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A/N: Here’s the update! If there are lots of errors, sorry—the letters kinda swim on the screen when you’re sick, lol. Enjoy :)

~*~

Bloody hell.

How in God’s name was he supposed to concentrate on keeping his hands and his—other parts—to himself when she looked like that?

It was bad enough that she came to the office every day in cute little skirts and tops that he really wanted to take off of her. No, now she had to dress in black from head to toe. And damn, it looked hot.

Her perfectly shaped legs were encased by tight black leather. Her black halter top accentuated her golden skin and brilliantly blonde hair. She was on the dance floor, a good twenty feet away from him, yet he could have sworn he saw the sparkle in her green eyes.

“You’re brooding,” Dawn remarked, staring at him thoughtfully. She was sitting at his table, dangling a straw into her Coke. Dawn was a good sort. She was young, but smart enough so that unless there was alcohol around, he never even noticed the difference in their ages.

“What? I bloody well am not!”

Dawn only cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Dammit, Bit, I’m just sittin’ here!”

“You’re sitting there, nursing a beer and scowling out into the crowd. That’s called brooding.” Dawn followed her friend’s gaze. Understanding came into her face. “Oh, okay. You’re right. You weren’t brooding, you were moping. Sorry I didn’t make the distinction.”

Though her voice was teasing, Spike glared at her balefully. “’M not moping, either.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Dawn raised her voice to a tragic-sounding falsetto. “Oh, poor me, Buffy will never love me because she’s a cop, and she’s supposed to be spying on me, and she’s so beautiful…”

“Y’know, I got the bouncer his job. It’ll be a piece of cake, makin’ him kick you out.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Shutting up.”

“That’s m’ girl.”

“Dork,” Dawn accused. She checked her watch and stood up, sighing. “Damn. I have to get to work.”

“’S too bad you have to work nights,” Spike remarked, still looked out at the dance floor.

“Yeah, ‘cuz in the business I’m in, day work is so likely,” Dawn retorted sarcastically.

“Hey, you never know,” Spike argued.

“Yes, I do. I’ll be working at night till I’m so old I can’t walk, much less service hungry customers.” Dawn pretended to swoon before giving him a wicked grin. “See ya later. And for God’s sake, if you want to dance with her, then just do it! She won’t kill you…well, probably not.”

She was gone before he could think of a snappy comment.

He growled and looked back at the dance floor. Buffy was dancing with some guy, rubbing herself up against him like—bugger! That was Scott Hope she was dancing with!

Enough was enough, he decided, and stood up with new intent. He wasn’t actually planning on dancing with her, just getting Scott out of the way. It wasn’t like he could stay at the Bronze long, anyway. He and Anya had work to do.

He sauntered up to the gyrating pair and tapped Scott on the shoulder. “Mind ‘f I cut in, mate?” he asked, restraining the curse that appeared on the tip of his tongue when he noticed Scott’s hands on Buffy’s waist.

“Well, yes, actually,” Scott replied. “Find someone else to dance with, Jenkins. Someone who doesn’t mind tiny dicks and even smaller minds.” He smiled almost patronizingly at Buffy.

Spike smirked. “Bad move,” he informed Scott.

Buffy stared at her dancing partner, utter fury in her eyes. “OK, I knew I would totally never want to see you again, but you’re a real asshole, did you know?” When he tried to keep holding on to her, she shoved him away.

“But, Buffy—“

“Don’t you even,” she snapped. “I’ll decide who I dance with, you bastard.” And with that, she turned to Spike.

He was almost ready to jump for joy, the display had been that satisfying for him. He smiled at her as she grabbed his shoulders and started to determinedly dance. “Thanks for that, pet,”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she told him. She was still glaring, but at least it was at him, not Scott.

“Yeah, well, ‘m still glad you did. Hope’s a bloody nuisance. Bastard’s an amateur pimp. ‘Ve met more than one girl who’d been victimized by him.” He moved closer, until he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. God, she felt so good. Small, compact, but curvy in all the right places. She was damn near perfect.

And currently staring at him incredulously. “Oh, come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Like you aren’t the same thing. Oh, wait—“ Sarcasm now blanketed her voice—“You’re a professional, aren’t you?”

“What the bleeding hell are you talking about?” Spike stared at her, wide-eyed, completely confused. Was she off her bird, or had she had a bit too much to drink? Yeah, they profited from their kids, but if they didn’t the business would crash. “What’s your problem, Summers?”

She averted her eyes from his. “It’s nothing. Never mind.” She moved slightly closer, and Spike’s whole body clenched. “Let’s just forget about it,” she whispered.

It was a diversionary tactic and he knew it. She was a cop, after all. If anyone knew about lying and distracting people, it would be her. That’s why you were sitting at the table instead of dancing with her, remember? his mind said nastily. Cops are liars and sneaks. Getting involved with a cop means puttin’ up with a bunch of crap. You don’t want that.

But her body was so soft, and she smelled so wonderful—like vanilla and flowers, a perfect combination—that he ignored the diversion, opting instead to pull her still closer and rest his chin on the top of her head. They swayed together, barely moving, soaking in the feel of each other’s bodies, for what felt like an eternity, though he was relatively sure it only lasted for a few minutes.

Then the song ended, and Buffy jumped away like she’d been burned. Spike was rather disappointed she’d cut the contact so soon, but then, she’d probably realized what trouble them getting involved with each other would be.

And at least she was heading back to their table instead of goin’ to dance with that wanker Scott again. That was an improvement.

He was about to follow when a wave of strong, sultry perfume assaulted him, followed by a, “Spike! What the hell’s up with you and B dry-humpin’ on the dance floor?”

He rolled his eyes at Faith. “We weren’t dry-humping, you silly bint,” he said. “’S called dancin’. You should try it.”

“I know what dancing is. That’s not it.” She grinned at him. “Planning on getting some action tonight, stud?”

“Aside from the kind I get at work, no,” Spike replied. He knew that would distract her—and it did.

“So, got a job, huh?” Faith groaned. “Jesus. I shoulda known. You’re a workaholic.”

“As opposed to you, who never work unless there’s a gun to your head.”

Faith grinned at him. “Or somethin’ else…”

“Bloody hell. ‘M not even attracted to her, Faith.”

“Okay, I didn’t finish high school, but even I’m not that dumb,” she said. “You’ve got the hots for B. You might as well say it. Even that bitch Anya figured it out.”

“Hey. Anya’s m’ sister,” he defended her.

“And a pain in the ass.”

“Well, yeah,” Spike admitted. “She is that.”

“Told ya.” Faith eyes him carefully. “Y’know, you’re not gonna get away with changing the subject. You’ve got it bad for Blondie. Admit it.”

Damn. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. “Faith, ‘m not gonna tell you anything. There’s nothin’ to tell.”

“And the frickin’ moon’s made of cheese, right? Damn, Spike, just say it.” Faith was clearly starting to grow impatient; she was tapping a pack of cigarettes against her thigh and wore a pissy expression.

“No.” Faith at her most pissed-off was still better than triumphant Faith.

“’Cuz you know it’s true.” Now she looked amused. Shit.

“Bugger it, Faith, could you just let it go already?”

“Hell, no. This is fun.”

“Right, then. I’ll leave.” He turned and walked back over to their group’s table.

“Hey, Spike, why does Faith look like an evil genius?” Xander asked. “She’s smiling. It’s freaking me out.” He gulped when Anya patted his knee sympathetically.

“’Cuz she’s evil an’ she likes to think she’s smart,” Spike grumbled.

“Ooh, poor Spikey,” Buffy said in a falsely sympathetic voice. “Being bullied around by a girl employee.”

She even looked beautiful when she was teasing him! Jesus bleedin’ Christ, this had to stop! He summoned his most formidable glare. “’M not bein’ bullied!”

“Oh my God.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You people are so immature.”

“Hey!” The four of them chorused. Cordelia just cocked an eyebrow. “See? Told you.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re much better,” Anya grumbled. “Dressing like a slut just so you can attract an orgasm-buddy when there’s perfectly acceptable ones sitting right here.”

“They’re both taken,” Cordelia told her acidly.

“I’m not taken,” Xander told her eagerly. “I’m big on not being taken!”

Spike sniggered at that, and Cordelia looked him pityingly. “You poor thing. You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

“What the—oh,” Xander said, finally connecting the dots. Anya glared at him and removed her hand.

“Hey, now you’ve hurt ‘m sister. ‘M gonna hafta kick your ass,” Spike informed him with a wicked grin.

“Yes, please do. Rip his penis off. At least then I’ll be able to see it,” Anya said, pouting.

Buffy coughed into her drink. Spike glanced at her. “You okay, pet?”

She waved his concern away. “Fine, fine.”

Xander was protesting Anya’s statement: “Hey, if you wanted to see it, all you had to do was ask!”

“You never want me. I’ve been coming on to you like some kind of slut for months now! I’ve been acting like Faith!” Anya wailed, tears unexpectedly filling her eyes.

“Oh, great.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

Anya and Xander ignored them. “Well, how was I supposed to know your slutiness was directed at me?” Xander asked.

“You could have paid one whit of attention to me!” Anya cried. “What does it take with you men? Am I going to have to corner you and get totally naked, or what?”

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry.” Xander patted her back. “Really, I am.”

Spike was highly amused. The whelp and his sister had this sort of conversation at least once a week, and it never failed to give everyone a good laugh. Why the two of them didn’t just shag and get it over with was completely beyond him. He was starting to think the whelp liked seein’ his sister cry.

“Is this…common for them?” Buffy asked, her eyes riveted on the couple.

“Yeah. They go at it on a pretty regular basis. Don’t worry about ‘em. They’ll be snoggin’ ‘fore the night’s up,”

“Is that so?” Buffy sighed and stood up. “Well, the night is up for me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

What? She was leaving? Spike couldn’t for the life of him have explained the incredible urgency that rose in him. All he knew was that he wasn’t about to just say goodbye right then and there.

So he stood up, too. “I’ll walk you home.”

She stared at him incredulously. He didn’t blame her, actually. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Not this time, pet.” He flashed her a smile he hoped was charming. “So, what d’you say?”

“And again I ask, are you kidding me? You’re being all…gentlemen-ey.” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope. Just wanna walk you home.” Spike was acutely aware of the stares he was garnering from every single member of the table. He was right there with ‘em. Part of his mind was screaming at him to just sit down, but with her all hot and tight in that black leather—well, a fellow had to try, right?

And succeed, for the next words out of her mouth were, “Okay. Fine. But if you try anything, Xander’s dick won’t be the only detached one around here.”

Not exactly gracious, but he’d take what he could get. “Got it.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

He followed her out of the bar, staring at her leather-encased ass. Behind him, four pairs of eyes stared first at the leaving couple, then at each other.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say, huh?” Xander said finally.

“Oh, yeah,” Faith agreed.

*

Buffy glanced at him nervously as they got to the parking lot. “I, um, walked here.”

“Yeah, I noticed you’re allergic to cars. I walked, too.”

She smiled slightly. Just because he was an enemy didn’t mean she couldn’t smile, right? “Bet Anya threw a fit.”

His lips curled up at the corners. Oh, God, he was sexy, especially tonight, with the loose blue shirt over his customary black…arrrg. His hotness was really getting in the way of her stay-away-from-the-evil-crime-lord plans.

“Yeah, she wasn’t too happy,” he said. “Anya’s a nice bird, but she’d a bit spoiled.”

“And blunt.” Criticizing Anya was good. That way she didn’t have to think about just what those lips of his could do. “But then, I guess blunt can be good sometimes.”

“Preachin’ to the choir on that one, luv,” Spike informed her. “’M more blunt than she is, most ‘f the time.”

Oooh, her knees practically melted when he let that endearment slip. Gah, can’t think, can’t think…luv. He called me luv! Yay—no, not yay. Bad. Very very bad. She hardened her expression. “Don’t call me love.”

“Right then, pet.”

“Or pet!” Now she was almost yelling. How in the world was she supposed to break into the Jenkins’ building if he made her so horny she could barely walk?

“Hey.” He stopped dead and turned to face her. “What the hell is your problem?”

She jutted her chin out. “Nothing. I’m just majorly wiggy because someone who I thought hated me is walked me home. OK?” How far away was Revello Drive, anyway? Three blocks? Could she run three blocks?

She could try, she decided as that bone-melting smirk appeared again on his face.

“You think I hate you?” He stepped forward. She jumped back nervously, and then berated herself for it. She was a grown woman—a cop!—and she was letting him spook her. Could this get any worse?

Yep, it could. He was now leaning forward, looking directly into her eyes, and her heart was racing. “How,” he asked, his accent suddenly more refined, “could I possibly hate any woman as beautiful as you?”

Buffy gulped. OK, he was a major creep! Not only was he coming on to her on a sidewalk, but she was his secretary, undercover role notwithstanding. How stereotypical could you get?

And who was she kidding? It was completely hot. “I—I’m not beautiful,” she stuttered, clenching her hands in fists to keep from reaching for him.

He came even closer, until his hands rested on her waist. “But you are,” he murmured. “I saw you dancin’, and all I wanted to do was grab you and shag you ‘till you couldn’t stand.”

“It’s a little late for that,” she said breathlessly, sinking into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. God, his chest was hard. He had such well defined muscles—all she’d wanted to do on the dance floor was sink into his embrace and never leave it.

He didn’t reply, only stood still, staring into her eyes with a strangely intent look on his face. Buffy gulped as lust rushed through her. All of a sudden she felt like she was back in high school just waiting for the guy to kiss her. And she wanted it. God help her, but she did.

She stood up on her tiptoes. “Spike…” she whispered, feeling his arms tighten around her.

“Buffy,” he whispered back, “We can’t…we shouldn’t…”

“Yes, we should.” She smiled slightly, teasingly. “You know you want to.”

He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. “You don’t understand, dammit! I can’t…I’m not…”

“Sh.” She silenced his protests with a single finer against his soft, full, strong lips. “I do understand. I want this.” She wriggled ever so slightly against his erection. A wicked smile graced her lips. “And I know you do.”

For a second the world froze, and only the two of them existed. Buffy held her breath—she could see the war being waged in his eyes.

Then he smiled. Buffy gasped—it was the single most beautiful expression she’d ever seen on a human face. So happy and peaceful, yet longing and powerful at the same time. And then he was leaning forward, and all thoughts fled from her head—

They had a seconds’ warning. Their lips were about to touch when both pairs of crime-trained ears heard the telltale rustle. Before either of them could turn and see what made the noise, an enormous body barreled into Buffy.

“Aieee!” She gave a very un-cop-like shriek, kicking the ski-masked man hard in the shins.

“Buffy!” Spike launched to his feet as the man leapt at her.

She fell, rolled, and got up, dealing him the hardest punch she could as she did. “Bastard,” she spat. He reeled, but didn’t seem about to do down. Dammit, why was he so big?

“I can agree with that,” Spike said. He grabbed the guy’s collar and turned him around. His fist then flew into the guy’s face in a stunningly powerful punch.

The man went down like a stone. Before Spike could damage him more, Buffy rushed over. “I’ll take it from here,” she said, and drew her foot back. She kicked the man’s ribs repeatedly, not even wincing when she heard something crack, and stomped on his stomach. When she was satisfied that she’d caused maximum damage, she sat on his chest.

“’ey, you sure that’s smart?” Spike asked.

Buffy smiled at him. “If he tries to hurt me, I’m sure you can handle him.”

“Okay, then.” He was beyond doubtful, but Buffy thanked her lucky stars that he trusted her enough to handle her would-be attacker.

“Now,” Buffy said, “Let’s see who you are.” She yanked the ski mask off, a task made difficult by the fact that the man seemed to be laughing—which was beyond bizarre.

As soon as she saw his laughing face she froze. Ice-cold sweat broke out all over her body. She began to shake, and her trembling fingers dropped the ski mask to the ground.

Angel O’Connor smiled at her malevolently. “Hey there, Summers.” He threw back his head at her expression and started giggling insanely. “It’s been awhile.”

“Oh my God.” She stood up, almost ready to be sick. Spike rushed to her aid instantly. His strong arms encircled her, holding her upright. “What’s the matter, pet? Buffy? C’mon, talk!”

“It’s—it’s Angel,” she managed to force out. Shock still immobilized her, but she knew she had to explain. Maybe if she told Spike what had happened, he’d kick Angel’s ass. Not that she needed it done for her, but the thought was comforting. “He’s a serial rapist, six counties over. Formerly resided in the LAPD Asylum for the Criminally Insane. He must have broken out.”

Her voice was flat and unemotional when she described it. What she didn’t say was that it had been she who arrested him two years ago. He’d been crouched over a bloody, dead little eight-year-old girl. Reliving that experience, from the body to the horrible things he’d said about it, was a nightmare.

“Nice to see you again, little slut,” Angel wheezed, laughing despite his many injuries. “God, you were close to screwing him a minute ago, weren’t you? Is there a limit to the number of guys you’ll fuck, or are you charging now? And I didn’t break out. I was freed.” Another insane cackle. “To come and get you.”

“They let a bastard like that go?” Spike’s voice was rough. “What the hell is wrong with the la—the LAPD?”

“Nothing!” Buffy snapped, a bit too forcefully. “I mean—I don’t know. He’s probably lying. I think he broke out.” Except she knew that he hadn’t, because she would have been alerted had that been the case. Perhaps… “Or someone in the department—the police, I mean—could have let him go illegally.”

“Damn, Summers, maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” Angel said, attempting to struggle to his feet, still chuckling.

Spike gave him a look that was pure Death walking. “Keep your ass on the pavement if you value your life,” the platinum blonde advised before turning back to Buffy. “You gonna be okay?”

She nodded. The experience had been horrifying, but if she kept acting the victim Spike would have some uncomfortable questions. “I think so.”

“Right, then. ‘ll phone the cops. You walk home. I think you can take care ‘f any potential nasties, am I right?”

Buffy nodded again. “Um—sorry about how this turned out.”

“’S alright, luv.” He glared at the man on the ground so balefully that Buffy almost felt sorry for Angel. “’He’ll be payin’, not you.”

“Good.” Buffy, too, was glaring.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Despite what they’d been doing before Angel interrupted them, she felt her old anger rising up against him. “I’m not a china doll, Spike. I’ll be fine.” Angel’s comments were coming back to her, and heat began to rise in her cheeks. She wasn’t a slut, but still, what he’d said was embarrassing. “See you at the office.”

His eyes narrowed, but he just nodded dismissively. “Yeah. See you.”

Why did she get the feeling that she wasn’t going to get away with this? And not just the whole almost-kissage thing. He’d confront her later about her knowledge of him, and her quick, cop-like summary, and probably even her fighting ability. But right now, she just had to get back home so that she could grab her lock-picks and head over to Jenkins’ Employment.

She was unusually jumpy as she walked, looking over her shoulder at every little noise. Seeing Angel again had brought back all the things Officer Elizabeth had experienced. She knew that in terms of attitude and personality she’d changed quite a bit in the two weeks she’d been away from the force, but the memories were the same, and they hurt.

Angel had been her biggest scare, but there were others, lunatics and just plain evil people whom she’d put away for what she’d thought was forever. But now someone had let one of them out.

How could this have happened? She knew it had to be an inside job. A cop had let Angel go, and probably told him to find her. That meant that someone on the force had it in for her, but why?

Was it because of the undercover work? It wasn’t exactly the hottest job in the world. As far as she was concerned, whoever wanted it could have it.

But what if that wasn’t it? What if someone had some other reason to hate her?

And then it occurred to her: Oh God, what if it’s Riley? She’d dated him for a few months, but she’d broken it off because he was way overprotective. She’d come to realize since then that dating a fellow cop was a big-time bad idea. What if Riley was nursing a huge grudge and decided to sic Angel on her because of it?

No. That was insane. It had to be something else, some little detail she’d missed. Buffy snatched up her lock picks. Who said it had to be just the LAPD’s work? Maybe Spike had decided to get rid of her, so he paid someone to let Angel loose.

She knew, deep down, that the idea was even crazier than her previous one, but she was too mad and confused to care. There were a few seriously missing links in this little puzzle, and she got the feeling that she knew where to find them.

With one hand over her gun in its holster and the other clutching her set of picks, she walked toward the Jenkins Building.

One way or another, she was going to get to the bottom of this tonight.

*

After the cops hauled the lunatic away, Spike lit a fag and started towards his office. Red was gonna kill him for calling her so late, but it was the only way to get things sorted out. That, and raid the files for any information at all on this Angel fellow.

Damn, and he’d thought Scott was a wanker! Angel was downright insane. They’d had to wait a solid fifteen minutes for the cops to come, and during that time, Angel had babbled like the lunatic he definitely was. Spike had heard more descriptions of rape than he’d thought possible. It was enough to make stronger men than he sick.

And Buffy was an even more confusing part of the puzzle. Why the hell would the LAPD send their pet psycho after her if she was feedin’ them information like a good little snitch? It didn’t make any sense.

And of course, he’d had to go and complicate it any more by almost kissing her right there on the sidewalk. Dammit. That had been the dumbest thing he’d done in quite awhile.

‘Course, it wasn’t like he was alone in his little endeavor, though he’d be willing to bet that she was going to try to pull a fast one on him and pretend it had never happened. Spike wasn’t going to allow that. Yeah, it was an immensely stupid thing, gettin’ involved with a cop, but hey, he’d done stupider things—just not in recent memory. He wasn’t gonna just act like they hadn’t been about to start snogging. That wasn’t his style.

Plus, if he had his way, she wouldn’t be a cop for much longer, so that little complication would be gone…

Thoughts, questions, and plans whirled through his mind as he walked quickly toward Jenkins’ Employment, Inc.

~*~

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, evil author leaves a cliffhanger, GET THE PITCHFORKS AND RUN HER OUT OF TOWN!!!!!! But I’m all typed-out for today. I promise the next update will be within 24 hours. Sooner, if I get reviews :) I’d really like to know what you guys think of crazy Angel. Thanx to Anne for reviewing the previous chapter!





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