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A/N: Thanx to Annie, Elanor, and Minerva for reviewing :) You guys are great!



~*~



The trailer was unloaded in just under two hours. Standing in the middle of her furnished, box-filled room, she handed Gunn two hundred dollars. “For the driving, and the help, and all that,” she told him with a smile.



Gunn nodded. “Thanks. Be seein’ you, then?”



“Well, Sunnydale seems to be a small town, so I guess! Bye!” She ushered him out the door.



As soon as he left her smile fell. Damn it! She was really not doing well with this whole perky ex-cheerleader act. Even if was kinda sorta partly true, that didn’t mean she had to like it, and she didn’t.



But now really wasn’t the time for complaints. She had to finish unpacking before tomorrow, when she started her wonderful new job at—what were they calling it—oh yeah, Jenkins’s Employment Inc. Buffy snorted as she started rummaging through boxes. Stupid name for what was essentially a Mafia-style crime corporation.



Oh, well. At least she got an awesome house. Buffy eyed the living room appreciatively. Comfy couch, nice TV, ooh, big chest behind comfy couch, I can probably put all my guns and stuff in there. Hate him she might, but she had to hand it to Captain Rayne, her accommodations—not too shabby!



It was ten o’clock at night before she was all unpacked. When she finished she slumped down on her new bed, exhausted. It wasn’t like she was exactly a packrat, or anything, but she’d never really realized how much stuff she had until she was stuck moving it.



Ugh. And now it’s all late and I forgot to eat dinner... She frowned. Wait, hadn’t Harmony mentioned some club or something that was open all night long? And yeah, it was Wednesday, but...Buffy concentrated hard, trying to remember exactly what Harmony had said.



”The Bronze? It’s, like, the coolest place in Sunnydale—not that there’s much in Sunnydale, but, you know, I could totally have some fun in there, and it’s open for like ever, even on weekdays...



“Okay, then,” she muttered. “The Bronze it is.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, but then she stopped dead. Elizabeth Summers, LAPD cop, would go to a bar in whatever she happened to be wearing. Buffy Summers, secretary? Not so much. Buffy gave a beleaguered sigh. “Dammit.” She was in ‘moving day clothes’: a baggy shirt and drab blue jeans. She could not go clubbing in that.



She rummaged through her closet before coming up with a short black suede skirt and a mint green halter top. Not great, but it’d have to do. Thank God her hair looked good with minimal fussing. She strapped on high-heeled sandals—black, of course—and winced. Ow. She’d forgotten what wearing heels was like...



As soon as she was Buffy-fied she snatched up her purse (again) and headed out the door.



It was plenty dark, but she wasn’t exactly scared. She had two guns and a knife on her, which in her book made for some pretty good confidence. She’d checked a map and discovered that the Bronze was in an alley off of the main street running through Sunnydale, oh-so-creatively named Main Street. She decided to cut through the park, since she’d get there faster.



Unfortunately, the park was very much unlit by any streetlights, and all of a sudden, Buffy was reminded strongly that she’d been scared of the dark when she was a kid. She hesitated outside the park entrance, feeling ridiculous.



Get a grip, Bu—Elizabeth, she scolded herself. You’ve been out at night on patrols and drug busts dozens of times in a city way bigger than this!



Yeah, a part of her that she was starting to identify as her ‘Buffy’ side whispered back, But that was always with a squad, and there were no huge scary-looking trees all around. Remember what you used to tell Mom? You and trees aren’t at all mixy!



“Okay,” she muttered, “This is stupid. I’m a grown woman with a gun, for fuck’s sake.” And with that, she wrenched the lock off the park gates and slipped inside.



But she couldn’t help but notice that it really was kinda dark, and she hated it, and the trees made every shadow look like a crazy serial killer guy about to cut her throat, and OH MY GOD THERE’S SOMEONE BEHIND ME!!!!!



She whirled around, reaching for a gun, but before she had time to grab it the man was on her. Big, burly, and not exactly friendly, he grabbed her arm and attempted to restrain her with something—a belt, maybe. She didn’t try to find out. Her training took over almost instantly.



She rammed her hand into his nose, cracking the cartilage and driving it back into his skull. He howled but she showed no mercy, driving her knee into his groin even as she dealt him a horrible punch with her left fist.



And as she grabbed his arm and twisted it at a hitherto impossible angle, she couldn’t help but think, Thank God I was so good in all the self-defense classes!



He fell to his knees on the park path, whimpering, a bloody mess. Buffy gazed at him coolly. “You finished whimpering yet, or would you rather I kicked your ass some more?”



He didn’t say anything, only lurched to his feet and stumbled off. Buffy watched him go, wishing hard that she wasn’t undercover right now. She really would have loved arresting that dork...



What was up with the clothes, anyway? Didn’t he realize that wearing all white didn’t exactly help with the whole mugger career? God, thieves were so dumb! It was probably a good thing most of them were in jail.



So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the other figure in the bushes, the one watching her silently. She didn’t hear, when she continued walking toward the other side of the park, him prowling along silently.



She sure as hell heard the blundering moron who came up behind her.



She sighed, turning slowly, not even bothering to be wary. “You know, I’ve known dogs smarter than you,” she informed the beat-up mugger. “They at least know when to quit.”



“Got a job,” the figure wheezed before rushing at her.



“A job? And exactly what does it entail? Me kicking your ass multiple times?”



He didn’t answer, only swung a fist at her.



She dodged it contemptuously and planted one right in his face. “Damn, you’re stupid. Didn’t you get the Kick-O-Gram? Leave—“ she dealt him a right cross to his eye—“Me—“ now a kick to his stomach—“Alone!” And to finish off the job, she gave him a punch that sent him flying into the shrubbery.



This time, when he high-tailed it out of the park, she really didn’t think he was going to be coming back.



She was about to continue walking through the suddenly un-creepified park when a man strode out of the bushes, applauding.



Her first conscious thought was OH MY GOD, he’s gorgeous!



Because he was. Gorgeous and eatable in a way no guy had been in so long Buffy was starting to think all the good ones were taken.



She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but his hair glowed platinum-white in the moonlight. Dyed, surely, but it worked more than well on him, especially with his all black outfit. He also somehow managed to pull off wearing a long black duster without looking completely ridiculous. Quite a feat, that.



And his body—he was better built than most of the guys on the force! Muscled arms that she itched to have wrapped around her, a torso that she was certain held a ten-pack, and legs that—well, actually, she couldn’t see his legs, but she was sure they were just as yummy as the rest of him.



Unfortunately for him, he was wearing a truly annoying smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him. He might be hot, but if he was going to try laughing at her, she’d have to kick his ass. “And you’re applauding...why?”



“Well, I was gonna come in an’ play rescuer for the pretty bird, but you kinda squashed that plan, what with the kicking and punching and all.”



And he did sound amused! And oh God his smirk was sexy...Oh no you don’t, Buffy. He’s a yicky man who likes laughing at you, remember? And plus, he’s short! Accordingly, she scowled at him. “I doubt you could have helped me out. What are you, five-five?”



The smirk disappeared. “Five-ten, Blondie, an’ you’d better watch it. I know who you are.”



“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be frightened?” Sarcasm blanketed her voice.



“No. This is the part where you’re s’posed t’ lick m’ boots, considerin’ as I’m your new boss.”



Bad night, Buffy decided. Bad, bad night. “You’re William Jenkins?” Oh, wonderful, it had had to come out as a squeak, hadn’t it?



“Not unless you’re m’ grandma, in which case, hey gram,” he retorted. “The name’s Spike, an’ you’ll do well to remember it, pet.”



“I’m not your pet,” she snapped. “And Spike? What kind of idiot goes around calling themselves Spike? I thought you were supposed to be the serious business type.”



He opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut him off. “Spike! You idiot, why can’t we just take a car like a civilized person? I’m tell you, if you mess up my hair because you’ve been dragging me through the wilderness I’ll exact vengeance the likes of which you’ve never seen! You’ll never be able to have orgasms with anyone ever again! I’ll—oh, hi!”



A woman had blundered out of the bushes where Spike had just been. She had wide brown eyes and honey-brown hair. Coupled with a very determined chin—Buffy could very much picture her slicing Spike’s dick off, or whatever she’d been promising to do. Wish I could watch... “Hi,” she replied, smiling. “You know him?”



The woman gave Spike a disgusted look. “Unfortunately, yes. He’s my brother. I’m Anya, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand. “Anya Jenkins. And you are?”



“Buffy Summers,” she provided, smiling and trying to tell herself it was purely because she’d have to ingratiate herself with these people if she was going to be an effective undercover cop. She firmly told herself it had nothing to do with the instant liking she took for the woman, or how hot her jerk of a brother was.



“Now that the charmin’ introductions have been made, can we please get to the Bronze?” an impatient voice interrupted. “I don’t fancy spendin’ the whole night in the bloody park.”



Ignoring Spike, Buffy turned to Anya. “What’s his deal? And why does he have the wiggy accent and you don’t?”



“He doesn’t have a deal, he’s just always annoyingly rude and blunt,” Anya answered as they turned and began to walk back toward the other side of the park. “Spike’s my twin, and thought I honestly do love him, I’m really starting to understand why our parents stuck him with a nanny in England until he was fifteen. That’s where the accent comes from. Although honestly, he’s been here for ten years, you’d think he would learn how to talk right, but no, he keeps his silly accent. Anyway, why are you here?”



Anya was talkative, but also a good source of information, she mused. Without even realizing it she’d just provided Buffy with valuable information she could give to Ethan. “I’m taking the place of Harmony Kendall as the secretary of Spike’s little company.” She smiled at him sweetly, letting him know that she was in on just exactly what the ‘little company’ really did. “Harmony told me all the details.”



“Did she tell you it’s a drag to work at? Even with my love of making money, I can barely stand it,” Anya said, again cutting Spike off. “All those hours of being nice to people! I’m thinking of going into retail. Getting money for the exchange of goods and services seems so much more reasonable.”



“Anya, would you shut your gob?” Spike cut in. “’M trying to get to know my new employee, here.”



“And if I don’t want to get to know you?” Buffy questioned.



“Then ‘ll fire you,” he responded blithely. “So tell me, what’s your name again?”



“Eliz—Buffy. Summers.”



“So, Summers, why’re you plannin’ on bein’ my secretary?” He leered at her. “Not that ‘m complaining, or anything.”



“Oh for God’s sake, Spike, stop ogling her. Ignore him,” Anya advised. “He can barely restrain his desires even when they’re purely sexual.”



Her face turned bright red. “I’m sure he wasn’t—“



“Don’t be so sure, Goldilocks.”



She whirled around to glare at him. He’d been walking behind her and Anya, and it was making her way uncomfortable. “I have a name, you know, and it’s not Blondie, pet, or Goldilocks!”



“But seein’ you get mad is so much more fun,” he teased, grinning at her.



She held up a fist. “You’d better shut up, or I’ll—“



“Go ahead then, Summers. Hit me.”



She glared at him for a moment before throwing up her hands and increasing her pace. “Arrrrgh!” She couldn’t hit him when he was acting like it was just going to be sooo much fun, dammit!



Screw the job. There is no way in hell I’m walking with this arrogant bastard! With a scowl planted firmly on her face, she stalked off toward the Bronze, doing her best to put as much distance in between her and Spike Jenkins as was humanly possible.



*



Spike watched the blonde chit go with an amused smile on his face. He hadn’t had this much fun since he’d introduced himself to Anya as her long-lost twin...



Whowas currently blabbering away at him, he realized as he watched Buffy Summers’ ass disappear into the night. It was a nice ass, which made sense, since the rest of her body was damned nice as well.



He was feeling pretty lucky just then. Who’d have thought that Harmony’s replacement would be as appealing as Harmony had been repulsive? Blonde hair that made him want to run his finger through it for the rest of eternity, a body to die for, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he’d be willing to bet they were quite nice, too. And she was a good fighter, clearly, since she’d dispatched the would-be mugger quicker than even he might have been able to. And she’d displayed a fairly formidable intellect, too.



Yes, all in all, Buffy Summers was one very appealing girl.



Really, it was a damn pity she also had to be a cop.



“Oh, and by the way, an eighteen-wheeler decimated the DeSoto this morning.”



That got his attention. “What?” he roared, snapping back to reality instantly.



Anya only smirked at him.



He narrowed his eyes. “Bleeding hell, Ayn, you ever do that again and I’ll—“



“Oh, please, save it for our kids,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Because I for one stopped being intimidated by you when I caught you crying over that idiot show you like.”



“Passions is not an idiot show,” he snapped. Damn it, Anya was like a dog with a bone when it came to that little incident. Stupid bint. Too much like me for either of our own good. “And could you stop mentioning the kids so loudly? ‘S supposed to be a covert operation, y’know.”



“The only other person in the park is Buffy, and I’m pretty sure Harmony filled her in on the truth of the matter,” Anya pointed out.



“Well, yeah, since Harmony couldn’t keep a secret ‘f her sorry life depended on it. But that’s not the point. D’you really want to tell the whole soddin’ town what we do for a living?”



“The town isn’t wet,” Anya replied cheerily, “Much less sodding. We live in California, remember? Not your precious England. And Sunnydale is an open-minded town, I’m sure they’d accept what we do.”



“Yeah, they’d love hearin’ that we exploit the weaknesses of this town for our own gain,” Spike said sarcastically. “’M so sure.”



“Well, it’s not all our fault, you know. It’s better to do that than just let all that potential money be dealt through someone else.”



Spike shook his head as they began walking. The whelp and Faith and Cordy were probably pissin’ their pants right about now, they were so late. “You are one delusional girl, you know that?”



“I get it from my beloved twin,” Anya shot back. They continued bickering as they walked to the Bronze.



When they reached the Bronze, the bouncer let them in without even asking to see ID. It was no wonder, since they’d given him his job.



Spike’s eyes roved the room, searching for potential employees and customers, as he always did. His business required pretty much constant vigilance.



Or at least, that’s what he told himself he was doing. But a nasty little feeling told him that he was also looking for one Miss Buffy Summers.



He found her soon enough. Somehow, without guidance from either himself or Anya, she’d gravitated toward his friends and co-workers.



She was sitting in a chair next to Faith, laughing at something, mostly likely something ribald, that the sultry brunette had said. Xander was on her other side, and Spike had never seen the whelp with quite that goofy a smile on his face.



Bloody hell, he thought as he made his way over to the table. She’s been here—what, five minutes? And she’s already charming the pants off of everyone there.



“So, you lived in LA before, right?” Cordelia was saying as he neared.



Buffy smiled, a brilliant, happy smile. Spike wished it had been he who made her smile that way. Hey, wait just a bleeding minute, mate. She’s your secretary, not to mention the latest spy sent from the Hell-force to sniff at you. Down, boy.



“Yeah,” the blonde replied. “It’s a nice city, I love it.”



“Nice? I dunno, Buff, I’ve heard some nasty things about Los Angeles,” Xander said.



“Have you really? Well, I guess it’s crime-ridden, but the police are doing their best, you know,” she told him.



Her nose was adorable when it was wrinkled like that—no. Not in a million sodding years was he gonna go there. “You would defend them, wouldn’t you?” he drawled arrogantly, sliding into the seat.



She narrowed her eyes at him, a gesture she seemed to be perfecting where he was concerned. Too bad—now that he could see her stunning hazel eyes, he wanted a view of them that was unobstructed by her eyelashes. “Yeah, I would. You got a problem?”



He held up his hands. “Cool it, pet. ‘M just here for the food.”



Faith laughed. “Hey, Spike, did you get the 411? Someone pulled those onion blossoms off the menu.”



“What? Bugger!” He leapt to his feet. Bungled deals with clients he could deal with, but this—“Where the hell is the cook? ‘M gonna tear his throat out.”



“Assuming you could reach it,” Buffy muttered.



He glared at her. “An’ that’s s’posed to mean what?”



“Just that really, you’re kinda short,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.



That was it, he decided. Whether or not she was the hottest bird in the room, he didn’t like her. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”



“Coming from you, I’ll consider it a compliment,” she retorted. Her eyes lit on someone behind him. “Anya, hi!”



He barely restrained a groan as his overly blunt twin said, “Hello, Buffy. I see you’ve found our partners in crime.”



The rest of the group, who up until then had been watching with interest, widened their eyes. “Ah, Spike, Buffy’s not—“



“She’s filling in for Harm, whelp,” Spike cut in impatiently. “Who as you know, could hardly keep a secret if the Pope himself told her to. A’right?”



“Jesus, chill out, Spike.” Kennedy was one of his more successful charges, and also one of the most bratty. “And take the stick out of your ass. We’re here to have fun, remember?”



“The bitch has a point,” Faith told him.



“Yeah, Spike,” Buffy said with a smile that he itched to wipe off her face, “Chill out, why don’t you.”



He growled and lunged for her. “You little—“



She was on her feet in an instant. “Finish that sentence,” she dared, her eyes dangerous.



He glanced over at the group. They were watching with great interest, much as they’d been doing a moment ago. When he glared at Anya she said, “Don’t come crying to me for help, Spike. You’re the one who can’t keep his mouth shut.”



“Yeah, well, ‘s not like I wasn’t provoked,” he shot back, before glancing back at Buffy. She wasn’t exactly shoving her fists in his face, but she looked prepared for any fight he might feel like bringing to her. Oh, bugger it.



He unclenched his fist and sat back down. When she continued to stand, he motioned to a chair. “C’mon, Blondie, don’t be stubborn. ‘M not gonna start a fight in the Bronze, I don’t much fancy bein’ thrown out. And anyway, you haven’t even started work yet. Can’t be scarin’ you off now, can I?” He smiled at her, praying to God that she’d decide that he was charming enough to put up with for awhile.



Plants were so hard to identify, much less keep tabs on, and he was positive that she was harmony’s replacement as the LAPD’s eyes and ears. Need to keep her here, where she can’t spread her poison back to that bastard Rayne, he thought.



“Fine,” she finally snapped, flopping down in the chair next to Xander. “Pig.”



“Stubborn bint.”



“Butt-head.”



“Bitch.” He watched with amusement as her face turned a number of truly interesting colors.



“Oh my God,” Cordelia cut in, “Have you ever witnessed anything more immature? For God’s sake, you two, stop acting like a pair of high-schoolers.”



“Yeah, no kidding, it’s fuckin’ stupid how much you two are fighting,” Faith chipped in.



“This could be the martini talking, but the ladies are right, Spike,” Xander told him.



Spike sneered at him. “Like I need your help, you bloody—“



“Hey Spike,” Kennedy said, leaning over and sending him a sly smile. “Polka-dotted underwear.”



That was it. He buried his head in his hands, the incident Kennedy was referring to reducing him to absolute, humiliated helplessness. “You’re a right heartless bitch, you are,” he told her.



“You know you love it,” she shot back, downing a huge gulp of Jack Daniels. Beside her, Buffy began to laugh.



“Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. It was going to be a long night.



~*~



“And the documents have been planted?”



“Yes, sir,” came the voice on the other end of the phone. A deep voice, dark, capable of saying horrible things in an even worse monotone.



“Excellent. And she still doesn’t know?”



“She is ignorant, sir.”



“What of him?”



“We attempted to dispose of him. We failed.”



“Is that so?” Eyes glinted in a dully lit up room. “Well then, I’m afraid you have a very short time to live. Our force is limited enough without you dragging failure into it...”



And the silent night helped to muffle the screams of the dying.



~*~



Buffy frowned as she leafed through the documents that Harmony had left. She was lying in bed and it was past midnight, but she’d been too curious to wait till morning.



Not exactly warm bedtime-y goodness, she thought as she read the numerous charges associated with Jenkins, Inc. Child prostitution in addition to good old-fashioned pimping, drug dealing, rape, murder, it was all there.



Most of the accusations tied directly into Spike.



No, no, no, she scolded herself. Bad Buffy. Not Spike. Jenkins. He’s the bad guy, remember?



And yet, even when she’d been fighting with him, it was so hard to remember! She couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, how a man who seemed to be if not nice than at least decent could be a cold-blooded killer.



That’s why you’re a good guy, Summers, ‘cuz you can’t understand the bad guys.



But they’d all been so nice! That had been what was confusing her, the fact that none of them acted like evil nasties. OK, she could see Faith taking a guy down, and Kennedy wasn’t exactly gonna be joining the cast of Barney anytime soon, but none of them had acted like killers.



And yet, she’d noticed the sidelong glances, the insinuations, and the hints that indicated that they were all in on some covert operation. Thank God they assumed that she knew exactly what they were talking about.



The truth was that though she was reading about all their various crimes, she really didn’t understand how they went about actually committing the crimes. They talked about ‘clients’ and their ‘business’, but how exactly did they sell the drugs and run the brothels?



Well, she guessed she’d find out soon enough. As the secretary, she’d be privy to most if not all of the goings-on in the so-called Jenkins Employment Inc. Including whatever Spike was up to. And given what she’d seen when they’d walked her home...



She leaned back into her pillows and remembered:



”Sorry, Buffster, but you’ve had a fight with Spike and endured Anya’s sex-comments,” Xander said, with a cheerful grin. “You’re one of us, and that means we’re walking you home.”



“I agree with her Royal Bitchiness.” Spike was being a smartass, kind of like he’d been being all night long, actually.



“Oh, shut up for one second, Spike,” Cordy ordered. “God, you’re such a moron.”



“Guys, really,” Buffy tried once again to protest. “I’m fine making it home on my own.”



“Well, yeah, but Sunnydale’s a fucked-up small town. God only knows what kind of jerk might try to jump ya.” Faith wore a loopy smile, and Buffy suspected that she was more than slightly wasted.



“Which means we’re gonna walk you back, no matter how much you try to convince us not to so that you don’t have to put up with my odious brother any more,” Anya finished Faith’s thought, grabbing Buffy’s arm and fairly dragging her down Main Street. “So come on!”



The rest of them raced ahead and Buffy was left standing alone in the dark street, staring after them, more than a little stunned.



Well, not alone, technically, since Spike was standing there beside her. But really, he didn’t count.



Unfortunately he didn’t seem to realize that, since he smirked at her and said, “Well lookee here, I managed to get you all alone in the dark. Do you normally do this on a first date?”



She sneered at him. “Go to hell.”



“Been there, done that. Wasn’t much fun,” he answered, and his tone of voice might’ve made her think that he was joking, but his eyes were deadly serious.



She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when someone leapt from the darkness onto Spike’s back.



A gun was in her hand almost before she thought about it, and she was preparing to fire, but it turned out that there wasn’t any need. He threw the man onto the muddy alley floor, bashing his nose in as he did, and placed his boot heel at his throat. “You’d best watch it, mate. I dunno who you’re workin’ for, but stay away from me and my girl, got it?”



“Please...” the man wheezed. Spike ground in his heel a little harder as Buffy watched with wide eyes. His face was so cold, so unfeeling, that it frightened her, and in that moment she could picture him forcing an eight-year-old to sell herself on the streets. blood trickled down the man’s neck, and she could see him mouth, “Stop, please...”



“Right then. Get the hell out of here.” As abruptly as the fury had appeared it left. He lifted his shoe off the man’s throat and held out his arm to Buffy. “C’mon pet, let’s get you home.”



She’d taken his arm because she had been too scared to do anything else. Spike hadn’t explained to the others why they’d been detained, which led her to believe that this sort of thing happened fairly requently.



But...Spike had told Xander that she knew what was going on. Which meant that Harmony must have been in on things. Wait—so how had Harmony insinuated herself into the group? And if it really was an elite crime ring that stretched all the way to New York, why would they trust the bimbo’s recommendation?



And while she was lying here being all ultra-suspicious, what was up with the freak attacking her in the park?!



Something didn’t add up, but she was too tired to even try to figure it out. The hard, disciplined cop Elizabeth was ordering her to stay awake, but secretary Buffy was tired from a night out on the town with her friends—No! Not friends! Evil child exploiters, remember? Not friends!



But Faith had been funny, and Cordelia was nice if a little conceited, and Xander and Anya were so adorable, and well Kennedy was Kennedy, but she seemed cool enough...



Completely exhausted, Buffy fell back onto the bed. Sleep overcame her before she even had a chance to set her alarm.



~*~



A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, review and there’ll be more faster *wink*






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