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A/N: Sorry for the wait. Thanx to Minerva for reviewing!

~*~

Two weeks. Buffy stared down at the desk, just as full of papers as it had been when she started—although to give herself credit, they were different papers.

Still, she felt like she was making no progress. Two whole weeks, and I still have zilch to tell Captain Rayne.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been trying. She was trying to be super-observant, but somehow, she never heard anything useful. Everybody talked around her, but it was like they were talking in code. “Hey, got a job, let’s go,” one person would say, or “Did you do the thing last night?” Even Dawn, whom Buffy had seen several times lately, was incredibly ambiguous about the whole thing.

And to tell the truth, it was getting beyond frustrating. She liked these people, honestly she did. Xander was funny, Cordelia was a complete softie underneath the bitchy exterior, Anya was weird but nice, and Spike—well, okay, Spike was Spike. He was a complete jerk. But she thought she was starting to understand even him.

And they were just the main group. She’d met other people she genuinely liked, such as Faith and Kennedy. She hadn’t quite managed to figure out what the two of them did for the company, though she was pretty sure they were in on the other side of Jenkins’—the side that sold eight-year-olds in warehouses. And this—liking Faith, and Kennedy, and Xander and Anya—was dangerous. Because they were the bad guys, and she was supposed to take out the bad guys. Undercover sucks.

She hadn’t even been able to talk to Willow in more than a week, which was wicked unfair. And—

“Sorry, pet, but I don’t pay you to stare at the papers. You’re s’posed to file them.”

Buffy lifted her head to glare balefully at her all-too-familiar boss. “I’ve been working all day, you idiot. I’m on break.”

“That stack of papers says you’re not. Get to work. Oh, and get me some coffee, ‘m almost all out.”

“Get your own damn coffee,” she snapped, grabbing a file folder full of papers and checking the labeling. God, she hated this...

She froze when two large, very capable-looking slammed down on either side of the desk. “What did you just say?”

Buffy swallowed hard, but she also sat up straighter. There was no way he was going to get all menace-y and actually intimidate her. “I said, get it yourself. I have work.”

“Look at me, Summers,” he ordered. When she continued to focus on the desk, two fingers insinuated themselves under her chin. She fought not to shiver as he slowly urged her head up. He doesn’t affect me, he doesn’t affect me...oh crap, how can fingers feel this sexy?!

“I don’t care ‘f you’ve got work,” he informed her. “I don’t care ‘f it’s the end of the bleedin’ world, you’re gonna do what I say.” He leaned forward, ever so slightly, and Buffy’s breath caught. His blue eyes were holding her just as still as she would have been in a straitjacket. “When I say jump, you ask how high. An’ if I say I want coffee, you go and get it.”

He leaned in even closer. Okay, forget catching breath; she couldn’t breathe anymore. “Understood?” he whispered in her ear.

Two could play this game, she realized. She leaned forward just far enough so that her lips brushed over his in a graze as light as a feather.

She was momentarily shocked by the incredible electricity that shot through her at that simple touch. She half-gasped, looking into his eyes. They’d become darker, and she knew that she wasn’t the only one who was affected by her maneuver.

Slowly, slowly, she smiled. It was a sly, sexy smile, the kind that said she knew exactly what he was thinking—and she approved. She was gratified to see his muscles tightening. “Perfectly,” she said, her lips only inches away from his as they moved and pursed to create words.

Spike blinked before standing up abruptly. Buffy watched him with a slight smile. He looked annoyed, and she was pretty sure it was anger at himself. Lusting after the secretary...bad, bad Spike, she thought, amused, as he glanced back over at her.

“I want the coffee in twenty minutes, tops,” he barked before marching into his office. Buffy took the opportunity to watch his ass as he crossed the room. Ooh, very nice. All firm and tight and—

Whoa, girl. He’s evil, remember? Lusting after evil is bad! But evil was so frickin’ hot...

She brought him his coffee exactly twenty minutes later. When she entered the room she rolled her eyes in disgust. His black boots were propped up on the desk, and little dirt clods littered the formerly shining wooden surface. When he saw her, he smirked. “Thanks for gettin’ my drink, pet.”

“I’m nobody’s pet,” she snapped, slamming the cup down. “Especially not yours.”

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He regarded her calmly. It was starting to freak her out, since usually he had such an explosive temper.

She smiled at him sweetly. “Well, usually my temper is much better, but twenty minutes ago an autocratic, chauvinistic jerk tried to boss me around, so I’m in a teeny little mood.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, acknowledging her dig. “I see. Well, I hope you gave the wanker what he deserved.”

“Not even close.”

“That so?” The casualness in his voice was a strong indicator of his real feelings, which were much more angry than casual.

“Yep. I was thinking that he deserved being eviscerated, or something,” Buffy said cheerfully. “Anyway, I gotta go. I hafta file a crapload of papers.” She turned and walked toward the doorway.

Her hand was on the doorknob when he called out, “Buffy?”

She turned. “Yeah?”

He nodded at her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She recognized it as a peace offering. She’d known him long enough to know that Spike saying thanks was pretty much Spike saying sorry. “No problem, Spike.”

“Be seein’ you?”

“Um, yeah.” She gave him a bemused little look. “Every time you walk past my desk.”

He laughed. “Get back to work, Blondie.”

“Get your shoes off the desk, pig,” she retorted. Before he could get another word in, she hurried out of the door.

When she reached her desk she collapsed into the chair gratefully. Okay, not only was she hanging with the bad guys, she was also flirting with one. And seriously thinking about making with the smoochies, too.

She was pathetic.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. Buffy, it’s no big deal. Even if they are the bad guys, you have to befriend them to find out information for Captain Rayne, right?

Riiiiight that nasty little honest voice she called her inner Elizabeth said.

“Hey, B, you alright?”

Buffy’s eyes snapped open. Faith was staring at her with a quizzical expression. “Sorry!” Buffy said, pasting a very insincere smile on her face. “Just dozed off there...so, um, what do you need?”

“Got a file Spike wanted,” Faith said, giving it to her. “Just put in under CO’s.”

Buffy glanced at it curiously, wishing fervently that she could leaf through the papers and see what the hell a CO was. Unfortunately, the whole lobby was full of security cameras. Someone would see her. “Right, OK.” She set it on the desk. Maybe she could just glance at it later...

“So, ya like the job?”

“As a secretary?” Buffy laughed slightly. “It’s growing on me. What about you? Do you like, um, whatever you do?”

“I help out customers,” Faith said with an evasive grin, “And yeah, when they’re not pains in the ass, it’s a wicked cool job. A little short on the kicking and punching, but a girl can’t have everything, right?”

“Um. Right.” Buffy managed a slight smile. “So, what exactly do you help the customers with?” She was being incredibly obvious, but Faith wasn’t exactly good at subtlety, so hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

She didn’t. “Oh, just the usual.” Faith winked. “Ya know what I mean.”

Actually, she didn’t, but there was really no way she was going to tell Faith that. She only smiled and said, “Oh yeah. That stuff.”

“So, anyway, Anya and Xander wanna know if you’re free tonight. Bunch of us are goin’ to the Bronze.” Faith unsheathed a knife and started tossing it in the air, catching it expertly. Buffy winced. If Faith had a license for that thing, then Buffy was a movie star.

But she couldn’t exactly ask Faith for identification. She said instead, “You guys want your secretary to come along?”

“You kiddin’? You’re the only one who can mouth off to Spike and get away with it. I don’t know how you do it.” Faith grinned at her. “C’mon, B, it’ll be fun. You’re too damn serious for a secretary.”

Buffy shook her head. “Faith, are you feeling okay?”

“Five-by-five,” Faith replied. “Why?”

“’Cause you’ve got to be completely nuts to think that I’d want to come to the Bronze. I’m a secretary! I’m the most junior member in the building!”

Faith just rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed by Buffy’s tirade. “Whatever, B. Just be there, ‘k?” And before Buffy had time to say a single thing, she left.

Buffy slumped back into her desk chair, beyond dejected. Wonderful, now she had to go to the club with the bleached idiot. She really didn’t like him. Who did he think he was, anyway, all bleached hair and sexy leather and...

Okay, who was she trying to kid? He was totally hot, and anything with eyes—male or female—could see it. It was perfectly natural to be attracted to someone that sexy, right? Right?????

No, she knew, it wasn’t. It was normal to like looking at the guy. It wasn’t normal to have fun trading insults with him. No, she knew that normalness was not exactly the word to describe that.

But he was the only one who could appreciate her puns and be just as snappy as she was. Xander and Cordelia and Anya and even Willow were all nice, but in terms of wittiness, Spike was her equal. She liked knowing that when it came to mean, cutting comments, she didn’t have to hold back.

Yeah, she was definitely going insane.

And worst of all, she had a meeting with Captain Rayne the next day. That was what worried her more than anything else. She had to meet with the Captain of the LAPD, and she didn’t have a single thing to tell him.

What could she say? “The building’s big and way pretty?” “My fake boss is so hot I want him pretty much 24/7?” “Oh yeah, and those evil child-porn people? They’re really nice. I went to a club with them.” If she told him anything even close to the truth, her ass was as good as fired.

Of course, I could always just work here for real...

No. Not gonna go there. That was way too tempting for her to think about.

She was one majorly pathetic excuse for an undercover cop, she mused with a sigh. God, Harmony had probably been better at this than she was.

Of course, Harmony had absolutely no respect for rules. Rules like no looking in the top-secret files she spent the majority of her time filing...

Okay, so there was a security camera. But that was only during the day, right? At night they probably shut it down. They might engage in all kinds of illegal activity, but Buffy was pretty sure they didn’t have enough money to keep constant surveillance.

So. If she raided the filing cabinets tonight, then tomorrow she’d have enough information to hopefully keep her job. She glanced around nervously, half-convinced that someone could hear her thoughts.

Part of her was convinced that this was completely crazy. It probably was, actually. But she was a cop, which meant that sometimes she had to make with the sneakiness. Even if she hated it.

She’d just wear black to the Bronze, and then afterwards she could take a little detour on her way back to Revello Drive.

Simple.

Funny how her stomach felt like it was a bowl full of spaghetti...

What if she got caught? Major badness would ensue. She could get arrested and sent to jail. How would she explain that? A member of the LAPD in jail was not so good. And nobody, not even Anya, would ever speak to her again. Spike would hate her.

Which of course she didn’t care about.

Still, even in the spirit of non-caring-ness, she would have to be careful. Who knew what Spike might do to her if he caught her sneaking around? He could tie her up in an alleyway and leave her for evil Sunnydale muggers to find. Or he could tie her up and...major ick. Not even gonna think about it...oooh, just did!

This was getting exasperating. Buffy lust plus Buffy curiosity seemed to equal absolutely nothing getting done in terms of work. It had to stop. Tonight, she would sneak into the building and raid the files. Tomorrow, she’d report every single thing she’d learned to Captain Rayne.

OK. That was that, then.

She turned back to the papers resolutely, determined to get at least a little work done. It wasn’t like she was nervous, or anything. She was just fine. This was her being perfectly fine.

So why were there butterflies in her stomach the size of German Shepard puppies?

~*~

A/N: OK, before you guys get out giant forks and skewer me, I AM planning on actually making this story go somewhere. This thing people call ‘real life’ (anybody ever heard of it, by the way? cuz I thought it was just a myth) kinda snuck up on me last week and bit me on the ass, along with an uber-cold I can’t seem to shake. Hm...reviews would help encourage me *hopeful look*





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