A/N: OK, I promised a new fic, so here it is! Please keep in mind that I know nil about actual police work, so I’m just playing it by ear. If I step on any law-enforcement toes, sorry! Please don’t throw sharp implements or those bludgeon-thingys at me :)

~*~

“There is abso-freakin’-lutely no way,” Officer Elizabeth Summers said flatly.

The LAPD police captain, Officer Rayne, leaned forward menacingly. “Officer Summers, you have no choice. I have extracted our current operative from the position, and you are the available candidate.”

“Are you on crack?” Elizabeth shot back. “Captain, you know I suck at undercover! Sticking me right into the middle of some extensive gang operation—not a good idea!”

Captain Rayne leaned back in the chair, massaging his temples. Elizabeth scowled at him. How in hell had she gotten into police work anyway?

Oh yeah, Willow had recommended it. Little Buffy Summers, straight out of high school, no college degree, and there was her best friend saying that the LAPD was a great place to work. It had seemed like a good choice at the time.

Of course, Wills works with their computers. She’s not sitting in an office trying to talk a superior out of making her go on an extensive undercover mission.

Elizabeth sighed, ruffling her hair. She’d changed back to brunette at the same time she’d changed her name from Buffy to Elizabeth: when she joined the force. No one would hire a blonde former cheerleader named Buffy for serious police work.

“Look, Captain, it’s a great position and all, but please, give it to someone who’s actually good at all the undercover stuff! I’d be horrible, I can barely remember to put on my uniform before I come to work!”

“Officer Summers, this is LA. We have some of the worst crime in the country, and we are working hard to obliterate it. We can’t spare any other officers. Either you agree to take up a position in the crime ring, or you turn in your badge. It’s your choice, but make it quickly.”

Fuck.Fine,” she growled. “I’ll do your stupid undercover thing.”

“Excellent.” Captain Rayne’s scowl disappeared, to be replaced by a sly smile. “Captain Elizabeth, from now on you will go by the moniker Buffy Summers. Tomorrow you will be contacted by one Miss Harmony Kendall, the operative we formerly had filling the position of secretary in the ring. She will tell you when to start. Also tomorrow, you will go to the Sweetcheeks Hair Salon and have your hair re-dyed blonde.”

Buffy stared at him. “How the hell did you know about that?”

The Captain’s smile grew. “My dear Officer, we know everything about you.”

OK, why does that sound as way-creepy as it does? she wondered, but her years of training helped hide her discomfort. “Um. Right. I’ll do that then.”

“Excellent. Remember, Officer, this crime ring is extensive and ruthless. You get caught, you get killed. It’s not the department’s responsibility.”

Oh, this is going to barrel-loads of fun, Elizabeth thought sarcastically. “Right. Got it.”

“Oh, and one last thing.” He pulled out a stack of papers an inch thick. “This is all the data we have on the ring. I suggest you look through it before you go undercover tomorrow, OK?”

“Yeah. I can do that.” Inwardly she groaned. Reading boring crime reports was definitely of the bad.

“That’s my girl! Now go home and get some rest.” Captain Rayne smiled, a hollow smile that didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes. “You’re going to need it.”

“Gotcha. Rest. Um, bye.” Elizabeth was out of the chair and trotting through the LAPD headquarters in record time. Before she went home, she had an errand to run.

She grabbed her purse and went to the bathrooms to change into civilian clothes. As soon as she was sans uniform, she made her way over to the Forensics Department.

Sitting in a cubicle and tapping away at a keyboard like there was no tomorrow was her best friend Willow. Elizabeth slammed a hand on the wall. “I am so gonna kill you!”

Willow looked up from the screen. “Buffy, hi!” she said, her face lighting up. The two women had been friends since high school, so Willow still called her by her old nickname. “Wait...” the redhead added, face falling, “Not hi. Why are you gonna kill me?”

“Four years, Wills. I’ve been on the force for four years, and all I’ve ever done is fieldwork. And now stupid Captain Rayne wants me to do undercover!”

“Uh-oh.” Willow knew that her friend was really horrible at anything involving lying. She hadn’t even been able to lie her way out of detention in high school. “I sense badness. So that’s what your meeting with the Captain was about?”

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at her friend. “How’d you find out about that?”

“Oh, you know, word travels,” she stuttered. “So, um, why are you gonna kill me, again?”

Elizabeth groaned and slumped against the short wall of the cubicle. “You made me get this job.”

Willow laughed. “Oh, come on, I did not. You didn’t have any other job prospects, and you’d always liked martial arts, with the hitting and kicking and...okay, yeah, I kinda pushed you a little.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Or, a lot?” Willow corrected herself, smiling hopefully.

Elizabeth cracked a smile. “Relax, Wills, I’m not that mad. It’s just—arrrg! How can he expect me to do undercover?”

“Maybe he thinks you’re ready.”

“Ready? That’s just great, Willow. Oh, and look,” she continued rating, holding up the stack of papers, “I get homework!”

“Hey, it’s not so bad.” At her friend’s skeptical look she said, “Well, you know, most women would love to feel like a high-schooler again.”

“Ha. Funny. Oh, and guess what else. When I go to work as a secretary, I’m gonna have to go to Sweetcheeks Salon and be re-dyed as a blonde. And, guess what? From tomorrow on I get to assume the perky, happy Buffy persona!” Elizabeth put on a fake smile, baring a little more tooth than was necessary.

Willow shook her head. Personally, she’d liked the ‘perky, happy, Buffy persona’ way better than the grim and focused Officer Elizabeth, but she knew that after the death of her mother, that girl had all but disappeared. “So the Captain knows all about your high school years?”

“Yeah. Way creepy, when you think about it, but whatever.” Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. “Listen, I gotta go. Captain Jerk-face wants me to rest up for the big op tomorrow.”

“OK. You wanna come over for a chick-flick fest later?” Willow hoped her friend would say yes; Buffy hadn’t unwound in so long...

“Nah. I gotta work on my simpering.” Elizabeth hefted the bag that had her uniform in it, trying to ignore the way her best friend’s face fell. “See ya later?”

“Yeah, sure. See ya.” As soon as Buffy was gone, Willow turned back to her computer.

She brought up AIM and typed in: It’s all ready. She’s coming tomorrow.

A few minutes later, she got a response: Excellent. Does she know?

And Willow Rosenberg, after looking around cautiously, typed back: No. She knows nothing.

~*~

Elizabeth tried to concentrate on the bathtub she was filling up. Just because she was a way serious cop didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a bubbly bath, right?

Elizabeth sighed. She even lied horribly to herself. The truth was that she was actually looking forward to being Buffy again. She’d been so happy in high school, before everything caved in.

God, she could still remember finding her mother’s body. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images were in her mind, where she couldn’t erase them. Finding Mom lying dead on the couch, calling the ambulance...at that moment, it had all fallen apart. Careless, happy Buffy had been buried for what she’d thought would be forever.

She’d dyed her hair back to its original brunette the very next day. No sense in being a sunshine-y blonde bombshell at graduation if there was no one there to see it. Her only other relative was her father Hank, and he hadn’t even bothered to send her a Congrats card.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. A single tear slipped out, falling into the bathtub and mixing with the floral-scented water. “No, Elizabeth,” she muttered to herself. “You’re a tough cop now, right? Not the high school girl who ran from her own mother’s funeral because she couldn’t bear to see the body.”

She eased herself into the hot water, grimacing as it stung several bruises on her legs. She’d helped bust a local prostitution ring that morning. It had been nice kicking serious bad-guy ass, but she hadn’t exactly gotten off scott-free in the ass-kickage area.

She soaked for a long time, willing the bruises to go away. When the aches in her muscles had diminished slightly, she drained all the water out and wrapped herself in a towel.

She was about to walk into her bedroom to put on her pj’s when her reflection caught her eye. Almost involuntarily, she stared at herself.

Brown hair that reached a bit past her shoulders, usually braided but now free to go all frizzy on her. Wide hazel eyes with more sadness in them than they should have. A thin, small frame that looked delicate until you saw the way she moved, with athletic, predatory grace.

She grimaced at her reflection before plastering a huge, fake smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Buffy Summers, and I’m here to be your new secretary slash spy for the LAPD. How may I help you?”

Her face fell. God, even her smile looked majorly wrong. And when was the last time she’d laughed? Not in a long, long while, she thought, pulling on her pj’s and crawling into bed.

As she began to fall asleep, various stories she’d heard about the crime ring floated into her head. She’d heard that the headquarters were in Sunnydale, a smile town about two hours from LA. They dealt in drug dealing and child prostitution. The head of the operation was...William something, maybe? She couldn’t remember.

I’d better get started on all that stupid reading tomorrow, she thought at sleep began to take her. Stupid paper...what the hell am I getting myself into?

~*~

“So what, you’re saying I have to move?”

“Well, duh. I mean, Sunnydale is like so totally in the middle of nowhere, but as a secretary you have to live nearby. Plus if the boss finds out that you live in LA, he’ll totally know you’re a plant.” Harmony Kendall talked fast, loud, and sounded annoyingly like the typical California Valley Girl. Elizabeth was starting to wonder how she’d managed to stay alive for three years as a plant in the crime ring. She seemed way too dumb.

“Okay. You have a house there, right?”

“Yeah, it came with furnishings and everything, but I’m moving out so—Omigod! You can have my apartment!”

“That’s the plan. Where can I come pick up the key?”

“Oh I won’t be there, as of today I am so out of Sunnydale...um I guess I could leave it under the doormat, but wouldn’t that be like—“

“Under the doormat’s fine,” Elizabeth cut in impatiently. Jeez, if she’s this stupid maybe I’ll be able to survive on the job after all. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Oh no, it’s totally cool, you know since you’re a fellow cop and all. Hey, maybe we could have coffee or something sometime. I bet we could totally bond on, like, all the spy-stuff and everything,” Harmony chirped.

Over my— so totally!—dead body, Elizabeth thought grimly, but she said only, “That’d be great, Harmony, but right now I’ve got an appointment as Sweetcheeks Salon. Talk to ya later, k?”

“Oh, that sucks. Oh well! Guess I’ll, like, see you later!”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth muttered before slamming the phone down. “When hell freezes over, maybe.”

Well, at least she had an apartment. Now all she had to do was dig out the pink and pastel-colored clothes that she’d buried in boxes and go to Sweetcheeks, and she’d once again be Buffy Summers.

And of course I’m looking forward to it, she thought as she walked to the salon. Not.

The salon was a pretty nice place. She was directed almost immediately to a stylist who winked when she told him curtly, “I need to be blonde and bouncy-looking. Put it on the LAPD account.”

“Sure thing, sugar,” the male hairdresser said. His nametag identified him as Lorne. “You ever tried this look before?” he asked as he began to snip at her hair.

“Yeah, once, in high school. Can you tell?”

“You might not be a blonde, sweetie, but you act like one,” he said with a wink. “All confidence and bouncy step.”

Elizabeth snorted. “You gotta be kidding me. I’m a cop, buddy, not a cheerleader.”

“Not anymore...” Another wink.

“Just finish my hair, ok?” She was more than impatient now—she was starting to get just a little bit mad. Who the hell did this Lorne guy think he was, digging in her past like that?

“Of course, honey,” he said, and the rest of the styling was done in silence.

“All done,” Lorne announced a few hours later. “And oooh do you look fab!” Before she could protest, he twirled the chair around dramatically so that it was facing the mirror.

Almost in spite of herself, Elizabeth gasped. The makeup that she put on as a matter of routine suddenly became way more obvious. Her eyes looked bigger and greener. Her hair had been cut to just past her shoulders and dyed honey-blonde. With the tan she’d picked up from all her street work, she seemed to almost glow.

“So, what do you think, sweetie? I told you it would be gorgeous!” Lorne crowed with triumph.

“Um...thanks,” she settled on saying. “You did a great job.”

“You bet I did!”

She thanked him again, smiling amusedly, and then left the salon. As she walked back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but think, Good-bye, Officer Elizabeth of the Los Angeles Police Department. Hello, Buffy Summers—secretary slash undercover extraordinaire!

She boxed up the clothes she’d need and changed into a jean skirt with a pale blue tank top. She’d hired a guy named Gunn to drive her car, small U-Haul trailer attached, down to Sunnydale. Her in a car was bad enough; throw a trailer into the mix and major bad things would happen.

He insisted on helping her load the numerous boxes and other possessions into the trailer, despite her protestations that she could manage just fine. Oh, well, I did hire him, she thought as she settled into the passenger seat. But still, having him toss boxes over his shoulder that I can barely lift? Way embarrassing!

“So, why you gonna go to Sunnydale?” Gunn glanced over at her as they merged onto the freeway.

“I got a job as a secretary for someone I know. A friend quit,” Buffy said, deliberately being vague.

“Oh. And what’s your name again?”

“E—Buffy,” she corrected herself quickly. “Buffy Summers.” Wow. Why did that feel so normal, so natural, when saying ‘Elizabeth’ always felt kinda wrong?

“How old are you? Sorry to be intrusive, it’s just, you look almost like a teenager.”

“I’m twenty-one.” Jeez, was he ever gonna stop questioning her? It was like Harmony, only he was black and older and didn’t say ‘like’ as much...okay, he was nothing like Harmony, but right now she felt that silence would be of the good.

“Wow. You look about sixteen.” Gunn grinned at her.

“Yeah. I’ve been told that.” Maybe if she kept it simple, he’d stop talking...

“Oh, really? Let me guess, your boyfriend tells you every day.”

...Or maybe not. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said shortly.

He finally seemed to get the hint, if his next words were any indication. “You aren’t the talkative type, are you? I’ll shut up.”

She realized too late that her ‘leave-me-alone-I’m-grouchy-and-troubled’ attitude didn’t exactly go with the California girl look thingy she had. She smiled at him sunnily. “Sorry. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“It’s cool. So, you’re going to work as a secretary?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking it’ll be cooler than my last job.”

“Which was?”

Suddenly Buffy realized that she hadn’t bothered to think of a fake former career. “Ah...um...d—daycare,” she stuttered, cursing in her head. “I worked in a daycare. I just love little kids.” She clamped her mouth shut before she babbled any more.

“Oh. Any siblings?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad. Your parents live in Sunnydale?”

Her mother’s body passed before her eyes. She clutched her purse. “My mom’s dead and I haven’t seen my dad since he walked out on us nine years ago. Okay?”

Gunn glanced over at her. When he saw her suppressed tears he said, “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know. My condolences, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She looked out the window at the rapidly flashing by desert. “I’m over it.”

They passed a sign that said ‘Sunnydale: 15 miles.’. Buffy looked at it, thinking, Sunnydale. That’s where everything changes. That’s where I start living one humongo lie.

“Hey,” she said a few minutes later. “Ya wanna help me unload once we get there?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m down with that.”

They arrived at Revello Drive a half an hour later. Gunn pulled up to house number 1620. “Honey, we’re home,” he joked.

Buffy was staring at the large house. “Um. Wow,” she said. The house was large enough for a family of four. Harmony hadn’t mentioned living in the lap of luxury! This whole spy thing just got way better...

“Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet pad,” Gunn agreed. He shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “’Course, you oughta know that, since you were the one who picked it out.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just such a shock, seeing it again. Memories lie and all that.” Speaking of lying—Buffy fought back a hysterical giggle. “I’ll just—go, and, and unlock the house so we can start moving things in,” she said, and almost tumbled out of her car.

Gunn watched her go up to the house, bend over, and grab the key out from under the mat. When she’d disappeared inside the house he reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and held it to his mouth. “You get that, boss?”

A voice, laden with static, crackled back at him: “Every bloody word.”

~*~

A/N: So, do you like it? Review if you do and I’ll post another chapter!





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