A/N - I own nothing

V Is For...

Sam is early for school, an event so rare that it should have been marked down in the Guinness Book of World Records. Luckily, there is no one there to take note of it, which means no one is there to ask just what it is that he is doing.

He walks through the school corridor quickly, trying to project a confidence that he does not feel. Meanwhile, his stomach churns violently, making him regret the half bowl of cereal he just about managed to finish that morning. His satchel, slung casually over one shoulder feels uncomfortably conspicuous despite the small size and weight of the extra item he is carrying.

His target is just ahead. Sam quickens his pace slightly. The corridor is still empty; he begins to think that this might actually work.

As he turns the final corner, he freezes. Walking in the opposite direction, is Edgar Frog. Sam curses to himself. He turns around quickly and feigns interest in the art display on the wall, but Edgar has seen him. He raises a hang in greeting and walks toward him. Sam groans inwardly.

It should have been so easy. The alphabetical allocation of lockers put Emerson and Frog practically next door to each other. All he has to do is stand near his, reach over and slide the card through the narrow gap at the top of Edgar's. Easy in theory, but in practice very, very difficult.

The only time he gets to opportunity to visit his locker is between classes, which is when the corridor is swimming with other students. There is every possibility he will successfully complete his mission, but then turn around to leave and find himself staring at Edgar. He isn't ready for that. He wants to tell him, but at the same time, he doesn't want him to know. And that is the beauty of Valentine's Day. Anonymity. He can let Edgar know that someone likes him, without telling him who it is.

He glances furtively around him, but sees no one that he knows. There are a few students still in the corridor, but most of them are hurrying to their next class, trying to beat the bell. They aren't interested in what the new kid is up to. He carefully unzips his bag and reaches inside. He feels for the envelope, finding it at the bottom, sandwiched between his geography and Spanish text books.

He pulls the envelope up to the top of the bag but keeps it concealed until the last minute. Slowly and carefully, he sidesteps toward Edgar's locker ready to slip the card inside.

"Hey, Sam."

He feels a hand touch his arm and jerks guiltily, looking up to see Alan looking at him.

Sam clears his throat and tries not to look guilty. "Oh. Hey, what's up?" he asks.

Alan shrugs. "History," he says. "Civil war."

"Oh yeah," Sam says. "Great topic. You should go. Don't want to miss it."

Alan shakes his head, disinterested and shows no sign of leaving. Sam sighs to himself and lets go of the card, allowing it to fall back into the bottom of his bag. Spanish awaits him, and he is already running late.

Sam waits until approximately halfway through the class before raising his hand and requesting a bathroom break. The teacher eyed him dubiously, but Sam gave her his best innocent face and finally she nods. He grabs his bag and makes for the door.

"¿Señor Emerson?" She calls after him as he flees the room. "I can't think of any reason why you need your schoolbooks in the bathroom."

Sam turns, caught out. The entire class is staring at him now, and he feels himself blush deep red. He drops the bag at the classroom door, and walks out. He finds himself in a deserted corridor. A perfect opportunity ruined.

Just to spite the teacher, he uses the hall pass to stroll around the school for a while, ducks into the bathroom simply because he can, and waits for the color to drain from his cheeks. Finally, he returns to his desk, collecting the bag as he re-enters the classroom, and doesn't listen to a thing anyone says all lesson.

Lunch break is useless. He always spends it with Edgar and Alan. Changing that routine would arouse suspicion. Instead they sit outside in the sun, sharing a bag of potato chips and making plans for their next hunt. Math comes straight after lunch, and Edgar is in the same class. When the bell rings they walk there together. Sam begins give up hope of being able to follow his plan though.

Sam really tries to concentrate during geography, but it isn't his favorite subject at the best of times. He squirms in his seat and tries his best to appear interested as he makes notes from the boring text book on different kinds of rocks.

His last chance is fast approaching. As he watches the minute hand of the clock above the blackboard slowly move toward the final bell of the day, he feels himself begin to sweat. If he can't escape at the moment the bell rings and be one of the first ones in the corridor, he will have blown it.

To make matters worse, the geography teacher has been looking at him strangely all lesson. His complete lack of concentration must be obvious. He tries his best to appear unobtrusive, but it seems to make no difference.

He reaches down to the bag at his feet and checks one final time that the card has not somehow disappeared from inside it. It is still there, a red envelope, with Edgar's name on the front, carefully written in neat, anonymous print that looks nothing like his usual writing.

Next to him, someone clears their throat.

Sam jumps, dropping the envelope back into the bag and the bag back onto the floor. He looks up to see his teacher staring down at him, and tries to smile innocently.

He glances at the badly done work on the desk, and then at Sam. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks

Sam considers the question carefully. In fact, no, he is feeling anything but okay. His mouth is dry, his heart is pounding about twice as fast as it should, and he has absolutely no concentration at all. He nods.

"Yes, fine." His voice squeaks a little.

"Okay," says the teacher. "I think you should go and see the nurse."

Sam glances at the clock on the wall. There are less than five minutes until the bell rings, signifying not only the end of the class, but the end of the school day. Even if he was sick, going to see the nurse now would be beyond pointless. The most she had the power to do was call an ambulance, which he definitely didn't need, or send him home, which would become kind of moot in about three minutes.

He has no chance to respond, however, because the teacher is already walking away, back to the front of the class. Sam wastes about ten seconds staring at the back of his head, before he finally processes the gift he has been given.

He springs into action, grabbing pens, pencils, paper and books from his desk and stuffing them indiscriminately into his bag. He leaps to his feet and flees the classroom, out into the empty corridor.

As he runs, he fishes deep into his bag and retrieves the card. He reaches the locker just as the bell rings, and forces it quickly inside. He watches it disappear into the locker as the first students begin to stream out of the classrooms, and then flees into the crowd, disappearing into anonymity.

He waits for several minutes before he returns to the scene of the crime, hoping that his absence has cleared him of suspicion. Kids don't generally hang around at school when the final bell rings, and the corridor is once again almost completely empty when he returns, but Edgar is there.

He stands, staring into his locker. In his hands, he is holding something, staring at it. As Sam walks past him and begins to enter his combination into his own locker, Edgar quickly turns away. His cheeks blush pink and he stuffs the thing into his bag.

"Hey," he says, and clears his throat.

Sam smiles and says his own hellos as he opens the locker to deposit the books he doesn't need for homework. As the door swings open, he sees something unexpected. He frowns as he reaches inside and picks up the envelope. On the front, his name is written in capital letters. He slides it open and a card falls out.

He opens it. The card is signed with a question mark. Next to him, Edgar closes his locker. "Valentine's is a big night for vampires," Edgar says, seemingly out of the blue.

Sam looks at him, but Edgar appears unable to meet his eye.

"Some people freak out if they don't get a card," he continues. "They make all kinds of stupid decisions. Whoever gave you that might have saved your life."

He turns and walks away, not looking back.

Sam watches him go. Even the little bit of skin visible below the hair on the back of Edgar's neck is blushing now. Sam glances at the card, then back at the retreating form of his friend, and he can't help but wonder...

He puts the card into his bag, carefully placing it between the pages of a book to keep it flat, and follows after Edgar.