickly, causing the cape to swirl about him. When he smiled again, she could see teeth. But not his own. . . . "Don't you want someone to care for you?"

Her mouth froze. "What the hell are you talking about, Shawn?"

He raised his eyebrows, pulling a grin before washing it with sympathy. "Chicken soup, fluffy pillows, 80's teen horror movie marathons— cuddling. I've already got Friday the 13th parts 1 thru Freddy vs. Jason at the Psych office." He leaned in closer, close enough so she could taste his breath.

"Get lost, Spencer," Lassiter crabbed, knocking Shawn in the shoulder as he passed to create some distance between these two. They were like magnets, the ones attracted to one another, instead of the ones repelled from the other. He'd personally appointed himself to keeping them as far apart as possible as long as he could— given new fuel by the incident a little earlier. Juliet hadn't said a word to him, but since he'd been the one holding onto her, he'd seen that she'd flinched and winced nearly every time Spencer drew closer to her. Something was off; usually he was sickened by their nonstop flirtations, ones he'd taken to ignoring— but whatever this was was harder to ignore.

And he wouldn't go as far to say that his partner seemed unconfident today, but he would agree, should anyone ask, that she was distracted— and for some reason, uncomfortable. Lassiter did not like this. He needed her to be at the top of her game; there were loonies afoot, plus the typical crazies and assholes now hyped up on extra sugar and booze— he sneered at the possibilities right in front of him. "O'Hara's working," he told Spencer, turning so he was flush with Juliet, so she was able to see him when he threw an arm out and caught his palm on Spencer's shoulder. Shawn stumbled back a step.

"Geez, Lassie, I was just trying to invite Jules to a Halloween party." He grinned again, pretending not to see the glare stretching the wrinkles around Lassiter's eyes. "That has a good chance of being departmentally funded."

Lassiter's frown deepened.

"Can't, Shawn," Juliet said shortly. "Busy— work— duty." With possible gun play on my mind. . . . Do bullets kill vampires?

"Duty-smooty, it's Halloween!" He bounced on the balls of his feet.

"What did you just say?" Lassiter snapped, a devilish light illuminating his pale face. "Doing our jobs does not take a holiday, Spencer."

Shawn straightened, staring at his hand as if mentally counting fingers. A few seconds later, he raised his eyes, confused. "Lassie, I talked to my hand and we both agree that what you just said makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense!" Lassiter sneered, though his brow furrowed slightly, going through the words again.

"It does not—"

"Who's the Head Detective here, me or you?"

"What does that have anything to do with you making sense disgracing Halloween?" Shawn shot back, "a glorious night of an endless, free sugar rushes, tight, short and sexy female costumes— on the ladies, I mean— and a free pass on all pranks everywhere?"

When the two leaned in as if this stupid argument would come to blows, Juliet grumbled loud enough for both of them to glance at her. She had leaned forward, had pressed her forehead to her palms. "He means that our job is the job, everyday, day in, night out, day out and night in, even on National holidays." She dropped her hands, fixing Shawn with a cold look, before forcing herself to say the words. "Now, get lost."

Lassiter raised an eyebrow, wondering at the same time as Shawn if Juliet had perhaps hit her head when she fainted earlier. Of course, Lassiter knew this wasn't possible, as he'd reacted quickly and caught her before she could end up hurt. He found himself grinning at this "new" Juliet— hoping this wasn't only a "costume" for today.

"Jules!" Shawn gasped, turning his mouth into a wide "O". Quickly, he popped the plastic teeth back over his own and tried out a seductive grin.

"Nice drool," Lassiter snickered.

Shawn sucked some of the escaping salvia back into his mouth, wiping the rest quickly on his white sleeve— an action which also happened to transfer a bit of the red paint drawn on the side of his mouth— and went back to his grin. "Don't you want to join me for a Halloween party, Jules?"

Juliet stared at Shawn's mouth, a flash of light teasing her that the teeth were more than plastic. She shook her head vigorously, willing whatever this happened to be— remnants of the dream, or something else, here, unseen— she scrunched her mouth. She knew herself and she knew she was usually tougher than this.

"It would be a private party, just so you know," Shawn continued, "just the two of us— candlelight, moonlight, a bottle of sweet wine with some Mountain Dew Code Red as a chaser, feeding each other Twizzlers and Snickers bars—"

Lassiter frowned again, making a noise that suggested his disbelief and disgust.

Deciding to be tough, Juliet rolled her eyes, and then she turned to Lassiter and asked for a favor— one that shocked them both and again had them wondering whether she had actually hit her head. "Carlton, could you please escort Shawn as far away from my desk as possible?"

Lassiter's mouth dropped open— then he grinned with his whole face. He'd already been about to throw a punch, being sickened listening to Spencer's continued flirting with his partner, who still appeared strangely drained of her usual sunny color. His arm snaked out and his hand clamped down on Shawn's shoulder.

"Ow, Lassie," Shawn complained, "that hurts." As her partner walked Shawn away from her, Shawn's cape billowed out behind him before swirling again to rest against his back. He managed one straggled look behind him, at her, but was reined in by a sharp tug on his shoulder. Shawn grunted and whined.

"Oops," Lassiter mumbled, giddy with a smirk. "Thanks for making my day, partner," he threw over his shoulder to her.

Juliet felt a sense of control returning to see Shawn go— even though she didn't always mind when he was around. Juliet saw Shawn lean his head in as if to bite Lassiter's hand with his plastic mouth.

"Try it and you'll be three days in a cell," Lassiter threatened. Juliet found herself in a smile. It was nice to have her own personal vampire hunter at her side for the day— very nice.