This was it.

This was the culmination of all her dreams for the past five years, ever since that fateful moment when she was approached by Rupert Giles, head of special projects for the Federal Bureau of Investigations, after her senior year of high school.

She had graduated at the top of her class from the college the government had paid for, majoring in the fields they’d requested; she had then trained secretly for two years at a facility in Pennsylvania. She had learned everything from tae kwon do and krav maga to how to fool a lie detector test to how to break a set of handcuffs with her feet. That was one of her favorite tricks.

Buffy Anne Summers was finally ready for her first assignment as an undercover agent.

Staring intently in the mirror, she appraised her new look. The glasses she had been wearing since she was twelve had been replaced by contacts, her usually long and straight light brown hair had been cut in layers just below her shoulders and dyed a brighter shade of blonde. She’d traded in her usual business suits for the new uniform of the trendy, techno-hipster she was supposed to be. Today, that was low-slung gray jeans, expensive leather boots, a vintage Ramones tee and a leather and lace jacket. She didn’t look a thing like herself, which was good. She looked exactly like who she’d be for the next six to twelve months, which was better.

She took a deep breath and refocused her attention in the mirror, able to see Giles behind her, going over last minute details with her partner, a handsome, brilliant man named Charles Gunn. For the past month, the three had been holed up in a hotel in Bakersfield, California, solidifying cover stories, fabricating personal histories, and making sure that each and every possible link to their true identities was severed. And now, it was all done. They were officially no longer who they used to be.

“Okay, one more time, just the basics” Giles said when he caught her looking at him, shuffling his papers until he came across the one he wanted. Not that he hadn’t memorized every word on it days ago. “Name?”

“Buffy Elizabeth Joyce.”

“Education?”

“Went to Sunnydale High School, then graduated from Washington State University on scholarship with a double major in computer science and physics, minor in drama.” That part, at least, was mostly true, and thus easy enough to remember and recite.

“Personal statistics?”

“Age twenty four. Born April 21st, mother passed away when I was six from a brain aneurysm, lived with my father until I was seventeen, when I went away to school. Estranged, no longer speaking. No siblings.” Very little of that was true, but Buffy still delivered it smoothly, perfectly, and utterly convincingly.

“And this man is?”

“Gunn Hewitt, my boyfriend and bodyguard, met him on a job.”

“And I am?”

“Who are you? I’ve never even seen you before.”

Giles nodded. “Are you feeling at all nervous, Buffy?”

“Not a bit,” she smiled brightly. “Let’s take ‘em down.”


Ninety seven miles away, a file was dropped on the desk of William Grace.

“She looks good, boss,” Xander Harris said, crossing his arms in front of him as he waited for approval. “Not a mark on her record that I could find and doesn’t seem to have ever been caught. Quite a reputation, though. Brilliant, educated, but not exactly opposed to wrongdoings.”

“And what makes you think that?” the man drawled, grabbing the file and paging through it disinterestedly.

“She’s dating an ex-gang banger from Chicago, for one, and he’s got quite a rap sheet, but seems to have been out of the game for awhile. He comes with her, part of the package, but he could be some good muscle. Plus, she briefly worked for Ethan Rayne, and we all know you can’t have a lot of morals if you’re working for Rayne.”

Spike nodded, blue eyes narrowing as he inspected the poor photocopy of the drivers license of Buffy Elizabeth Joyce. A smile played at the corners of his lips. “Bring her in.”


Things had moved far more quickly than Buffy was expecting. Once Giles had sent out her information, she figured it would be a few days before background checks would convince William Grace that she was clean (or dirty) enough to bring in for an interview. Known as “Spike”, this man, elite member of the Angelus family criminal enterprise, was the primary target of these two agents, but not of the entire investigation. Giles had explained that Grace was just a link, the business man whose hazy dealings shielded the darker inner workings of the crime family from view. He’d be cut a deal with eventually, or thrown away for life, but what the two of them were hunting for was information about the true boss, the true villain, Liam Angelus, known as “Angel”.

But it didn’t take nearly as long as Buffy had expected. The call from Grace’s people had come the very next afternoon, requesting her presence at his home the following day at three PM sharp. It wasn’t an invitation, it wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“Ready to go, baby?” Gunn winked, easily slipping into his role, a former gang member with all the stereotypical trappings that went along with that. It helped that that was exactly what he was, having been picked around the same time as Buffy to change his path in life, to flee the dead-end road he was on and do some good.

“Rarin’ to go,” she corrected, squaring her shoulders and adopting the cocky, confident persona she’d honed over the past few years. Research indicated that Grace respected people who didn’t let him walk all over them—and Buffy had no problem with playing to that weakness.

They sauntered out to his beat up pick up, an unlikely looking pair. Giles watched them drive off, proud of the two agents he had helped to train. Strictly involved in this mission in an advisory capacity, Giles fondly remembered the days when he had been in the middle of things, right in the action, idealistic about the possibility of eliminating some evil in the world. He turned to go back inside, confidence in his heart that they’d do everything in their power to bring down the man they were after.



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They had made it through the ridiculous LA traffic and into the Hollywood Hills before the nerves hit Buffy. There was no outward sign of this instant panic, but inside, her heart was beating as if she was staring into the belly of a beast. Which, in a way she figured, she kind of was.

“Right there with you, kid,” Gunn said as he checked his directions and pulled into the left turn lane. Buffy smiled, once again eternally grateful that they’d been assigned as partners. He was clearly in tune with her emotions, exactly what someone needed in a good undercover partner.

“So, my handsome boyfriend, are you going to take me out tonight to celebrate my brand new job?” She giggled, attempting to alleviate her tension.

“It’ll be a night on the town, girl,” he replied. They shared a grin and went quiet again, nearing their final destination.

“This is it,” he told her as they pulled up to a huge, dark wood gate. High stucco walls extended out for blocks in either direction, shielding the house from view.

Gunn rolled down his window and a tiny security guard game up. “Names?”

“Buffy Joyce and Gunn Hewitt?” Buffy leaned over and smiled.

“Purpose?”

“Here to see Mr. Grace?” She replied.

The man surveyed his list and nodded. “Drive straight up, and someone will meet you outside the front door.”

“Thank you---Jonathan,” Buffy flirted, causing the guard to blush, then leaned back into her seat as the gate opened and let the truck through.

They drove slowly up the driveway, lined on either side by a row of palm trees. The grounds were perfectly manicured, with rolling green lawns and gardens and ponds, causing Buffy’s mouth to hang open in shock.

“Damn, this is nice,” Gunn said as the house came into view. It was a sprawling, Spanish influenced mansion, with ivy crawling up its walls and bougainvilleas lining the circular, gravel driveway. They pulled up just as a well-dressed woman emerged from the huge front doors.

“Showtime,” Buffy murmured, as she and Gunn climbed out of the car to meet their fate.

“Ms. Joyce and Mr. Hewitt?” At the two nods, the brunette stuck out one perfectly manicured hand, “I’m Winifred Burkle, you can call me Fred, Mr. Grace’s assistant. He’s running a bit late but he asked me to show you out to the back patio for lunch, you haven’t eaten already, have you?” She said in a slight Southern drawl.

“Nah, we haven’t,” Gunn answered for both of them, intertwining his fingers with Buffy’s and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Lead the way.”

The pair followed Fred into the huge entryway with its circular staircase, through the living room that Buffy quickly calculated could hold sixteen of her college dorm room, and out onto a back deck, with a view of the canyon and the city beyond that.

“Help yourselves to whatever you want to eat,” Fred smiled, gesturing to the huge spread of snacks and drinks. “Mr. Grace should be out in just a few minutes.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving the two alone.

“I could so get used to this!” Buffy squealed, running over to the edge of the balcony and leaning out over the railing, closing her eyes and letting the light summer breeze blow her hair.

“Right there with you,” Gunn agreed, surveying the food before grabbing a croissant and tearing a chunk out of it with his teeth. “Nicest house I’ve ever been in.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Buffy scolded like only a girlfriend could, taking a look at the gorgeous pool area below before spinning around and staring up at the back of the house.

“God, there must be like, a thousand rooms in this house or something,” she said, wide-eyed.

“Or something,” a British voice came above them. William Grace was descending the staircase leading down from the upper deck, a friendly smile on his face.

Buffy had studied every piece of information they had on William Grace multiple times, and thus had of course seen pictures of him. So she was prepared for his sculpted features, and his shock of platinum blonde hair. She’d even seen a few photos of him on the beach in Cabo San Lucas, so she knew exactly was hiding under his casual black polo shirt and gray slacks. Was she wasn’t prepared for was the sparkle in his ice blue eyes, a glimmer she could see from twenty feet away, and the cat-like grace with which he carried his body.

“I’m glad you could meet with me,” the mouth attached to those eyes said smoothly, walking up to her and reaching out to shake her hand. “I’m William Grace, you’re welcome to call me Spike.”

“Well, thank you for having me,” Buffy replied politely, holding his hand just a tad longer than was socially acceptable. “I’m Buffy, and you can call me that.” She shivered imperceptibly as she felt this man appraise her, and from the slight raising of his eyebrows, she figured that he liked what he saw.

She had no idea. From the drivers license he’d seen of hers, Spike had expected a cute girl, and he never had a problem with adding another one of those to his staff. But the girl in front of him was so much more than he’d expected. His mind instantly went places he knew it shouldn’t be going, and he forgot what he was doing for just a moment as Buffy looked up at him expectantly

“And you must be Mr. Hewitt,” he finally said once he managed to tear his gaze away from Buffy’s hazel eyes.

“Just Gunn,” he said, reaching out and firmly shaking the hand of the shorter man in front of him. “How you doin’.”

“Gunn. Well thank you for coming too,” he said, then turned his attention back to Buffy. “From what I understand, your particular…talents may be exactly what I’m looking for.” He surreptitiously surveyed her body, well displayed in tight jeans and a low cut top.

Something in his tone and expression made Buffy think he meant more than just her computer talents, but she shook away that thought as quickly as it had formed, and shrugged, “Depends on what you’re looking for. I do have a lot of talents.”

“Well, what do you say we test them out?” He grinned, then continued at her slightly surprised expression, “I thought we’d do a little experiment right away. I don’t want to waste your time or mine if you aren’t what I want.”

“Honestly, I’m not too worried about that,” she said lightly. “I’m probably exactly what you want. What do you want me to do?”

Pleasantly surprised at the fact that this woman didn’t seem to be remotely afraid of him, Spike invited Gunn to remain outside while he and Buffy went into his office, but he received a firm denial.

“Where she goes, I go,” Gunn said gruffly, wrapping one arm around Buffy protectively.

“Don’t think I’m to be trusted?” Spike asked the woman, who was staring at him with a cool, impassive look on her beautiful face.

“Honestly, I don’t trust anyone,” she said back.

“Good answer,” was Spike’s reply, and he beckoned the pair to follow him into the depths of the house.

Spike led them down a hallway, past a gorgeous library that Buffy paused to stare at before Gunn pushed her along, and into a lavish home office. Waiting for them in the room was Fred, and a dark haired man who introduced himself as Lindsay Macdonald.

“Lindsay is one of my lawyers,” Spike said as he walked around the perimeter of his huge mahogany desk. From a black briefcase on the floor, he pulled out a thin laptop and set it down.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Buffy complied and relaxed in the comfortable chair, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers on her thigh. Gunn hovered behind her, arms crossed.

“The test is a pretty standard one,” Fred explained, walking over and turning on the laptop. “We just want to see what your style is, how you work, that kind of thing.”

Buffy nodded and inspected the screen as it illuminated upon a list of password encoded accounts and a few complex encrypted files. “Do I have a time limit?” She asked, and began to type quickly.

“Well I would hope you’re quicker than the last person we talked to, what with your qualifications,” Fred smiled. “You came highly recommended. But, I guess, we won’t make you stop or anything if you—“

“Done,” Buffy said casually, leaning back into her chair again, a look of disinterest on her face.

Fred frowned, pulling the computer towards her and inspecting what was on the screen. She typed for a moment, and nodded. “Good job.”

Buffy allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. What they’d had her do wasn’t necessarily easy, but she had learned a trick a few years ago that allowed her to cut the standard time of decryption in half. It was always a crowd pleaser.

“Impressive,” Spike said, mirroring her posture and leaning back into his own chair.

“Not really,” Buffy shrugged, “I probably could have done that when I was sixteen.” Gunn coughed behind her, while both Lindsay and Fred stared at her, slightly wide-eyed.

Spike, however, just laughed. “Maybe you could have.” He considered her for a moment, before asking, “Gunn, any chance you’d let Fred take you to get something for us to drink? I promise the lady is safe in my presence.” When Buffy turned around and gave him a nod, he followed Fred out of the room, who closed the doors behind them.

“So, Ms. Joyce,” Lindsay began, perching on the edge of the desk.

“Call me Buffy,” she insisted. “Ms. Joyce makes me feel old.”

“Well, you’re not old, so I guess I wouldn’t want to make you feel that way,” he laughed. “Okay, Buffy. What do you think this job is about?”

The blonde shrugged. “You pay me, I play with the computer. I don’t really have any expectations beyond that.”

“Do you have any previous knowledge of the sort of business Mr. Grace is involved in?”

At this, Buffy paused, and chose her words carefully. “I don’t have any…pre-conceptions, I guess, if that’s what you’re asking. What I may or may not have heard doesn’t influence me. I just go by what I see.”

Lindsay seemed to like this answer, and leaned forward a bit for his next question. “And, Buffy, if you were to be working for Mr. Grace, we would need to have the utmost confidence in you. Confidentiality would be key. You would only be given the information we deemed it necessary for you to have. Does this bother you?”

Buffy answered honestly. “I’m a curious person, to tell you the truth. But yeah, I guess I can deal with being kept in the dark as long as I’m paid what I deserve.”

She glanced over at Spike’s blank face, and hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. But then he smiled, a smile she felt enter her body at the top of her head and spread throughout her body like wildfire. “Curiosity is good,” he said. “I’m a curious person too.”

Buffy smiled back at him, for a second forgetting Lindsay was even in the room. His next question had her crashing down to earth, though. “With the nature of the position you’d fill, we’d want to have you available at all times. You wouldn’t be working in Mr. Grace’s corporate office, but right here in his home. And because of that, we’d ask that you live here.”

“Live here?” She said in surprise. “That seems, I don’t know, a little weird.”

Spike shrugged. “I guess it is a little weird, yeah, but that’s the way it is. You wouldn’t be the only one of my employees living here, and of course, Gunn is welcome to join you. Fred’s discussing a position open for him as we speak.”

Buffy hadn’t expected this slight twist of events, but quickly figured it might actually work to their advantage. To actually be living in the home of the target of the investigation? That had to be an advantage. “I’d have to talk to Gunn, but I guess I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

Lindsay nodded, and started to speak again, when he was cut off by Spike. “Why don’t you go check on Fred and Gunn, and give me a few moments alone with Buffy.”

Lindsay acquiesced and stood, nodding at Buffy as he left. Once the doors were shut again, Spike stood and took the lawyer’s perch on the desk. He studied the small woman in front of him for a moment, and said, “You know what, Buffy, I like you.”

“Well, I do like to be liked,” she quipped, suppressing the excitement growing in her belly. Had she actually done it? Did she actually get the job?

“I’m going to be a bit more explicit than Lindsay was,” Spike said seriously. “He’s a lawyer, and they never come out and say exactly what they mean. I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t pull any punches.” He leaned forward a bit, until his face was just a foot from Buffy’s. She felt her breath catch in her throat as he started intently at her. “Not everything I’m going to have you do is legal. Not everything you’ll see in this house is going to make you happy. That’s the nature of my work, and I won’t judge you if you don’t think you can handle it. But once you agree to take this job, I expect loyalty, and I don’t want you running off at the first thing that makes you uncomfortable. Once you’re employed, you’ll be privy to information that I wouldn’t want the rest of the world knowing, and you choosing to leave once you have knowledge of that information would not be in either of our best interests. Do I make myself clear?”

His eyes had hardened, and in that moment Buffy could see how this handsome man in front of her was the force behind all the crimes she’d read about. And he’d almost charmed her into forgetting that. “Crystal,” She smirked, feeling totally in control again. “So am I hired?”



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Fred walked Gunn and Buffy to the door, thanking them for their time. The two agents had yet to discuss the events in the house. They had been brought to the living room, thanked for their time, and told that Mr. Grace had a busy day ahead of him but he looked forward to hearing from them both. They quickly climbed into the truck and drove off, waiting a respectable three blocks before they let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

“You are quite the charmer,” Gunn laughed. “Grace was seriously drooling all over you, I think you had him won over before you even touched a computer.”

“My feminine wiles are quite effective,” she giggled, choosing to forget that his masculine wiles had almost worked on her too. “And you! I’m so tough, I’m so bad, you don’t take my woman without me around.”

“So I’m assuming he offered you a job too,” Gunn said as they calmed down after the initial rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yes, after a rather intimidating speech about how once I work for him, I can never, ever leave.”

“I got that speech too, although since mine came from the mouth of a Southern belle I wasn’t all that intimidated.”

“And she told you about us having to live there?” Gunn nodded. “Wonder what Giles will think about that,” Buffy mused, whipping out her cell phone to text their boss that they were heading to the meeting point.

“I can tell you exactly what he’ll think,” Gunn said, affecting an awful British accent. “This is just completely—“


“Appalling!” Giles fretted. “How will we maintain contact if you’re living in the home of the subject of the investigation? You will have to be without weapons, without notes, without any way of contacting me without arousing suspicion.”

“I know, Giles,” Buffy sighed, flopping down on the couch of the apartment they had intended to live in. “But that’s the deal. So instead of whining about it, why don’t we just figure out how to deal with it?”

“I did not…whine,” Giles huffed. “I merely pointed out the severe problems this new situation could cause.”

“But it could also help,” Gunn pointed out. “If we’re living with all these other people working for Grace, some of them are bound to talk. It could actually work out for the better.”

“I suppose,” the older man mused, removing his glasses and cleaning them as he mulled over the problem. “Well, as there really is nothing to be done, I propose that you both commit as much of these files to memory as you can. You’ll have to go in without weapons, but I’m sure you’ll be provided with one, Charles. And Buffy, how will you keep the information you gather in order?”

She frowned. “I can memorize most of it, obviously, but it would be easier for me if I could write it down at least once a week or so? Maybe I’ll leave the compound for weekly pedicures or something? I’ll figure out how we can meet, Giles, don’t worry.”

That night she and Gunn settled in to reread the files they’d been studying for months, but this time committing them to memory as if preparing for a final exam. The amount of information was daunting. There were pages and pages on the history of William Grace, Liam Angelus, and higher up member of their staffs, along with detailed accounts of each crime that could be connected to the organization over the last ten years.

By the end of the evening, Buffy considered herself to be an expert on the personal history of Spike Grace.

As she tried to sleep, she ran over the information once more in her head.

Born in London, England. Moved to New York when he was twelve. Father was a hit-man for Nathaniel Angelus, Parents killed in a suspicious car accident when he was fifteen, moved in with the Angelus family, Nathaniel, his wife Darla, and their son Liam, eight years older than William.. Started working for the family as Liam Angelus’s assistant when he was seventeen. The nickname “Spike” began being used around this time. Went to college at Columbia, still working for the family. Nathaniel Angelus murdered, control of the organization fell to his son. The specific details of the story got a little hazy around this time, when William was 24. Something about a woman and a fight with Angel, then William moved to California and seemed to be starting a legitimate life, only to reenter the crime world three years later. Now 36, he was a crucial cog in the Angelus machine, the key to keeping their many business look legal at first glance, the brains behind much of the operation. He was the key to taking it down.

And Buffy was going to be the one to do it.

As oblivion finally beckoned to her, the names and dates and facts about the crimes he’d helped to commit faded away, replaced by just the image of his smile.


Spike had no idea what was going on with him.

He’d been distracted all of yesterday afternoon, and had almost forgotten a crucial phone call with one of his associates in Chicago. He had tossed and turned all night, ultimately heading down to the gym at three AM to work off steam. This morning, he found himself pacing his office, alternately staring out the window at the pool below or glancing at the clock.

When Buffy called Fred around noon when they were eating lunch, all the tension immediately rushed out of his body. He mentally berated himself when he realized that he had just been waiting to hear from her.

“Wanker,” he mumbled to himself as he waited for Fred to get off the phone and come back in from the patio.

“Well, they accepted,” she smiled as she came inside, eliciting a sigh of relief from Spike. “I told them to come around tonight at eight and we’d get them all settled in.

Spike nodded, affecting a disinterested air, attempting to suppress his own anticipation at seeing the girl again. She was just…something. She was clearly brilliant, and any woman who was smarter than him instantly caught his attention, since he generally surrounded himself with the exact opposite. There had been something in her eyes, something deeper than the casual, witty, confident person she seemed to be. Spike knew when someone had a secret, and he was aching in more ways than one to find out hers.


After a day of preparing, packing, and telling Giles, really, it was going to be fine, Buffy and Gunn were heading back to the mansion. Buffy was feeling less nervous and more excited about the prospect of starting the investigation, and had fully managed to convince herself that any eagerness had nothing to do with seeing her new boss again.

Fred was waiting for them outside. “Good you see you two again!” She grinned, far less professional now that they were officially part of the team. She was chattering excitedly as she led them into the kitchen and down a flight of stairs to the bottom floor of the mansion, as lavishly decorated as the rest of it. “It’s a little like summer camp sometimes,” Fred laughed as she showed them the common room and the kitchen. “I live down here along with Xander, who you’ll meet in a bit, and Lorne, don’t know where he’s off to.”

“It’s like an entire other house down here!” Buffy said as Fred pointed out their room.

“Yep. You’re not restricted to this area of course,” she said. “The only place you can’t go is upstairs, that’s Spike’s—Mr. Grace’s---personal space. The pool, the gym, all that is open to you whenever you want.”

She led them into their room, a decent sized suite with a view of the pool, and its own private bath. Gunn let out a low whistle. “Nicer than the hellhole we were going rent, right baby?”

Buffy nodded and tossed her purse on the bed.

“Gunn, why don’t you come with me and we’ll get Xander to help us get your bags from the car, and I can show you where to park. Buffy, you’re welcome to come or just relax down here, we’ll be right back.”

Buffy chose to go upstairs with them, not wanting to be left alone just yet. “Xander?” Fred called out as they made their way upstairs. An attractive, slightly awkward man emerged from the kitchen, taking a huge bite of a sandwich.

He waved, swallowed quickly, and introduced himself to Gunn and Buffy. The two men went out to grab the bags from the car, and then Fred went with Gunn to move the car.

Xander came back inside and began staring at Buffy intently. “You look so familiar,” he said, wracking his brain and trying to think of where he may have seen her before, aside from the one blurry photograph in the file he’d put together.

Buffy shrugged, her excellent memory telling her that she’d never met this man before in her life. “I look like a lot of people, I guess.”

“I’d disagree with that,” Spike said from behind her, causing her to jump.

“Bell, neck,” Buffy said when she regained her composure. “Look into it.”

“Come with a nice leather collar, does it?” he retorted before he could stop himself. At the sweet blush that tinted her cheeks, he smiled.

“Well! I’m gonna go,” Xander said loudly, wandering off to leave the two alone, recognizing the signs of his boss having a thing for a girl.

“So are you settling in alright?” Spike asked.

“Yeah! Yeah, the downstairs is nice,” she nodded enthusiastically.

“Don’t need to stay down there all the time, though,” he said, and just as she was about to respond, Fred and Gunn’s voices could be heard heading up to the door.

“I’m up to my rooms. Night, pet,” he said quickly, reaching out, gently brushing her arm, and vanishing before she could even register he was leaving. His slight touch burned her for the rest of the night.



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Any potential awkwardness about sleeping in the same bed with Gunn had dissipated when Buffy, annoyed with the fact that he had made the room messy a mere two hours into their living in it, tore off her shirt, threw it at his head, and declared there was no way he was getting any tonight.

They had instantly bonded when they’d met, forming an intense friendship. Buffy was one of the few women in training for special projects, while Gunn hadn’t clicked with any of the other students due to his lack of formal education and propensity for using his fists to solve problems. One drunken night they’d shared a kiss, pulled away, made faces of disgust and declared that they would never, ever have sex, and had never even neared romance again.

Yet, they easily played the parts of a couple in love, due to their familiarity and lack of personal boundaries with each other. “It’s like we’ve been married for fifty years and lost all need for sex,” Buffy had mused once they’d received their first assignments.

“I’ll never lose the need for sex, baby,” Gunn had laughed.

They slid into bed, each having received their assignments for the next day. Gunn was to go with Fred to pick up something in San Diego, while Buffy was to report to Spike’s office at ten o’clock.

It was lucky for her she could sleep in, since she couldn’t even close her eyes until well after midnight.


The second the antique clock on the wall clicked ten AM, a tentative knock sounded at the door.

“Come on in,” Spike called out, standing as Buffy entered the room, dressed for the unseasonable heat in a short black skirt and a simple white men’s tee. Hair in a ponytail. Minimal makeup. Black purse over her shoulder. Bloody gorgeous.

“Good morning,” she smiled as she sat down across from him, flashing a bit of thigh as she crossed her legs.

He tore his eyes away from her smooth, tanned skin and up to her face. “All set to put your skills to use?”

Once again, she could have sworn there was something dirty in the way he said ‘skills’. She almost retorted with a remark about how he wishes he could use her skills, but then remembered her conversation with Gunn that morning. He’d pointed at that while Spike certainly seemed to enjoy her spunkiness; he was still supposed to be her boss, and a criminal mastermind boss at that. So she intended to tone down anything that could be seen as flirting, or even as insubordination. She liked her head right where it was, not removed from her body and buried in the sand. Not that there were any reports of him doing anything like that, she reminded herself. But still. Professionalism.

“Ready and willing,” she said peppily, then instantly regretted her words at the lustful look that burned in Spike’s eyes.

When she spoke, an image of her wrapped in nothing but a towel at the edge of his pool sprung into his mind, saying those three words. Before imaginary Buffy could drop that towel, Spike brought himself back to the present and said. “Well, I have quite a few things for you to get working on today. So we should probably just get started, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, and he brought out a file, sliding it towards her and explaining her first task.

He led her through yet another part of the house she’d yet to explore, into a huge media room. One of the best desktop systems money could buy was set up along one wall, with two laptops sitting next to it. “Hopefully this is everything you need,” he said when he caught her stunned expression.

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “More than I need. But don’t take it away!” She turned and pleaded, eliciting a laugh from her boss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pet,” he insisted, reluctant to leave her, but knowing there was no reason for him to be hovering around. “So just let me know when those first ten files are ready, yeah? The rest of it isn’t all that urgent.” And with that he was gone.

Buffy sighed and turned to the computers in front of her. She pulled out her iPod, put it on shuffle and settled in to work.

As she quickly deciphered codes and created passwords, she contemplated the possibility of transferring the files to the disks she had in her purse. She instantly negated that idea, however, remembering that Fred had warned her that the security team did random sweeps of the entire house. Instead, as the files opened and she moved them over to a new disk to give to Spike, she read each of them thoroughly and quickly, her handy speed reading skills and photographic memory allowing her to commit the information to her mind.

Nothing seemed all that interesting yet, but she knew it didn’t matter. The smallest piece of a puzzle was crucial, at the very end trying to solve it, if one corner wasn’t complete, the whole thing was worthless.

It took her about a few hours to get through the first chunk of work she’d been assigned, and when she was done she leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Ever since she was fifteen and had first been introduced to the intricate, complex things one could do with a simple computer, she hadn’t found anything else that made her as content. It was all a mystery, all a riddle to be solved, and she loved being the one to figure it out.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Spike enter. He leaned against the doorjamb, drinking in the sight of Buffy. She was cross-legged in the computer chair, big headphones covering her ears, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, fingers tapping to the music only she could hear.

After he’d left her to work, he’d remembered mid-conference call bits and pieces of the dream he’d had last night. Entangled limbs and sweat soaked sheets, moans from Buffy’s lips directly into his ear, her soft, yet strong hands caressing every inch of him. He was in trouble, and he knew it.

Buffy opened her eyes to see him standing there, and a smile appeared on her face. “I’m done with the first group,” she said as she removed her headphones.

“Oh, great,” he nodded, having forgotten there was even a reason he’d come to check on her. “I was just going to eat lunch, want to join me?” The invitation came out of his lips before he’d even really considered it. He usually had Fred bring him lunch, ate at his desk, or went out to meet one of his business associates or the many women he surrounded himself with. He was perfectly friendly with his staff, and he knew they all liked him, but he rarely socialized with them.

Buffy agreed hesitantly, and handed him the disk with all the open files. She followed him out to the kitchen, wondering if she’d already managed to do something wrong. Why would he want to have lunch with her otherwise?

“What do you want?” he asked, his words halting her train of thought.

“…want?”

“To eat, love,” he smirked.

“Well, what are my options?”

“I’m a damn good cook, if I do say so myself,” Spike said, opening up the fridge and perusing its contents. “I make a mean grilled cheese, for one.” She laughed, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. “Not a joke! I can do amazing things with bread and cheese.”

“Go to it then, by all means,” She smiled, taking a seat at one of the barstools. “I’m sure it will be the world’s best grilled cheese.”

“I think you’re making fun of me,” he growled. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“Whoa, woah,” he backtracked. “I’ve now decided I feel good about it, pet.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Someone has to keep me in line, and you seem up for the job.”

“It’ll be a pretty tough job,” she snarked. “But it does need to be done.”

They shared a smile as Spike gathered his ingredients. “Onions? Bacon? Mayonnaise? Muenster cheese? Any of these things offend you?” He asked as he turned on the stove.

“Not a thing,” she replied. “Although that doesn’t sound like any grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

“You just wait,” he grinned. As he cooked, he began asking her questions about herself, and as she had to lie, she came back down to earth from the heaven-like realm she’d been in for just a moment. This wasn’t a date. This wasn’t a guy she was getting to know for fun.

This was a man who was implicated in countless crimes. Drugs, violence, theft, the list went on. Buffy tried in vain to keep that in mind when she continued to converse with Spike, but her treacherous mind and body kept allowing his friendly words, his gorgeous eyes, and his killer smile to sway her.

Stupid sexual frustration.

Spike set the completed sandwich and a glass of water in front of her, and took a seat next to her with his own. He started expectantly at her as she took the first bite.

“Oh my God,” she said around a mouthful of sandwich, then after she swallowed, “That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” Spike raised his eyebrows at her, and she blushed. “The sandwich. I retract any doubts about your sandwich making skills.”

“Damn right,” he smiled, digging into his own meal.

They ate in a comfortable silence, a silence that was broken with the ring of Buffy’s cell phone, given to her the previous day by Fred with a number she was not to give to anyone but her co-workers.

Gunn’s name popped up on her caller ID, and she answered the phone with a smile. “Hey baby,” she said, unaware of Spike’s shoulders tensing.

The rush of jealousy that flooded his body when the image of Buffy and Gunn in bed together entered his mind surprised him. He’d almost forgotten she had a boyfriend. Another one of his employees.

“He’s right here, actually,” Buffy was saying, then mouthed to him. “Fred tried to call you.” She focused her attention back to her cell phone. “Okay, sure. I’ll let him know….just eating lunch. Mmhmm. Okay, see you in a bit.” She hung up and turned to Spike. “Fred wanted to let you know they’re almost there to pick…whatever they were picking up with no problem, they’re on their way back, and don’t forget you have a dinner with Margaret Walsh tonight.”

Spike laughed. “One day out of the office and she thinks I’ll fall apart without her. Although, I probably would.”

“How long as she been working for you?” Buffy asked casually, gleeful at this opening to start questioning him about his staff.

“About, three years, or so? Yeah, about that,” he said. “Only person who’s been with me longer is Lorne.”

“I still haven’t met him.”

“Really? You need to, he’s entertaining.”

“What does he do?”

“Sort of a…publicity guy,” Spike said carefully.

“Ah,” Buffy nodded, sensing his slight hesitation and not wanting to push it. “Well, I should probably go back to work.”

Spike agreed, reluctant that their time together was ending. “I’m heading into the office anyway. Xander’s around here somewhere if you need anything.”

Buffy offered to help clean up but he refused, sending her on her way as he attempted to think of something, anything else, but her.



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A hand on her shoulder caused Buffy to jump, knock over the pile of papers next to the computer, and let out a high-pitched squeak.

“I’m sorry!” Xander said, helping her gather up her papers. “I usually have this effect on women.”

Buffy laughed and accepted his apology. “I was just off in Buffy-world, I tend to totally space out when I’m there. So what’s up?”

“You’ve been down here for hours, thought I’d come check on you,” he said. “And, well, I was bored. Nothing to do, Gunn and Fred are back though so I thought we could all go out or something.”

“Adult beverages in this plan?”

“Always.”

“Then I’m in, I just have a few things left to do here.”

“Awesome,” he said happily. “I’ll ask the others if they’re up for it.”

Buffy turned back to her computer, thankful it hadn’t been open to one of the files she had been memorizing just a few minutes before. She hastily finished up, making sure the disk had all her work on it, and closed down the system.

“We going out?” Gunn said as she came downstairs. He was on the couch with Fred, watching the news.

“Sounds good to me,” Buffy agreed. “Let me put on something that I haven’t been working in all day?”

Fred jumped up and agreed, “Girls have to primp. Boys, be patient.”


When Spike got back to the mansion that night, he listened carefully for signs of life, and hearing none, felt a pang of disappointment. Fred had called him before his dinner meeting with Margaret Walsh, owner of a pharmaceutical company, telling him that the house would probably be empty when he got back, but to call her if he needed anything. He had hoped that by stopping by a bar on the way home to have a few drinks that they’d all be back by now. That Buffy would be back by now.

He hated being alone in this house. He knew it was a ridiculous, he was a grown man with plenty of money, but he liked the comfort of having people around. As strange as he knew it was to have Fred, Lorne, Xander, and now Gunn and Buffy living here, he needed to know that there was life around him. Not just the cold, empty quiet.

He sighed and dragged himself into his study.


Buffy had slipped away their first few minutes at the club, quickly finding a pay phone and informing Giles of their location. He’d arrived about a half an hour later, sticking out like a sore thumb in the trendy LA hotspot. She’d excused herself to the restroom, quickly conferenced with him and written down everything she could remember from the files she’d hacked into, and bid him goodbye, rushing back to her group before anyone but Gunn had even realized she was gone.

Her pseudo-boyfriend winked at her as she sat down, and she draped one arm over his shoulders, not missing the slight flicker of sadness in Fred’s eyes. “Let’s get this party started,” she grinned.


Four hours later, Xander and Buffy had bonded over a mutual love for bad foreign films and TV, and were laughing as they staggered from Gunn’s truck to the house.

“With the water buffalo! And the coins!” Buffy squealed. Designated driver Gunn and light-weight Fred were a few steps behind, Fred using the man’s arm for balance.

“So you and Buffy…” Fred blurted out.

“Yeah?” Gunn asked, glancing ahead at the giggling blonde.

“Oh, n-n-nothing,” she stammered, “I just…is it really serious with you guys? ‘Cause you don’t seem---never mind, none of my business.”

They’d caught up to Xander and Buffy so the conversation had to stop, but the meaning behind her words didn’t slip past Gunn. He and Buffy needed to do more than just maintain their fake identities---they had to prove their relationship, otherwise people might start to wonder. With that thought, he kissed Buffy’s cheek before entering the house.

No one noticed Spike on the balcony above, smoking a cigarette and staring down at them.


Buffy could not sleep. She was still pretty tipsy, for one, and the slight spinning of the room kept her from closing her eyes. It didn’t help that Gunn was snoring loudly next to her, an obnoxious sound that did nothing to help her relax. Finally, in her hazy state her mind kept drifting to her boss, which led to no tiredness, but rather, an energetic pulsing throughout her body that started in her lips and ran towards her sex

She groaned and slipped out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt over her tank-top and shorts before grabbing her shoes and heading outside. The common room of the bottom floor led out to a patio underneath the balcony above, and a few steps down was the gorgeous pool and waterfall.

Buffy headed to the edge of the pool and stuck her feet in the cool, crystal clear water, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the midnight sky. Her mind was racing a million miles an hour, on subjects ranging from how she could get Fred and Gunn together when Gunn was supposed to be her boyfriend, to whether or not the bank accounts she’d been working on would yield any interesting information to if Spike ever skinny-dipped in this very pool.

At that last thought she fell flat on her back, closing her eyes and sighing. When she opened them again, the object of her musings was hovering above her.

“I thought maybe you had died,” Spike said as she sat up quickly.

“Not so much,” she laughed. “Good thing I’m still a little tipsy, sober I would have screamed. Except that I’m not drunk. No. I’m professional—“

Spike laughed at her sudden nervousness. “Don’t worry, pet. Having a little fun off hours is never a problem.”

“Oh good,” she breathed. “Anyway, what is it with you people in this house sneaking up on me?”

“We’re trained for it,” he said, sitting down next to her and dipping his own feet into the water. “Sneak attacks.”

“Well you were trained very well.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“So what are you doing up at this hour?” Buffy asked, glancing at her watch and finding it to be three in the morning.

“Mild case of insomnia that a few whiskeys couldn’t cure,” Spike said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweatpants. At the wrinkling of Buffy’s nose, he instantly put them back.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” she said. “It’s your house you---give yourself cancer if you want.”

“Nah, I’m trying to quit anyway.”

“Really?”

“Sure, bloody impossible it is.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“So how was your evening?” Spike asked, every cell in his body humming in awareness of her presence just a few inches away.

“Fun! Xander’s a character,” she laughed. “And Fred and I seem to get along well.” After a brief silence, she offered up, “You should have come.”

He snorted. “You didn’t need an old man tagging along for your fun.”

“Old man? Hardly,” Buffy scoffed. “What are you, 36?”

He glanced at her in surprise. “Nice guess, love.”

Buffy covered her knowledge of William Grace personal history easily, “I’m excellent at guessing ages. Although you definitely look a lot younger than that.”

“So I’ve been told,” he mimed her earlier words. “But I’m still a good deal older than you lot. Probably need a walker to navigate those clubs.”

“Oh right, and then we’ll stick you in Depends.”

“Cute.”

“I’ve often thought so.”

Spike kicked his foot out and splashed her with pool water.

“Oh…you did not just do that!” Buffy said. “I give you ten seconds to apologize.”

Spike counted to nine in his head, and then splashed her again, feeling like a teenager in her company.

“You are so dead!” She cried out, reaching down to splash him back. He allowed her one move of retaliation, laughing, then quickly grabbed her arms and held her tight as he kicked more water on her. She struggled against his body, then began to squeal as he started to tickle her. He dipped his hands under her sweatshirt quick as lightning to continue his brutal attack.

“Not—playing---fair!” She managed to say in between breathless giggles. “Stop—stop—can’t---breathe---air.”

He ceased his assault, but left his hands resting on her tiny waist, underneath her shirt. She gazed up at him as she regained her breath, and almost as if he had no control over his actions, he reached up and brushed a lock of blonde hair away from her face.

They stared at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten minutes. Slowly, Spike began to lean towards her, cupping her face, entranced by her eyes, her lips, her smooth skin.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Buffy blurted out, “Gunn.” Saying the name caused her lip to move and to brush, ever so slightly, against his. It sent shivers throughout both of them. Her body screaming at her not to, Buffy got up as she latched on to the one excuse she could use to convince herself not to jump Spike Grace pool side. “I have to…Gunn.”

With that, she ran back into the house.

Spike was going to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Because, really, nothing had. Nothing at all. And maybe she wouldn’t even remember, she had been tipsy. Just like he had been. Or even if she did remember, as long as she didn’t mention it either, it was fine.

He knew it was a bad idea. Despite the fact that his track record with women said otherwise, he didn’t always think with the other head. Buffy was his employee, and a new one at that, who was living with her boyfriend right under his roof. And he had no business getting involved with anyone at this point in the game.

He knew all this in his head, but in his gut, each time he saw Buffy he could think of nothing other than all the reasons he SHOULD pursue her. Beauty, grace, intelligence and humor were things the woman had in spades. If he was this enamored after less than a week of knowing her, who knows what could happen between them.

But he couldn’t, and he knew it. There was too much danger involved for both of them. So he wasn’t going to mention it. And he was going to stay far away from her lips.

When Buffy greeted him the next morning with a bright smile on her face on the way to her new office, he breathed a sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment. Whether she remembered or not, she wasn’t going to be awkward about their near-kiss. It was fine. It was all fine.

“Sleep well?” she ventured casually as she hovered at the entrance to his office.

“Yeah, great,” he lied. He’d wanked off twice before bed, and then drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.

“Good,” she nodded. “Okay, I should get to work. Have a good morning.”

Even just seeing Spike had set off a flurry of butterflies in Buffy’s stomach. Angry, sexually frustrated butterflies.

She had almost managed to convince herself that the situation out by the pool was entirely created in her own sick, twisted mind. That there had been no almost kiss with the criminal she was investigating. That she hadn’t had wild, crazy sex dreams about that man all night, dreams that had led to a desperate need for sexual release, which she’d given into in the shower that morning. That she wasn’t totally and completely immoral and quickly approaching the line of impropriety and unprofessionalism. She could get fired. She could get MURDERED. And at that thought, she decided she was officially going crazy.

Gunn had told her about Fred’s comment, a comment she knew was driven by the other woman’s burgeoning crush on the guy who was supposed to be her loving boyfriend. He’d said they’d really need to make more of a show of being together, and Buffy reluctantly agreed. Yes, be a fake loving couple with Gunn, so Spike wouldn’t get any ideas. Not that he had any, since the whole situation was in her head anyway.

She groaned in frustration as she flung herself into her desk chair, allowing herself one more moment of obsession about the gorgeous man a few doors down before she turned to the computer in front of her.


When she emerged to make herself some lunch a few hours later, pleased with her discovery of some suspicious transfers in one of the bank accounts, she ran into an unfamiliar man in the kitchen.

“Well this must be Buffy!” The man said happily. “Aren’t you just sugar on a stick? Love the hair. Heard so much about you. I’m Lorne Swath, so glad to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Lorne,” Buffy smiled, instantly at ease with this cheery, affable man. “I was just going to have lunch, care to join me?”

“Of course!” He responded, then instantly began telling her about his short vacation up to Santa Barbara, where he’d “swam the days away, lived on lobster and Seabreezes, and found a great karaoke bar on the water”.

Fred came into the kitchen a bit later to join them, and the three took their lunches out to the back deck to eat in the warm California sunshine.

Buffy was surprised at how nice all the people working for Spike were. She’d wrongly assumed they’d all be evil, considering this was a criminal enterprise and all. But no one’s attitude screamed “moral-free murderer”, and if it weren’t for her previous knowledge of the situation, she probably wouldn’t even know anything illegal was going on behind the scenes.

As they were finishing up their meals, Fred’s cell phone rang, and she frowned at the number on the caller ID. “Hello?” she answered. “Hi, Darla…Really? That’s unexpected…well, of course….Don’t we always?...Thanks so much.” As the conversation proceeded, tightness began to spread across the woman’s pretty features

“What did the Dragon Lady want?” Lorne asked when Fred hung up. Buffy feigned ignorance about the identity of the caller, although she knew Darla to be Liam Angelus’s personal secretary and longtime mistress.

Fred sighed, “Guess who’s coming to town?”


“Bloody HELL!” was Spike’s response when Fred informed him of the news. “He was just HERE three MONTHS ago!”

He was pacing by his desk, while Fred, Buffy and Lorne watched him cautiously from the door, Buffy wide-eyed, Fred and Lorne looking as if they’d seen it all before.

“Fucking prick,” Spike muttered once he was done with his outburst, leaning forward on his desk and lowering his head. “Fred, Lorne, you know what to do. Fuck. Three days. Use the same guest list as last time. Buffy, would you call Gunn and Xander and let them know what’s up? Tell them they need tuxes.”

“Tuxedos?” Buffy asked curiously.

“His Royal Badness fancies himself to be quite a big deal,” Lorne explained. “Always wants a celebration when he comes into town.”

“Magnificent poof thinks he’s the bloody prince of the bloody world,” their boss muttered.

“We don’t have to rent out the hotel ballroom again, do we Spike?” Fred asked. “That seems pretty ridiculous.”

“No, we’ll just do it here,” he sighed, rubbing his temples and frowning, then grumbled, “I hate parties.”

Buffy was shocked at the change in the atmosphere around the house for the next few days. She’d always considered herself to be extremely perceptive, and Gunn mocked what he called her “pseudo-psychic reliance on auras”, but she had, oddly, felt comfortable in this environment. People were friendly, the mood was light, and with the sun shining in through the huge windows all over the mansion, it was hard to imagine anything bad ever happening here.

But with the news of Angelus’s imminent arrival, the entire tone shifted. Spike was cranky. Fred was stressed. Xander’s jokes were not nearly as funny, and Lorne’s perpetually peppy attitude started to grate on everyone.

On Friday, house was busy with preparations for this grand party Angelus seemed to require on the night of his arrival. Lorne had taken charge of the party planning, and his excitement over the whole affair hadn’t really spread to anyone else, although Buffy did what she could to share in his enthusiasm. The entire place was scrubbed from the ceiling to the floor, and filled with a gorgeous assortment of roses, orchids, and lilies. The furniture in the huge living room disappeared, to be replaced with buffet tables lining one side and a small stage for the three piece orchestra. The back patio was decorated with hundreds of candles. Everything was ready.

“BUFFY!” Buffy heard Spike yell from his office the morning of the event. She sighed and tore herself away from her computer, praying she hadn’t done anything to set him off. He’d already yelled at the caterer and the decorator that day, and she really didn’t want to be the hat trick.

“You don’t have a dress,” he frowned as soon as she entered. At her blank look, he said slowly, “For. The. Party.”

“I---no,” she worried. “I didn’t think I was going?”

He sighed loudly. “Of COURSE you’re going. Jesus. Everyone is. Why’d you think I made Xander and Gunn get a tux?”

“For…for security?” Buffy said, having not given the matter a lot of thought.

“Bloody hell. Go shopping with Fred. Do your girly bit. She’ll put it on the company card. Have fun.”


Fred and Buffy came home later that day in far better moods than when they’d left. Just being away from the oppressive stress of the house had done wonders for them. They’d giggled their way through four dress shops, had lunch, and gotten their hair done, before returning to the mansion.

From the way Fred had said Gunn’s name, Buffy was more than certain that the woman had feelings for him. She was musing over the possibility of staging a friendly break-up that wouldn’t cause problems just so the two of them could get some action. Although, Buffy had to keep reminding herself, Fred wasn’t her friend. She was…friendly, but she was just as much under investigation as Spike was. No, getting involved with anyone in this house was just too dangerous. Anyone.

After Fred told her what time to be ready and to just relax until then, Buffy went to hunt down Gunn to discuss their agenda for the evening.

“Well don’t you look handsome,” Buffy smiled as Gunn emerged from the bathroom, fussing with his bow tie.

“I look like a waiter,” Gunn grumbled.

“A sexy waiter,” she giggled. “You’re ready pretty early aren’t you?”

“I’m in charge of checking in the guests with Xander,” he said. “Have to get up there soon. What’s your job?”

“I—I don’t think I have one,” she said. “Spike hasn’t said anything to me.”

“How nice for you. Lazy.”

“That’s me, lazy Buffy,” she rolled her eyes. They began to discuss that evening’s goals. It was the perfect opportunity for a bit of snooping—tons of people around, lots of activity, and plenty of information to be ferreted out on the sly. Of course, their discussion wasn’t out loud, rather, passed on notes back and forth like they were in elementary school. While they had yet to find any sort of bug or listening device in their room, they couldn’t be too careful. Once they were done, Buffy said, “I have to prettify. So stop messing with your tie, let me fix it, and get out of my way.”

She tied it expertly and sent him upstairs, then headed into the bathroom to make herself presentable. With great care and precision she applied makeup, heavier than her usual foundation and mascara, and fiddled a bit with her hair. The stylist at the fancy Beverly Hills salon had put it up in hot rollers, so a halo of loose golden curls framed her face and fell to her shoulders..

“Buffy?” Fred called from outside her door. “I’m heading upstairs, come on up when you’re ready?”

“Just a few minutes!” Buffy replied, glancing at the clock and hurrying to slip into her new dress. The second she’d tried it on Fred had insisted she buy it, despite its hefty price tag. It was form-fitting down to her hips where it swirled out in a loose skirt to the ground, with tiny spaghetti straps and a low v-neck, made of layers of pink netting so light it was almost flesh toned, and covered in a scattering of crystals and pearls. She had to admit, with her tanned skin, the dress had quite an effect.

She slipped into her silver high heels and appraised herself once more in the mirror before rushing upstairs.

She could already hear the sounds of guests, and berated herself for being a little late. Hopefully, Spike wouldn’t be too mad.


He was here. Sauntered in like he owned the place, Darla on his arm, a cocky grin plastered on, he instantly caused Spike to want to punch him in the face.

Instead, he plastered on a confident smile of his own, and walked up to meet Liam Angelus.

“Spike, old boy!” Angel said. “What a cute little party you’ve given me here.”

“Angel, Darla,” Spike greeted them. “How was your flight?”

“Oh, dreadful,” Darla sighed, pursing her fire engine red lips, painted no doubt to match the scarlet dress she must have been poured into. “First class is not what it used to be.”

“So how’s everything going around here?” Angel asked pointedly.

“Now, now,” Spike said. “No business tonight, yeah?”

“He’s right, honey,” Darla simpered. “Business is dreadfully boring. I’m off to get a cocktail.”

Spike turned back to Angel after watching the woman saunter away. “No wife tonight?” He asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“You know Dru,” the taller man laughed. “Last minute, had some vision of who knows what and decided the stars weren’t aligned whatever way they should be.” Something seemed to catch his attention, and he ended their conversation, “Well, I’m off to make nice with the locals.”

Spike nodded, grateful that their inevitable confrontation could be postponed for a while longer. He headed off to find a drink.


Buffy always felt awkward at parties, ever since her first in high school when her best friend found a boy to make out with and left her alone. She’d been talking to Fred, who then headed off to handle some crisis with the caterers, and Xander and Gunn were at the front doors screening the guests. She’d graciously slipped out of a conversation with Lindsay MacDonald and another lawyer, Lilah Morgan, when the two began to have a heated fight that Buffy sensed would only lead to some passionate hate sex. She took a sip of her champagne, and then smiled as Lorne danced up to her.

“Sugarplum, you are the most gorgeous thing in the room, you know that right?” Lorne said, offering her a canape from his plate.

“You look pretty handsome yourself!” Buffy replied, waving off the food and kissing the proffered cheek of her co-worker.

“Having fun?”

“Not much of a party girl,” Buffy shrugged.

“Oh come on!” Lorne said. “Relieve some stress, dance the night away with that gorgeous boy of yours. I’ll be offended if you don’t enjoy my party.”

Buffy waved as he danced away, then felt a chill creeping up her spine as she noticed a tall, dark, and handsome man approaching her.

She recognized him instantly as Liam Angelus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he smiled at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t,” she said, sticking out her hand formally. “I’m Buffy Joyce, I work for Spike.”

“Oh, the new computer girl!” He said, holding onto her with a firm grip just a tad longer than necessary. “Not what I’d expected.”

“Oh really?” Buffy replied, every inch of her skin crawling as she stared at this man she had so much fear of. “What were you expecting?”

“Glasses, for one,” Angel laughed. “And maybe a pocket protector, do they still make those? I take it you know who I am?”

“I have an inkling.”

“Well, then you know it wouldn’t be the greatest idea to turn me down when I ask you a very important question.”

Every organ inside Buffy’s body tensed up.

“Would you care to dance?” He finished with a leer.

Spike was wandering around the party, talking to the important people he encountered, but all the while keeping his eyes out for Buffy.

When he spotted her, his breath caught in his throat, and all the blood in his body moved directly south. She was a vision, a sun-kissed gift all wrapped up in sparkles, glowing as she smiled and laughed. He stepped forward towards her, the person making her laugh coming into view.

Angel.

He moved forwards as if running to catch her from a painful fall.

“Buffy?” He said as casually as he could as he walked up to them. “I need to speak with you for a moment.”

“We were just about to dance, Captain Peroxide,” Angel joked, with a hint of malice in his eyes.

“I just remembered something strange in the files you were working on earlier,” he said to the girl, ignoring Angel’s comment entirely. “Won’t take long.”

“Of course! Of course,” Buffy agreed, handing her empty champagne flute to the passing waitress. “It was nice speaking to you, Mr. Angelus.”

She followed Spike towards his office, eyes traveling down to just how good his ass looked in his tuxedo pants. She snapped out of that train of thought, however, when he spun around with a hard look on his face and ordered, “Shut the door.”

“This isn’t about files, is it?” Buffy asked as she did what he requested.

“No. Why were you…” Spike seemed to reconsider. “What were you talking to Angelus about?”

“He came up, introduced himself, asked me to dance,” she said, confused. “Nothing to write home about.”

“Buffy…” Spike again trailed off, rubbing his forehead. “You need to stay away from him.”

“Isn’t he technically, sort of my kind of boss too?”

“No,” he shouted. “You work for me. And I’m telling you to stay away from Liam Angelus!” At Buffy’s surprised and almost frightened look, he calmed himself down. “I’m sorry I yelled at you pet.”

“That’s okay,” she shrugged. “I’m just…confused.”

“It’s complicated. I just want you to remember this, if you don’t remember anything else. He can be charming, he can seem kind. But please, love, remember. That man…Angelus doesn’t have a soul.”

Buffy took in the concern, fear, and sincerity swirling about in Spike’s blue eyes. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll…be careful,” she carefully said, knowing full well that she couldn’t actually agree to stay away from Angelus.

“We should get back to the party,” Spike said, opening the door for her. As she started to walk through it, he stopped her with a gentle hand on the small of her back. “And Buffy? You look bloody gorgeous.”

She felt his compliment create a blush across her cheeks, and he smirked before sauntering away.

Mind swimming with the information spouted from the mouths of mildly drunk party guests, Buffy decided she’d worked hard enough for one night, and grabbed a flute of champagne to keep her company as she ducked outside.

She shivered a bit in the cool night air, smiling warmly at a few people she’s spoken to earlier as she walked down the stairs to the pool area below, seeking solitude.

Something was amiss. She knew that in her gut, and it wasn’t just a little something. From the strange reaction to Angel’s arrival, to Spike’s creepy warning, to the conversation she’d overheard in between two of Angel’s lackeys about “suspicion”, she knew deep down in her bones that there was more going on than just competition between the two men.

It was surprising the amount of people, some extremely high-profile, that had shown up to the party with only a few days notice. Although, she supposed, it could be dangerous to refuse an invitation to this type of affair. Reject a chance to honor Liam Angelus? Heads would roll.

She was lost in her thoughts, but not so lost that she couldn’t sense a body behind her. “I’m getting a lot better at prepping for sneak attacks,” she giggled, spinning around and drinking in the sight of Spike, looking devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo. In her confusion earlier when he’d dragged her away from Angel, she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how good he looked. She was taking the time now.

“Enjoying yourself, pet?” he asked, fully aware of her appraising eyes.

“Quite a shenanigan,” she smiled, offering him a sip of her drink. He accepted her offer and downed the rest of the glass.

“Rude!” She cried out, smacking him playfully on the arm.

“I paid for it.”

“Well then you can go get me another.”

“I bloody well will not.”

“You will, and you’ll smile while doing it.”

He pouted. “Please don’t make me go back up there? They’re all so dreadfully boring.”

She giggled. “And I’m not boring?”

“You, pet? Hardly.”

“I don’t know, I really like computers. That could be considered boring.”

“You,” Spike repeated, “Could never, ever be boring.”

She giggled again, slightly lightheaded, and moved to lean against the wall in the alcove underneath the stairs. They could hear all the sounds of the party going on above them, but at the same time, were totally isolated from sight and, hopefully, were completely out of mind.

Spike leaned up next to her, and set the champagne flute on the ground. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, then Buffy said, “So, you didn’t bring a date?” She winced at the awkwardness of her question.

Spike laughed. “No, pet. No date.”

“I would think there’s a line of women just waiting for the chance to go out with you,” Buffy teased.

“Oh, true,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m quite the catch. Handsome, rich—“

“And so modest—“

“Extremely flexible—“

“That’s an image---“

“Capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound---“

Buffy collapsed into laughter, and said in between chuckles, “I just had this image of you in a Superman costume. I couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh, making fun of me again are you?” Spike growled, quickly moving and slamming his hands on either side of Buffy’s head, pinning her to the wall with his body. Her laughter instantly stopped. “Bad girl,” he said, his voice low and laced with warning.

“What’re you going to do?” Buffy said, her own voice strong and challenging despite the shaking in her knees. “Punish me?”

There was one moment, one moment filled with possibility and tension and danger and promise, one moment where one of them could have pulled away and changed the path they were on. A path they both knew, for vastly different reasons, could lead to destruction.

Their lips met in a fusing of lust, need, want, and desperation. Spike leaned into the girl, pressing his hardening cock against her soft body as his hands grasped her hips and pulled her even tighter towards him. Buffy’s hands seemed to be everywhere, skimming his sides and touching his face and squeezing his ass and running through his hair. She moaned as he moved one hand up to slide the tiny strap of her dress off her shoulder, releasing her breast to the cool night air.

He tweaked her hardened nipple with his fingers, eliciting another moan directly from her mouth into his, which caused vibrations throughout his entire body. He disengaged their lips, pressing wet and hungry kisses on her neck as he gathered her skirt in his hands in attempts to reach her bare skin. He reached underneath the layers of fabric to find her wearing no underwear, causing him to release a heady groan.

This was wrong, so wrong, which just made it better, Buffy thought as she felt Spike’s hand wrapping around her bare ass. She could hardly breathe as he kissed her fiercely, roughly, kisses she could feel in her head and her heart and her dripping center. With gentle, but firm hands, Spike pulled one of her legs up to wrap around him, and pulled back a bit so he could reach between them to slide one finger inside of her.

His hand, cold from the chilly evening, felt as if it was on fire as he pumped it inside of Buffy. He used his thumb to rub circles around her clit, his brain hardly working as he drowned in the feel of her wetness, the taste of her skin, and the sound of her heavy breathing.

He began to nibble on her ear as he forced another finger into her tight channel and curved them up, and she cried out softly. “Shhh, baby,” he whispered heatedly to her as he rubbed her clit faster, relishing the feel of her cunt tightening around his fingers. “I’ve got you.”

She ground into his hand, and pulled his face back to hers for another searing kiss. She began to quake and quiver around him, and gripped his biceps tightly as she came, panting and mewing into his mouth until she reached her climax and let out a sweet strangled cry.

He needed her to do that again. Needed to feel her shake and shiver and needed to her make those noises, needed to feel her sweet spasms around his cock instead of his fingers. He needed her.

Her hands moved to his belt.

But now was not the time, as they both heard Gunn’s voice up on the balcony, “Buffy? Are you out here?”

“Fuck,” Spike slurred, pulling his hands out of her and letting her skirt fall back into place. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks pink, and her lips swollen. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and captured her bottom lip in between his, giving it a nibble and then lightly flicking it with his tongue before pulling away.

“You should go,” he said reluctantly.

“Am I---“

“Here let me just—“ Spike smoothed down her hair and fixed her top. “You’re beautiful, pet.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, then as she heard her name called again, said quickly, “We’ll talk later?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, and watched her go.


Once Spike managed to think enough about baseball and a naked Queen of England to bring down the swelling in his pants, he headed back up the stairs to where the party was winding down. The second he entered the house, he came face to face with Angel.

“Where’ve you been, Spike?” he scolded, Darla hanging around his waist. “Not nice to abandon your guests.”

Spike made an indescribable noise in response.

“We’re heading back to the hotel, but I’m thinking I’ll come back in tomorrow,” Angel said. “We have some things to talk about, don’t we?” At Spike’s nod, a mischievous smile spread across his features. “But I’ll just let you know, old buddy, Darla and I are thinking we’re in need of a nice long vacation. So plan on having us around for awhile.”

With that bombshell dropped, the pair left, and a frustrated rage boiled up inside the man left behind.

The caterers were cleaning up, Gunn and Xander had gone to bed, Fred was helping the last few party guests into their limos, Lorne was paying the band and critiquing their performance, and Buffy was going insane.

She hadn’t seen Spike again. Not that she’d necessarily been looking for him, but every nerve in her body was tightly wound, her head was throbbing, and she knew the only thing that would make those annoyances go away was to talk to Spike, and to tell them that what had happened couldn’t happen again. Ever.

That or the cure for her ailments was more of what had happened. She wasn’t quite sure.

She finally gave into her screaming, pained feet and slipped off her shoes, heading from the kitchen where she’d been snacking on leftovers towards the bottom floor, her bed, and a sleepless night wracked with guilt.

He intercepted her halfway there. He didn’t say a word, just reached out and took her shoes from her, and headed towards his study. She meekly followed, running over her speech in her head. It started with an apology, ended with a request of silence, and hopefully, would lead to little or no awkwardness in regards to her continued employment.

Once in his office, all she got out was his name before his lips were on hers, and every thought and argument and excuse melted out of her body, along with each and every one of the pains.

Spike kissed her breathless, pulling away only when necessary to murmur, “You don’t know what you do to me, pet.”

She squeaked out, “I’m sorry?” And her response only prompted him to kiss her again, softer, sweeter, as he gently walked her backwards until her ass hit the desk.

“This is a bad idea,” he said as he tore away from her lips, gazing at her with an unreadable expression. She nodded. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” She nodded again. He was looking down at her with those crystal clear blue eyes, eyes filled with so many emotions Buffy couldn’t even begin to name them all. But just his eyes made her weak in the knees, whatever the thoughts behind them. “This is your last chance to tell me to stop.”

In response, she began quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

He dropped her shoes and picked her up, setting her on the edge of the desk as he helped her remove his coat, shirt and tie. One he was bare to her, she ran her hands over his abs, chest, and back, worshipping him, wrapped her legs around him, and pulled him closer to her so she could ravage his mouth.

Spike sank into the feel of Buffy around him, surrounding him, the smoothness of her skin, the scratchiness her dress, her lips, his own hands intertwining in her soft hair as their tongues dueled. His body felt like it never had before, as if every inch of it was both on fire and frozen in ice at the same time. His mind was a muddle of thoughts, but the prevailing one was just her name, over and over again, a thought that burst forth from his lips as he murmured into her mouth, “Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…”

Just as she moved her hands towards his belt, the phone in his office rang.

“Ignore it,” Buffy pleaded, her entire body throbbing with need, as she brushed one hand over the bulge in Spike’s pants.

“I wish I could, pet,” he groaned, wanting nothing more to do just that, but the phone number for that line was only known by a handful of people, all people who could NOT be ignored. He grimaced in frustration, disentangling from her limbs and grabbing the receiver. “What?” he barked. Buffy frowned as the color drained from his face as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Now?...You’re sure…Of course, I didn’t know. Fine.” He hung up quickly, and glanced back at the curious girl in front of him, his blue eyes hard and unfeeling.

“You need to go downstairs.”

“What?” She said in surprise, the smile dropping from her face.

“Love…please. Just go downstairs, I have to deal with something,” Spike said in a monotone. “I’ll…put your phone on vibrate, yeah? I’ll call you when I’m…done.”

She nodded quickly, slightly afraid, grabbed her shoes, and left. Spike mourned the loss of her body near his, then slowly grabbed his shirt and put it back on. He picked up the phone again.


Buffy, of course, had no plan to just stay downstairs as she was told. She quietly changed out of her dress into all black pajamas, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and checked to make sure Gunn was soundly asleep.

She listened carefully for sounds from above, but then realized that she could hear voices outside. She slipped out the door, hiding in the same alcove she and Spike had occupied earlier that evening. She could see a group of figures walking past the pool. Buffy contemplated returning to the house, aware of how dangerous it would be to pursue this mystery further. But, never one for avoiding a challenge, she took a deep breath and followed them, finding a perfect spot to watch from behind a huge palm tree, just far enough away from the group so that she was hidden in total darkness.

She narrowed her eyes as she recognized one of the men as Angel, and another as Lorne. One of the others suddenly, without warning, punched Lorne directly in the gut. Her friend doubled over in pain, then fell to his knees as his attacker followed up his punch with a brutal kick to the knees.

She was too far away to hear, but Buffy knew Lorne was crying and begging, two things that had no effect on Liam Angelus. The man pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the head of the kneeling man in front of him.

A scream bubbled up inside Buffy’s chest as she saw Angel remove the safety and press the weapon into Lorne’s forehead. Lorne was pleading, his shoulders shaking, and turned away from the gun to speak to the last man in the group.

Her scream died at her lips, however, as she realized who Lorne was talking to. Spike, standing a bit off to the side, his face made of stone, cigarette smoke billowing from his mouth. He was just watching.

The faint sound of a silenced gun reached Buffy’s ears, and Lorne’s body fell forward onto the grass.

Angel gestured to the two men with him, and began to walk away. Spike followed, casually stepping over the corpse on the ground. Buffy covered her mouth in fear as the two walked past her hiding spot up to the house, and the two men left behind picked up the body and began to carry it in the opposite direction.

Buffy waited until the coast was clear, then ran back to the mansion and locked herself in her bathroom, collapsing on the floor, frightened sobs threatening to burst forth from her. After a while, her cell phone on the counter began to vibrate.

She glared at it, willing it to stop. It did, but only for a second, as Spike persistently called her three more times before giving up.

Buffy breathed deeply to stop her shaking and suppress the tears that threatened to spill, the image of William Grace’s coldhearted expression fighting with her memory of the way he’d looked at her tonight. She rose from her curled up position on the ground, and headed towards bed, praying for some resolution to the turmoil inside of her.



So? What do you guys think now...

There’d been no discussion of when Buffy should start working the next day, and so she procrastinated as long as possible. First, she took Gunn into the bathroom, started the shower to cover the sounds of their conversation, and quickly explained what she’d seen the night before, leaving out the fact that she’d seen Spike there. Why, she had no idea.

Gunn yelled at her for a few minutes about the danger of what she’d done, then sighed, “Well, I guess that shatters the illusion.”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he’d meant. Thus far, they hadn’t encountered anything overtly criminal or evil, and had been lulled into a false sense of security. With Angel’s arrival, and what Buffy had witnessed, they couldn’t lie to themselves any longer. This was a dangerous situation.

After Gunn had headed upstairs to run an errand with Xander, Buffy had taken a long shower, attempting to wash away the memories of the night before. It was an unsuccessful endeavor.

She dressed, she ate, she did some yoga, and finally dragged herself upstairs.


Spike heard her the instance she passed by his office, and called for her to come in.

He hadn’t slept the night before. Not necessarily a rare occurrence, but usually he managed to at least grab a few hours. He’d lain awake, a muddle of emotions blocking any possibility for rest. Guilt, fear, worry, anger, all things that Buffy’s lips and hands could have cured.

“Spike, look…“ she started to say.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he pouted. “Had to take care of myself.”

A look of disgust flickered in her eyes, a look that deflated the small bubble of happiness within him. “I fell asleep---“ she started to lie when Fred poked her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt. Have you seen Lorne?” she asked.

Spike didn’t miss the stricken look on Buffy’s face, try as she might to hide it. “Lorne’s…not going to be working here any more,” he said cautiously, reeling from the realization that Buffy must know what had happened the night before.

“Oh,” Fred said in surprise, then quickly recovered, and scurried from the room.

“Buffy—“ Spike moved towards her, but stopped short when she quickly backed up, something like fear in her beautiful eyes. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “How…what were you doing last night?” He finally said sternly.

She bit her lip nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Buffy, it’s okay,” he sighed. “I’m not mad, I’m not…” A dark cloud settled into his gaze. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Buffy. I wouldn’t, do you believe me?” At her hesitation, his voice hardened, “What did you see?”

She quickly went over her options, and settled on a careful mixture of truth and lie. “I was waiting for you, and I heard voices, so I went outside to see what it was…”

“And saw what happened.”

She nodded.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his entire body tense. Buffy watched him warily, and waited for him to speak. “I told you there’d be things you wouldn’t like.” She nodded again. “Lorne…Angelus had sources that said he was betraying the organization. It wasn’t my call. I wouldn’t have made that call.” She was still and silent. “I don’t do that, not anymore. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a gun to someone’s head, and even longer since I pulled the trigger.” Still, silence. “Fuck, Buffy, talk to me!” He growled, slamming his hand down on the desk.

She jumped, and then shrugged, “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Say…say you believe me,” he pleaded. “Believe that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She was silent for a moment, staring at his anguished face. She wanted to believe him, she did. And he seemed sincere. Dark circles hung under his tired, desperate eyes, and his entire face had a pinched look to it. A look that instantly melted away when she quietly said, “I believe you.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

The phone on his desk rang again.

“I should get to work,” she said quickly, backing out of the room. Spike sighed, rolling his neck and clenching his jaw as he answered the phone.

Buffy quickly walked towards her haven, wanting nothing more than to just lose herself in the illuminated computer screen for a few hours. But Fred ran up after her, “Buffy!”

“What’s up, Fred?” she pasted a smile on her face before spinning around.

“The inquisition starts this afternoon,” the other woman sighed. “Angelus and his people are coming in after lunch to check things out, meet you and Gunn, and mostly make our lives hell.”

“Fred, such language,” Buffy giggled.

She blushed. “What can I say, I’m a rebel. So, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I was thinking maybe you could borrow one of my suits or something, just…well, let’s just say Angelus is a bit of a flirt, and we should cover up as much of you as we can.”

“Yeah, I experience his…flirting last night,” Buffy laughed. “Made my skin crawl.”

“Oh, totally,” Fred said, then lowered her voice conspiratorially, and moved Buffy into the computer room. “There’s this huge scandal behind it. See, he’s been with that Darla woman for years, messing around on the side of that too of course, but then, he married Spike’s long-time girlfriend up and out of the blue. He had no idea they’d even been having an affair. So not only did Spike lose his girlfriend to the man he has to work for, he has to know the man is cheating on her every day. How soap opera is that?” Fred finished with a giggle.

Buffy maintained her front of interested gossip partner, but when Fred left to call Xander and Gunn, she sank down into her chair with a heavy heart.

Poor Spike.

The story FBI had about Drusilla Edith-Angelus had always been a little muddled. There had been rumors that she and Spike had been involved prior to her wedding, but nothing concrete. Now, the antagonism between the two men made a bit more sense to Buffy.

Keeping Angelus’s imminent interrogation in the back of her mind, Buffy quickly got to work, thinking it would be just another day of uninteresting files and mundane codes.

But the first disk she started working on was infinitely more complicated to hack into than any of the others had been. She began to get excited as she tried different ways of getting into it, rolling her eyes at herself when she realized how thrilled she was over a complicated computer problem.

Once she finally opened up the files, she was even more energized.

This was something. What, she didn’t quite know yet. It looked like a bunch of information about a delivery—tracking numbers, bank account transfers, photographs. But what was even more interesting, was that none of the names on the files were familiar to Buffy.

Except the name Liam Angelus.

Why would Spike have all this information on one of Angelus’s deals, Buffy wondered, but didn’t get a chance to think about the problem further when Fred knocked in the door.

“Buffy? Let’s get you dressed!”


Spike paced in his office as he waited for Angelus to arrive. He was stressed. The man’s very presence inevitably caused Spike to either punch a hole in a wall, or drink an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. Neither of which ever left him feeling great.

“Xander and Gunn are back,” Fred said as she came in with a coffee for him. “And I put Buffy in some of my clothes, like you asked. They should be here in twenty minutes or so.”

Spike nodded, accepted the coffee, and decided he needed some fresh air to help calm himself down.

Calm, however, was not what his body ever was when around Buffy Joyce, who was standing on the patio, wearing one of Fred’s dark gray skirts, a high-necked white blouse, and black flats.

“Well, don’t you look…” Spike started to tease her, then pulled back, still not sure if she was comfortable around him after what she’d witnessed the previous evening.

“Like a librarian?” She finished for him. “Fred can pull off this stuff, she’s all thin and graceful. I feel like a kid in mom’s clothes.”

“You definitely don’t look like a kid,” Spike said appreciatively, eyes tracing the outline of her breasts under the blouse and the way the skirt’s slit flashed a bit of thigh when she moved.

“Thanks.” After an awkward pause, Buffy continued, “Look, about last night. All of last night, not just…” she took a deep breath. “Let’s just forget it happened, okay? Everything. Should make things easier.”

Spike wanted to yell a firm no, explain exactly what was going on, beg her to forgive him, and if none of that worked, use his power as her boss to just force her to smile at him again. But he knew none of that would work with a woman like Buffy.

“Okay, sure,” he shrugged. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable at all.”

“It’s fine,” Buffy said, aware of the crushing disappointment in her chest at Spike’s easy acceptance of losing her company.

“Remember what I said when I hired you, Buffy,” Spike said before he turned to leave. “Your loyalty is to me, not to anyone else, and certainly not to Angelus. So be careful how you answer his questions.” And with that, he stalked off.


Angel and his entourage spread themselves out in the living room, talking loudly and ordering around the maid. Gunn and Xander stood off to the side quietly, as Fred and Buffy waited patiently on one of the couches for Spike to come in.

He finally arrived, to an instant rebuke from Angel, “Don’t like to be kept waiting, Spikey,” he said with derision.

Spike shrugged and flung himself into a chair across from Buffy.

“Well let’s get to it, shall we?” Angel smirked evilly.


Buffy was used to interrogation, as Gunn was. They’d been trained to withstand it. And Xander, Fred and Spike had clearly been through this sort of process before. But after almost two hours of constant questioning about the most mundane things by Angel and his lackeys, she felt exhausted. They had asked her everything from how she’d cracked the code on each of the files, to what was in them.

“I don’t read them,” Buffy had shrugged. “I don’t really care what’s in them, I just make sure they’re…openable?” She smiled perkily.

Angel had looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe her, but then laughed and said patronizingly, “They’d probably be over your head anyway, baby.”

Buffy had wanted to smack him, or possibly kick him in the crotch.

Lorne had been brought up casually by Angel, in a way that made it seem he had just up and decided to quit irresponsibly, and his attitude about it made Buffy’s blood boil. From the sick look that flashed across Spike’s face, she figured he felt the same, and she was surprised at how relieved she was that he hadn’t lied to her earlier. Fred and Xander didn’t say anything, but Buffy figured after having worked in this environment for so long, they knew exactly what had happened to Lorne.

The group of men had finally left, after making it clear this wasn’t the last time they’d be around. Gunn walked them to the door, and everyone left in the room breathed simultaneous sighs of relief.

Xander spoke first. “I really hate that guy.”

Spike let out a bark of laughter. “That’s a bloody understatement.”

Fred giggled. “I just think he has a great big stick up his butt.” They all laughed at her feeble attempt at an insult, and the tension in the room seemed to drain away for a bit. Spike watched Buffy’s eyes glitter as she winked at Fred, feeling an almost irresistible pull towards her.

“Is there anything you need me to do tonight?” Gunn asked when he returned to the room.

“Uh, no,” Spike shrugged. “Why?”

“I was thinking of taking my girl out to dinner,” Gunn put his hands on Buffy’s shoulders and squeezing them. “If you don’t need her to work tonight either.”

Spike briefly considered saying yes, he needed Buffy, she couldn’t go, and to sod off, you prick. He glanced at the girl in question, willing her to look at him, to communicate with her eyes, but when she didn’t he just shrugged and gave his permission.

Out of the corner of her eye Buffy watched Spike peel himself off the couch and leave the room without a word. She sighed, resisting her urge to go apologize to him, and followed Gunn downstairs to get ready to go out.


The pair called Giles as they left the gates, and made plans to meet him at a tiny, hole in the wall Chinese restaurant in Long Beach where they could talk openly.

Buffy first told Giles about seeing Lorne’s murder, and she again left out Spike’s presence at the scene of the crime. She then relayed all the recent information she’d memorized from the different disks, taking great care to lay out all that which had been in the most recent file.

“That certainly does seem odd,” Giles mused. “I suppose Spike could have been involved in that transaction and his name just wasn’t anywhere in the records.”

“I guess,” Buffy shrugged, playing with her noodles. “But honestly, my gut tells me he didn’t have anything to do with it. And he was so firm that my loyalty should be with him, not Angelus.”

Gunn nodded. “He said that to me too. And those two do hate each other, I think.”

“Well fighting over a woman will do that,” Buffy said, expertly hiding her jealousy.

“Very strange,” their boss said. “What do you think it all means?”

“Maybe he’s trying to break off on his own?” Gunn suggested. “Steal deals out from under Angelus, make some extra money?”

“Or,” Buffy said carefully. “He’s looking to betray the organization?”

“That seems like quite a leap, Buffy,” Giles said. “There’s very little evidence to indicate any change of heart on Grace’s part. He may want to take down Angelus, for personal or professional reasons, but I hardly think he’d incriminate himself in the process, which he’d have to if he ever used those files.”

Buffy reluctantly agreed. “I don’t know, but it just seems like he’s not all that bad of a guy.”

“He’s a charmer,” Gunn snorted. “But we know exactly what kind of guy he is.” He then began to earnestly tell Giles about the information he’d gathered, and Buffy began to drift away, turning over all the details of the past few days in her head.


“Gunn!” Spike yelled from his office the second he heard the two return from their date. His head was filled with images of the two in some romantic restaurant, but he shook them away as he dealt with the problem at hand.

“What’s up?” Gunn asked, coming into the office with Buffy tagging along.

Spike glanced at her quickly before saying, “You impressed Angelus today, and he wants you to work for him while he’s in town.”

“For real?” Gunn said.

“Yeah,” Spike sighed. “I’m asking you, but really more telling, because he’s not big on being rejected. You’d still live here but be with him most days and nights.”

“That’s chill,” Gunn said, exchanging an excited look with Buffy. Being with Angelus while he was in town meant he’d be privy to a lot more information and be right in the thick of the action, a good place to be for their investigation. And since that man was the target of the FBI’s grander interests anyway, this new position was great for his career. Visions of promotions danced in his head, while visions of more time with Buffy danced in Spike’s.

The blonde told him that was all, and felt his heart warm at the small smile Buffy gifted him with before she left too. Just that smile told him that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t afraid of him as he feared. He stared out the window for a bit, grateful for the exhaustion that might allow him to sleep peacefully that night.

A plan began to form in Spike’s head as he contemplated his current situation. Gunn would be gone with Angelus, and Buffy would be alone. A crafty smile spread across his face, and he reached for the phone to make arrangements for the next evening.

“Buffy,” Spike said firmly as he came into her office. “I need you tonight.”

“What for?” She asked, her face showing her bewilderment.

He sat down on the desk next to her computer and leaned forward conspiratorially, “There’s a situation with a client, and he’s having a party at this restaurant tonight. I need you to come with me, and deal with some problem on his computer. Okay?”

Buffy was still pretty confused, but agreed, “Okay, of course.”

Spike smiled. “It’s sort of a nice place, and we want to blend. Would you have something to wear?”

Buffy nodded, “I have like, a cocktail dress?”

“Perfect. Be ready to leave at seven,” he said, and quickly left.

Buffy frowned, knowing something wasn’t quite right, but returned to her work.


Spike was in the foyer at five minutes to seven, compulsively glancing in the mirror and fussing with his clothes. He’d dressed in a black button up shirt with a red tie and black slacks, hoping he didn’t look like a complete tosser.

He heard Buffy clear her throat behind him, and when he turned his mouth dropped open. She was dressed in a short, tight, high necked black lace dress that showed off her perfect legs, and was wearing bright red high heels. She had straightened her blonde hair and pinned up the front in some sort of poof thing he’s seen on many an LA girl, and lined her gorgeous eyes in heavy gray shadow. She giggled at the expression on his face and spun around, showing that the back of the dress dipped down to just above her tailbone, showing off her gorgeous back.

“You look…” Spike attempted to say, no blood left in his brain to form the words to say how amazing she looked.

“We match,” she pointed out, lifting one foot daintily to show off the shoes.

“That we do, pet,” he grinned, regaining his powers of speech. “We should head off.”

They walked outside to find a limo waiting for them, the look of surprise and pleasure on Buffy’s face making Spike swell with pride.

They drove for awhile, sporadically talking about anything but the chemistry between the two of them and the disturbing events of the night before.

Buffy kept glancing over when Spike wasn’t looking at her, trying to understand why she still felt so comfortable with him. After what she’d seen, after all that she knew, after hardly any time at all.

They made it to the restaurant and Spike helped Buffy out of the limo, and kept a hold of her hand as he led her into the dark, candle lit restaurant.

Once they were seated next to each other in a secluded booth, Buffy asked, “Wait, so where is the guy we’re supposed to be meeting?”

“Um, he must be late,” Spike grinned. “Ponce. No respect for my schedule---”

“There’s no business going on tonight, is there?” Buffy asked pointedly. At Spike’s nonchalant face, she continued, “Spike…is this a date?”

“Please, a date?” He scoffed. “You are completely off your bird!…Do you want it to be?” He finished hopefully.

She stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You are something, William.”

“Nothing compared to you, love,” he said quietly, relishing the sound of his real name on her lips, when the waiter interrupted them with a bottle of Cristal.

“So really, you thought you had to trick me into going on a date with you?” Buffy asked once the waiter left them alone after taking their orders.

“I did,” Spike nodded. “Didn’t I?’

“Well, maybe.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

“You know, if I wasn’t so hungry, I might just get up and leave.”

“Oh, yeah? My company not enough to keep you?”

“Nope. I’m really only here for the chicken. Although, I could call you a chicken too.”

“You’re on dangerous ground, you chit,” Spike growled.

“Chit? What’s a chit?”

“You’re a chit.”

“Well you’re an ass.”

“See, that’s the problem with you bloody Americans, your insults are so boring.”

Smiles were permanently spread across their faces as they bantered, and after Spike’s last comment, Buffy leaned closer so their bodies were touching, and whispered seductively in his ear, her lips so close they brushed his skin, “But you said I wasn’t boring, remember?”

Her hand was on his thigh. Oh, he remembered.

He cleared his throat, “Right, not boring.”

She grinned wickedly and moved away again, his body instantly missing the heat of her pressed up against him.

She knew she should leave, bring up Gunn, or do something disgusting, anything to kill the romantic mood between them. When she was around him she seemed to forget everything. Forget who he was, who SHE was, what he had done, what he would do to her if he knew what she was doing, she was thinking in circles. She could hardly form those rational thoughts, let alone act on them. So she stayed right where she was, on the best date she’d ever been on.

Their food arrived quickly, due no doubt, Buffy realized, to Spike’s status in this community. They talked as they ate, the conversation between them easy and fluid, without a moment of silence or stress.

“Dessert, pet?” Spike asked as the waiter cleared their empty plates.

“I could seriously go for some chocolate,” she said. “There is no problem that cannot be solved by chocolate.”

She was just too adorable. Spike ordered a piece of chocolate cake for them to share, and poured her another glass of Cristal.

“I would have to say that you’re trying to get me drunk, sir,” she smiled.

He lowered his voice and murmured, “I just remember what happened the last time you drank champagne.”

She gasped, a flush building in her chest and rising to her cheeks. Spike lightly set one hand on her knee and slid it up her thigh, stopping just short of the hem of her dress when the cake arrived.

“Oh, nummy,” he said, removing his hand and reaching for a fork. Buffy glared at him, hating and loving the way he could turn her to jelly with just one touch or word. Oh, he was going to pay.

She delicately lifted her fork and took a bite of cake. Once she was sure Spike’s eyes were on her, she put the fork in her mouth and seductively slid her lips off of it, softly moaning, “Oh, that’s so good.” Spike was staring at her, mouth hanging open, and she went just a big further, reaching out her little pink tongue and lightly licking her lips for any remaining traces of chocolate.

He stared at her, entranced, and then his eyes narrowed as she winked at him.

“Oh, you think you’re sexy do you?”

“What, I’m not?” She pouted.

He leaned in close, inches from her face. “You? Are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said before he captured her lips in a kiss.

Soft at first, Spike’s kiss drove the last of Buffy’s doubts from her mind. She didn’t care. Right at that moment, she chose not to care. For now. What she should or should not do didn’t matter anymore, all she could think about was Spike’s lips on hers. He gently coaxed her mouth to open up to him, and pulled her body tightly against his as their tongues met. Buffy rested on hand on Spike’s upper thigh, stroking gentle circles as her other hand firmly grasped one of his strong biceps. Spike dipped one hand under the back of her dress to lightly trace the edge of her thong.

Buffy pulled away slightly and teased softly, “You’re keeping me from my cake.” She tapped his nose with a finger.

Spike frowned and used one hand to smack her gently on the hip, then released her so she could continue making him hard by molesting a fork.

As she proceeded to eat most of the dessert, her hand stayed on his thigh, and once the last bite was swallowed, she swiftly brushed that hand against his crotch and winked at him.

Spike raised one hand towards the waiter and manage to cough out, “Check, please.”


The pair had barely made it into the limo with the door shut before they were fused together in a kiss. Spike pulled Buffy into his lap so she was straddling him, holding her safe and tight against his body as the limousine sped away.

Buffy ground down against him, tightly grasping his shoulders as his hands cupped her ass. Every time their tongues touched she felt a surge of passion throughout her body, and her tiny little thong was getting soaked.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned as they separated only to breathe. “Drive me crazy, you do.”

“Yeah?” she whimpered, hands sliding from his shoulders up his neck to trace his sharp cheekbones. “You’re a little insanity-inducing yourself.”

He laughed before he kissed her again, then flipped her over so he was on top of her on the long seat.

“Not safe, Spike,” she forced out as he ceased his assault on her mouth and moved to kiss the swell of her breasts under her dress. “Moving car, remember?”

“Won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured as he fondled her chest, eliciting breathy moans.

“But—but the driver—“ she protested.

“The driver has strict orders to drive around until I ask him to stop, and to not open the window.”

“Oh you planned this did you?” she asked as he started worshipping her neck with wet, hot nibbles and kisses.

“Planned, prayed,” he murmured, pressing his erection into her thigh. “Hoped and dreamed.”

“Reciting poetry?”

“You think that’s poetry?” He scoffed. “That’s some bloody awful poetry. Now, are you done talking?”

Buffy grinned. “For now,” and pulled his mouth back to meet hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached up her hands to loosen and pull off his tie. Swiftly unbuttoning his shirt, she wriggled her hips against his hardness, making him moan.

Spike leaned back on his knees to remove his shirt, then had to brace himself against the back of the seat as the car went over a bump. As he was regaining his balance, Buffy reached out and began undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

He grinned down at her, “Eager, pet?”

She paused and glanced up at him, “What, you get to talk and I don’t?”

“Ban on talking lifted.”

“Yes, sir,” she smirked, and finished undoing his pants. That coyness shifted into something else, though, and she hesitated, almost reconsidered, but Spike instantly took control. He reached out and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms to expose her bra-less chest to his hungry eyes. Buffy bit her lip nervously, and he relished in her sudden shyness, not knowing the honest reason behind her momentary resistance. Resistance that faded when he kissed her sweetly and chastely on the lips, a kiss with more behind it than just plain lust. Buffy melted.

Spike slid onto the floor and kneeled in front of the woman, spinning her so she was sitting upright in front of him, and pulled the dress the rest of the way down, over her hips and down her legs. He tossed it behind him and drank in the sight of her perfect body in nothing but red heels and a tiny back satin thong. She shivered under his intense gaze, then closed her eyes as he began to press kisses starting at her ankle and moving up her leg. Halfway up her thigh, he switched to the other leg, and she whimpered slightly in protest.

He made his way right up to the edge of her panties, then with a rough tug ripped the scrap of fabric away.

“Oh!” Buffy cried out in surprise, her eyes flying open. He quickly spread her legs and rested them on his shoulders, and slicked her from bottom to top. Her gasp of pleasure urged him on, and he didn’t tease her any more, fastening his mouth directly over her clit.

She tasted like spun sugar, like vanilla and cinnamon, like the sweetest thing he’d ever eaten. Spike couldn’t contain his own moans as he feasted on her, sliding one, then two, then three fingers into her dripping center, pumping them roughly, licking her just right. Her fingers intertwined in his hair, holding him to her, she was cooing and crying and panting, each sound entering his ears and heading straight to his penis, making him painfully swollen. He reached down with one hand to free himself from his boxers, and let them fall to his knees along with his pants.

Buffy began to breathe louder, arching her back towards him, her grip on his head tightening. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she began to shiver, rewarding his work with a rush of more delicious fluid, and a sweet moaning of his name.

The feelings surging throughout her body were like nothing Buffy had ever felt. She couldn’t suppress her vocal appreciation as waves of pleasure and happiness so intense she wanted to cry flooded throughout her body. From deep with in her center she could feel a pull, an irresistible pull towards this man giving her so much pleasure. It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just need. When she finally came her entire body felt as if it would explode, she begged him for something, she didn’t know what, she could hardly breathe, and the only thing she could even think was his name.

As her orgasm faded Spike pulled away and stared up at her glowing face. She slowly opened her eyes to find him just watching her.

“What?” she breathed self-consciously.

“Nothing,” he smiled softly, and she reached for him, bending down for a gentle kiss, able to taste her own juices on his lips. The connection of their mouths was the only thing that helped to her to regain focus.

“I need you,” she whispered softly, and Spike instantly moved to action. He struggled out of his pants, almost falling over as the limo went around a curve, which caused Buffy to laugh openly at him.

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” Spike said, embarrassed, pulling his wallet out of his pants pocket and removing a condom. He moved to sit up next to Buffy, enjoying her appreciative gaze of his thick cock. Quickly rolling the condom on, he reached for the woman and moved her so she was straddling him again.

She started to sink down, closing her eyes in anticipation, but Spike ordered gruffly, “Look at me, love.” She obeyed without question, and as her pussy lips first kissed the head of Spike’s cock, he thought he might just die from the pleasure.

She sank down, taking him fully, still staring deep into his eyes. She moaned his name once he was fully inside of her, stretching her tight channel. He was so hard, so big, so perfectly fitted to her. She stayed still for a moment, savoring the feel of their first coupling.

“Oh God, that’s it,” he groaned softly, then leaned down to fasten his mouth over her full breast.

“Mmm…” she sighed in response, moving her hips as she began to ride him in earnest, moving his cock in and out of her slick folds, keeping her balance with her hands on the seat behind him. When the limo swerved slightly, Spike’s teeth scraped her sensitive nipple, and her guttural moan let him know she loved it.

The pleasure for both of them built quickly. Spike tore himself away from her breast and kissed his way back to her mouth, nibbling on her lower lip as she wrenched more pleasure out of his body than anyone ever had. He pulled her tighter to him, burrowing his head against her throat, digging his fingertips into her ass so hard he’d leave bruises as he felt her near her climax. He wanted to pull her so tightly to him their bodies would fuse permanently, he wanted to savor her taste, her smell, her feel, just in case he never got to experience this bliss again.

“Oh God,” she cried out, trying to keep her voice down, her pussy clenching around him like an iron fist. “Spike, yes, yes, please…”

“Buffy, Buffy, my Buffy, my girl,” he moaned into her hair, thrusting his hips up to meet her gyrations. “That’s it kitten, that’s it, just like that…”

She slammed down on him once more as her orgasm took her body, and she announced her pleasure with that sweet, strangled cry he had heard her make before. He pushed her away from him so he could watch her pleasure expressed on her gorgeous face, her perfect lips parted, her cheeks a faint pink, her eyes full of want. He could read every bit of her in those eyes, or so he thought. Her inner muscles spasmed around his cock and brought him to his own climax, a rush of bliss so intense he couldn’t help himself from shouting her name.

Buffy collapsed onto him, breathing heavily as she calmed down. Spike gently lifted her of his softening cock and set her down next to him, then reached for a tissue from the limo’s mini-bar and removed his condom, quickly wrapping it up and sticking it in the trash. He turned back to Buffy, who was leaning against the back of the seat, watching him, a sated smile on her face. He reached out and intertwined his fingers with hers.

They were both quiet as they stared happily at each other.

Buffy finally giggled, “So you think the driver heard us?”


Once they were both fully dressed again, Spike reluctantly asked the driver to take them back to the house. He dreaded the moment when the doors would open and Buffy would no longer be cuddling his side, her head on his shoulder, her finger lightly tracing designs on his forearm.

Buffy didn’t want to go back either. If it was possible, she’d like to live her life driving around in his limo with Spike, not having to face blame or consequences or disappointment. She could already feel her guilt start to weigh on her heart, but she didn’t want to give into it. She just wanted to stay happily wrapped up in Spike’s strong arms. And possibly have another freaky sex session in the moving car, if possible.

But her dreams were not to be, as she glanced out the window and saw that they were pulling through the gates. She pulled away and made sure she looked presentable. Spike had taken her destroyed underwear and put it in his pocket, insisting she had no use for them, and she’d rolled her eyes and chosen not to argue. So as she emerged from the car, she savored the erotic feel of the cool night air reaching her still moist sex.

Spike lightly rested his hand on her bare lower back as they walked to the door, but before they entered she reluctantly pulled away.

“Spike—“ she started to say, wanting to seek some sort of promise, some sort of absolution.

“No, love, I got it,” he winked. “I’m discreet.”

She smiled softly and turned on her heel, entering the house ahead of him and leaving him absolutely captivated on the doorstep.



So, yeah, my combining of chapters had a deeper purpose...this last part just HAD to be posted on Valentine's Day, don't you agree? Please, please, let me know what think!

Buffy awoke to the bright mid-morning sun, stretching languidly as she slowly opened her eyes. She reached over and turned off her alarm.

She’d slept well, dreaming dreams filled with nothing but Spike. Spike naked, Spike clothed, Spike in HER clothes, which was a weird dream. Her waking thoughts in the harsh light of day were no different, except now, those thoughts were tinged with the faint stain of remorse. Luckily, Gunn had been sound asleep when she’d come in the night before, and she’d taken a quick shower and passed out next to him. She had no desire to see and lie to him today about her night with Spike, and was glad he was off working for Angel.

It would be one thing if it had just been sex. That, she could have written off as hormones, a momentary lapse in judgment caused by the inherent sexiness of a bad boy and her own long, long dry spell. But when one of her dreams featured Spike proposing, she knew she was in an entirely different area than just lust. And that was dangerous.

Her phone started to ring just as she climbed out of bed. She glanced at the caller ID and couldn’t control the warm feeling spreading throughout her body.

“Hello, pet,” Spike said softly as she answered. “Sleep well?”

“I did, as a matter of fact,” she smiled. “I just woke up.”

“I knew that, actually.”

“….that’s a little disturbing.”

“No, it’s just I’m right outside your door, heard the alarm turn off.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Spike, who lowered his cell from his ear and grinned happily at her.

“Creeper,” she giggled, enjoying the fluttering of her heart when he looked at her. “Where is everyone?”

He leaned against the door frame and tucked his phone into his pocket. “Xander and Fred are off doing some errands for me.” He intentionally left out explaining Gunn’s whereabouts, figuring she knew already, and didn’t want to bring the sod’s name up if he didn’t have to. The image of Buffy sleeping beside the other man all night had driven him crazy, and he’d casually suggested to Angelus on the phone this morning that maybe Gunn should stay at the hotel tonight. For security purposes, of course. “Errands that will take a very, very long time.”

“Is that so?” Buffy practically purred.

“It is,” Spike nodded. “And I was wondering if you’d fancy a swim? It’s a beautiful day.” While he had almost just jumped on top of her right here and now, the idea of a morning at the pool and Buffy in a swimsuit was too delicious to pass up.

She brightened at the suggestion, and nodded eagerly. He told her to meet him outside and ran upstairs to change into his swim trunks, dressing faster than he possibly ever had in his life.

He grabbed a few towels from the laundry room and headed out to the balcony, pausing halfway down the stairs as he caught sight of Buffy. Buffy, barely covered by a tiny little white bikini, pulling her hair in a ponytail before diving into the water with the grace of a swan.

God, she was a vision.

He ran down the rest of the stairs and towards the pool, stopping at a chair to dump his towels, cell phone, and shoes. With an Indian war cry, he ran towards of the pool and cannonballed in.

Buffy let out a squeal he landed next to her, and quickly swam away before could reach out to touch her. He gave chase, catching up to her in just a few seconds and holding her tightly against his body hands cupping her ass, pressing her breasts against his chest. Just being near her again made every cell in his body shiver.

“Gotcha,” He grinned.

“What are you, twelve?”

“Not all parts of me,” He leered, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

“Pervert.”

“You know you like it.”

Buffy broke away from his grasp and splashed him, racing to the edge of the pool.

“You are freakishly strong!” He called after her, deciding to stay where he was and just watch her body cut through the smooth water.

She spun around when she realized he wasn’t following her, and stuck out her tongue at him. “Loser!” She taunted.

“Don’t point that tongue at me unless you plan do so something with it, kitten.”

“God, are you one of those people who could make reciting the Constitution sound dirty?”

“If I knew your…Constitution, yes, I probably could.”

“You’re kind of a pig.”

“And you’re kind of adorable.”

Buffy giggled, turned and went to the edge of the pool, then pulled herself up to sit at the edge and stretch out in the sun. Her wet body shimmering in the light put very naughty thoughts in Spike’s head about what exactly he could do to it.

“I can feel you watching me,” She said, eyes closed and face turned to the sun, her wet golden hair falling down her back.

“I’m always watching you.”

Buffy opened one eye and turned her neck towards him. “Again with the creepy.”

“It’s not creepy! It’s…romantic, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted a stalker of my very own.”

“Don’t push me, little girl,” Spike swam up to her and lightly rested his hands on her upper thighs. She opened her eyes fully and looked down at him, lust beginning to spark in her face He cocked his head at her and continued, “One of these days you just might go a little too far.”

Buffy gazed at him for a moment before giggling, “Oh, I’m so scared.”

With a roar he lunged at her, grabbing her and pulling her into the water with him. She shrieked in mock fear and allowed him to dunk her. Once underwater she pulled down his swimsuit and darted away, leaving him bellowing, “Not playing fair!” He swam quickly after her.

They continued their play, neither of them noticing the dark figure watching from the balcony.

Spike’s cell phone began to chirp on the lawn chair, just as he was about to capture Buffy’s lips in a kiss.

He tried and failed to resist her pout, giving her that kiss swiftly before quickly lifting himself out of the pool. Buffy sighed and appreciated the view as he walked away and picked up his phone. With his back to her, she couldn’t see the look of shock on his face when he looked at the caller ID.

“Hello?” he said softly as he answered the phone. He listened for a bit, then glanced sharply up at the house and finally spotted the figure who’d been watching them.

“Yeah, Dru,” he said quietly, so Buffy couldn’t hear, as he watched his former love head into the house. “I’ll be right up.”



Oh yes, of COURSE she has to show up, don't hate me!

Spike had kissed her fiercely, told her they’d have to cut their morning short and she should probably start working, and then had run off to whatever woman was standing up at the house.

Buffy attempted to suppress her disappointment and feeling of rejection, quickly heading to her room to take a shower. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly who that woman was, and she hated the fact that it made her jealous.

But aside from her own personal feelings about Drusilla Angelus being in LA, however, was the affect it would have on the investigation. While Gunn was a firm unbeliever of any sort of psychic or paranormal phenomena, Buffy was more open-minded, and had read intensely about Drusilla’s supposed second sight. There were numerous reports of her accurate predictions of events, and supposedly had kept Angelus out of jail more than once with her warnings. If any of that was true, she and Gunn could be found out.

But mostly, she was just jealous of the woman she knew Spike had loved. And she knew her priorities had taken a turn for the worse.


“What are you doing here, Drusilla?” Spike asked brusquely as he finally found the dark haired woman in the library, her back to him.

“You’re dripping all over your nice hardwood floors, I can hear it,” she mused without looking at him. “Bad boy.”

“Yeah, I’ll dry off in a second. Again, what the bloody hell are you doing in my house? How did you even get in?”

“Your princess always knows where you keep a key,” she giggled, spinning around so her long black skirt swirled around her. “How’s my Spike?”

“I’m fine, Dru,” he barked, hardly believing that after all these years, he was face to face with her again. After years of pining from afar, now, looking at her made his blood run cold.

She affected a pout and glided towards him. “Now, it that any way to greet an old friend?” She leaned out and pressed her lips to his cheek.

“Does Angelus know you’re here?” Spike asked, ignoring her gesture of affection and her condescending reference to him as a friend.

“Daddy? Oh, Daddy is too busy playing with his toys,” Drusilla sighed. “I thought I’d come to see my boy before I go to the hotel. Give you a little word of warning.”

“And what’s that?”

“Be very very careful,” she said, her voice deepening, her accent intensifying. She stared intently at the man in front of her. “Daddy doesn’t like to be wronged.”

“I really have no bloody idea what you’re going on about, Dru,” Spike spat. “And I don’t care. “

“I know you hate me, my darling, deadly boy. And you should. You love as deeply as you hate, and it’s one or the other with you, isn’t it?”

“Drusilla—“

“But you did love me once, and a part of me will always love you, too. And so I’m telling you. Be very careful. Guard yourself.”

“Fine. I will. Why don’t you run off?”

“If you wish,” she shrugged. “Have fun playing with your girl of sunshine.”

“Dru…” he paused, weighing his options. His voice was softer the next time he spoke. “If you could not mention her to anyone, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course not, my William,” she said airily. “Not a word spoken.”

With that, she obeyed his request and left the house. Spike didn’t breathe normally again until he heard her car drive away.

He needed Buffy.

He left the library and found her instantly, heading down the hall, hair wet, smelling of strawberries and coconut.

Spike grabbed her roughly and pulled her down the hall to his office, shutting the door behind him.

“Spike, wha—“ she started to protest, when his lips swallowed up her words in a passionate kiss.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms and pulled her up to him so that her toes were barely touching the ground. He kissed her senseless, kissed her thoughtless, kissed her until both of them ran completely out of air.

“I just needed to do that,” Spike panted when he finally tore himself away. “You can go back to work now.”

Surprised, turned on, confused, and slightly annoyed, she smacked him playfully and turned to go, just as the door swung open and Gunn and Angelus entered.

Buffy stiffened as she realized just how close they had come to getting caught. She smiled as Gunn grabbed her for a hug and a kiss, missing Spike’s look of fury entirely.

“Your wife just left,” Spike averted his eyes from the couple and spoke to Angel.

“Did she now?” He said disinterestedly, walking to the desk and reclining in Spike’s chair. “Heard she might stop by, woman can’t be away from me for long.”

“I thought you were meeting with Meers today,” Spike said, gritting his teeth as Angel made himself right at home in his office.

“Yeah, in a bit,” Angel shrugged. “Just thought I’d stop in, say hello, ask if you got those files I emailed you.” He lifted a folder off of the desk and began paging through the contents casually.

“I was going to look at them now.”

“So Gunn, I had no idea this beautiful woman was yours,” Angel dismissed Spike with a flick of his hand and turned to the two waiting by the door. “You’ll have to let me know how you snagged such a fine…woman.”

“Lots of hard work,” Gunn laughed, pulling Buffy towards him and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Buffy played along and swatted him teasingly.

Spike fumed.

“Well, no reason to stick around this hellhole any longer than necessary, I guess,” Angel shrugged. “Just stopped by for a quick visit, check if you got the files, and to remind you we’re going down to San Diego tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I got the memo, mate” Spike snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Good,” the other man ignored the attitude. “Buffy, baby, would you care to join Gunn and I for the day?”

“She’s busy,” her boss spoke for her.

“Yeah, I do have work to do,” Buffy said brightly, finally noticing Spike’s barely contained rage.

“Come on, you can be spared for one day,” Angel leered. “We could use the company.”

“No, I really shouldn’t,” she insisted.

“Okay girl, let me tell you goodbye,” Gunn winked at the other two men and dragged Buffy from the room.

It took a moment for Spike to realize Angel had spoken to him.

“What?” he said when he managed to regain his focus.

“Are you deaf, boy?” Angel snapped, rising from his chair and towering threateningly over the smaller man. “You better fucking listen to me this time. I’ve been letting things slide out of the goodness of my heart, but if this Walsh deal doesn’t pan out, there is going to be hell to pay. You hear me?”

Spike nodded, biting the inside of his cheek until he drew blood to keep himself from yelling out his frustration. “Got it.”

Angel strode out, barked Gunn’s name, and the sounds of them leaving were clear. Buffy peeked her head around the door to see Spike with his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” She asked tentatively.

“Fine,” he snarled, glaring at her. “Just…get out. Get to work. Leave.” His frustration with Angel, combined with his anger at seeing her with Gunn, made him seek a release for his anger. And she was the only person around to take it out on.

She nodded, her hurt evident on her face, and stalked off.

Spike groaned, regretting snapping at her instantly, and kicked the chair in front of him. “Fuck.”

Buffy heard him leave, slamming the front door and peeling out of the driveway with a squeal. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with him that afternoon, relieved she could just do her work, do her job, and get him off of her mind. Get him out of her system. Move on.

That worked all of twenty minutes, until she was so angry and frustrated she threw one of her completed disks across the room and let out a scream.

What had she done? Everything she’d worked for, everything she was supposed to care about, was hanging in the balance. She’d screwed up, she knew she had. That moment when Gunn and Angel had almost walked in on them was almost even more frightening than when she’d seen Lorne’s murder. God, she was in way over her head.

Clearly, she wasn’t going to get any more work done today with this amount of mental distraction, and besides, he hadn’t even given her that many new tasks anyway, what with the swimming and the kissing and the sinning. She contemplated seeing if she could sneak into Spike’s office to hunt for useful information, since everyone was gone. But as she and Gunn had yet to fully evaluate the security system in the mansion, she negated that risky plan.

Buffy went to shut her computer off and possibly just go take a long nap, but was surprised to hear the sounds of Spike’s car returning, and him bursting through the front door.

“Oh, great,” She muttered, tightly shutting her eyes. “Please don’t come in here, please don’t come in here, please don’t come here…” She opened her eyes to find Spike watching her with a smirk on his face.

“If wishes were horses,” he said, and tossed a small black velvet box onto the desk in front of her.

She stared at for a moment, and Spike held his breath in anticipation.

“You think you can just buy me?” She exploded, jumping up.

Yep, that’s what he had expected.

“I’m not trying to buy you,” he said calmly. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“For being an ass?” She spat.

“Yeah.”

His easy admittance gave her pause, but she barreled on. “You know, you’re unbelievable.”

“You don’t say.”

“I get that you’re stressed, but you do not have to take it out on me!”

“No, I don’t.”

“And really, it’s unprofessional.”

“I agree.”

“And buying me gifts to butter me up isn’t going to work.”

“Didn’t think it would.”

“You know, if you don’t fight back a little, I kind of lose my righteous indignation.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Spike pleaded excitedly.

“Did you not listen to a word I said?”

“Oh, I was listening,” He shrugged, then tilted his head to look at her through hooded eyes. “But you’re just so cute when you’re angry with me.”

“You’re impossible,” she growled, and picked up the box with a huff. Spike bounced on his toes like a little boy as he watched her tear off the red ribbon wrapped around it and lifted off the lid. “Oh!” She breathed out.

She pulled a necklace out of the box and held it in front of her face. On a spider web thin silver chain dangled a strand of clear and pink Swarovski crystals, punctuated with a large, black pearl. As she stared at it, she became almost paralyzed by the myriad conflicting emotions within her. It was overwhelming. It was dangerous. So she pushed all those feelings she had deep down inside of her.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, when Buffy was quiet just a bit too long.

“It’s really beautiful, Spike,” Buffy said, then gently placed it back in its box. “But I really can’t accept it.”

He frowned, his mood instantly darkening. “Why?”

“Because, Spike,” she said. “I’m not…I mean, I can’t—“

“You can’t what?” He moved to her and kneeled down to look in her downcast eyes.

“This is wrong,” she insisted firmly.

“What’s wrong?” He reached out to grasp her hands.

“You know what I’m talking about!” She pulled away and inched back in her chair. “Stop trying to confuse me with…the touching.”

“Look, Buffy,” Spike sighed, standing to give her the space she was clearly looking for. “What do you think is so wrong?”

Her honest reason was clearly not something she could share with him, but blurting out, “I have a boyfriend!” was not exactly the best thing to say either, she realized after saying it.

Spike’s eyes darkened to a deeper blue, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Break up with him.”

“Excuse me?” She laughed uncomfortably.

“Break. Up. With. Him. You obviously don’t love him—“

“How do you know that?” she cried out. “You have no idea how I feel about him.”

“I know how you feel about me,” He persisted.

“Oh, really!” Buffy scoffed. “One fuck in the back of a limo and you expect me to change my life for you?” Her cruel words burned her tongue as they came out, and clearly had the same painful affect on Spike.

“You bloody well know it was more than that,” he growled.

“Do I?” She said, her rising anger caused more by her discomfort with lying to this man than any belief in her words. “Look, Spike, get past this. It didn’t mean anything, you were just…”

“I was just what?”

“Convenient.”

The single word hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, knocking all the air out of him and leaving him gasping for breath.

“Bollocks,” he finally hissed. “It was a bloody revelation.”

“What are you TALKING about? Are you crazy?” Buffy exclaimed. “You hardly know me, why are you acting this way?”

“Because it’s what I feel,” he said sincerely, grabbing her from the chair and pulling her up to hold against him. “I felt something the second I looked at you, there’s something between us, you know there is. Every since…I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m drowning in you.”

She almost gave in, just for a moment, but regained control of herself and broke away.

“I don’t feel the same,” she lied. “Spike, please…just let this go.”

“I won’t,” he said after a moment of gazing at her impassive face. “I can’t let it go. But I’ll leave you alone for now.”

He spun around and left, shutting the door behind him quietly. Buffy fell back into her chair as she finally allowed all of her emotions to ravage her body, and burst into tears.

Spike kept his word, which was the most unnerving thing of all. When he had said he’d leave her alone for now, Buffy had thought he meant just that one conversation. But he was leaving her alone…really alone. For the next few days, everything was purely professional. He went to San Diego with Angelus, he gave her assignments, he bantered lightly with everyone. It’s not as if he ignored her, really, he just…treated her like an employee. Which is what she wanted, right? To just be another employee.

An employee secretly trying to gather information to stick him in jail for life, proclaiming her loyalty but really planning to betray him. An employee who was having extremely intense sex dreams about him every night, which certainly made sharing a bed with Gunn uncomfortable….but…an employee.

“Earth to Buffy?” Fred teased, snapping the other woman out of her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry,” Buffy laughed. The two were eating lunch out on the patio, and in the middle of a discussion about their college days, she had completely zoned out. Again. “I’m just someplace that’s else.”

“Yeah, you have been for a few days. Do want to talk about it?”

“Oh, thanks, but that’s okay,” she smiled. “I’m just space case-y. No real reason.”

“Are you sure? Is it Gunn?”

Buffy felt a pang of guilt, but shook her head. “No, no, really, it’s nothing.”

Fred clearly didn’t believe her, but continued on describing her days as a Texas sorority girl. Buffy did her best to pay attention, smiling and laughing at the appropriate moments, but was glad when the conversation was cut short due to a meeting Fred had to get to.

Her solitude was short lived, however, when Xander came out with a boisterous, “Hello Duchess of Buffonia!”

She laughed at his energy and beckoned him to join her. “What’s with the good mood, Xander?”

“Life is treating me well, what can I say,” he smiled happily, attempting to steal a chip off of her plate and earning himself a smack on the wrist. “And how are you?”

“Going a little stir crazy, I’m hoping I can get Gunn to take me out tonight, he’s been working so much I haven’t seen him at all.” In reality, the two really needed to go see Giles, it had been too long since they’d updated him on the events of their mission.

“That man,” Xander shook his head. “Needs to have his head examined. If you were my girlfriend I’d take you out every night. And there would be whipped cream. And outfits. Am I crossing the line at all?”

“No,” Buffy giggled. “You’re like me, your foot likes to live in your mouth.”

“Indeed it does,” Xander said, then paused before switching the tone of the conversation. “Look, Buffy, I want to warn you about something.” She glanced at him sharply and he waved his hands in front of him, “No, not anything bad. Well, not really bad. Sort of badness---“

“Okay, got the point, not a big bad, a little bad.”

“Yeah, look, I just want you to be careful,” he finally said slowly. “Things seem to be getting a little heated, I guess, and, well, I like you, Buffy, I think you’re good people, and I don’t want you to get into trouble. Any more so than you’re already in. So I’m just giving you a little heads up, keep your eyes open. Capiche?”

“What do you mean? Tell me more,” She pressed, just as Angelus walked out onto the patio. Xander shot her a look before greeting the man.

“Xander,” Angel said gruffly, “I think Forrest and Caleb could use your help out front.” Xander nodded and left, giving Buffy another meaningful look over Angel’s shoulder.

“How are you?” Buffy asked politely as Angel stared at her appreciatively. Despite being perfectly covered up in black jeans and a loose green top, his gaze made her almost feel naked, and not in a sexy way.

“I’m swell,” He sighed, moving to sit next to her, just a little too close. “A little stressed, though. It’s such a burden trying to get everything all figured out here, Spike has all his files and everything in such a mess.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It is,” he said, then moved a bit closer so their sides were pressed together. “The deal we’re working on is pretty damn important, and I don’t think Spike has the stones for it.”

“What’s the deal about?” Buffy asked in what she hoped was an innocent way.

He stared at her intently, and she started to wonder if her attempt at fact-finding was a serious misstep when he just smiled at her patronizingly and ignored her query. “You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to you again. I had a nice time when I saw you at the party and since then our meetings haven’t been nearly…personal enough.”

“It was a nice party,” Buffy said in a non-committal tone.

“Oh, it wasn’t, really,” he scoffed. “Pretty low-end. You should come out to New York, I could show you a real party.” When Buffy was silent, he said, “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“I don’t really know you, Mr. Angelus,” she said.

“Well, I can think of ways we could correct that problem.” His hand started to head for her knee.

She stood quickly to avoid any more contact. “That’s flattering, sir, but I’m just here to do my job.”

“Your job is for me, sweetheart,” he leered.

“I really don’t think so.”

“What, you think you work for Spike?” He laughed cruelly. “Spike is my bitch, Buffy. Spike does only what I tell him, or at least he’s supposed to. And if you think you have to do what he says, that means you do what I say too.” He reached out to grab her, and again she evaded his grasp.

“I rather think not.”

“You’re so spunky. I like it.”

“Is Gunn here?” Buffy asked as if she hadn’t even heard him.

“Gunn’s taking care of Dru for the day,” he smiled. “Driving her around.”

“I should call him,” Buffy said. “Have a nice day, Mr. Angelus. I’ll see you soon.” She spun around and left him alone, an annoyed look on his face.

From his window above Spike was watching. He’d almost come down to interfere when that bastard tried to put his hands on his girl, but he should have known she could take care of herself.

Even if it was Gunn she’d used as an excuse, and not him.


“Something seriously big is going to go down, G,” Gunn said. Once he and Buffy had escaped their respective jobs, they’d called and arranged to meet their boss in West Hollywood, at a secluded warehouse owned by one of Giles’s contacts.

“Do you have any idea what?” Giles asked, looking through the pages of notes Buffy had scribbled out about her recent work.

He shook his head. “It’s just all these little things adding up. The guys who’ve worked for Angelus for years say he’s all on edge, and he’s rarely like that. And despite the fact that he specifically requested that I work for him, I feel like I’m being kept out of the loop on a lot of stuff. Like, I’m just there to report back to Spike what I see. Because every time I get back, Spike grills me.”

“About what, specifically?”

“Just where did I go, what did I do, who did Angelus meet with, how’s the deal with Walsh coming, except I know the big things he wants to know about are things I don’t get to be there for, get it? And every time before I leave, he repeats his spiel about how my loyalty is to him.”

Buffy chipped in, “Plus, Xander gave me this freaky cryptic warning today about being careful, he seems to think something big is happening too.”

“Well, I would say their conflict is no longer strictly personal, then,” Giles mused. “Do you think the situation has become too dangerous---“

“No,” Buffy interrupted firmly. “It’s not like anything bad has happened recently, this is the perfect opportunity for us to get the information we need.”

Giles smiled at her. “I figured you’d say that, you’re never one to back down from challenge. And you agree, Charles? It isn’t too dangerous?”

Gunn nodded enthusiastically. “We can handle it, of course.”

“Good,” Giles said. “But I hope we can meet again fairly quickly, I worry when I don’t hear from you two for a long while.”

Gunn and Buffy agreed, and then their meeting was interrupted by a chirping cell phone.

“Oh, that’s me,” Gunn said, pulling the phone out of his jacket pocked. “Yeah?” He answered gruffly. “Now?...No, of course it’s no problem…Great, thanks. Be right there.” He hung up and sighed. “That was Forrest, Angelus wants me somewhere about ten minutes ago, wants me to meet him at the house. Said it shouldn’t take long, though.”

Buffy grabbed her purse and gave Giles a quick hug, “We’ll make sure to call you within a few days,” she promised, and the pair took off.


Gunn pulled up to the house, got out of the truck and immediately jumped into an SUV with Forrest, who was waiting impatiently. Buffy waved and watched them leave, before turning to head inside.

The house was uncharacteristically quiet, and after a quick survey of the downstairs and the kitchen, Buffy realized both Xander and Fred were gone. She started fixing herself a snack, but she then heard a loud thud from inside Spike’s office, gave into her curiosity and went to investigate.

“Buffy,” Spike slurred in surprise as she stepped through the door to his office. He lifted his glass and raised it to her before downing the remaining dark contents. “Cheers, pet,” he said bitterly, and wiped the back of one hand across his mouth.

The room was a war zone, papers and files and disks everywhere, and there was one empty liquor bottle and one freshly opened one sitting on Spike’s desk. He looked a mess, with rumpled clothes and hair, and it was clear from the look on his face he was not a happy drunk.

“Spike, what the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“Playing cricket,” he snorted. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Getting drunk alone in your office?” She supplied. “But, whatever, it’s none of my business.”

“It’s not! You are right, it bloody well is not,” he said, standing up and wavering slightly on unsteady legs. “But you should stay, have a drink. We could talk. But you won’t, oh no, you want nothing to do with big bad Spike.”

“Go to bed,” she said. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m a man, baby,” he leered. “As I’m sure you remember. I can hold my liquor no problem.”

“Yeah, a real manly way to deal with your problems is to get wasted at eight at night.”

“You know I’m a man! A bad, rude man.”

It would have been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“Look, Spike, get a grip. Whatever’s going on, get over it. Spank your inner moppet, whatever.” Buffy manage to ignore the incredibly strong desire to run over there, gather him up in her arms, and tell him that whatever was wrong, she would make it better.

“It’s all going to hell,” he muttered sadly as she turned to go, the desperate misery in his voice halting her in her tracks. “Just like me. I’m just trying to do the right thing, no one will let me. It gets all fucked up. Like with you.”

“Let’s not do this,” Buffy pleaded as she tried to avoid looking into his anguished gaze.

“Do what?” He whined, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another drink. “Talk about us?”

“There isn’t an us,” she managed to force out as she watched him down another shot.

“Bollocks, you know there is,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re fighting it, us, if it’s really because of that git you’re sleeping with or if it’s something else. Maybe you don’t trust me, but I can be a good man, Buffy, I can. I am. You don’t want me now but I can wait, I’ve been waiting. And I will wait, Buffy. For a really, really, really long time.” At the end of his little rambling speech, he wobbled and fell forward against his desk, then let out a low bark of frustration.

“Sleep it off, Spike,” Buffy said, and left, masterfully hiding the affect his words had on her.

Spike stared at the bottle in his hand then tossed it aside, and dropped his head in his hands while letting out a frustrated shout.

A persistent knock on the door woke both Gunn and Buffy from a dead sleep at four in the morning.

“Spike, man, what’s wrong?” Gunn said sleepily when he opened the door. Buffy’s eyes widened and she rolled over to see their boss hovering in the door, hair messy, still in his clothes from the last time she’d seen him, but clearly sobered up.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice scratchy. “Buffy, I need you upstairs. Now.”

Without any protest Buffy jumped out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt and her glasses.

“What’s up, do I need to—“ Gunn started to offer, but was cut off by Spike.

“No, just need the computer bird, thanks mate,” he said firmly.

Buffy slipped on her flip flops and shrugged her confusion at Gunn. “I guess I’ll be back in a bit?” she said, and followed Spike up the stairs.

“What’s going---“

“Shhhh,” Spike silenced her. “Let’s talk when we’re upstairs.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as he led her past the hall that would lead to his office, and up the stairs to the area of the house that, according to Fred, “No one ever goes but Spike”.

At the very top of the stairs was a door that he quickly unlocked. He led her through his bedroom so swiftly she didn’t even have time to look around, and into another home office. Why he had two, she had no idea. “Why are we—“

“Buffy, please,” he spun and said to her. She almost recoiled at the raw desperation in his eyes. “I can’t explain, not right now, love, I can’t. I just need you to help me.” She nodded without another question. He led her over to the desk and sat her down in front of a laptop.

“Everything on this hard drive, everything, I need you to protect. However you can. No one can get into these files, no one, kitten, do you hear me? I need everything on discs, and those discs need to be safe as houses. Can you do it?”

“I—I can try,” she said nervously. The intensity and anxiety in his words and gaze scared her. “I mean, I know what I would do, but…someone could figure out how to break the codes, I’m not…It’s not magic.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, running his hands through his curling, bleached hair. “But it would take awhile, yeah? It wouldn’t be easy for someone to figure out how to read them.”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “I can make it pretty damn difficult.”

“Good. Do it.”

She sat down and quickly went to task. Spike paced, allowing the fear and rage and worry to simmer and boil, but then subside, as he watched the ease of Buffy’s work. He observed her in awe. She didn’t even seem to think, she just moved, her fingers flying quickly across the keyboard, grabbing disks and putting them in the drive, biting her lip, narrowing her eyes. Her beautiful face was illuminated by the blue glow of the screen, and her glasses served to magnify her huge green eyes. She was so confident, so assured.

It was a turn on.

“Can I get some water?” Buffy asked without looking up from the screen.

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry, love,” he said, jumping up quickly and running to the bathroom. He called back, “I can get you soda from downstairs, or food, or—“

“No, just water.”

He came back in and set the glass down next to her, then backed up quickly, as if his very presence near her would be a nuisance.

Buffy had done so much practice encoding that it was second nature to her. And while the different locks and traps she was putting on each disk were certainly the most complicated she’d ever done, there was still brain power available for thinking other things.

Such as what was in these files. Spike wasn’t watching over her shoulder, which was helpful, and she knew she was doing an excellent job of hiding the fact that she was memorizing as much of the information as she could that she was carefully locking up in a metaphorical safe.

It was detailed accounts of crimes committed by Liam Angelus over the past four years. Bank records, police reports, tracking accounts, photographs, audio files. Buffy had her hands on enough evidence to put Liam Angelus away for life. Evidence that the FBI could only dream of having.

Evidence Spike had clearly been collecting for some time.

God, what she wanted it to mean was that he was on the side of good. That he had changed. That he wanted to go clean. That he was an informant for some part of the government, or wanted to be.

But Spike was incriminated in almost fifty percent of these crimes. Drugs. Theft. Embezzlement. Even murder. He would never give this information over to the authorities, right? Because he’d be put away for almost as long as Angelus. As she skimmed each of the files and wrapped them up tight in chains and locks of codes and passwords, her brain spun even more. What the hell was going on?

It had been an hour, maybe two. Her ass hurt. Her eyes were sore. She was nearing the end of the hard drive, and was no closer to understanding anything.

And she could feel Spike watching her.

After a few more minutes, she ejected the last disk and leaned back with a flourish. “And I am done.”

Spike breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then looked up at his face. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He averted his eyes from her. “I can’t.”

“I figured.” Buffy got up and moved to stomp off angrily, but Spike grabbed her and spun her back around.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, pet—“

“No, no, I get it, I’m just your, your, your something---“

“---I just don’t want to put you in any danger---“

“--it’s just, really, I know I was a bitch before—“

“You weren’t a bitch.“

“--But this was weird, what were all those files about---“

“Bloody hell, I know---“

“And you got me out of bed, so I deserve to know—“

“With your sodding boy toy---“

“Plus you were trashed earlier---“

“I’m so sorry about how I acted---“

“---I’m worried about you—“

“You are?”

“And I miss you.”

There was a moment of blissful silence.

“You miss me?” He said hopefully.

She hadn’t meant to let those words slip out.

“I do. Not when you’re slobbering drunk, but--”

His lips were on hers instantly. It was a kiss between two people who should have never spent any time apart, but did, for reasons neither could remember at this particular moment, and it was a kiss between two people who hoped never to be apart again. It was all desperate force and lust, raw passion and need, but filled with the sweetness of reunion, and the agony of potential love.

“I missed you, I missed your taste, I missed your everything,” Spike said in between sweet, chaste kisses to her lips and cheeks as he softly stroked her hair. “Dying without you.”

“It was like, four days,” Buffy said with a forced lightness once he finally pulled away. “And you hardly know me.”

“Four bloody days too long. And I do know you.”

“How?”

“I just do. You know me too, don’t you? You know what I am, who I am, even if we haven’t really known each other that long.”

Buffy paused, wanting to lighten the intense conversation. She started to joke, trying to remove this heavy sense of destiny from around them, “Come on, be serious, you could have found a nice girl to ha---“

“There is no one else but you,” Spike interrupted firmly, grasping her face between his hands and staring her directly in the eyes.

“You…you really mean that.” It wasn’t a question. The sincerity in his eyes couldn’t be faked.

His soft smile was the only response she needed.

Buffy reached for him and covered his mouth with hers, then walked him backwards until he sat in the desk chair. She ran her hands through his hair, down his chest, and started unbuckling his jeans. He moaned in her mouth and raised his own hands to pull off her sweatshirt, but pulled away with a “Huh?” as she stilled his movement.

Spike’s questioning gaze shifted into one of surprise when she sank to her knees in front of him, took off her glasses, and set them on the desk.

“Buffy…” he said in wonder as she finished undoing his pants and pulling out his cock.

She descended and delicately licked the tip, eliciting another reverential whimper of her name. He gently wrapped his hands around her head as she licked him top to bottom, touched every available inch of him with her wet and willing tongue, stroked him with her hands, until she slid his penis between her lips and down her throat. His turned on utterances of her name and proclamations of her beauty spurred her on; she glanced up and relished the look of utter awe and devotion in Spike’s eyes.

It was an apology for things she’d yet to decide, it was a seeking of forgiveness for what she knew she would do, it was a way to be close to him, to have him, to taste him, when she knew that she’d just have to return to bed with Gunn, return to a lie he still had to believe.

Giving him such satisfaction created pleasure within her own body, and she moaned around his erection as she took as much of it as she could into her mouth. She quickly learned just how to touch him, to drive him crazy, using her lips and fingers and tongue to push him into a frenzy.

“God, Buffy,” Spike sighed as his orgasm began to rise from deep within his body. “Perfect, baby, God, you’re perfect.” She sped up her tempo and his grip on her head tightened, and he no longer made sense as he verbalized his enjoyment. “You….God…I…beautiful…gonna…don’t……you…gonna…come…”

And when he did, he growled his climax, as she took him all the way in and swallowed. She drank down every drop of his release, and licked him delicately as his cock softened. Spike gingerly touched her face and she looked up at him with a smile.

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her softly, dipping one hand under the waistband of her shorts to stroke her eager sex. “Spike,” she protested, wriggling away grudgingly. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He murmured into her hair. “I need all of you.”

“I have to go downstairs,” Buffy whispered. He pulled away, looking horrified, but she quickly amended, “I don’t want to. I don’t, but…I have to, do you understand? Please…”

Spike weakly nodded, and the hurt look in his eyes broke Buffy’s heart. She kissed him gently then got up off of his lap, not trusting her resolve to hold when he was looking at her like that. She grabbed her glasses and turned to go.

“Let me walk you down,” Spike said, buttoning up his trousers and grabbing her hand.

“No,” she sighed, pulling away from him for what felt like the millionth time, and she didn’t really want to this moment either. “Get some sleep, okay? You look exhausted.” She leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but he grabbed her hips and pulled her flush to him, taking from her lips what he couldn’t take from her body or her heart in a wet and passionate tangle of tongues.

“Goodnight, love,” he panted as he grudgingly let her go.

Spike listened to the sound of her closing the door to his rooms behind her, and shuddered once his eyes traveled to the pile of disks she’d left behind. He grabbed them quickly and headed into his bathroom, where he removed a painting from the wall to reveal a metal safe. He quickly put in the code and shoved the disks inside, then closed it with a bang, and let out a sigh of relief.

Buffy headed upstairs the next afternoon, after sleeping away the morning. Once again, everyone but her was out of the house, and she was wondering what could possibly be keeping everyone so busy. When she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see an unfamiliar dark-haired woman standing at the fridge.

“Um, hi?” she said tentatively, and widened her eyes slightly when the woman spun around. She recognized her from her file. Drusilla Angelus.

“Sunshine!” The woman sang, reaching out one hand delicately to shake Buffy’s. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“I’m Buffy,” she smiled tightly. “You must be Angel’s wife.”

“That I am, princess of the palace,” Drusilla giggled. “And you are Spike’s girl.”

“No, no,” Buffy protested, wondering how much Drusilla saw of her and Spike in the pool. She erred on the side of caution and said, “I’m dating Gunn, actually, you’ve met him?”

“Yes, such a nice boy,” Drusilla smiled. “But you are not his.”

“Huh,” the blonde shrugged, deciding against any sort of argument. The various reports of interactions with Drusilla Angelus weren’t exaggerated. She was a little weird.

“I know my William,” the dark woman smiled gleefully. “He has that look when he talks about you. But he’s being a bad boy, has he told you?”

“No?” Buffy hoped her face was set in a mask of innocent interest.

“He’s trying to be a good man,” Drusilla sighed. “I would never tell Angel, of course, but I think you’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

Buffy started to speak, but was interrupted by Spike saying harshly, “Dru, are you completely daft? What are you doing here?”

“Now, now, Spike,” his ex pouted. “You’re never glad to see me! I was only here to give you a nice warning, but maybe you don’t deserve to hear it.”

He sighed and apologized, “No, Dru, sorry. What’s your warning?” He seemed to just be humoring her, but Buffy could see a slight interest in his expression.

Drusilla glanced at Buffy with a wicked gleam in her eye, and leaned in to whisper something in Spike’s ear, her hand rising up to lightly stroke his chest. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he shrugged and said, “Well, thanks then. Run along now.”

Drusilla laughed gaily and waved her goodbyes at the two of them, striding out of the room as if she owned the place. Spike listened carefully for the sounds of her leaving the house, and turned to Buffy with a apologetic smile.

“The woman’s on who knows how many pills,” he said. “Has been for years, her ramblings are all drug induced. Don’t listen to anything she says.”

Buffy nodded, and changed the subject, hoping to exorcise Drusilla from the room. “How’d you sleep?”

Her seemingly innocuous question apparently sparked lust in Spike. “Not nearly well enough,” he said slyly, eying her up and down. She blushed under his gaze and felt her entire body warm as he slinked towards her. “Come to my office, Ms. Joyce? I have a…project for you.”

“Oh, really?” Buffy played along with a serious expression. “Well, I should get right on that then. My job is very important to me.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her quickly towards his study, slamming the door and hastily locking it, and then he was on top of her with the fervor of a starving man presented with a buffet.

“Eager are you, pet?” she mocked his accent and previous words to her once he let her lips go.

“That’s a dreadful accent, love,” he said, pulling up her skirt and grabbing her ass.

“My accent is wonderful!” she pouted, her own hands pulling his shirttail out of his pants and lightly dancing over his back, tracing his muscles.

They silenced each other with another torrid kiss, and Spike started to slide Buffy’s underwear off as he pushed her towards the desk. The room was still a mess, and he pulled away and cleared off the table top with a quick swipe of his arm, ignoring the sound of books and glasses crashing to the floor. She grabbed him back to her quickly, needing contact with him to soothe her raging thoughts. If he was touching her, she could hardly think, and then she couldn’t worry, or be guilty. She could just feel.

He lifted her and set her down on the edge of the desk, pulling her underwear off over her shoes and wrapping her legs around him as he moved in for another kiss. Buffy frantically pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, need screaming throughout her body, and sighed as she reached in and grasped her hand around his erection. Spike divested her of her shirt and bra then pushed her back so she was laying on the desk, and leaned forward to worship her chest and stomach with wet, desperate kisses.

He made his way up to her throat, nibbling on the thin skin there, and Buffy thrust her hips up against him, seeking any friction she could. She used her feet to push his pants and underwear off of him and then pulled his hips closer, moaning when she felt his cock brush against her.

Spike reached down to his pants pocket and fumbled out his wallet, pulling out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth, sliding it on with one hand while his other was busy stroking Buffy’s wet and eager sex.

He pushed into her quickly, stifling her inevitable cry of delight with one hand. She sucked one of his fingers into her mouth as he began to slide in and out of her, and his eyes rolled back in his head at the dual sensations.

Buffy began to raise her hips up to meet his thrusts, and he removed his hand from her mouth and smashed his lips onto hers in a biting, rough, searing kiss. He pulled away from her , grasped her hips forcefully and raised her off the edge of the desk, slamming into her again and again, wrenching every last bit of pleasure he could out of both of their bodies. His hands ran over her naked flesh, squeezing and teasing her nipples, tracing her curves with a look of utter reverence on his face.

She began to tremble, arching closer towards him, a fireball burning inside her, and raked her nails down his arms as her orgasm took her body. The feeling of her muscles squeezing his cock like a vice grip sent Spike over the edge, and he let forth a shout as he came, his fingertips digging into her so hard he’d leave bruises.

He fell back over her and kissed her gently as they came down from the peaks they’d just reached. Buffy smiled up at him, lightly stroking his face, then sighed her disappointment as he pulled out and left her empty. As he moved away she slid off the desk and straightened the skirt he’d never removed. She put on her bra and underwear, then reached for her shirt to put back on and felt a smack on her ass.

“Hey!” she cried out, faking offense as she pulled her top over her head. “I feel degraded.”

“I’ll degrade you some more, if you want,” Spike leered, but his look of lust shifted into laughter as she playfully reached around and swatted his own behind.

“Maybe next time you can degrade me in a bedroom,” Buffy offered, admiringly watching him dress. “Not that I don’t appreciate the creativity.”

He growled and lunged towards her playfully. Buffy pulled him close and burrowed into his chest, knowing that it was there that she felt safest, where she could forget everything but how she felt. They just held each other tightly, their breath in unison, her body fitting perfectly to his.

“I think you should leave, pet,” Spike murmured quietly into her hair after a few minutes.

“What?” she pulled away, confused.

“I’m not sure it’s safe here right now,” he said, his jaw tensing up. “I think it might be best if you and Gunn quit, took off.” He had to force out the name of her boyfriend, or who he thought was her boyfriend, the word on his lips sounded pained and dry.

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “What’s dangerous? Spike, you need to tell me what’s happening.”

“I can’t, ba—“

“Don’t tell me you can’t!” Buffy exploded, tears threatening to burst out. “You just tell me to leave and think I’m going to accept that? Are you just trying to get rid of me, because if you are--“

Spike grabbed her roughly and pulled her back close to him. “Don’t you ever think that,” he whispered into her face Through his shirt Buffy could feel his coiled muscles, every one of them tensed. “I just want to protect my girl.” When Buffy started to speak, he shushed her, “And don’t say you’re not my girl, you are.”

“I was going to say I don’t need to be protected,” she corrected him.

“Oy, not with the girl power bit,” Spike groaned.

“Shut up. Are you actually firing me?”

“No,” he sighed. “I’m guessing I would never hear the end of that from you as long as we lived.”

His casual reference to a future with her present made Buffy have to suppress a smile. “Well, then I’m staying. Unless you actually tell me what’s going on.”

She knew he wouldn’t, and he didn’t, and the noises of people coming into the house forced a separation sooner than either would have liked. A quick, hurried kiss goodbye, and then Buffy left, aching for some epiphany to hit her so she could figure out what to do.

“Hey, baby, want to take a walk?” Gunn asked nonchalantly when he found Buffy in her office.

“Uh, sure,” she smiled, slightly puzzled at the hardened look in her partner’s eyes. She followed him out of the house and down past the pool, and they walked in silence around the grounds until they were down the hill and out of sight of anyone who might be watching.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he spun around and hissed at her, all blazing fury and righteous indignation. He was clearly trying to keep his voice down, but the amount of rage inside him made his tone that much more threatening.

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, almost wanting to back away. She had never seen him this angry.

“You’re fucking him. You’re fucking the mark.”

Buffy wanted to lie, but she knew her own widening eyes gave her away instantly. “How did you know?”

“That crazy bitch Drusilla, of all ways,” he snarled. “She gets chatty when she’s been drinking.”

“Gunn, you don’t understand—“

“I don’t really want to fucking understand, Buffy. But, again, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What, is this some way to get access to information? Because I seriously doubt that, but it’s the only way this would even remotely be okay.”

“No,” she confessed miserably.

“God damn it,” Gunn groaned, kicking a nearby tree to let out his aggression. “How much have you told him?”

“What?” Buffy cried out. “You think I would betray you? The mission?”

“I don’t know! I never thought you’d shack up with a confirmed criminal, but I guess I don’t know you that well.”

“Gunn, you do know me! Let me just try to explain—“

“There’s nothing to explain, actually,” he snapped. “Nothing that will make this okay. Why did I even bother asking you why? Can you end it without him firing you or wanting you dead?”

“It’s not like that!”

“Well, whatever it’s like, this has to stop. Now. He could find out, Buffy. We could both be killed. Can you get the seriousness of this through that blonde head of yours?”

“I haven’t compromised anything, damn it! It just happened, and he has no idea who I am. And it’s going to stay that way. This could work, we could break up, and then you and Fred—“

“You think I don’t want Fred?” He interrupted with a cruel laugh. “You think I haven’t thought about it? But they are the BAD guys, Buffy. This isn’t play time or summer camp, we’re not here to get our rocks off and pair up and live happily ever after. End it, or I’ll tell Giles.” With that, he stomped off, leaving her shaking.


Buffy took a walk around the property, attempting to sort out the muddled thoughts in her head. As she headed into a part of the estate she’d never been to before, she heard hushed voices to her left. She was completely concealed from view by a sculptural rock formation, and she peaked through a tiny gap to see Fred and Spike talking just on the other side.

“Are you sure?” Fred was saying.

“Buffy said the files were sealed up tight, and I think we both know she’s got the skills to do it. I put them in my safe for when the time comes. Have you talked to Xander?”

“It’s all set up,” she confirmed. “And you’re sure you want to wait for the Walsh deal to go through.”

He nodded. “It’s the bloody cherry on top of the bloody sundae, yeah? It shouldn’t be longer than a week, anyway.”

“Did you have Buffy change anything in those files?”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t want to risk it. I want the police to have honest, real evidence against Angelus, if I try to protect myself everything could be rejected as falsified.”

“But you’ll go to jail too!”

“Maybe. I’ll cut a deal, though, it’ll work out how it’s supposed to,” he said determinedly. Just then, his cell phone rang, and the loud sound almost made Buffy cry out, and she realized she’d been holding her breath throughout their whole conversation.

“Yeah?” Spike answered his phone. “Bollocks. Okay, thanks mate.” He hung up and beckoned Fred to follow him. “Come on, we have another visit from Angelus to deal with.”

The two headed back up to the house, and once they disappeared from sight Buffy felt her legs give out under her and she collapsed in a heap to the ground.


When Buffy finally calmed her racing heart down she ran up to the house and began frantically searching for Gunn.

“Buff, are you okay?” Xander asked when she burst into the kitchen, panting.

“Peachy with a side of keen!” She said with over the top pep. “Totally fine. Have you seen Gunn?”

“He just took off, actually. Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I’m fine!” She repeated again, her words no more believable than the last time. “Where did he go?”

“Meeting up with Caleb, I think,” Xander said. “Angelus is on his way here, though, did someone let you know?”

“No, no I didn’t know that. I have to call him, okay? I’ll see you later.”

She darted off again, leaving a flummoxed Xander behind. “That is one high strung chick,” he mumbled to himself as he continued reading his comic book.

“Gunn, please call me back when you get this,” Buffy left a message, after three unanswered calls. “It’s really important. Maybe we could have a romantic night, talk about it.” She used their code for a meeting with Giles, and prayed he’d get the message soon.

She hung up and let out a shuddering breath, and leaned against the wall in the living room. Employing her years of yoga, she attempted to meditate, attempted to calm down, when a voice from beside her made her blood start boiling again.

“Hey, beautiful,” Angel said menacingly as she opened her eyes to find him looming over her. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Buffy asked, regaining her emotional and physical strength as she observed the criminal in front of her. “What ever about?”

“Don’t be cute,” Angelus snapped. “I know it comes naturally, but it could get you in trouble sometime.”

“I’m not trying to be cute. Really, what do we need to talk about?”

“Your continued employment here at…casa de Spike,” he smiled, a smile devoid of any warmth or true humor. “To be honest, I think your talents are being wasted here. All of your talents.” From he way his eyes traveled down to her chest, she had a distinct feeling Gunn wasn’t the only person who’d found out about her and Spike.

“Well if you have any computer work for me, you’re welcome to use my talents,” Buffy said carefully. “But that’s about as far as you’re getting.” She questioned her own judgment in possibly antagonizing this dangerous man, but she figured continuing her cavalier attitude towards him was the best bet as maintaining her cover.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, moving quickly towards her so his body pressed hers up against the wall.

“Get off of me,” she said firmly, moving her hands to push him away. He grasped her wrists firmly and held them to the wall.

“Little girl, you need to be very careful here,” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath on her cheek sending waves of nausea throughout her body. “Spike is not someone you want to align yourself with. You get no more warnings after this, do you hear me?”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest when Angel was yanked away from her and thrown against the nearby couch.

“What the hell are you doing, Liam?” Spike spat out his nemesis’s real name, fire raging in his ice blue eyes.

“Oh, are you being chivalrous now?” Angel smirked, standing upright and straightening his suit jacket. “Protecting your piece of ass, what a gentleman.”

Spike began to lunge for him, but Buffy stopped him with her hand. “Let it go, Spike,” she pleaded, wanting to preserve not Angelus’s safety, but his. As little information as she had about what Spike’s future plans were, she guessed a brawl with the other man wasn’t going to help his cause.

“Yeah, Spike, let it go,” Angel mimicked her. “I’m going to need your office for awhile, buddy. Hope you aren’t hiding anything in there.” He walked off calmly, as Spike shook with rage.

“I want to tear his throat out,” he growled angrily, but Buffy’s hands on his face seemed to ease some of his tension.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, stroking his skin with her soft hands.

“It’s not, he had his hands on you,” Spike said.

“He wouldn’t have for long,” Buffy smiled. “I was about to kick his ass back to New York.”

Her attempt at a joke seemed to take another step in the process of calming him down, and he glanced around to make sure they were alone before pulling her tightly to him and softly kissing her on the forehead. “You’re alright though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “No big deal. He’s just a creep.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Why do you work for him?” Buffy ventured cautiously.

Spike looked down at her, trying to figure out the best response to her valid question. “Because I have to, love. But not for long.”

Buffy’s cell began to vibrate in between them, causing both to shiver and jump. Buffy glanced at the caller ID and apologized, “Sorry, I should take this.”

He nodded and whispered, “I’ll see you later, though?” Her nod caused a warm smile to glow from within, and he left her alone.

“Hi,” Buffy answered the phone quickly, her voice as quiet as she could make it. “Yeah, we need to see Giles. Like, as soon as possible…Please?...Yeah, I have news too. Okay, see you back here in a while.”

Buffy was afraid to give in to the feeling of excitement coursing in her veins, but just for one moment, she let it wash over her and cradle her in its euphoric grasp. Things were looking up.

“Let’s take a drive,” said Gunn the second he found Buffy in the kitchen that evening. She nodded, waved goodbye to Xander, and quickly followed him out to the car.

They sat in silence, the tension between them so thick Buffy could practically feel it tickling her skin. They drove for about ten minutes until they got to a secluded park, and Gunn squealed into a parking spot and leapt out of the car, walking away so quickly Buffy nearly had to run on her shorter legs to keep up.

“Okay, so what do you want to talk about?” he said brusquely once he stopped near a huge oak tree.

“After I talked to you I overheard Fred and Spike talking and the two of them are plotting with Xander to bring down Angelus,” Buffy rushed out the words in one breath.

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“I heard them! And I still didn’t get a chance to tell you about what happened last night, I locked up all these files with tons of evidence on Angelus. It’s for real, Gunn.”

“Buffy, think about it logically, They could be playing you, you could have misunderstood, they could be setting us up—“

“They’re NOT,” Buffy insisted. “They had no idea I was listening, I swear it. And I know what I heard.” He still looked skeptical. “Look, I know you’re mad at me, okay? I’d be mad at me too. And…I don’t really know why I did what I did. But I’m not lying. Let’s just meet with Giles, okay? Please?” She held her breath as she waited for his response.

“Okay,” he finally said. “And my news is that the deal with Walsh is supposed to get settled day after tomorrow.”

“Well that means Spike won’t go to the authorities before then,” Buffy said. “He wants to have the evidence from that deal. Do you have any idea what it’s about yet?”

“Drugs, what else?” he shrugged. “Her pharm company had some newly developed depression drug that went bad, made people just a little too happy, and Angelus is buying the formula and all the existing samples. I think he’s releasing it into the market in New York.”

Buffy sighed. “It’s always drugs, seriously.”

“I called Giles when I got your message earlier,” Gunn said. “He can’t see us before tomorrow afternoon, we’re meeting him at three.”

“Oh good,” she said. “He’ll know what we should do.”

There was an awkward silence between the two, then they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Buffy, I don’t—“

“Gunn, I really want you—“

They laughed uncomfortably, and Gunn said, “You go first.”

“I really want you to understand I wasn’t trying to hurt you, or lie to you, I never would, and I wish you trusted me” she said sincerely. “I…it just happened, I gave into temptation, and—“

“Buffy,” Gunn interrupted. “I do trust you, I think we’ve known each other too long to just forget that, and I reacted badly, and I know that. I just…I don’t trust him, okay? He’s the bad guy. And I don’t know if you do—“

“I do.”

“---but if you do, I think you’re wrong about him, and I’m only going to do what I need to do for my job, to do what’s right. I hope you’re with me.”

Buffy was quiet for a moment, then said in a low voice, “I never planned to abandon my job. That’s my priority.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “At least it’ll be over soon, if you’re right. Let’s just leave it alone for now then, okay?”

She acquiesced and the two walked back to the car, and drove back to the mansion. The tension was somewhat lessened, and at least it was more tolerable for both of them now.

They parked at the house when Gunn got another urgent call from Angelus’s people.

“I swear, it’s like I’m their loyal dog or something,” he muttered. “For sure we’re meeting Giles at three tomorrow, though, but I’ll call you if I won’t be back tonight.”

Buffy nodded and got out of the truck, and watched him drive away immediately. The second she entered the house, she was intercepted by Spike.

“Buffy, I could use your help upstairs again,” he said seriously, beckoning her to follow him. She followed willingly, mentally arguing with herself as to whether or not she’d be really working.

She wouldn’t be. The second she entered his bedroom she gasped, and he locked the door behind her. The entire room was filled with candles, and soft, romantic music was playing.

“Oh my God,” she smiled. “You are such a dork.”

“Not really the response I was going for, love,” he pouted.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” Buffy corrected herself. “Just…seriously, all is this for me?”

“No, of course not,” he said sarcastically. “I just like to sleep in a fire hazard. You said you wanted a bed!”

She giggled, and turned to face him. “It’s beautiful, William.”

As always, his name on her lips created an instant reaction in Spike’s soul and body. He moved closer and slid his arms around her waist.

As Buffy stared up into his eyes, she realized this was the first time in which she felt truly comfortable in his presence. There was no guilt or fear or resistance when she leaned in to kiss him. She knew him. She knew he was a good man, or wanting to become one, and she knew the secrets that he was trying to protect her from. But he didn’t truly know who she was or what she was doing, he didn’t know her own secrets, and that broke her heart.

Their kiss was slow, and heated, and unlike any way they’d ever bonded before. There was no longer the underlying layer of impossibility, but a feeling of opportunity, and of perhaps, inevitability. There was no hurry, or desperation, or roughness. As they kissed and let their hands roam each other’s bodies, they were content with the here and now.

Everything moved at an agonizingly slow, but passionate, pace as they undressed and explored each other. They fell naked to the bed, enjoying each other’s bodies in this infinite expanse of time they hadn’t been granted before. Flesh on flesh created sheens of sweat and sparks of electricity, and with every touch of tongues to lips and body parts, their hunger for each other grew.

When Spike finally sank into Buffy it was like coming home, it was the final nail in their coffins, the final step into a world from which both realized they could never return. They moved slowly and surely, perfectly in sync, their pleasure building together and feeding each other. They didn’t speak, they could only breathe and pant and moan, faster and faster and faster, until they melted into each other, bliss binding them together, and came in unison as they whispered each other’s names like prayers.

Then, they talked. Neither bothered to glance at a clock as the conversation flowed smoothly and easily. Every time Buffy had to lie, she could feel a pinprick of pain in her heart, but with every slight thing he confessed to her, it faded. He talked about his childhood, she spoke of hers. Their beings became intertwined as they shared all they could---and Buffy knew what she shared wasn’t enough.

She fell asleep there, against her better judgment, curled into his side, head on his chest, with his arms wrapped protectively around her. She could have sworn, in the last second before she sank into oblivion, that Spike had whispered, “I’m falling in love with you.”

If she had still been conscious, she would have responded in kind.

When Spike awoke late the next morning, Buffy was gone. He started to work himself into an offended state, when he saw a small piece of paper folded on his night stand.

“Working. That’s what you pay me for. Love, Buffy.”

He smiled and put the note back, then quickly showered and dressed to head downstairs. He went through his normal routine, made breakfast, checked his email, gave out assignments, all with a song in his heart. When Buffy came in an hour later, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her like a madman, and his smile deepened even more when he saw she was wearing the necklace he’d gifted her with.

“How are you?” She said formally.

“I’m fine, thank you, and you?” He responded in an equally stuffy tone. They stared happily at each other for a moment, then Spike wiggled his tongue at her and said, sotto voce, “Shut the door.”

She winked and went to comply, when Fred came hurrying through. “Hi Buffy! Um, can I get Spike alone for a minute?” Her demeanor was clearly frazzled, and Buffy nodded quickly, shrugged at Spike behind Fred’s back, and left, shutting the door behind her.

She hovered for a bit, trying to listen to their conversation inconspicuously. But their voices were low enough that she couldn’t make out a single word. Reluctantly moving away from the door, she paced the entry way, checking her watch for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Just before one. Two hours, and she could talk to Giles. Two hours, and she could figure out what to do.

Gunn had ended up working all night, and had sent her quick text to let her know. So she hadn’t seen him yet today, and her two phone calls to him had gone unanswered. The more she thought about her current situation, the more stressed she became, and she couldn’t wait for everything to be done with. Then, she could maybe figure how to confess to Spike.

She checked her watch. Just past one. Damn.

“Buffy?” She heard Spike yell from his office.

She hurried back, and was surprised to see him frantically gathering up his jacket and briefcase, his jaw tensed, his eyes wild. “Fred and I are leaving for a bit, hold down the fort, yeah?”

“Um, yeah,” she said, surprised. “Where are you going?”

“Just…just out,” he said. “I’ll explain later, love, okay?” He kissed her briefly on the cheek and then was gone in a flash, leaving her panicked and suspicious.

Buffy quickly pulled out her phone and tried to call Gunn, swearing when yet again she got his automated voicemail. She hung up, unable to make her brain work well enough to leave him a voicemail in code.

“Think, Buffy, think,” she muttered to herself, her brain paging through the countless reasons why Spike and Fred would have taken off so fast, and why Gunn wouldn’t be answering his phone. Very few of the explanations were good.

She considered calling Giles, but didn’t even know what she would say. Without Gunn and his car, she couldn’t go to meet him anywhere, and it’s not like she could help Spike by leaving.

Her own thought process startled her. Is that what this was about, now? Helping Spike? Is that where her priorities were?

She didn’t know, all she knew is she couldn’t just sit around, not knowing what was going on, helpless. Buffy Summers was not helpless.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, causing her to jump. “Thank God,” she breathed out when she saw Gunn’s name on the small illuminated screen. She flipped open the phone and answered it, “Yeah?”

Angel’s voice came over the line, and all the color drained out of her face.

She could hear a honk coming from in front of the house.

Only a second of resistance before she followed Angel’s instructions and hurried out to the waiting car, driven by one of his most trusted employees, Caleb.

“Hey there, little lady,” he said when she climbed into the front seat. “And how are you this fine day?”

She glared at him and spat out, “Fine, thanks.”

“You are a feisty one,” he drawled as he sped down the driveway. “I can see why Spike and Gunn like you. Although, personally, I like my women monogamous. But that’s just me.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she ignored his comment.

“Doesn’t really matter where we’re going, does it?” Caleb asked. “What matters is what’s there. And you don’t get to know anything, so don’t ask. As a matter of fact, don’t talk. Your voice gives me a headache.”

“Are we meeting Gunn?”

“Ain’t that just like a woman,” he sighed. “Ignoring everything I say.” Lightning quick, he reached out and grabbed her roughly by the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her across the seat so he could whisper in her ear. “I’d keep that firebrand tongue of yours inside your mouth, little girl. I’ve got quite a temper on me. Now give me your phone.”

She reached into her jeans and handed it over reluctantly. Caleb released her, and she pressed herself against the passenger door, breathing heavily as terror bubbled in her veins. He hit a couple keys on her phone then shoved it in his jacket pocket.

Out of the mess of worries that was her brain, two questions stood out as most important.

Did they know who she was?

And where was Gunn?

She kept her mouth shut for the rest of the drive, knowing that attempting to escape was the stupidest thing she could do. She sighed in relief when they pulled into the parking lot of what looked like an abandoned warehouse, and Gunn’s truck was there.

“Follow me, honey,” Caleb said, getting out of the car and striding towards the large metal door to the building. Buffy followed close behind, wishing she was in possession of the gun she saw sticking out of the waistband of his jeans.

They entered, and Caleb headed for the stairs, going up two flights before he opened a door and led her through a maze of stacked wooden crates, twenty feet tall. They emerged into a huge, cement walled room.

Spike, Angel, an unfamiliar older woman and a tall, muscular man were talking in the center of the cavernous space. Fred and Gunn were standing off to the side, with a man Buffy recognized as another employee of Spike’s, Graham. Across from them stood Forrest, arms crossed, pokerfaced, with two of Angel’s other lackeys, one of whom she thought was named Ben.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?” Spike spat when he glanced over and saw Buffy. “She doesn’t need to be here.”

“Now, Spike,” Angel admonished. “I thought you’d want the whole team here to see how well you’ve done with Ms. Walsh. It’s impressive, really.”

Caleb nudged Buffy towards Forrest, and the two men stood on either side of her as she glanced back and forth between Spike and Gunn, confused. Was she really here just to watch them seal the deal with Walsh? That didn’t make any sense.

The older woman rolled her eyes. “If you two boys could hurry it along, I’d be grateful. I have an appointment to get to.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Spike said, tearing his eyes away from Buffy and focusing on the task at hand. “I think we all agree to the terms, yeah?”

Margaret nodded. “Adam, call the office so we know when the money shows up in my personal account.” The man with her nodded and pulled out a phone, dialing quickly.

Angel pulled out his own phone and sent a quick text message. “Darla’s sending it now.”

Everyone in the room stood silent for a moment, and Gunn shrugged almost imperceptibly at Buffy. He didn’t know why she was there either. Not good.

“Great, thanks,” Adam said into his phone. “It’s done, Mother.”

“Fantastic!” Angel said cheerily. “And the product?”

“Out in the trunk,” said Adam. “Come on out and we can transfer it to your car.”

“Spike, why don’t you go handle that?” Angel smiled, his question really more of an order. “Come back up here when you’re done.”

“Fine,” said Spike curtly, spinning and striding out of the room.

“Thanks for your business,” Walsh said, reaching out to shake Angel’s hand. “I look forward to hearing from you soon.” She and Adam followed Spike, and Angel busied himself with his phone for a few minutes, then shrugged off his jacket casually and cracked his neck. Ben and Angel’s other employee nonchalantly made their way across the room, standing on either side of the trio of Fred, Gunn, and Graham. Finally, Angel turned to settle his attention on Buffy.

“Well, well,” he smirked, advancing on her. “I think you and I have some things to discuss, beautiful.”

“What is it we have to discuss?” Buffy asked, her voice even and confident, despite the butterflies in her stomach, the lack of breath in her lungs, and the tension in her shoulders. Oh, this was not good.

“Life, love, loyalty,” Angel joked, then in a blink his entire face darkened. “Oh, and a little matter of some missing files.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he menaced. “I tried to warn you, in fact, I think I’ve been entirely too nice to you so far. I’m a sucker for a cute blonde, everyone’s got a flaw. I’m going to ask you one more time. Where. Are. The. Disks?”

Buffy stared him in the eye, not even flinching at the pure malice she saw there. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His fist came out of nowhere and slammed into her temple, knocking her sideways into Caleb, who grabbed her before she could fall to the ground. Gunn moved to interfere, but before he could make it three feet, he was stopped by a gun to his temple, held by one of the unfamiliar men.

“Thank you, Parker,” Angel said. “Gunn, come on. You’re really coming to the rescue of your bitch? The slut who’s fucking Spike?”

A look of shock flittered across Fred’s face, but it was replaced by fear again when next to her, Graham attempted to draw his weapon and was then knocked down by a few brutal punches from Ben, who then seized her arms tightly.

“Don’t touch her again,” Gunn growled, glaring murderously at Angel, then turning around and getting even angrier when he saw Fred.

“You don’t really have a lot of say in the situation, with a gun at your head and all,” Angel shrugged, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “I admire the devotion, though. And you’ve just simplified things for me. You’ve picked a side, then?” Gunn was silent. “Good to know.”

Just then Spike entered the room again, Forrest no where to be seen, stopping on a dime when he saw the tableau in front of him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Angelus,” he growled, bile rising in his throat as he saw Buffy being held tightly against Caleb’s body, fear and anger in her eyes. The expression on his face didn’t change when Angel reached behind his back, pulled out a gun, and pointed it directly at him.

“You didn’t think I’d find out?” Angelus asked. “You really thought I was that stupid?”

“Well, yeah,” Spike shrugged, then regretted his words instantly when Caleb tightened his hold on Buffy and she let out a quiet whimper.

“Spike…” Gunn said warningly. The two men connected briefly, and united in their ultimate goal. To protect Buffy.

“Let Buffy and Fred go,” Spike said calmly, moving forward and ignoring the gun pointed directly at his head.

“Let’s see, no,” Angel said dryly. He kept his weapon trained on Spike and walked backwards over to where Buffy was held captive. He grabbed her away from Caleb, snaking his arm around her throat and pressing his gun to her temple. Buffy gasped at the cold metal pressing against her head, and really thought she might faint from terror. Caleb pulled out his own weapon and moved to guard Spike.

“They have nothing to do with this.”

“We both know that isn’t true. Fred is your little worker bee. And Buffy? You brought her into this. You had her trying to hide your tracks. Tsk Tsk. Not smart, Spikey.”

“Well, how did you find out?” Spike asked, trying to stall, desperate for just a little more time to figure out how to get out of this, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest as he saw his girl in danger.

Angel laughed. “Poor Dru. She really wanted to keep her mouth shut, but one too many cocktails and she was spewing some very interesting things. She feels really bad about it, though, if that helps.” He abruptly threw Buffy on the ground, and Spike’s natural instinct to lunge for him earned him a brutal punch to the jaw from Caleb, who looked gleeful at the opportunity to do violence. Angel tucked his weapon back into his waistband, and stared down at the crumpled girl at his feet with a bored look on his face.

Buffy scrambled off the floor, rubbing the arm she’d landed painfully on, and glanced at Gunn, hoping he was on the same page she was. They still hadn’t been found out, it seemed. But that probably wouldn't matter. And they had to do something.

“I haven’t done anything,” Spike said softly, wiping a drip of blood away from his mouth.

“Yet. You haven’t done anything yet,” Angel grinned sadistically. “And you won’t. But just to make sure, I’m going to ask the lady here one important question.” He turned back to Buffy, reaching out to brush her hair out of her face, and laughed when she jerked back away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

“Buffy, Buffy,” he sighed. “You really don’t get what’s going on here, do you? Stupid little girl. Look around. Let’s recap. Your boyfriend and your lover have guns at their heads, poor Graham is knocked out on the floor, and Fred could be snapped like a twig with one word from me. I really don’t think you’re in the position to be giving orders.”

“Let the girls go, I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Spike implored, then winced as Angel reached out and wrapped his hand tightly around Buffy’s throat.

“Yeah, no,” he sighed. “Because the second this one and little miss Southern Belle leave the building, I lose my collateral. And I really like having collateral.” His grip tightened around Buffy’s throat and she winced slightly. “Now, when I ask you something, I expect an honest answer, get me?”

Buffy was silent.

“Answer his questions, love,” Spike said dejectedly. She shifted her gaze to him, her heart breaking at the fear, anxiety, and defeat she found in his eyes.

“Yeah, love,” Angel mocked him. “Answer my question. I'm feeling deja vu as I say this, it's funny. Where are the disks?”

Buffy glared at him with the fire of a thousand suns in her gaze. “I don’t know,” she finally answered truthfully.

“Hmm. That’s too bad.” He removed his hand from her neck, only to slap her viciously on the cheek. “You really are a bitch, you know that?”

“She doesn’t fucking know, you little prick,” Spike spat out. “Be a man and come deal with me.”

“But this is just so much fun!” Angel squealed, affecting a disturbing teenage girl persona and bouncing on his toes.

As Graham began to stir on the ground, he casually pulled out his gun and shot the man in the head. Fred let out a choked sob, and Buffy averted her eyes from the mess of blood and brains on the floor, her lunch threatening to rise up in her throat.

Angel smiled, and lowered his gun back to his side. “What about Fred, then? What does she know?” He started to move over towards the other girl.

Buffy saw her opening. And despite all the dangers, she was going to take it. She glanced at Gunn, and he nodded imperceptibly, then she shifted her gaze to Spike, whose eyes widened as he understood what she was planning to do.

Quick as a cat, Buffy leapt at Angel and kicked him once directly in the knee, then again in the head, eliciting a pained roar. She grabbed his gun out of his hand and pistol whipped him, then trained the weapon on him in case he made another move. As she acted, Gunn caught Parker off guard and knocked him down with two vicious punches to the face, grabbed his gun and moved back so he could cover both that man and the one holding Fred. Their training allowed them to move lightning quick, without any telegraphing of their movements, but Buffy still couldn’t believe they pulled it off.

“Fred, RUN,” Gunn commanded, and he didn’t have to tell the girl twice, as she took off and disappeared behind one of the tall wooden crates.

Spike and Caleb were locked together, battling over the weapon. Spike fell back as the other man punched him squarely in the stomach, and suddenly a shot echoed in the room, echoing off the cement walls, followed immediately by another.

Caleb collapsed to the floor, the bullet from Gunn’s weapon hitting him directly in the chest. Red blossomed on Spike’s white shirt, and he stared down in shock at the wound in his lower abdomen.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled out, running towards him and catching him as he fell. She heard another shot. She hurried in the direction of the exit, half carrying him, and spared one glance over her shoulder to see Gunn backing up in her direction, his weapon trained on Parker and Angel, both prone on the floor, and Ben, who was screaming and clutching his bleeding thigh.

Buffy made it behind one of the boxes before Gunn caught up, and he helped support Spike as they lost themselves in the maze. Listening carefully for sounds of someone pursuing them, they made it down to the first floor, found the front door locked and barred, and hid themselves behind a leftover piece of machinery before collapsing under Spike’s weight and laying him down.

“Keep watch,” Buffy ordered, and Gunn stood at the ready. “How bad is it?” she turned back to Spike, tears welling up in her eyes as she took in his pale face, and the amount of blood soaking through his clothes. She took off her sweater and pressed it into his wound.

“It’s not…bad,” he forced out, staring at her in confusion. “You…”

“Gunn, do you have your phone?” Buffy begged. “They took mine, you need to call headquarters, get back up and an ambulance.”

“Head…quarters?” Spike gasped. “You…you’re…police?”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy whispered, unable to think of anything else she could possibly say. “I’m FBI.”

“You…lied. You’re not…” His crushed face broke her heart.

“I know.” She glanced at Gunn, and he wasn’t moving. “Gunn, PLEASE. Call an ambulance!”

Spike protested, “No…no…you can’t. Angel…he’ll know…you have to go.”

“What? I can’t leave you here!” Buffy started to sob.

“You have to,” he said as firmly as he could, half sitting up. “He’ll…he may already know…he’s going to come after you...if you call…and the police…you have…to leave.”

“I can’t, I can’t…”

“I’ll be fine…shhh, my girl,” he soothed, pulling her hand towards him and kissing it. “I’ll be…okay. But…you need to do something…for me.”

“Anything.”

“Safe… bathroom...painting. 22-19-7-3-14…disks.”

“Okay,” she nodded, understanding perfectly, and memorizing the code. She reached out her hand and softly stroked his face, trying to figure out what to say, trying to figure out how to let him know how sorry she was, how much she cared, trying to figure out how to get them out of this.

“Buffy, I hear them, we need to move,” Gunn hissed. She turned and glanced over her shoulder at him, and shivered as she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Your…name?” Spike coughed, reaching out and pulling her back to face him.

“What?”

“Your…real…name?” He repeated. “I want…to know.”

“It’s just Buffy,” she tried to force her tears down. “Buffy Summers.”

“Still my Buffy,” he smiled weakly. “Now go.” When she didn’t move, he said louder, “Gunn…get her out of here.”

The other man complied, quickly moving over and hauling Buffy up from her kneeling position. He half dragged her away, and Spike watched them as they disappeared out a window, before falling into darkness.

Once outside, Buffy regained the use of her legs and tore herself out of Gunn’s grasp. They rounded the corner of the building and came across Forrest, who was guarding the front of the building and clearly hadn’t heard the shots from above. Gunn jumped him from behind, rendering him unconscious before the other man was even aware of what was happening. Fred’s car was gone, she must have just fled the scene. The two leapt into Gunn’s truck and sped away, and as Buffy glanced in the rearview mirror she could see Angel limping out of the building and watching them go with murder in his eyes.

“Holy fuck,” Gunn breathed out, voice shaking, speeding towards the freeway as fast as he could. “That was intense.”

“Give me your phone, we have to call an ambulance!”

“They took mine too, and we can’t, we can’t stop to find a pay phone, we need to go,” he rambled, seemingly trying to convince himself of his words. Buffy stared at him in shock. “Buffy, come on. It’ll be okay.”

“No, it really won’t! Turn around, turn around,” Buffy cried out as he started to get in the lane for the north-bound entrance. “We at least have to go back to the mansion.”

“What the fuck, Buffy?” He yelled. “That’s the first place they’d go. We’re going to find Giles, now.”

“No!” She insisted through her tears. “We have to get the evidence against Angelus, we have to. Spike told me where it is---”

“Don’t be an idiot,” He growled. “We have plenty of evidence as it is.”

“But Spike—“

“You want me to put my life in danger to save your fucking boyfriend’s ass? I don’t think so, he’s probably dead now anyway, wouldn’t matter if he goes to jail.” At the stricken look on Buffy’s face, he tried to rectify his cruel words. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but it’s too dangerous, we can’t—“

“You’re not going to help me?” She interrupted.

He was quiet for a moment. “No.”

“Then I’ll find someone who will.” They had stopped at a red light, and she opened the door of the truck, jumped out, and took off running, ignoring the sounds of Gunn yelling after her.

She ran for five blocks until she found a payphone near a gas station, and she hastily called the police, giving them the address of the warehouse and Spike’s location in the building before hanging up. She glanced around quickly, and made a split second decision. A woman was getting out of her small convertible just about ten feet away, and she left her keys in the ignition when she walked over to the gas pump.

Buffy ran to the car and jumped in, driving away before the woman could even turn around and figure out what happened.

“Sorry, lady,” she muttered as she sped off in the direction of Spike’s house.

The entire way there, she could only repeat one sentence, out loud to herself, over and over and over again.

“He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.”

She parked two blocks away from the gate to the estate, and sighed in relief when she saw that the security guard was sweet, nerdy Jonathan.

“Hi, Jonathan,” she said as calmly as she could when she walked up. “Open up the gate for me?”

“Sure, Buffy,” he said, looking puzzled. “Didn’t you leave in a car, though?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Got dropped off a bit away, I wanted to take a walk. But I’m kind of in a hurry? You know…girl problems.”

“Okay,” he said readily, keying in the code to open the gates.

“And, Jonathan, can you do me a favor?” She asked sweetly. “If anyone shows up, wanting to be let in, would you press the alert button, but not so they can see? And don’t tell anyone I’m here. It’s…it’s important.”

The small man stared at her for a moment suspiciously, then shrugged and agreed when she twisted her face in a pathetic, pleading mask. “As long as it’s not going to get me into trouble.”

“It won’t! Thank you, so much,” she said, darting through the gates and up the driveway. The door was unlocked as she’d left it, and she entered the house and dashed up the stairs, wanting to get in and out of this situation as fast as possible. Spike’s door was locked as always, and she pulled a bobby pin out of her hair to expertly pick the lock.

She headed towards the bathroom and saw three paintings. The first had nothing on the wall behind it, but the second was hiding a silver safe.

“22-19-7-3-14,” she recited as she spun the numbers, and sighed in relief when the safe opened on her first try.

Sitting inside was the stack of disks she’d worked on just a few nights earlier and a thick file of papers. She grabbed everything out of the safe and clutched it to her chest, then ducked into Spike’s closet and quickly found a backpack to shove everything into.

Just then, a low, persistent, menacing beep began to sound through the house, entering her ears and creating shivers down to her feet. It stopped after just a few seconds, but it was the warning she needed.

“Shit,” she breathed out, rushing to the small window over the bathtub and peering out. Angel’s black car was speeding up the driveway.

Buffy didn’t waste another moment, running back to Spike’s room and snatching a lap top off the desk there, shoving it into her bag and zipping it up. She went out to Spike’s balcony and ran down to the main patio. A quick glance through a window to check for signs of life and she dashed across and hid at the top of the stairs down to the yard, peering around the corner and seeing Angel, Forrest and Parker entering the living room. Her heart began to pound so loud she was sure they could hear it.

She quietly crept down the rest of the stairs and around the side of the house, praying to a God she wasn’t even sure she believed in that she’d make it out without being seen. She climbed up the stone wall to the small parking lot there, and held her breath as she searched for anyone or anything blocking her way to freedom.

She saw nothing, and just ran, counting on adrenaline to get her to the safety of the front entrance before anyone saw her. Just as Buffy had almost reached her goal, two shots rang out and hit the metal gate in front of her, just a little too far to her left to be a danger. A last burst of energy carried her around the corner, and she ignored Jonathan’s yelled questions as she made her way to her stolen car.

Buffy tossed the backpack and its precious contents onto the passenger seat and took off at fifty miles per hour, breathing heavily, and beginning to sob.

She needed a plan. A good plan. And she had never been very good at the planning.

Without a phone, she couldn’t call Giles, but she knew what hotel he’d been staying at, and she could only hope that he’d be there.

It only took fifteen minutes to reach the hotel, which was a miracle considering LA’s usual traffic. But any hopeful feelings Buffy had dissipated when she pulled up and saw the unmistakable flashing of red and blue police lights.

“Oh my God,” she said, the worst possible scenario popping into her head.

And when she saw Gunn, walking with a stretcher out of the main hotel entrance, a stretcher with a black body bag on it, she felt her heart stop.

It couldn’t be.

She grabbed her bag and jumped from the car, running towards Gunn, hoping against all odds that it wasn’t true.

But from the distraught look on Gunn’s face, she knew it was.

“What…what happened?” She whispered when Gunn caught sight of her and walked over.

“Giles was killed.”

“Oh God, no,” she shuddered.

They didn’t speak for a moment, the sounds of police sirens and radios swirling around them.

“Was it you?” He asked quietly.

She blinked once, then shook her head a bit, as if to clear her hearing. “What?”

“Was. It. You?” Gunn repeated slowly, his tone brittle, his eyes cold.

“How can you even ask me that,” She choked on her words, backing up slowly. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Last call on his phone was from you---”

“I never called him!”

“---and there was no sign of forced entry, so he must have known whoever killed him—“

“You really think I would do this? Why?”

“—and this was found under the body.” From his pocket he pulled something out, and dangled it in front of her face. Her crystal necklace.

She reached up and touched her naked throat. “I…I didn’t, Gunn, I swear—“

“I don’t know what to think, Buffy. If you switched sides with Spike, or hell, with Angelus. Was that whole thing today a show? Were you playing me?”

“Please, no—“

“Buffy, just come with me,” Gunn snapped. He started to reach for her, but panic set in and she spun around and ran, not even thinking about the consequences of that impulsive decision, just thinking that she had to get away. He yelled after her, asking her to stop, yelled for backup to help him, but Buffy made her way back to her car and drove away before anyone could catch her.

“This is not happening,” she screamed out loud once she’d put a decent amount of distance between herself and that most recent nightmare. She couldn’t take this. It was all too much and her mind was filled with too many worries and fears and she could hardly breath and didn’t think she had any more tears in her body but all she wanted to do was cry, and she couldn’t stand feeling like this.

An idea began to tickle insistently at the edges of her panic, and she quickly veered right onto the freeway, cutting off a huge SUV and hardly even noticing the honking.

She knew where she could go.

Buffy made a short term plan, just to get her through the next few hours. If she was making goals, and achieving them, she could keep her mind from focusing on the events of the day. Graham getting murdered. Abandoning Spike in that warehouse. Making stupid, rash, unprofessional decisions that would no doubt cost her the future of her career. Those thoughts would destroy her.

First, there were three things she knew she needed. New clothes, a cell phone, and a safe place to hide while she came up with a plan other than “panic and cry”.

She stopped at a mall, abandoning her stolen car in the far back corner of the lot with the keys locked inside and a handwritten note that said, “Sorry!”. She made sure all the disks and laptop were secure in her backpack, along with Angel’s gun she’d held on to. She hurried inside and ducked into the first store she saw, quickly buying and changing into jeans and a t-shirt. She then dumped her other clothes in a trashcan, almost fainting at the sight of Spike’s blood on them.

After a stop at an ATM, followed by the purchase of a pre-paid cell-phone, Buffy was hiding in the bathroom at a coffee shop with wireless access, using her skills to search for the address of the one person she knew could help her.

When she found it, she allowed the tiniest bit of optimism to filter in through her all encompassing terror, and she quickly called for a cab. As she waited for it to arrive, she phoned all the local hospitals in search of information on Spike’s condition, but no one would even tell her if someone fitting his description had been admitted.

An hour later, she was standing outside a small, cute cottage in Venice Beach. The sun had set, and Buffy could see candles lit on the windowsill of the house’s kitchen.

One deep, calming breath later, and she knocked on the door.

“Buffy?” the redhead who opened the door said disbelievingly.

“Hi, Willow,” she smiled tentatively. “Long time, no see?”

The woman threw herself forward with a squeal, wrapping Buffy up in an enthusiastic hug. “Buffy! Oh my God, it’s been forever although forever is definitely longer than it’s been but it feels like forever because when you haven’t seen someone since high school and you’re all grown up—“

“Breathing becoming an issue, Will,” Buffy gasped, pulling away from the tight embrace.

“Sorry! Sorry! Come in, please,” she headed back into the house. “God, when I saw you I thought I was hallucinating or something, which I haven’t done since that time in college with the really really potent—never mind.”

Buffy would have giggled, if there were enough good feelings in her to produce that sound. Glad that despite the passing years, Willow seemed exactly the same, she smiled as warmly as she could at her former best friend. “It really has been forever, or it feels like it. I’d ask how you’ve been, but I feel like that’s a stupid question.”

“I’ve been good! But yeah, the amount of necessary catching up can’t really be started by that question. But, before I start rambling again, what are you doing here?”

“I…I really need your help.” Her voice wavered, the pain she was keeping at bay threatening to burst forth the second she began explaining her situation. “I’m in some serious…badness, really, and you’re the only person I knew who could help me.”

There wasn’t even a glimmer of resistance or doubt on Willow’s face. “Of course I’ll help you, sit down, explain.”


Willow Rosenberg was, in the simplest terms, the reason why Buffy was in her current line of work. The two had become fast friends their freshman year of high school, and during one study session on a Sunday night, Willow had offered to teach her friend what she knew about computer hacking. They’d been inseparable throughout their teens, Buffy spending far more time at Willow’s home than her own broken one, learning together how to do complicated, and sometimes illegal, things with a computer. When they’d gone off to separate colleges, they had intended to stay in touch, but of course, life got in the way as it always did. Once Buffy had been approached by the FBI she’d ceased contact with most of the people in her former life, Willow included.

Buffy had done an impromptu search for her friend’s whereabouts just a few months ago, curious about as to what had become of her, and was surprised to find she was the founder of an Internet marketing firm in LA. She’d tucked that piece of information in the back of her brain, and after her insane day, Buffy had known there was only one person she could go to. One person who had the skills to help her, and would use them.


It took almost an hour for Buffy to tell her story, starting with where she had disappeared to after high school graduation. Completely focused on her speech, she entirely missed the widening of Willow’s eyes and her tensing shoulders when she began speaking about Spike, his employees, and her undercover position. Numerous gasps and questions punctuated the most surprising details of her tale, and when Buffy had to describe Spike’s injury, the other girl had rubbed her back comfortingly while she cried. Faster and faster the details of her whirlwind day spilled out, and she began to shake with the intensity of the varying emotions that rose up in her.

“Do you…do you think he’s okay?” Willow asked tentatively, after Buffy finished explaining her ill-advised fleeing from the scene of Giles’s murder and her arrival on the woman’s doorstop. They both knew who she was referring to.

“I…God, I don’t know,” Buffy shuddered, rising from her seat and beginning to pace. “It looked bad, like, really bad. But I called an ambulance as soon as I could…as long as…as long as Angelus didn’t find him.” What would have happened if that atrocity had occurred was so horrifying that her legs almost collapsed.

“Well, I think he’ll be okay,” Willow nodded up and down a few times like a bobble head. “And, he wasn’t mad? That you lied to him?”

“He’d been shot. I don’t think he had the energy to be as mad at me as I bet he is now.” If he was alive, was the rest of that sentence that Buffy couldn’t allow herself to even think, let alone say.

“Oh. Well,” Willow quickly changed the subject. “My excellent deductive reasoning skills tell me I’m helping you open the files on all those disks, right? And, perhaps, figure out a way to get them to the FBI without Buffy getting arrested? General idea?”

“Something like that? Pretty pathetic plan, I know. And eventually there’s the matter of trying to prove I didn’t kill Giles, but I don’t even want to go there until I try and figure out…I don’t know, try to get a deal for Spike, if I can?” Again, the thought of whether or not he’d be alive to even go to jail echoed in her head, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming.

“Well,” Willow said carefully, not sure how much of her own knowledge she should reveal, and settling on secrecy for now. “Hopefully that sorts itself out, and the police figure out all that evidence was planted. And your partner, Gunn, right, he might come to his senses?”

“I hope so,” her voice was quiet, sad. “I can’t believe he would think that of me.”

“He was scared, Buffy. Probably didn’t even know what to think. People do crazy things when they’re panicked.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well! Let’s get you something to eat, and get to work, okay?” Willow smiled.

Buffy nodded and asked for the bathroom. While she was gone, the other woman pulled out her cell phone and dialed quickly.

“Hi, it’s me. Yeah, I really think you need to get over here as soon as you can, okay? We have a guest, someone you know,” She bit her lip nervously as the person on the other end responded. “Yep. That’s our girl. Oh, and bring snacks!”

Willow hung up right before Buffy entered the room, and pasted an innocent smile on her face. “Okay, working time!”

When Buffy had worked with these disks the first time, she had kept in the back of her mind that, one day, she might be the one hacking back into them. Which made the going easier, but it was still definitely slow. She intentionally hadn’t written down any passwords, although a few were still rattling around in her brain, and despite knowing exactly what codes she needed to input in order to read the files, she still had to actually type them in. Which took time.

Time, she kept screaming mentally at herself, that she didn’t really have. That Spike might not have.

If everything were to work out exactly as she wanted it to, she would give a select number of these files to the head of the investigation into Angelus’s organization at the FBI, a sniveling little weasel named Snyder. In theory, if she didn’t give THAT much evidence against Spike directly, especially considering he’d been the one to gather the information, he could get out with minimum jail time,—months, hopefully, instead of years.

Buffy alternated between this train of thought, mentally berating herself for her stupidity in fleeing from the hotel when Gunn accused her of Giles’s murder instead of sticking around to try and explain, and wondering when she’d suddenly stopped acting like a responsible agent, and started being a renegade looking to get a wanted criminal minimum jail time.

Despite her rampaging thoughts, the blonde continued to work diligently at her computer, smiling when she glanced up and saw Willow’s face contorted in a familiar, concentrated way as she worked on her own stack of disks.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the front door, and all the color drained from Buffy’s face.

“I’m…I’m going to hide,” she said quickly, paranoia setting in. “What if…God, I’m sorry, Willow, if they found me—“

“Buffy, it’s okay!” Willow insisted, heading towards the door. “I know who it is.”

Despite the woman’s attempt to calm her down, Buffy’s hand immediately curled around the gun she had tucked into the sofa cushions next to her.

And when Xander entered the house, she pulled it out and pointed it directly at him.

“What are you doing here?” She spat. “So you actually work for Angel? God, and I trusted you!”

“Buffy,” he waved his hands in front of him, eyeing the gun in her hands. “Calm. Callllm thoughts. I am not working with Angelus, okay? I’m here to help.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“Well, I didn’t. Not really,” he shrugged. “Funny enough, it’s not actually about you. I’m here for Willow you’re just…a wonderful bonus.” His smile was goofy, yet uncertain.

“Huh?” She lowered the gun, and Willow unfroze and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Willow is my girlfriend,” Xander explained. “Remember how I recognized you when you first came to work for Spike?” Buffy nodded. “I realized just a few days ago, I had seen a picture of you and Will from some school dance or something, that’s where I knew you from.”

“Okay…” Her mind was reeling.

“Willow called me earlier, I’m here to help. Oh, and I brought snacks!” He held up a grocery store bag.

“You’re kind of forgetting the most important part, Xander,” prodded Willow.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he laughed awkwardly. “And I’m LAPD.”

“Again, I say huh?” Buffy knew she must look comical, with her jaw literally hanging open and her eyes wide in shock. Like a cartoon, probably.

“I’ve been undercover with Spike for two years.”

“I…oh my God,” Buffy sat back down on the couch as her knees began to wobble. “Why didn’t I know this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why wouldn’t my bosses know there was another person undercover there? Isn’t that the kind of thing the FBI should know?”

Xander laughed. “Yeah, I think my division is pretty protective of what we see as our turf. We didn’t want to give up our hand. And hey, not like your people came to us to say they’d be sticking agents in our town. Rude, really.”

Buffy was quiet as she absorbed this totally unexpected information. “God, Spike had three people undercover and he didn’t know it. That’s…pretty funny,” she started to giggle inappropriately, laughter cased by stress and fear and shock, but as it bubbled up and threatened to become uncontrollable, Xander’s next words cut it off at its knees.

“No. Spike knew I was a cop.”

Buffy knew once again she was in cartoon face, staring at him disbelievingly. “Run that by me again.”

“He knew. Knew when he hired me. So I guess I wasn’t so much undercover as under…sheet? He was working with us, we were giving him a deal.”

“But…but—“

“But that’s probably shot to hell now that the FBI has him.”

“We do?” Her expression was hopeful. “He’s alive?”

“Well, when my people and the ambulance you called got to the warehouse he was gone, so I think that’s what probably happened. Unless Angelus took him…”

Her face fell again. “There’s no way you could find out?”

“I could try. My unit’s been taken over by some tiny dictator named Snyder, ordering us around like we’re his little slaves and giving us no information in return. Some of the people from my unit are looking into your boss’s murder—Giles, right?---and I’ve been assigned to, well, help Gunn find you.” At Buffy’s tensing shoulders, he said quickly, “But I won’t. I mean, I found you. But I won’t tell anyone. Not until you do what you need to do. And I’m here to help.”

Xander blushed as Buffy smiled at him gratefully. Willow chimed in, “Can I suggest sleep? It’s late, and we’ll get a lot more done tomorrow after we all get some rest.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, to insist that they work through the night, but all at once crippling fatigue hit her, and she could do nothing but nod weakly.

Willow quickly set up a makeshift bed on the couch, but despite the comfort of it, it took a long time for Buffy to even approach the oblivion of sleep.

There was a certain feeling gnawing at her chest, and she realized as she laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling that it was the sensation she felt whenever she knew she was forgetting something, but didn’t know what. Like when packed for a trip, and knew something was missing.

When she finally fell asleep, the swirl of thoughts and worries in her mind bled over into her dreams. Visions of blood and guns and codes and crystal and Spike looking up at her from on the warehouse floor and Gunn with that hard look in his eyes and her own face, tear streaked and broken, flashed in her mind as she slept restlessly. That gnawing feeling continued, and she only hoped that daybreak would bring her the knowledge she knew she was missing.


“Okay, so what do we know?” Willow asked, glasses on, pencil at the ready to take notes.

Buffy had awoken to the smell of freshly brewing coffee and the sound of waves crashing on the beach outside. The three were situated around the kitchen table, ready to dive right in and work out this puzzle they were faced with.

“Not a lot. We know Angelus must have figured out Gunn and I were agents, and either killed or sent someone to kill Giles. And he set me up for it. Don’t know why, though, or how, really. How would he have found out? And how would he have gotten my necklace?”

“What about your phone?”

“Caleb took it from me on the way to the warehouse, I remember he hit a couple of keys. Must have called Giles then. OH! And he probably got my necklace then, he pulled me by the hair. Could have done some slight of hand, taken it off.”

“But he died in the warehouse, we found his body, so he must have left it in the car, and someone else picked it up.”

Buffy nodded, Willow scribbled frantically, and Xander took a sip of his coffee.

“The autopsy on Giles should be done this morning, I’ll be able to find out time of death. How long between when you and Gunn left the warehouse, and when you got to the crime scene?”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “An hour and a half, maybe? Two? Gunn would have gotten there in a half an hour, probably, depending on traffic.” Her frown deepened. “And we were in the warehouse for maybe an hour,. So that gives someone about an hour and a half to get the necklace and plant it.”

“But who?” Willow prodded. “And why?”

“Who, probably just a minion. The why is pretty simple,” Xander said. “Just to get Buffy out of the way for awhile. Probably keep suspicion on her so people might think she falsified all that evidence?”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense though,” the blonde mused. “I mean, why kill Giles and frame me, when they thought they had me captive at the warehouse?”

“Sort of …I don’t know, backup?”

“I guess,” she mused. “Something just doesn’t seem quite right.”

“Well, hopefully Lockley and Finn have some more information I can pass on.” At Buffy’s blank look, Xander explained, “Kate Lockley and Riley Finn. The two cops investigating the murder. They’re good people and good cops, I’m guessing you as the perp won’t hold up for very long.”

“Here’s hoping,” said Willow. “Once we’ve opened up all the disks, and Buffy’s cleared, she can go to her boss, right? And get Spike a deal with them.”

“Yeah, just because my unit made a deal with them doesn’t mean the FBI will stick to it.”

Their voices faded away as Buffy concentrated on that sick, unsettled feeling deep within her. There was something. Something she wasn’t getting, something that she needed to remember. Then, she did.

“I’ll head off to work—“ Xander was saying when she bolted upright.

“Fred.”

“Hmm?” He turned to her, curious.

“Fred. Fred ran from the warehouse when Gunn and I attacked. But Forrest was outside guarding it. How did she get past him without him seeing her?”

Everyone sat in silence for a moment.

“Buffy, I know what you’re thinking, but really, Fred wouldn’t betray Spike. She’s as loyal as they come.”

“Then explain how she got past Forrest. She couldn’t have. He had to have let her go willingly.”

Silence again.

“But why?” Willow asked. “I mean, from what Xander’s told me, Fred practically worships Spike. She wouldn’t be secretly working for Angelus, would she?”

“Maybe she wasn’t, not really,” Buffy said, jumping up and beginning to pace. “What if, what if Angelus thought she was working for him? So she could keep him off Spike’s back, for the most part.”

Xander nodded. “Possible. She always did seem to have a ton of knowledge about what Angelus was doing. I just never really thought about it before.”

“How much were you involved with their plans?”

“I wasn’t, really. I was there in sort of a…supervisor capacity. I did what Spike asked, but I don’t think he really trusted me enough to let me in totally.”

Buffy started to respond, when a bullet whizzed by her head and into the fridge behind her. She dropped to the ground instantly, and Xander tackled Willow to drag her under the table.

“Shit, shit, shit, how did they find you?” he growled as more bullets decorated the kitchen’s walls. He peeked up over the edge of the table and out the window when there was a lull in the gunfire. “Okay, there’s one car, two shooters. Will, your car is in the car port, right?” The redhead nodded, eyes wide with fear. “Okay, if we get to there we can get out.”

“I’m so sorry, Will,” Buffy moaned. They then heard a pounding at the front door. Buffy reached up and grabbed her laptop, disks and gun, shoving them back into Spike’s backpack on the ground near her.

Without speaking, all three kept low and raced towards the door to the outside.

“Xander, give me your keys,” Buffy demanded once they’d entered.

“What, why?”

“You two go.”

“Buffy, no!” Willow protested vehemently. “You can’t stay here, that’s suicide!’

“It’s not, I swear,” she promised. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m waiting till they get into the house, then I’ll run out to Xander’s car and get them to follow me, not you. I can lose them easily. You have my cell number?” The two nodded, but Xander opened his mouth to protest her plan. “You know I can’t come with you, if anyone saw us together everything would be over. Just go, call me when you find out…when you find out anything.” She quickly shoved a few disks at Willow, who frowned. “Just in case,” she explained.

The sounds of the front door being broken down reached the trio. “Okay, let’s go,” Xander said, tossing his keys to Buffy and pulling Willow towards the car. They jumped in and sped off, and Buffy sprinted for the SUV on the street once she saw them clear the corner. She could hear the sounds of the two men yelling from inside once they caught sight of her, but she was too quick, jumping into the car and driving off as they made their way back to their own vehicle.

She glanced in the rear-view mirror, shocked to see that the two unfamiliar men weren’t following her. But she realized why when she glanced back at the street in front of her. Quickly, intentionally, a red truck pulled out. Buffy recognized the driver as Forrest, with an evil grin on his face, before their cars smashed together, her head hit the steering wheel, and everything went black.

When Buffy awoke, she instinctively kept her eyes closed, and tried to hide any other sign of being alert. Her head was killing her, no doubt from the bump that knocked her unconscious, but other than that, she felt unharmed. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her legs were fastened to the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in. She could hear low voices from behind her, probably right outside whatever room she was in.

This was not good.

She opened her eyes just a bit, and with the angle of her head she could examine most of her prison. Just a typical living room, with comfortable looking leather couches, a glass coffee table with a gun sitting on it, and French doors opening to a balcony. No one else in the room that she could see.

The voices behind her got louder, and she closed her eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

“He’s on his way?” A familiar female voice. Darla.

“Yeah, ten minutes, tops. Told us to wait.” Forrest. Definitely Forrest.

“But where’s the fun in that?” She giggled.

Buffy felt a slight breeze, and knew they had walked past her. Probably standing right in front of her. She stayed perfectly still.

Oh, this was so not good.

“What’s the point of even keeping her alive?” Darla sighed. “We already have the disks.”

“Angel said wait, so we wait.”

Buffy heard the squeak of leather, and figured they had sat down. The sounds of a TV turning on came from her right, and then, she started to panic.

Xander and Willow would be worried if she didn’t pick up her cell phone. So that was good. And Willow had a few of the disks, she could use that as collateral. Plus, someone had to have seen the car crash, right? Someone had to have seen the men outside Willow’s house. So eventually, the police would find her? Right. She just had to stay alive until then. And she could do that, easily.

From behind her, she heard a door open and slam.

“Baby!” Darla crooned, getting off the couch. Buffy could hear the sounds of a wet welcoming kiss.

“How’s our girl?” Angel asked.

“Sleeping, still.”

“Is that so?”

Buffy felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, which then slid down her arm, across her stomach, onto her upper thigh.

“I know you’re awake,” Angel said softly. His grip on her thigh tightened, and reluctantly, Buffy opened her eyes and flinched back from his touch. “There she is! Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Let me go,” she hissed, knowing just how pathetic she sounded.

“Yeah, no. You almost convinced me, though. It’s the pout.” Angel stood up and pulled a chair over so he was sitting directly across from her. “So. Agent…Summers, is it? Nice cover, by the way. Took a long time to find anything disproving your identity as cute, innocent computer girl.”

“Then how’d you figure out who I was?”

He smiled and crossed his arms. “I have my sources. Okay, honestly? We tapped Gunn’s phone. But doesn’t it sound so much better when I claim some sort of conspiracy?”

“Stupid Gunn,” Buffy sighed, twisting her wrists behind her slightly to test the tightness of the ropes around her.

“Yeah. Not the brightest bulb in the box, that one. But loyal to you, for some reason. Considering you betrayed him and all.”

“You know I didn’t.”

“Of course I do. But he thinks that, does he?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“Sure, eventually. But hopefully we have him distracted for at least a little longer. And we’ll find the redhead and Xander soon, although, still not quite sure how to deal with the cop. Did not see that one coming! He seemed a little too stupid to be undercover. People can be surprising.”

Buffy stayed silent, hoping Angel’s apparent love of the sound of his own voice would continue long enough for her to gain some valuable information. But when he just observed her for a minute, a smile playing at the corner of her lips, she blurted out, “Where’s Spike?”

The smile grew. “That’s actually what I was going to ask you.”

“I left him in the warehouse. Haven’t seen him since,” she answered honestly.

“Damn it. Really? Should have looked harder.” He clearly didn’t believe her.

“You should have. I’m guessing in your haste to chase me down you didn’t do a complete and thorough search. Sloppy, really. I could give you some pointers,” Buffy tried to sound as calm as she could as she continued to wriggle her wrists around behind her. The ropes were tied impossibly tight. There was no way she was getting out.

“That’d be great, thanks,” he laughed harshly, then said to Darla, “Go grab my briefcase from the hall, sugar.” She jumped up quickly and disappeared from the room.

“What do you want from me?” Buffy asked warily. “You have the disks. Or most of them, anyway. And I honestly don’t know where Spike is.”

“Most of them?”

She smirked. “Whoops. Did I say that?”

“Good to know.”

“Really, though. Why kidnap me? I mean, it’s going to be hard enough getting clear after the whole thing at the warehouse. But kidnapping, and hey, murdering a federal officer? Bad idea.”

“Well, Buff,” Angel said, ignoring her taunts and standing up as Darla approached him. He took the proffered black leather case and stroked it lovingly. “I want to know what you know. Tell me what I want to hear, and you can…well, not go, but not suffer nearly as much.”

“You’re the best sex I’ve ever had, and your dick is huge?” He stared at her in surprise. “Oh, that’s not what you wanted to hear? Damn, and I thought I was so good with men.”

Buffy refused to give into her fear. Whatever they were going to do to her, she figured she couldn’t stop it, and refused to just roll over and beg. Plus, the angrier she made them, the more likely they were to spill something useful. She hoped.

“Can I hit her?” Darla asked “I’m bored, and she’s bugging me.”

“Sure. Go to town.” Angel left the room, and Darla sauntered up to Buffy, an evil glint in her eye, and smacked her hard on the cheek.

“You know what the saddest thing in the world is?” She asked.

“Bad hair on top of that outfit?”

Darla glared at her. “Loving someone who doesn’t love you. And I think that’s what I’m seeing in front of me, Buffy.” She reached out and backhanded her captive. Despite her small size, her fists had some power. “You think you’re protecting Spike, right? Going to get him free from the big bad clutches of us evil-doers? You think he’s innocent in all this?”

Buffy was silent, just licked a drop of blood off of her lip and waited.

“I’ve known Spike for many years, honey. You think you’re the first little thing that’s caught his attention? Hardly. It’s pretty much you or him at this point. And if he was in this same situation, he wouldn’t be picking you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

Angel returned just then, humming a jaunty tune. “Forrest is picking up our other guest now. Just a while longer.”

Buffy wanted to ask who, afraid that they’d managed to find Willow or Xander, but she calmed herself down, and just waited. Prayed. Watched the two leave her alone in the room, and hoped that whatever they had planned for the rest of the day, she’d be alive when someone came to rescue her.

When Spike awoke, he couldn’t have opened his eyes wider than a slit if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t, really. He was aware. Aware of the fact that he didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him, aware of the drugs running through his veins, the dull ache in his stomach, and he was tired, so tired, that he immediately sank back into oblivion.

It must have been hours later when he finally woke up again, and managed to open his eyes fully to the sterile hospital room he was lying in. No windows. Just a solid looking blue door. The only sound he could hear was the steady beep of his heart monitor.

“Well, at least I’m not dead,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Just then, an older, severe looking nurse bustled into the room, all business and scowl.

“Hello, pet,” he smiled winningly. “Any chance you’ll let me know where I am?”

“A hospital,” she said tersely, checking a reading on the machine to his right. “In Los Angeles. California.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Spike sighed. He moved to scratch his head, and found his left wrist handcuffed to the bed. “Oh, just great.”

“How’s your pain level?”

“On a scale of what?” At her annoyed look, he clarified, “One to ten? Good to bad? Happy face, sad face?” The irritated look persisted, so he said quickly, “Seven. I’m going to go with seven.”

“Good. I’ll raise your morphine dose in an hour or so, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Someone will be in to talk to you shortly.” The nurse left hurriedly, and once again, Spike was left alone with nothing except the sound signifying his heart beating, and his own thoughts. Memories began to slowly come back to him.

Angelus. Some how, some way, he had figured out that Spike was going to turn him in. And now his plan, years in the making, was shot to hell.

How? How could he have figured it out?

Spike was a rash, impulsive person. His emotions ruled his life, and he hated waiting, or keeping secrets. But he had been careful, so incredibly careful. Only Fred and Lorne had known all the details of his plan, and Lorne was gone, and Fred was loyal. Xander had only known the bare minimum, only known what was necessary.

So how had Angelus found out?

And Buffy. Spike remembered Buffy, fighting for him, crying over him, leaving him, because he’d forced her to. Buffy his girl. Buffy the cop. Buffy who’d lied every time she spoke.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned as a fireball of pain began in his lower abdomen.

He had known there was…something. Something she wasn’t telling him, some secret she was keeping. Those beautiful eyes of her were impossibly deep, swirling with emotion and mysteries and knowledge. It had intrigued him. Part of what drew him towards her in the first place. The fact that he never quite knew what was going on in that pretty little head of hers.

Now, he knew. Or at least, he thought he did.

Cops. Her and the boyfriend, if he was even really her boyfriend. He hoped not, but you could never quite be sure. Not that it really mattered.

Spike had never been an optimistic or trusting person. People lied, it was human nature. And everyone was selfish, only out for themselves. He’d been alive too long, seen too much and been betrayed too many times to retain any shred of respect for humanity in general. So that part of him, that suspicious, jaded part, was sure it had all been an act. A damn good act, but an act. Buffy had played him.

Oh, and how well she’d played.

A spark of hope burned inside him, though. It was tiny, but it was there. He wanted to resist it, wanted to cling to his paranoia and his hate and his loneliness. Unhappiness was comforting. Misery was his friend.

But unless she was an Oscar-caliber actress, Buffy couldn’t have faked it all, right? Her orgasms, sure, although he doubted it. But the rest?

There had been something in those eyes. Something pure, and good, and honest. And she had truly cried for him, and tried to save him. Could that all be real?

So he let the spark burn, just for a little while longer, as he settled back against his pillows, and allowed himself to be pulled back into sleep.


“She’s still not answering!” Willow moaned quietly, slamming her cell phone down onto the table in front of her. She and Xander were tucked away in a corner of his precinct, doing their best to locate the missing Buffy, while pretending as if they’d never had any idea where she was.

“I’m still waiting for the witness reports from the crash,” Xander whispered to her. “It won’t be long before someone figures out my car was involved, and was mysteriously missing a driver. Plus, the whole shooting thing is definitely raising some red flags. So we probably don’t have a lot of time.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed and started to tear at the edges of his empty coffee cup. “I almost think…we should talk to Gunn.”

Willow nodded. “I mean, at this point, it’s pretty obvious she’s in danger and we have a few of the disks, right? So even if they find her and question her at least we have some of the evidence and Gunn could help…right?”

“Right,” Xander smiled at her affectionately. He raised his voice and yelled across the room, “Hey! Gunn! Can I talk to you for a second?”


Buffy was not a patient person, for the most part. Especially when she was tied to a chair, helpless, and completely ignorant as to what was going on.

She had heard the front door open, heard a woman crying, heard the word “please”, heard Angelus laugh cruelly, then a loud smack, a whimper, and silence.

It had been too long that she’d been left alone. An hour, at least Forrest had come through once, smoked a cigarette on the balcony, and then left again, all without even looking at her.

That black briefcase was sitting in front of her. Taunting her.

Finally, Angelus came back in, alone, still humming that same obnoxious song.

“How’s it going, Buff?”

“My nose itches,” she sighed, instead of telling him how it was really going. Which was very, very badly. She hadn’t intended for him to reach out and scratch her itch for her, of course, but he did, and his touch sent waves of disgust throughout her body. He seemed to enjoy the revulsion on her face, and the way her body arched away from him.

Angelus picked up the briefcase from the floor and set it on the coffee table. He smiled as he opened it, and from where she was sitting, Buffy couldn’t see any of its contents. That prick of fear about the case grew at the delighted look on her captor’s face.

He rummaged around, and said, “Well, little girl. Things are getting more and more interesting around here, and it turns out I don’t really need you any more. Anything you had to tell me has suddenly become…worthless.”

“Really?” she asked, her heart pounding. “I don’t suppose that means you’re going to let me go, does it?”

His bark of laughter was the response she’d expected.

“You know better than that,” Angelus murmured, eyes glittering.

From the briefcase, he pulled out a syringe and a small vial of crystal clear blue liquid.

“You’re going to serve an entirely different purpose now.”

Despite what the nurse had told him, no one had come to talk to Spike. He didn’t see anyone at all for an hour and a half until the cranky woman came back to shoot him up with more painkillers.

He felt them start to work immediately, and sighed happily. Not that he’d ever complain, but the rumors were true. Getting shot? Hurt like hell.

“HELLO?” He finally yelled, wondering if anyone could hear him through the thick walls. “Is anyone going to come explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?”

Just then, Gunn entered the room, followed by Xander and Willow.

“Oh good, someone could hear me.”

“How you doing, Spike?” Xander asked.

“Feel like I’ve been shot.”

“Damn, harsh. You remember Willow?”

“Of course. Nice to see you again, Red.”

They shared a smile, and then Spike’s gaze shifted over to Gunn, who was staring at him, jaw and shoulders and hands tensed. There was an awkward silence, and Xander tried to break it by joking, “Hey, Spike? Meet Charles Gunn. FBI agent.”

“Nice to meet you,” Spike growled. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m cuffed to the bed.”

Gunn’s eyes flashed and he responded, “Yeah, we tend to do that with criminals.”

“Because I’m such a dangerous man.”

“You are.”

“Right, so dangerous I—“

“Okay!” Willow chirped. “Let’s get on topic, okay? Buffy needs us.”

“What?” Spike was instantly at attention. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Well, we don’t really know,” the woman frowned. “She was with Xander and I, we were helping her with…something and then Angelus’s guys showed up, and we separated, and there was a car crash and we….we haven’t heard from her since.”

For a second, Spike was completely silent, staring at the wall in front of him with an unreadable expression.

“Get these fucking things off of me.” He rattled the handcuffs.

“What?” Gunn asked.

“Get. Them. Off. And get me some clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t fancy running around in a hospital gown, as much as I’m sure you’d love to be staring at my ass.”

There was murder in the other man’s eyes. “Why the hell would I let you go? So you can run to Mexico? You’re in custody of the US gover---”

“You really think I’m going to try to escape with a hole in my stomach? I can find her.”

“No.”

“You want to leave Buffy in danger—“

“We’re here for any information you may have, not to follow you on some wild—“

“I can help! I think I know where he would—“

“I’m not risking my job on what you think, asshole. I’m not Buffy. My orders are to question you—“

“BOYS!” Willow yelled out, then widened her eyes in surprise at her own outburst. “Sorry. Boys? Buffy, danger? Can we not do the whole pissing contest thing?” Both men grudgingly nodded. “Okay. Spike, you actually think you can help?”

“Yeah.”

“Gunn, you want to find Buffy, right?”

“Yeah. But I’m not letting him come.”

“Okay then! Xander, honey, I think some of your clothes are in my trunk, get them?”

Her words were clearly an order, and Xander obeyed them instantly. “Yes, ma’am!” He saluted as he left.

Gunn frowned. “I just said—“

“Now, you two,” Willow turned back to the two stewing men in front of her, ignoring Gunn’s words completely. “Spike, Gunn thinks Buffy maybe wasn’t really doing her job, was working secretly for you. Was she?”

“No!” He snapped. “I had no idea who she was. She lied to me.” His last comment was soft, almost just to himself.

“And you don’t want to run away, do you?”

“Bloody hell. No. Why would I run away when I was planning to put myself in LAPD custody anyway?”

“Good point. Gunn, Spike just wants to find Buffy. Can you accept that?”

“Fine.”

“And you want to find Buffy.”

“Yes, but—“

“If Spike can help, won’t your bosses be happy you found Buffy, even if you broke a little rule to do it?”

“I guess…”

“So you’ll let him help?”

“…fine.”

“Good!” Her face was happy again. “Then let’s go.”


The needle into her arm hurt, sure. But Buffy had never been afraid of needles. A tiny pinprick, she could handle. No problem.

But then, she could feel the liquid entering her veins. Like fire. No, like ice. Like both. She could feel it creeping inside her, slow, so excruciatingly slow. Spreading throughout her body. The devil taking her over.

“Well. Let’s give the girl a minute, see if Walsh gave us our money’s worth. Buffy, this is a scientific exploration. I’d like detailed descriptions of everything you’re feeling.” His laugh was cruel, clearly enjoying his deranged torture of her. “And please, any hallucinations? Tell me all about them.”

She wanted to stay calm. She wanted to resist, wanted to ride out the drugs effects with her mouth closed and her sanity intact.

And she succeeded, for awhile. She started to feel warm, and light, her head felt like it was floating off of her body, her limbs felt separate. Buffy didn’t say anything, didn’t give in. Angelus got bored.

“Bring the other one in,” He snapped to someone behind her, and a few minutes later Fred was thrown on the ground by the couch, arms bound, blood trickling from her nose.

“Angel, I’m so sorry—“ She started to say, when he brutally kicked her in the stomach.

“What…what…” Buffy wanted to ask questions, wanted to investigate, wanted to do her job. But the second she opened her mouth and spoke, she all of a sudden felt like she was falling, falling down, air rushing past her cheeks, and she let out a whimper.

Angelus laughed at her fearful expression and then poked the moaning girl on the ground with his foot. “Thought more about being cooperative, Fred?”

“I told you everything!”

He poked her harder. “That’s what you told me last time too, and we both know you were lying then. Why would I believe you now?”

Buffy stared intently at them, and they started to shift and mutate into shimmering, amorphous blobs. She began to giggle.

“How you doing, Buff?” Angelus looked amused. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head and tried to suppress the giggles, which shifted into sobs as she once again became cognizant of how well and truly screwed she was. “What did…what did she do?” She managed to force out.

“What didn’t she do is a better question. Little Fred here is a double crosser. Well, no, a triple crosser.”

“Triple?” Buffy giggled. The word struck her as hilarious for some reason. “Triple.”

“Yep. I thought she was my good little spy, keeping me updated on your boyfriend’s bad behavior. But I guess she was keeping him updated on me too. Still not really sure which side she thinks she’s on. Not that it matters.”

He removed his foot from Fred’s ribs, picked her up and sat her down on the chair opposite Buffy. Fred glared at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Buffy frowned. “I thought you liked me.”

Angelus laughed. In Buffy’s current state it was even more annoying, and yet frightening, then usual, and she shuddered. “Fred likes Fred,” he said. “And whoever is useful to her at the time. Oh, and by the way, she’s the one who found out about you. Maybe I should let you two wrestle. Could be hot.”

Buffy laughed loudly, then abruptly started to struggle against her bonds. “Too tight, too tight, please? Angel, please?” She stared at him pitifully, eyes wild, panting.

He sighed and undid the ropes around her wrists. “Fine. Don’t want you to have a panic attack.”

Inwardly, Buffy smiled, as she thanked Angelus pathetically and rolled her wrists around. Was she fucked up on some crazy drug? Yes. But was she stupid? No.

She just had to wait for her moment. And even though it wasn’t in her nature, she would be patient. For now.

Buffy was trying to stay calm. But ironically, after she had faked that panic attack to get her wrists untied, she found herself suffering from an authentic one, which circumvented step two of her plan. Get the hell out of there.

Everything was too bright, too harsh, too loud. The drug ran through her veins and made her crazy, weak, afraid. She could feel everything, see everything, hear everything, even the beating of her own heart. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute. Her mind was floating.

Angelus toyed with her a bit more, using words and fists in attempts to get her to entertain him. She resisted, kept the symptoms of her addled state deep inside of her. She took the pain he dealt her and didn’t cry, didn’t scream. Let his hands wander her body and didn’t show her revulsion.

In, out, in, out. She concentrated on her breathing, concentrated on the feeling of the chair under her body, the air on her skin. She wanted to stay grounded. Wanted to feel normal. She ignored people talking to her, ignored Darla kissing Angelus goodbye, ignored her captor softly stroking her hair and skin.

Buffy closed her eyes. She listened.

“Did she pass out?” Forrest asked a few minutes later.

“Probably, yeah. She’s so cute when she’s sleeping,” Angelus replied with a chuckle. “And you’re next if you don’t start talking.” Buffy felt him move away from her.

Fred whimpered. “Angel, I swear—“

Buffy heard the smacking sound of flesh on flesh. “You swear what?”

“I was going to tell you, okay? I was, I promise.”

“But, you didn’t.”

“I was GOING to,” she started to cry. “I told you about Lorne. I tried to find the disks. I told you about Buffy and Gunn the day I found out. I got rid of Mr. Giles, didn’t I? I did everything you asked me to do.”

“Except tell me you and the bleached wonder were working with LAPD. That’s a pretty big thing to leave out.”

“I was waiting for—“

“Shut up, Fred. Denying everything is just going to make it worse for your pretty little self.”

A sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m curious about the why of it all, Fred. Why come to me in the first place? Can’t believe I fell for your sob story about hating Spike after your sad, torrid little love affair.”

“That was true! I just…”

“Had a change of heart?”

“I don’t know!”

“You know, Fred. You were playing me.”

“I wasn’t—“

Another slap that Buffy could almost feel on her own cheek.

That laugh, that cruel, harsh laugh, echoed in Buffy’s ears and invaded her soul as she struggled to appear asleep, struggled against the urge to shriek and cry. “You’re so adorable when you’re scared, Fred. All panting and sweating. Heaving breasts. Too bad you didn’t start working for me right away. We could have avoided all of this.” All Buffy heard for a minute was the sound of Angelus’s heavy breathing. Finally, “Forrest, put her back upstairs. I need a drink.”

A few minutes later, Buffy opened her eyes to an empty room, mind swimming with her newly acquired information. She shuddered and swallowed her tears, then started to wiggle her ankles, slipping them out of their binds. A voice from behind her made her freeze.

“Sunshine, are you okay?” Drusilla asked as she crept into sight.

“I…I…” Buffy tried to think of an excuse for her current very suspicious position, then wondered if there was a chance she could knock the other woman unconscious before she screamed. Probably not.

“You’re escaping. Smart little girl,” She nodded. “I want to be helpful.”

Buffy gaped at her and froze. “You want to what now?”

“To help. I’ve been wrong for far too long.” Drusilla’s face was open and pleading.

“Wrong?” Buffy spat, unable to contain her anger. “You mean like telling your husband about Spike’s plan and getting him shot? That kind of wrong?”

“I didn’t do that! I would never tell. He lies. He lies and I let him lie but no more.”

“Okay…” the blonde frowned. “So…you’re…what?”

“I’m following my knight into the sunshine. Although, he’s not really my knight anymore, is he? He’s yours. He wants to take you off into the sunset--”

“Drusilla, you’re making the kind of sense that doesn’t. But if you really want to help me, make some sort of distraction away from the front door.”

The woman nodded and glided off.

Buffy could hardly believe it. She almost sat herself back in her chair, tied herself back up, sure this was some sort of sick new torture device. Or a trap. It had to be a trap.

But when she heard Drusilla screaming from upstairs, crying for Angelus, she jumped into action, peeking around the corner to find the front entryway empty, and just like that, she was out the front door and running on unsteady legs, still feeling the effects of that powerful drug

It was too easy. It was just wrong, how easy it was to escape.

Buffy turned her head to glance over her shoulder, checking for pursuers, and ran smack into a wall of solid muscle.

She had expected it, was sure her luck had run out, Drusilla had lied to her, and it was one of Angelus’s goons here to take her back to that hellhole.

But she steadied herself and looked up into Gunn’s face.

“Buffy, are you okay?” He asked, gingerly touching a bruise on her face.

“Call for backup, Angelus, all of them, they’re in the house,” she gasped out.

He grabbed her and pulled her behind a car, taking out his phone and quickly calling headquarters.

“How did you get here?” She asked, swaying. “How…how…oh wow. I’m so completely fucked up.” She started to laugh.

“Buffy, what’s wrong?”

His image began to swirl and shift in front of her eyes as she explained what Angelus had done. “And Fred!” she blurted out. “Fred’s in there, Fred turned us in to him.”

“What?”

“I…oh, I…”

“Buffy, talk to me. What about Fred? Buffy?”

He started to sound so far away, he shook her, trying to bring her back. But out in the bright warm sunshine, almost to safety, she didn’t want to fight anymore, and let the drug pull her deeper into its thrall, let the pain encompass her, let all the horror in. Gunn kept questioning her, and as she looked past him, she saw Spike coming towards them. “Oh, wow. I’m hallucinating. Cool…” she smiled as she sat heavily down on the ground.

“Hallucinating what? Talk to me! What’s going on?”

“I wanted…and he’s here…” The hallucination knelt in front of her. She said softly, “You aren’t real.”

But his arms around her, pulling her close, his breath on her cheek, his hands in her hair, felt so real.

“I’m here, Buffy,” the hallucination whispered.

She sighed and let herself believe it, sinking into his arms as the faint sound of sirens lulled her into sleep.

“Watch for anyone coming. And get Xander here, now!” Spike barked, pulling Buffy’s body closer towards him. Multiple bruises decorated her face, her shirt was slightly torn, and she was unnaturally pale and shivering. He bit his own lip so hard he drew blood as he stared down at the fragile woman in his arms. The sound of Drusilla wailing loudly from inside the house ceased, and he glanced up to check for any of Angelus’s men coming to find their missing hostage. “What did he do to her?”

“She said he gave her some of Walsh’s drug.”

“Bloody hell.”

Xander crept up behind them, gun drawn. “Oh man, is she okay?”

Spike wouldn’t let himself voice his fear that she might not be. “Let me get her out of here,” he begged.

“No!” Gunn snapped, his own weapon at the ready. “You stay with me, that’s the deal, and I have to make sure they don’t get away.”

“Fuck the sodding deal,” Spike hissed, barely containing the urge to take Buffy and run, possibly to Mexico. “You won’t let me have a gun and you won’t let me take care of her. What fucking good to you am I?”

A loud yell came from up the driveway, and Gunn swore under his breath. “You’re no good to me. Xander, give me your gun, and take Buffy. NOW.” When Spike didn’t move right away, he continued, “Be a man, let her go, unless you don’t want her to get to safety.”

Xander passed his weapon on, and Spike reluctantly relinquished Buffy after pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring his love in her ear. He then moved to crouch closer to the car, watching as the cop took his girl around the corner, and only once they were gone from sight did he return his focus to the house.

“We just have to keep them here for a bit longer,” said Gunn quietly. “I see three, maybe four.”

“Let me go talk to them,” Spike earned himself a surprised glance. “I know them all. I can stall them. I’m exactly who they’ve been looking for.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“So?”

Gunn sighed, “Okay, go.” Spike moved just an inch before he was stopped by a hand on his elbow. “Take this, I guess. Just in case. Don’t you dare tell anyone I let you have a gun.”

Spike nodded his gratitude and slid the proffered weapon into the waistband of Xander’s too-big pants, and sauntered up the front walk. From the porch, Forrest let out a shout, and Angelus came bursting out the door.

The sirens sounded closer, now.

“Well well well, look who’s come to visit!” Spike crowed, stopping fifteen feet away from the door, giving himself plenty of time to draw his weapon if they rushed him.

Angelus glared at him. “Spike. Didn’t except to see you here. What, did you knock your head too? Lose your common sense?”

“Nope, the head’s fine, just got that extra hole in my stomach.”

“Left side or right? I’ll make you symmetrical.” His hand traveled to his pocket, where the outline of a pistol was clearly visible.

“Now, now,” Spike shook his head. “Bet there’s at least one person within seeing distance, yeah? I’d keep…everything you’ve got, in your trousers, unless you want another murder added to your rap sheet.”

Forrest and another, shorter man made their way purposefully down the porch steps, but Spike quickly backed up a foot. “Don’t be shy, come on inside,” Angelus growled.

“Nice invitation, but I think I’m fine out here.”

“Where’d she go, Spike?”

“Where’d who go?”

“Don’t play with me, boy. You know I have ways to make you talk. You’ve experienced them before, if I recall correctly. As little Buffy now has.”

“Fuck you,” was the growled response. “What did you do to her?”

Angelus laughed. “Oh, come on Spike. You know exactly what I did. You’ve done it yourself.”

“Not for a long time.”

The sirens were loud and close enough that even the distracted Angelus finally heard them.

“We have to go, boss,” The man to Spike’s left insisted as Angelus furrowed his brow in thought. When he finally nodded, the man leapt for Spike, but was floored by a swift punch.

Spike groaned as pain erupted in his stomach due to the quick movement, but still moved forward to stop Angelus’s mad dash to his car. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gunn rushing up to tackle Forrest, who hadn’t even seen him coming.

Angelus reached one hand out to directly hit his opponent’s damaged side, but a quick spin out of the way kept Spike safe for now. He landed two quick punches to the taller man’s jaw, punches packed with raw power and fury. Another person rushed down the porch steps towards him, but he managed to trip the man and knock him to the ground with a kick.

Spike turned to find his enemy running like a coward, almost to his car. As a police cruiser pulled up to block the driveway’s exit, Spike caught up and grabbed the back of Angelus’s shirt, slamming his head into the car door forcefully, then letting him fall the ground with a thud.

He glanced over at Gunn, who was keeping Forrest in a chokehold and staring at him imploringly. Spike understood, lifted the gun out of his waistband, and casually dropped it on the ground beside him. He ignored the other man’s grateful smile as a cop rushed up to him, yelled for his surrender, and fastened his arms with handcuffs.

He spit down on a groaning, whimpering Angelus, then allowed himself to be pulled to the waiting police car, head down. Halfway there he began to sway, and only then noticed the blood soaking through his shirt.


Buffy stirred a short while later, and found herself in the back of a parked ambulance.

“What?” she mumbled, struggling to sit up, but was stopped by the EMT next to her.

“How’re you feeling?” Gunn asked from her other side. Her eyes came into focus, and she became aware of where she was and what had happened.

“Kind of like I’ve been hit by a truck. And really really loopy still,” Buffy groaned.

The EMT said, “You’ll be fine, you’re just coming down. No broken bones or serious lacerations. These fluids will help you perk up a bit.” Buffy winced as the woman slid an IV into her arm.

Gunn squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Do you think you need to go to the hospital, or are you—“

“No,” Buffy said firmly. “I’m good. Just a little wigged.”

“Yeah, I would be too.”

Neither spoke for a moment, and Buffy focused on looking out the ambulance’s open doors to the bustling activity. A crowd of spectators watched as dozens of cops swarmed the house. She waved weakly at Xander, then let loose a giggle as she saw Forrest swearing and attempting to pull away from the policeman holding him. “Asshole.”

They both smiled, then Gunn said, “Look, Buffy, I’m sorry.” She was quiet and picked the threads dangling from her torn shirt. “Look, I know you didn’t kill Giles. I shouldn’t have…I made a mistake, okay? I should have trusted you.”

“Yeah, you should have. But thanks.” She smiled tentatively, but that smile quickly faded. “Gunn…how did Fred know who we were?” His guilty expression told her all she needed to know. “What did you do?”

He dropped his head in his hands. “I fucked up.”

“Clearly.” When Gunn stayed quiet, she snapped, “Explain, please. Or else despite my weakened state you’re going to get a fist full of Buffy anger.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know, okay? Didn’t know she’d run to Angelus. After you told me you thought she and Spike were planning something, I talked to her, and she confirmed it. So I told her…I told her who we were.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure it was true, make sure you weren’t being set up, or you weren’t lying.”

“So you would believe what she said over me?”

“She…I don’t know, I thought she and I maybe had something. Nothing happened, but…”

Buffy tried to suppress her resentment but finally spat out. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“Yeah.”

“You lied to me?”

“Yeah.”

“She killed Giles, you know that, right?” From Gunn’s shocked and broken face, she realized he hadn’t. “She told Angelus she got rid of him, I can only assume that’s what she meant.”

“But why?” He whispered.

Buffy shrugged, the slight movement sending a jolt of pain down one arm. “We’ll have to ask her.”

He nodded. “Snyder’s not exactly your biggest fan right now, but I’ll talk to him, get you in on the interrogations. I mean, you’re the reason we managed to track Angelus down at all.”

“Yeah, me with my amazing skills of getting kidnapped.”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, they recovered all those disks in the house, Angelus was stupid enough not to have destroyed them yet.”

“Good,” Buffy said softly. “At least there’s that.” She finally gave in to the question that had been plaguing her, and asked, “Do you…please tell me you know where Spike is?”

“Huh?” Gunn asked. “You just saw him.”

“What?” She asked in surprise, finally struggling to a sitting position.

“You don’t remember? When you first came out of the house, Spike was there. You talked to him.”

She choked back a sob of relief. “That was real? So…so he’s not dead?”

“No.”

“Where is he?” She asked desperately. Her partner was silent. “Gunn, where is he?” She repeated louder.

“Snyder took him back into custody.”

“He’s honoring the deal, right? He’s not going to—“

“I don’t know.”

“I need to find him, I need—“ She struggled with the IV in her arm, but Gunn reached out and grabbed her hand, and the EMT barked an order to stay still.

“Buffy. Stop. You’ll see him when we get back to the station, okay?”

She opened her mouth to protest, when Xander climbed up into the ambulance. “Hey, Buffster. How’re you feeling?”

“Peachy. I want to go see Spike.”

Xander and Gunn exchanged a quick glance. “You’ll see him later, okay? He had to get patched up too.”

“What?”

Gunn groaned. “He pulled some stitches, Buffy, it’s not a big deal. He’s fine.”

“You knew?” She shrieked.

“Okay, both of you, out,” the EMT commanded, pointing at Gunn and Xander. “You’re getting my patient all worked up and it’s not good for her. Get out before I throw you out.”

“We’ll see you later, okay?” Xander quickly jumped back out, followed closely by a guilty looking Gunn. “Sorry, dude, I thought you told her…” The voice traveled back to Buffy’s ears as they walked away.

“One more bag of these fluids and I’ll clear you to go, if you just calm down and try and rest. My name’s Jenny, by the way.”

Buffy smiled weakly and sighed. The determined look on the woman’s face let her know she wouldn’t be getting out of here unless she gave in. So she reluctantly closed her eyes, and replayed that one moment with Spike in her mind, the moment she was sure she had only dreamed.

“You’re ready to go,” Jenny said as she slid the IV out of Buffy’s arm and placed a bandage over the small hole.

“Oh God, finally. Not that I didn’t enjoy your company or anything.” The two women had bonded, and Buffy had spilled out the bare bones of the saga she was currently wrapped up in while getting the drugs she needed to counteract the affects of the drug she hadn’t wanted.

“Well, I would actually recommend you go to the medical facility.”

“Jenny, I—“

“The LAPD medical facility. Room 314. Is the place you should probably go to feel better. If you want my opinion.”

Buffy stared at her in disbelief. “You mean—“

“I mean maybe you want to get checked out a little more. All I’m saying. All I can say.”

“Thank you,” the blonde whispered happily, jumping down from the ambulance and scanning the crowd. She saw Snyder coming her direction, anger in his beady little eyes, and quickly headed towards Xander, who she spotted talking on his phone near the sidewalk.

“Hi, you’re driving me somewhere,” she ordered as she walked up.

“I am?” His confusion was palpable, and he quickly said goodbye and hung up his phone. “I mean, I am!” He saw Snyder coming their way. “Get in, Buff. I have commandeered Willow’s car after you so rudely crashed mine, and am your chauffeur.”

“Great. Then you’re taking me to Spike.”


“Oh, bloody hell,” Spike winced as the last of his stitches were redone. “Think you could make that hurt a little more?”

The same angry nurse as before rolled her eyes at him and handed him a cup of pills before leaving the room with the doctor, who hadn’t said a single word to him.

The cops had dragged him here, manhandling him like he was some common criminal. Which he wasn’t, in his mind. He was a very uncommon criminal. The handcuffs were back on his wrist, chaining him to the bed like a dog. And he was pissed off about it.

“What the bloody hell does a man have to do to talk to someone with half a brain around here?” He yelled at the top of his lungs, pulling fiercely at the handcuffs on his wrist. “You can’t keep me here forever! This is America, I have rights! I get a phone call, at least.”

“Stop your whining,” Buffy smiled tentatively as she entered the room. “Who were you going to call? Ghostbusters?”

He stared at her in surprise. “Bad joke, pet.”

“I didn’t have time to think up a better one,” she shrugged.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. A little weak, but definitely on the mend. How are you?” Her voice wavered a bit as her gaze traveled down his bare chest to the fresh white bandages wrapped around him.

“Fit as a fiddle, really.”

“Liar.”

Xander suddenly ducked his head into the room, saying, “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we’ve been located, you don’t have a lot of time. Okay, I’ll leave you to your…whatever.” He went back out and closed the door.

“Located?” Spike frowned.

“Um, yeah. I’m not exactly…I’m sort of in trouble? With the whole running away and not following orders and getting myself kidnapped. Barrel of laughs for Buffy in the near future.”

His eyes darkened quickly as she mentioned her possession by Angelus. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. I mean, not nothing, but…nothing. Let’s not talk about that now, okay?” She said hopefully, moving closer towards the bed. “I wanted to tell you I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t. Got nothing to apologize for.”

“Yeah, I need to. I lied to you---“

“You were just doing your job, I understand.”

“Wait, you do?” Her face brightened. “Really?”

“Yeah. You needed information, needed to get close. I got it, it’s fine.”

Buffy gasped. “What? Spike, no—“

“Pet, don’t try and excuse it. I’m not mad, you did what you needed to do and I would have done the same, probably. And it’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself, you were a fun ride.” The words felt like ashes in his mouth as he stared at her crumbling face, and realized he was wrong. She hadn’t been playing him. “Buffy, I---“

“You really think that of me?” She hissed. “That I was just…what, worming my way in by…worming my way in? That’s disgusting.”

“I didn’t think, I’m sorry---“

“I can’t believe you. After…after everything. How could you?”

“Well, you were lying to me the entire sodding time we’ve known each other, pet,” He snapped. “Not like I have a lot of built in faith in your honesty.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “I wasn’t using you, okay?”

Spike nodded. “Okay. Doesn’t really change anything though, does it?”

“What do you—“

Xander pushed open the door again and said, “Sorry, guys.”

“Ms. Summers,” Snyder said as he sauntered in, trying to carry himself like he had a good six inches or more on his frame. “How nice to finally see you. And Mr. Grace, I’m sure you’re feeling better.”

“Actually—“

“Glad to hear it.” He glared at the both of them, but the bulk of his wrath was directed at his wayward employee. “Ms. Summers, I think it’s about time you came with me and attempted to explain yourself. Not that it will do a lot of good, but I’d love to see you try.”

“Yes, sir,” she said softly. “If I could just—“

“No, you may not,” he interrupted her. “Outside. Now. Gunn is with me to escort you to the vehicle should you get the idea that it would be fun to run off again.”

She complied, glancing at Spike as she left, trying to convey everything she was thinking and feeling with her eyes. He couldn’t read them, though. He was no longer sure what was real and what was fake in those green depths. He just watched her go and disappear down the hall, until he became aware of Snyder speaking to him.

“Mr. Grace, the FBI appreciates your aid in the arrest of Liam Angelus. But, despite what the good people at the LAPD may have told you, one good act does not excuse a career of crime.”

“I’d like to call my lawyer,” Spike growled at the man, not even attempting suppress the immense dislike he felt for him.

“And you’ll get to. You’ll need one.” Snyder left the room quickly, and Xander shot an apologetic smile at Spike before following.

“Bugger,” Spike moaned, and quickly swallowed the pain-killers left for him, hoping at least one of them included something to knock him out. He wanted more than anything to escape from this nightmare.

Shortly after Buffy left him dwelling on his idiocy, Spike received more visitors, although far less welcome ones. They read him his rights, they shoved him into a waiting car, and drove him to the LAPD precinct, where he was stuck alone in a cell with nothing but his regrets to keep him company while he waited to meet his fate.


Buffy rode in silence in the back of Snyder’s car, her entire body tense, her thoughts jumbled. Xander occasionally patted her knee awkwardly in a lame attempt at comfort, an attempt that did nothing to quell her apprehension and anger. Gunn kept glancing at her over the back of the front seat, an unreadable expression in his eyes, but she just chose to ignore it and stew in her own self-loathing.

Her life was not supposed to turn out this way. She was supposed to become an amazing agent, a la Sydney Bristow or something, make a splash, save the world, then fall in love with a good-hearted civil servant like herself, have the 2.5 kids and the yard and the good life. And die. Eventually.

She was not supposed to risk everything she had and everything she’d worked for on an ambiguously evil criminal mastermind who didn’t even love her back anyway.

Spike’s hardened eyes in the hospital haunted her. She’d thought he’d be mad, she thought he’d be hurt, but for one second she hadn’t even contemplated that he was done with her entirely. That he thought she’d faked her feelings for him. That he hated her now. That it was over.

Gunn whispered to her not to stress out too much, it would all be fine, as she followed him and Snyder to an interrogation room in Xander’s precinct. Problem was, he clearly didn’t believe his own platitudes. She shrugged off his effort at reassurance and took a seat on the side of the table she’d never expected to be on, her stomach feeling unnaturally queasy. She folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head, the perfect embodiment of regret and shame.

“Well, Summers,” Snyder grinned sadistically, taking far too much pleasure in the mess he was dealing with. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I know there isn’t a lot I can really say,” Buffy shrugged honestly. “My behavior is inexcusable, and I know that, I do. All I can say is that I was really trying to do the right thing, and my judgment may have been sort of… off, but my heart was in the right place.”

Emotions and intention were of no concern to Ralph Snyder. He cared little about the personal lives of his agents, unless he had a particular fondness for them, in which case they could literally get away with murder. Buffy was not one of his favorites. In fact, he’d seemed to form an instant dislike of her upon first meet for no reason. She knew even if she had done every single thing right on this mission, he would still have found a way to reprimand her. Considering she’d screwed up so royally, she held no hope that things would turn out in her favor.

“Well, that’s just not good enough, is it? The only thing keeping you out of jail right now is that security tapes from the hotel show you were most likely not the person who shot Rupert Giles. I repeat, most likely. I wouldn’t put it past you to have snuck in some other way.”

“I swear on my mother’s grave I didn’t,” Buffy said firmly, relief flooding her body that at least that particular horror was done with.

“I’m sure you do. That doesn’t excuse your running from the scene, however. Or your theft of a car, and your continued evasion of your responsibilities is the issue.”

“I know. But, I wasn’t really evading my responsibilities, I was just…going about them a different way?”

Gunn said, “May I speak on Buffy’s behalf?”

“Not yet, Charles. I’ll be getting to you soon, though. Taking Grace out of custody was so far out of line---“

“You did that?” Buffy asked in surprise, her gratitude showing on her tired face. “I thought it must have been Xander.”

Gunn shrugged. “We needed to find you. He could help. And I’m sorry, Mr. Snyder. I did what needed to be done to save Buffy.”

“Buffy was fine.”

“Buffy was drugged and on the way to crazy town! Buffy was getting smacked around!” Not a fan of talking about herself in the third person, and realizing she needed to calm down, the blonde took a deep breath and said, “Look, sir, I fully admit what I did was wrong, and am willing to take the punishments that you consider necessary. I’d just like to point out that while my motives were…” She fumbled for a word.

“Spurious?” Gunn supplied helpfully.

“Yes, right, spurious. Ultimately we did get Angelus in custody, didn’t we? And with a remarkable amount of evidence we wouldn’t have had if not for William Grace.”

“Ms. Summers---“

“No, please, let me finish. I know that those files are seriously incriminating. But Spike---Grace---was planning to turn himself in for the greater good. I think that needs to be taken into account before you completely reject the deal he had with the LAPD.”

“The FBI takes precedence over the local police, their ridiculous deal is null and void.”

“But you could give him a similar one!” Buffy’s voice rose up an octave as she got worked up. Regardless of the fact that it seemed any feelings for her had dissipated, the image of that man in a jail cell tore at her sanity. “You could recreate the same terms, or make them a little stricter, if you want. But Spike clearly wanted—“

“Why are you so concerned with Grace’s future?” Snyder interrupted suspiciously.

At that, Buffy finally realized Gunn had not revealed her relationship with Spike to their superior, and shot him a grateful look. She smoothly said, “I just…I think he really is trying to turn around, and he has made the necessary steps to do so. And I don’t think you should let his previous behavior over shadow the good he’s trying to do now!”

“So all the crimes he’s previously committed? The murders he had a hand in, the money he stole, the damage he’s inflicted on others. That should be ignored because he suddenly changes his mind and said, I want to be a good boy now?” Snyder’s sneer took over his entire face. “That is deeply stupid and naive, Ms. Summers. That is not the kind of attitude we need in our agents.”

“What are you planning to do with him?” Gunn asked, giving Buffy a moment to recover from her outburst.

“That’s really none of your concern. We’ll see how helpful he really can be. If he has information that leads us to arrests other than just Liam Angelus, than maybe, he’ll see the free world again before he reaches forty five.”

Buffy was silent and still as the full weight of his words hit her with the force of a thousand bricks. “I think that’s ridiculous,” she finally spat out.

“Well, luckily, it’s not your decision to make. Someone with your particular…attributes will never rise to the position where you hold that kind of power.”

“Buffy is good agent, sir,” Gunn came to her defense.

“I have to say I disagree, very, very, intensely.”

“Whatever her punishment is, I want to request that she is kept on this case until it’s closed. She has the knowledge and the background, no one else can help me finish this like she can.”

Snyder sighed. “While I’d love to suspend her, effective immediately, I can’t disagree with that. After this case is closed, though, Ms. Summers, I’d be surprised if you enter the field again for years.”

“Who’s first?” Buffy asked with forced enthusiasm. Once Snyder allowed her and Gunn to leave, she’d taken a quick shower in the station’s locker room and borrowed some too big clothes from one of Xander’s co-workers, and now she and Gunn were figuring out how to proceed.

“Buffy, are you—“

“Gunn. I can’t. I can not talk to you about anything but the case right now, okay?” Her broken heart burned inside her chest every time she even thought about her future. And Spike’s future. “Thank you, though. For defending me before. But let’s just get to work. Let’s start with Fred? I have some things to say to that girl.”

He nodded, his own heart feeling a slight twinge. “Security footage shows her entering the building. The camera outside Giles’s room was broken, though, so we don’t actually have her going into his suite.”

Buffy stopped short as they headed down the hall. “Wait, Gunn…” Something struck her, and she slowly turned towards him. “How did Fred even know where Giles was?”

“Hey, wasn’t me. I didn’t tell her,” he insisted, guilt flashing in his dark eyes. “I…I mentioned his name. But not where he was.”

She continued to frown. “And my necklace. How did you even know that was my necklace? You never saw me wear it.”

“Um. Drusilla. What she told me…she didn’t directly say you were…whatever with Spike. She said something weird, like Spike finding his sunshine, and the sunshine was playing games with me, her knight captured the light and gave her shiny bits so she’d sparkle, and all of us were playing games too, and some people didn’t know they were pawns…I don’t even know, it was ridiculous. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I was in our room, and I saw that necklace, and…I just figured out about you and Spike.”

“You just saw the necklace.”

“Buffy, this isn’t the time---“

“Oh, it is the time, Charles.” Her usage of his given name was a clear indication that she meant business. She glanced around the slightly deserted hallway, but still lowered her voice. “You just saw the necklace. Lying around. In the open.”

He sighed and relented. “No…it was in your duffle bag.”

“You went through my stuff?”

“Well, I guess. In a way.”

“In the way that you totally did. So, you figured out I was sunshine, and went through my stuff.”

“Come on, with hair like that? Who else could it be?” He joked hopefully.

“Oh, shut up, baldy. You really weren’t trusting me, were you?” He opened his mouth to protest, and she continued grudgingly, “Not that…not that I totally deserved your trust.”

“Well, yeah.”

Buffy sighed. “So…mutual forgiveness?”

“Works for me,” Gunn grinned.

“Good. So, Drusilla’s the one who helped me get out of Angelus’s house, did I say that? I don’t remember, everything was all…whatever up in Buffy-brain. But she caused a distraction so I could leave.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. But there’s nothing directly tying her to any specific crimes, anyway. She’s probably in a room around here somewhere but she probably won’t be charged.”

“Ah. Well, I need to thank her. And she claims she didn’t tell Angelus that Spike was betraying him, so we definitely need to figure out how that happened.”

Gunn nodded. “Some serious loose ends. Can you take point with Fred? I don’t know if I…” He tightened his jaw.

“Sure, of course. She’ll get what’s coming to her, Gunn.” She added softly, “I guess we all will.”

Gunn smiled at her sadly. The two entered the room where Fred was waiting, both trying their best to suppress their rage as they looked at the thin brunette sitting handcuffed, head bowed.

When she did finally raise her head to look at them, Buffy tried and failed to ignore her pang of sympathy as she took in the full scope of the woman’s injuries. Most of the damage that had been inflicted on her had been internal, aside from the few bruises on her face, and already felt almost back to normal, physically anyway. But Fred appeared to have suffered from far more beating than she had, and that beating had clearly come from a place of rage, not just for entertainment. She had one black eye, a split lip, a scrape on her chin in the pattern of a shoe sole, and her throat was decorated with the beginnings of deep bruises in the shape of hands. Buffy wanted to avert her eyes, but couldn’t help but stare at the girl’s broken face and pained eyes.

Fred wasn’t even looking back at her. Her gaze was focused on Gunn, silently pleading with him to look at her. But he sat down and stared down at the table, refusing to meet her gaze.

“So you got all fixed up?” Buffy asked as the silence stretched on too long, then wincing at the ridiculous question. She clearly wasn’t fixed.

“I guess. You?”

“Back in working order.”

The silence filled the room again. “I swear to God I didn’t mean to, Gunn,” Fred finally whispered.

“Didn’t mean to what?” He asked.

“Mean to…oh, Lord, should I have a lawyer?”

“If you want one,” Buffy shrugged. “We can leave you here for a few hours while you get a hold of one. No skin off my nose. Or back. What’s the phrase, Gunn?”

“Both work.”

“Good to know.”

Fred bit her lip and then winced when she found it swollen and tender. “I don’t…I don’t think I want a lawyer.”

“Okay. But once you start talking, if you change your mind I’m going to be pretty pouty,” Buffy said, her tone harsher than her lighthearted words would suggest. “Don’t waste my time.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

“Good.” Buffy set a recorder on the table between herself and Fred, then turned it on. “July 14th, 2008, interrogation conducted by Agents Buffy Summers and Charles Gunn. Have you been made aware of your rights?”

Fred nodded, then realized that wouldn’t be on the tape, and said softly, “Yes.”

“Just state your name, and say you forego your right to an attorney.”

“Winifred Burkle? And, um. I don’t want a lawyer. I forego my right.”

“Okay, let’s start off easy with---“

“I didn’t mean to kill him!”

“Or we could just jump in with both feet.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t! I went to him for his help.”

“His help being on the receiving end of your bullet?”

“No! No, he wouldn’t believe me!” She started to cry loudly, and Buffy felt Gunn tense up next to her. “I left the warehouse and didn’t know where to go and Xander wouldn’t pick up his phone and Angelus had told me, that morning, that they knew about you two, and I had heard him say the address and everything was going wrong, so wrong, and---“

“You didn’t…you didn’t tell Angelus about us?” Gunn’s voice was hopeful, but disbelieving, as he looked for the first time at Fred’s face and visibly cringed.

“No! Gunn, I didn’t. I would never. I promise.”

“How did he find out then?”

“He had your phone bugged, or something! I mean, I don’t know how, but they had a recording of your calls, and tracked them all, it was like some sort of magic. I guess Forrest managed to get it from you without you noticing and put some bug or chip or something in it. I don’t know.”

“You know we can prove that, Fred. We recovered my phone at the warehouse.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Okay, so you went to Giles why?” Buffy said.

“I didn’t know where else to go! I couldn’t find Xander. So I thought I’d tell him you two had been found out, and they knew what Spike was doing. And he Angelus trusted me, or I thought he did, and I wanted to help. But Giles wouldn’t believe me. He thought I was trying to trick him, or something.”

“So you got mad?”

“No! No, I thought I was running out of time, I didn’t know what had happened at the warehouse, and I needed to get back to Angelus, with some sort of story. So I thought…God, I had taken my gun from the car. And I pulled it out.”

“What kind of gun?”

“Um. I don’t know. I don’t really know anything about weapons, Spike had bought it for me. To protect myself.”

“Alright, keep going. You pulled out the gun?”

“I was just trying to get him to listen to me, and then he tried to take it from me. And I pulled it away, I needed it, I needed….and…it just went off…and he looked so sad....” Her voice trailed off, and words hung in the air, weighted and heavy.

“It just went off.” Buffy repeated disbelievingly, Fred’s story creating a vivid image in her mind. Giles, her Giles, that look of polite disbelief on his face, a look she knew well, reaching to take a lethal weapon from a no doubt hysterical woman. He’d probably been so shocked when he’d been shot; Giles had never been one to handle surprise very well. Buffy hadn’t let herself even contemplate his death, but now, hearing how it happened, a lump began to rise in her throat.

“How many times did you shoot him?”

“Once. Just once. God, I didn’t know one bullet could cause so much blood,” Fred whimpered.

Buffy tightened her grip on her own knee as she forced herself to continue the interrogation. “Where did the bullet enter the body?”

“Um. His chest. Right…right by his heart.”

“So you pulled out the gun just for show, he grabbed it, and you accidentally shot him in the heart. That’s about how it went?”

“I know it sounds so, I don’t know, stupid. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt him.” The tears were falling faster now, and she could hardly force out her words. “I just wanted him to listen to me, and I was panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t.” She was almost talking to herself now, and neither Buffy nor Gunn spoke up to interrupt her muttering, both too entrenched in their own grief. “I didn’t, and now everything is wrong, and I just wanted it all to be better. I should write it down, right? For you, if I write it all down, it’ll make more sense, if I just---“

Buffy couldn’t allow one more second of her anguish, chose anger as its replacement emotion, and cut off the hysterical Fred. “It was an accident, so you decided to frame me?”

“What? Frame you? No.”

“Then what was my necklace doing there?”

“Necklace, what necklace?”

“So you have no knowledge of a necklace being in the hotel room?”

Fred shook her head forcefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Buffy. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t have set you up, that’s not what I did.” Buffy and Gunn glanced at each other doubtfully, then Fred suddenly cried out, “Click! You wait for the click, where it all makes sense.”

“Um, a click?”

“Darla!” She started nodding.

“What about Darla?” prodded Gunn gently.

“Darla came to the door, right after I…right after I did it. She heard the shot and burst in and, I thought she had just been following me, she must have been, right, if she found me, although Angelus is the one who knew where I’d be, and she was there so fast. But she checked the body, leaned down and checked it. Maybe she was planning to…to shoot him herself? Maybe…I swear I didn’t mean to!” the crying girl repeated her mantra.

“Just because you keep repeating that doesn’t mean you’re innocent, Fred,” Gunn snapped.

“I know. I know that. I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

Buffy reached under the table and comfortingly patted Gunn’s clenched fist. “So what happened with Darla?”

“She asked what happened, and I told her I meant to do it. About Giles. And she laughed and laughed and she’s so evil and told me to go back to Spike’s, and wait, wait alone. So I did. Then Forrest came and brought me to Angelus, and they’d figured out that I’d been lying, figured it out and got so mad…”

“How did you even start working with Angelus?”

“It was my idea. Angelus was getting too curious, he could tell something was up, knew Spike was acting shifty. So I went to him and said I was pissed off at Spike for dumping me, and I wanted to get back at him, but I didn’t, not really. Spike was…he saved me. Saved me from the monsters of my…and I wanted to help him. Wanted to help him be good again.”

“You still considered your loyalty to be to Spike”

“Yes. Always.”

“And so what exactly were you doing?”

“I was passing info on to Angelus, and telling whatever he told me to Spike, to make sure there wasn’t any extra suspicion on him, and it was confusing and I was going crazy but I did it. I was just trying to help, I just wanted to help.” The tears hadn’t slowed, but she straightened her shoulders and tried to calm down, tried to rein in her rampant panic. “I still want to help. I’ll tell you anything you need to know. I want that bastard to go down. I want him punished.”

“Fred, do you know---“ Buffy started to say.

“Wait, let me say this. Spike was going to sacrifice himself. And he was going to keep me out of it, even though I haven’t been a perfect person either, he wanted to protect me. And you too. I’ve done things that were wrong, I know that, God, I know that. And I was just going to let him take the fall for both of us. But I won’t do that, now. I won’t be a coward, and I’ll confess and tell you everything.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her head into her hands.

Buffy turned to Gunn to say something, but he stopped her with a gesture. “Can you give us a minute?” He asked softly.

She nodded and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. From behind the two-way glass, she watched as Gunn moved to crouch next to Fred. He gingerly reached out to pat her back, and she instantly fell into his arms, and he clutched her tightly, and they sat together, anchoring each other in the storm swirling around them.

The image made Buffy’s heart ache, and she turned away.

Gunn emerged from the room a short time later, head bowed, hands thrust deep in his pockets.

“How’s she doing?” Buffy asked, not faking her concern. Her gut instinct about Fred had not been negative, and her instincts also told her to believe the woman’s sad story, which meant a true tragedy had occurred.

“She’s…she’s haunted,” Gunn shrugged. “And we have her confession, there’s nothing…I mean, there’s nothing I can do for her, really.”

“No, I suppose not,” she patted his arm in a feeble attempt at consolation. “So she’ll plead guilty?”

“Yeah, get minimum sentence I’m guessing. But that’s still years. Do you believe her?”

“I think I do,” Buffy nodded slowly. “It makes…some sort of sense. If Caleb got my necklace off of me in the car, Darla could have stopped by right when we got to the warehouse and taken it, then done the transfer.”

“Right. So do we think she was actually following Fred, or was heading there for the hit on Giles and it was just a coincidence?”

“Too big of a coincidence. I’m guessing by that point Angelus already had alarms going off in his head about Fred, from his behavior at the warehouse that’s what I’d guess anyway. Two for one, maybe.”

“Well, neither of the two are talking.”

“Darla and Angelus? Yeah, I figured. We don’t need them to, though. We have enough to put both of them away without confessions. If Fred hadn’t…never mind.” His face darkened again, once his mind turned off of work.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said sympathetically. “You two…there was something there, wasn’t there? More than you told me.”

He stared off at the busy room ahead of them, his eyes unfocused, his jaw slack. “There could have been. We didn’t act on it, but…there could have been.”

She opened her mouth to speak, when Xander hurried over. “Hi. So, there’s a lot of traffic today.”

Both agents stared at him for a moment. “Yeah, and that’s different from any other day how?” Buffy asked in confusion.

“Well, Lindsey, Spike’s attorney? He’s late. And Snyder was off doing a press conference, or something. And he’s late. So is your federal attorney guy or whatever. So Spike is just, waiting. In room three.”


Spike paced the small interrogation room, glad for even just a few more feet of breathing room. They’d left him in that cell overnight and most of the day, with two disgusting meals and one call to Lindsey, and he was finally actually getting the chance to discuss his future. Or lack thereof.

“Finally, I was—“ he spun around to see Buffy entering the room. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” she snapped, trying not to reveal how far her heart had fallen at the disappointed look on his face. “Snyder’s stuck in traffic so you’re in here for a good half hour or so. If you’d rather be alone, I’ll just—“

“No, I’m sorry, I was just expecting…you know what, doesn’t matter, it’s good to see you.”

“Funny, how I don’t believe you.”

“I never lied to you. You should believe every bloody word I say.”

She recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “What happened to I get it, you were just doing your job?”

“A night in a cell and a bloke gets cranky,” he shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table and folding his arms. He didn’t want to be so hard on her, he wanted to grab her and kiss that pout right off of her lips. But he knew who he was, who she was, and where they were, and so tried to block from his mind what he couldn’t have.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t arrest me. Technically.”

“Look, do you want me to go?’

“Do you want to go?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here!”

“You are so stupid and infuriating!” She exploded. “I don’t even know why I bother. You don’t believe I actually want to be with you, you think I was lying about wanting you, when all I can think about—“

Spike dove at her and crashed his mouth down onto hers with passionate force. Buffy responded instantly, instinctively, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body into his. Their tongues met in a familiar, well-rehearsed duel, and their hearts soared, reminding them both of just what they might lose. Their grips were violent and tight, their lips bruising, as if trying to tattoo the memory of each other onto their skin.

Buffy broke away. “Your stomach, does it---“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He took possession of her lips again, in another soul searching, toe curling kiss. “Fuck, kitten, want you so much, always want you,” he groaned when they separated again.

“Want you too. So, take me,” she breathed back, turning quickly and locking the door. Spike pulled her towards the corner of the room, right next to the large window of one way glass where they’d be least like to be seen, and pushed her knee-length skirt up around her hips. His hands explored the flesh he’d revealed, sending electric shocks all over Buffy’s body with every soft or rough caress.

“Bad idea, you know that, right?” Spike whispered as he dipped one hand under her underwear and found her clit instinctively with his finger.

“Don’t care,” she sighed as the feel of his hands on her sex sent her miles up in the sky. She reached down and began frantically unfastening his pants as he pressed kisses up her throat and across her chest. “And Xander’s keeping watch.”

“Don’t you ever say Xander’s name while we’re doing this.”

“Right, sorry,” Buffy giggled. They kissed again, sweetly this time, and Spike reached up to run his hands through the blonde locks of his lover, stroking them reverently.

“Bloody fuck…don’t have protection,” He almost sobbed in disappointment as her hand closed tightly around his agonizingly hard cock. “Oh…please, baby…”

Buffy didn’t stop her movements as she began to stroke him firmly. “Yes…doesn’t matter, I’m on the…oh God, need you.” His fingers had started to slide into her wet channel the second she’d consented.

He let loose a growl and shoved her shirt up to reveal her breasts encased a pink satin bra. Pulling it down to reveal her chest to his hungry mouth, Spike began to bathe her nipples with his tongue as one hand continued to explore her and bring her so much pleasure.

“Don’t tease me, please, I just need you,” Buffy cried out as quietly as she could, unable to take one more second of life without him inside of her.

“Not arguing with that,” he shoved her thong fully to the side and let her push his pants down further so his cock could be freed. He wrapped her legs around his waist, moved forward and pressed up into her quickly, covering her mouth with his palm as she started to cry out. “Have to be quiet, love. Can’t have the boys in blue coming to see why I’m making you scream….so fucking tight, you are….”

His words made it even harder for Buffy to keep her moans inside of her as he began to move quickly. Every time he slid out of her she wanted to sob with the loss, and sought his return with frantic thrusts of her hips. “Spike, yes, Spike,” she chanted directly into his ear, her hands digging hard into his shoulders as he brought her closer and closer to heaven.

“My angel, my Buffy,” he whispered to her, peppering her face with chaste kisses as he nailed her to the wall with his erection. “You wanted me? You wanted this?”

“I did, I do, I always will,” she responded, and her words raised his passion even higher. He could feel her everywhere, and every inch of her was wonderful, unadulterated perfection. “Wasn’t lying, Spike...couldn’t help myself.”

They kissed again, each desperate to consume the other, simultaneously reaching their releases. They quaked and shivered, moaning and crying their orgasms into each other’s mouths, digging bruises with their fierce grips.

Buffy tore away for breath, panting, and Spike rested his forehead against hers, staring deeply into her eyes. “Well, that’s exactly what I needed,” he teased, reluctantly sliding out of her just in case they were to be walked in on at any moment.

She whimpered at the loss of him, but smiled as he began to fix her up to look presentable. He straightened her underwear, pulled up her bra, and rearranged her clothing to its previous state. He fished turned to the table behind them, grabbed a tissue, knelt in front of her and even carefully cleaned up her inner thighs. “Thank you, kind sir,” she giggled as Spike shoved himself back in his pants and zipped them up.

“You’re very welcome, love,” he laughed. Their lips met in a sweet kiss, which turned into a teasing rubbing of noses, then another, longer, deeper kiss. Spike broke away and sighed, “God, I’ll miss you so much, pet.”

“What? No!” She pushed him away as the perfect moment between them was broken. “Don’t say that.”

“It needs to be said.”

“No! Lindsey’s a good lawyer, right? He’ll figure something out---“

“Kitten, don’t make this harder than it has to be!” He barked. When her face fell, he moved to comfort her. “I’m sorry, I just…”

She evaded his grasp and moved towards the door, unlocking it as she stared him down. “You aren’t even going to try?”

Spike let his head fall forward and stared at his shoes. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“You could fight! Fight it, work with Snyder, fight…fight for me.” Buffy’s voice wavered and her eyes began to fill with tears as she pleaded with him.

“Look, I know what I’ve done and I know what I deserve—“

“You don’t!”

“I’m a bad man, pet. I’m not worthy of you.”

“You are. You so are, and you don’t even know.” He raised his head and observed her, memorizing her hair, her body, the way she was glaring at him with unshed tears in her eyes. “I’ll wait for you,” she finally whispered.

“No, you bloody well won’t,” he moved towards her and seized her arms roughly. “Look at me, Buffy. You will not. You will go on with your life.”

“Let go of me, it’s not your decision.”

“Please, pet, you can’t. I can’t live in some hellhole knowing you’re sad out here. You need go move on, you need---“

A knock on the door shocked them both, and he dropped his hands from her like she’d burned him and backed away.

“That was Xander, that means Snyder’s here,” Buffy said softly. “Spike, please---“

The door flew open.

“Well, well, Mr. Grace, at last we meet,” Snyder said formally as he entered the room, followed by Lindsey. “Ms. Summers, what are you doing here?”

“Just keeping an eye on the prisoner,” she lied. “I was just leaving.” Spike avoided her gaze as she walked out, and Buffy couldn’t help but slam the door behind her.

The second she left the room she wanted to collapse, and hardly made her way to the nearest chair before she did so.

“Buffy, Buffy are you okay?” Willow ran over to her and rubbed slow circles on her back. Xander followed, equally concerned.

“I’m fine, Willow, sorry. Long couple of days.”

“Um, I don’t think you’re fine. You’re crying.”

Buffy frowned and touched her cheeks, finding them to be wet with tears. She hadn’t even noticed.

The liquid on her fingers made her suddenly burst with anger, and she stood abruptly, shocking her two friends. She wouldn’t just sit here, and cry. She wouldn’t be powerless and let the world fuck her over.

With determination brightening her emerald eyes, Buffy stomped towards the room she’d just left.



*So (shameless, shameless fishing), it's my birthday, and I would love it oh so very much if you reviewed to let me know what you think, as a little gift to me. :)*

Their conversation had barely gotten underway when Snyder and Lindsey began talking over each other, debating the merits of Spike’s pre-determined deal with the LAPD.

“In good faith, I think---“ Lindsey shuffled his papers.

“I refuse to even consider---“ Snyder sneered.

An insistent tapping on the glass of the next-door viewing room cut both of them off.

“Excuse me,” Snyder stood angrily, ready to give a piece of mind to whoever dared interrupt him.

He stepped through the door, and slammed it behind him.

“Look, Spike, I’m going to do my best, and you have the entirety of Wolfram and Hart behind you, but---“

“It’s alright, mate,” Spike said softly, keeping his voice down in case they were being observed. “Know you’ll do what you can. Not like I didn’t know this was coming.”

“Luckily, we have leverage besides what’s in the disks. But if Angelus talks, we’re screwed.”

“He won’t. Bastard thinks he can beat the system, won’t even occur to him I know more than I’ve ever let on before it’s too late.”

“Thank God for Dru, that’s all I have to say. Who would have thought she’d turn on him.”

“She mentioned to me, whispered some sort of sodding riddle when I found her talking to Buffy in the kitchen a bit back. Figured she was just being Dru, didn’t think much of it at the time.” Spike frowned at his own mistake, then tried to push any thoughts of how things could have gone differently had he listened to her from his mind.

“She made her own deal, getting no time. And that account you asked me about, all set up. She’s set for life.”

“Good.” Spike grabbed a tissue from the table in front of him and systematically began shredding it, while his leg jittered beneath the table.

“Have you considered what might happen if Angelus makes a deal of his own? Gives up the Mayor, or Trick, or any of the other guys above him?”

“He won’t. He’s not that stupid. But if he does, he’ll be dead the day he walks out of prison, or even before. Not too worried about that.”

“You think?”

“I know. And none of his other…employees would come after me, their loyalty to him isn’t that strong. Everyone knows he’s a right bastard, no one will give a fuck.”

“Lilah’s representing Fred, but unfortunately there’s not a lot I think she can do. But if anything can be done, you know Lilah’s the one who could do it. I’m guessing three or four years.”

Spike’s shoulders sagged. “I never should have dragged her into this.”

“Do you want---“

Snyder came back into the room, a disturbingly pleased expression on his pinched features. “Well. Let’s get back to this, shall we?”


After two hours of pacing the area right outside the room where her fate—and Spike’s fate---was being decided, Buffy accepted Willow’s offer of coffee, and sat to gulp it down without tearing her gaze from the door.

She finally gave in to what her body was telling her, and rose to go use the bathroom after commanding Xander to come get her if there was the slightest bit of movement from the interrogation room. She headed down the hall, but stopped short as she saw Gunn leading a handcuffed Fred towards the station’s exit.

The pair stopped at the door, next to a uniformed officer, who Gunn quietly said something to, causing him to leave. Gunn placed his hands on either side of Fred’s face, and began to whisper to her. Buffy struggled to keep from bursting into tears again as she watched Fred lift her head and press a sweet, chaste kiss to Gunn’s lips, before the cop returned and pulled her away.

Buffy ran into the bathroom and struggled to regain control of herself. She bent over the sink and suppressed tears, then raised her head and stared at the haggard, drained face looking back at her.

Once she’d returned to her seat, it was only a few minutes before a familiar figure crossed her vision, his hands cuffed behind his back, a murderous look in his dark gaze. Despite the instantaneous shaking inside her, Buffy maintained her calm and collected attitude, and rose to confront her tormentor.

“Hi, Liam,” she said smoothly. “I hope you’re enjoying our fine hospitality.”

He leered at her, trying to mask his obvious panic. “Buffy. I was disappointed I didn’t get to talk with you, they sent in some other dipshit to try and question me. What is it, baby, afraid to be alone in a room with me? Don’t be scared, I can’t hurt you here. Much.”

“You can’t hurt me at all.”

“I beg to differ. Still high, baby?” His voice sank to a deep growl as his eyes raked over her body.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Still in jail?”

“It won’t stick.”

Buffy laughed at him, which he clearly didn’t appreciate. “You’re going away permanently, Liam. Sorry to disappoint.”

“We’ll see.”

“Guess we will,” she said lightly, which seemed to infuriate him even more. “Just satisfy my curiosity with one question. Not like you can satisfy anything else.”

“I’d be careful who you talk to like that, little girl.”

“Look around. You don’t hold the power in this place, I’ll talk to you however I want.” Buffy stepped closer to him, staring him directly in the eye, her confidence not wavering. “What was the point of killing Giles? He wasn’t in your way, he didn’t have any information for you. Why?”

“But Buff, I didn’t do that!” He affected a mask of perfect, boyish innocence, then lowered his voice so only she could hear. “That was sad, confused Fred. But if I had been planning to do something evil, and wrong like that…it would have only been to mess with you, beautiful.”

She wouldn’t allow her revulsion, or her guilt, to show on her face. “Get him the fuck out of my sight,” she commanded the cop next to her, then returned to her seat, blocking out the sounds of his laughter as he was walked out of the building.

Buffy sat, and she watched the door, and she waited.

They finally exited, first Lindsey looking smug, then a cranky Snyder, and then Spike, looking completely and utterly drained. She stood quickly, hopefully, and watched as Snyder gestured to a nearby officer and had him fasten handcuffs onto Spike’s wrists.

The room was a flurry of activity, full of people and loud noise, but the only thing Buffy could concentrate on was the blank, hard look on Spike’s face.

She headed towards him, not a desire in her mind except to hear his voice.

“What happened?” She asked quietly when she got to him. He said nothing. “Spike, please, just tell me.”

“What did you do, Buffy?” His voice was low, almost angry, and held none of his earlier warmth.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” She lied.

“Snyder steps out of the room for five minutes and all of a sudden he’s offering me my old deal. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. And that’s great,” Buffy smiled, glad her plan had worked. “I can visit, and with good behavior---“

“No, pet. Whatever you did, take it back.”

She gawked at him. “But—“

“No.”

“Grace, time to go,” Snyder barked, and two policemen grabbed his arms and dragged him away. Buffy couldn’t stop the constant flow of her tears as she watched him being led from the room and out of her sight.

She was only frozen for a moment, then ran after Spike, catching up with him just before he was put into the back of a police car. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and paid no attention to the cop looking at her curiously.

“I don’t care what you say, and I did what I had to. I’m waiting for you.”

Buffy kissed him briefly, her tears falling onto his lips, then spun and ran back into the building, not staying for the reply she knew would break her heart irreparably.

Spike watched her go, the tears burning his eyelids hurting more than when the bullet had slammed into his flesh, the salt of her own on his tongue making it harder to maintain control. He responded to the nudging of the cop, sat in the back seat of the car, and wouldn’t look back as they drove him away, no matter how much he wanted to.


As soon as Spike had left the station, Snyder spun around and searched for someone to take his aggressions out on, and a nearby officer, complaining about the FBI’s presence in the station and unaware of the short man within earshot, became his target.

“I just don’t think it’s right,” the young man was saying to his friend. “Especially considering we’ve been working this case for---“

Snyder stomped over and cut him off. “You! This is my station for as long as I want it, and this case is MINE, young man, and you better accept that.” The rookie instantly cowered, and tried to sputter an apology, which the shorter man paid not attention to. The other cop slowly backed away, as if moving any faster would garner him the attention of the irate agent. “I haven’t exactly enjoyed my day so far, and your ineptitude is not making it any better. I think I need to have a little chat with your boss, talk about what kind of ingrates he’s employing, completely ignorant of the way the hierarchy works. You know what? I think I’m going to write you up. For insubordination, for laziness, for-“

His phone rang from his pocket, and he continued to glare at the young man as he pulled it out. His face paled as he glanced at the name on his caller ID. “This isn’t over!” He yelled at the officer before scurrying down the hall.

Taking a deep breath, he answered his cell. “Hello, Mr. Mayor, sir…yes, it’s all taken care of…I had a stroke of luck, one of our agents offered to take an extended leave of absence and confess her multitude of sins in exchange for honoring Grace’s deal….yes, so he’ll be out in less than a year.”

Listening carefully, Snyder began making notations on his calendar. “Yes, of course. I would have made the deal regardless, Summers quitting was just a bonus and an excuse for my change of heart....You know if Angelus does attempt an ill-advised confession, he will be dealt with immediately...if that’s what you want, sir, I’ll make it happen. He’ll be dead within the week.”


No, Buffy’s life hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted it to. With her career slowly crumbling before her eyes, she’d had two options. Suck it up, and pray for leniency, spend years at a desk pushing paperwork and hoping for one more shot. Or take a chance, and do what she had to in order to buy Spike the freedom he knew he deserved. She had known Snyder’s hate for her ran deep enough that he’d accept her immoral offer. He did, with hardly a fight, and now it was done. No turning back.

She’d wait. She’d find her true purpose in life, eventually.

And she needed Spike by her side when she did.




To be concluded tomorrow...please, please, let me know what you think!

It wasn’t a beautiful, typical, happy southern California day. Nor was it dark and dreary, foretelling danger with rain and wind. You couldn’t really find the symbolism in the day’s weather. It was uncomfortably warm and dry, but the sun was shielded by a heavy cloud, putting the world in a muted, strangled, yet still bright and harsh light.

Spike emerged from the prison and blinked up at the sun. His hair had nearly grown out, just the very tips were still his memorable white blonde. The rest was curly and light brown, hanging down his forehead and into his tired eyes. His face was drawn, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and a few new wrinkles had etched themselves into his skin. He was dressed in a wrinkled suit from the last day of his court proceedings, shirt half unbuttoned, jacket and tie slung over one arm.

He walked forward quickly, heading for the yellow cab he saw at the end of the long, fenced in cement walkway. He reached it, extended one hand to open the door, when a voice from his right stopped him.

“Hey, stranger,” Buffy smiled, leaning against the chain link fence.

He stared at her as if she was a mirage, a hallucination, a vision he desperately wanted to believe in but wouldn’t allow himself to, not without confirmation, not without proof. “Buffy?” He said hopefully.

“What, don’t you recognize me?” She joked as she walked towards him. She was slightly awkward, hesitant in her movements, as if she wasn’t sure what his response to her would be.

He would recognize her anywhere. The hair was longer, a darker blonde. The tan had faded. She was wearing glasses.

But her eyes, her smile, her grace. Those were things he could never forget. He’d recognize her beauty anywhere, anytime.

Buffy stopped her approach a few feet from him, and he just stared at her, speechless, unblinking.

“I think you can leave,” she bent down and said into the open cab window. “Sorry, thanks.” The driver muttered his dissatisfaction with a swear word and sped off, tires squealing.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she finally said, crossing her arms, when it was clear Spike wasn’t going to speak first. “Just because I came to pick you up doesn’t mean I’m not mad.”

“I assumed,” he sighed.

“You wouldn’t see me.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Start off with the hard questions, don’t you, pet?” Spike shrugged, fiddling with the tie he held.

“If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have tried. I drove out to this damn prison five times, William Grace, and you wouldn’t see me. You owe me for gas, first of all, but seriously? What the hell is your problem?”

In a soft voice, he said, “I didn’t want you to see me like that. You shouldn’t have seen me like that.” He bowed his head and stared down at the dirty ground.

Buffy was quiet for a moment. She finally said, “You’re stupid.”

He looked up sharply, a little hurt, “Thanks, you’re sweet.”

“No, I mean,” she sighed. “That’s stupid. No, I do mean you’re stupid.”

“Again, thanks.”

“So, what, you thought if I saw you in jail I’d suddenly change my mind? Because you were in an orange jumpsuit I’d suddenly realize you were a criminal, like I didn’t know that already?”

“Something like that. Yeah, I know, you think I’m stupid.” His gaze returned to the ground.

“You—“

“But I couldn’t handle it, pet. If I was in there, and you came to visit me, and you looked at me…and didn’t like what you saw, it would have killed me. I had to let you go.”

“Well, I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“I can see that.”

“I missed you. I wanted to see you, don’t you think I should have gotten to make the decision?”

“I was maybe mad at you. A little.” He glanced at her to see her reaction.

Buffy frowned. “Mad at me?”

“You ruined your life, pet. For me. I couldn’t…bloody hell, I couldn’t handle it. I’ll disappoint you, I will, and you---”

“You are such an idiot. I was going to be fired anyway, probably. I didn’t lose anything more important to me than you.”

“But I—“

“But nothing! You should have talked to me about it. I could have explained. There are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“We’re in a relationship?” Spike said eagerly.

“Well, duh,” Buffy sighed, then her lower lip pushed itself out in an adorable pout. “I mean…well, do you want to be?’

He didn’t need to respond with words. The remaining gap between them was closed, and he claimed her as his own with a sweet, searing kiss full of promise. They separated when oxygen became an issue, and Spike crushed her into a hug.

“Buffy, my Buffy,” he murmured into her hair, stroking her back softly. “I dreamed of you every night, you know that? Every single sodding night. You’re all I bloody thought about. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want to be selfish, I wanted you to have better than me, I didn’t want—“

“Spike, shut up,” she said into his chest, her voice breaking.

“Baby, are you crying? Please, don’t cry, please,” he soothed, wiping away a tear with his calloused thumb. She calmed down, and he smiled, “Your eyes are pretty when you cry, though. All bright and shining.”

“Maybe you should make me cry more often.”

“Never,” he growled, his grip on her tightening. “I’ll never make you cry again.”

“That’s a pretty big promise,” she teased. “I mean, we both know you’re far from perfect. And you know, I don’t think I’d want you to be all perfect guy with the whole not making me cry thing anyway.”

“You can’t honestly want me to make you cry.”

“Well, no, but….crying means you matter to me.”

“So I do matter?”

“No, I drove all the way out here because you’re meaningless.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“I was just asking! You really are such a saucy little---“

“I love you.”

He snapped his mouth shut instantly, staring at her with awe and wonder darkening his eyes. “Come again?”

“I love you.” When he didn’t reply right away, her face fell, and she tried to pull away. “Um, okay, I—“

Spike retained his grip on her waist and kissed her sweetly, gently, swallowing her momentary embarrassment. “I love you too.” He pecked her on the nose, and laughed, finding the tension he’d lived with for years starting to melt from his body.

Buffy placed both of her hands on his cheeks and pulled his head towards her, pouring ten months of waiting and wanting into a soulful kiss. Groaning into her mouth, Spike grasped her ass with one hand and pulled her body tightly to his, lacing his fingers through her hair and pushing her back towards the fence.

Once her back hit the chain link, Buffy’s arms were lifted over her head and she grasped the fence tightly as her body was explored with light, yet possessive caresses. Whimpering as Spike pulled away to breathe, she brought one hand down from above her head and lightly traced the outline of his lips as he panted and gazed at her with an almost feral gleam in his eyes.

As he opened his mouth to speak, to tell her just what he’d dreamed of doing to her for months, just what had kept him company during the long nights, a catcall came from down the sidewalk, and both glanced to see a guard making lewd gestures towards them.

Spike growled and shielded Buffy’s body with his, but she just giggled.

“You are going to come home with me, and we’re not getting out of bed until…tomorrow afternoon. Is that clear?” She said sternly, poking his chest with one finger, staring up at him with unparalleled happiness evident on her face.

His smile was far brighter than the sun that shone down on them, and filled her heart to bursting. “Crystal.”



And that's that. Thanks again to all of my readers, and I'm going to beg a bit for reviews. If you've been leaving them all along, or if you haven't, or if you just found this story for the first time and read it all the way through, I'd love love love to know what you think!