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Author's Chapter Notes:
Starts off fairly tame, but will be NC-17 eventually. This is the first pic I've posted, hope you like!


***Characters etc ain't mine. Don't sue me. It's rude.***
Buffy Summers glided into the penthouse apartment at around three in the afternoon. It was surprisingly quiet when she entered the room. Willow Rosenburg was tapping away on her laptop. Xander Harris was in deep discussion with Anya Jenkins, and Rupert Giles sat on the black leather couch, drinking a glass of scotch. All heads turned as the door swung shut, and murmured greetings were given and received. Buffy made a beeline straight for Rupert Giles, affectionately known as Giles, and slid onto the couch next to him.

“What’s going on?” she asked, attempting to sound light-hearted, when in reality it sounded strained and worried.

“I assume you know Angelus was released from prison six months ago.” The British man said. She nodded. “He’s here. In L.A.” Buffy’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” She said quietly. “Does he know…”

“He’s aware of your presence here.” Giles finished for her. “But that’s not all. The Aurelius team have acquired a new member.”

“Oh.” Buffy said weakly, then with heightened interest, “Any good?”

“They’re saying he’s quite remarkable. Unpredictable, rash, quite often making on the spot decisions, but nonetheless, quite remarkable.”

“Sounds like raw potential. The perfect clay for Angelus to mould. Perfect.” She sighed.

“Indeed. Relatively unknown. He’s fresh talent, like you say, determined to make a mark on the world. Most likely dresses to match his attitude. He’s been seen on the arm of Drusilla…” Buffy snorted in disgust. Giles ignored her completely. “…and goes by the name of Spike.”

“Spike? What kind of name is that?” Buffy demanded.
“A pseudonym. He’s real name is unknown. Buffy, you need to be careful. We can be fairly certain that Angelus will be looking for trouble.”

“I’d hate to disappoint.” She said dryly.

“Buffy, you know from experience that animosities between con-artists can be deeply damaging. Do not go looking for trouble.” Giles warned.

“I don’t. It normally finds me.”

*~*~*~*

She couldn’t have been more accurate in her assumption. Less than two days later, Buffy found herself in a small, stylish bar a few minutes down the road from her own apartment, waiting for Willow. She found herself thinking about her life, and how drastically it had changed after her first meeting with Giles when she was just nineteen. He recognised her talent for the con almost immediately, when he saw her fool her college roommate into buying her necklace for nine times it’s worth.

She was soon swept into the world of a con-artist, the world of the Scooby Gang, as Xander had dubbed them. Somehow the name had stuck. She became an integral part of the group, her knack for a long con balancing out Xander’s effectiveness for the short, and had helped the team to establish itself in the criminal world as one of the best in existence. She loved what she did, the rush of adrenaline that swept through her at that moment before the mark bought it or didn’t, and the wave of ecstasy when they did. Because they always did.

Buffy was top of the game, something proved when Giles had elevated her to leader of the group. There were few who boasted a résumé as impressive as hers. Any federal agent or police officer that had tried to cross her had been publicly ruined and shamed. Oh yeah. She was good. But at what? She mused. Her job had many names. Thief. Manipulator. Petty criminal. Con artist, probably described it officially. But the name the she felt described her work perfectly was Grifter. And that’s what she was. Possibly one of the best in the world.

As Buffy mused over her path in life, she suddenly became acutely aware of a pair of eyes watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck, and her eyes casually swept the room, searching for her observer.

Her hazel eyes locked with blue, belonging to a man with peroxide blonde hair and well-defined cheekbones. His eyebrow was cocked suggestively, a small smirk playing at his lips. He was leaning back casually, his legs open, dressed in a pair of, black jeans, a tight, black t-shirt and a leather duster. Buffy rolled her eyes at her admirer as his eyes raked over her body appreciatively. She turned away from him, blushing slightly at the man’s blatant interest in her. She looked at her watch, and saw that it would probably be another five minutes before Willow arrived.

Despite the obvious attractiveness of the man, she really wasn’t interested in another bad boy, especially one as obviously arrogant as the man in the corner. Her suspicions of his arrogance were confirmed when he swaggered over to where she sat at the bar.

The blonde woman had taken his interest as soon as she had fluttered into the bar. Although he was deeply in love with Drusilla, Spike couldn’t help but be drawn to the lovely woman.

She appeared to be deep in thought, and Spike hadn’t even noticed that he was staring until her eyes locked with his. His eyebrow had raised suggestively, and his eyes had swept slowly over her body, admiring her slim frame and slender curves.

Blushing, she had turned back around, checking her watch. Spike didn’t know what possessed him to approach her, a feeling in his gut just told him he had to. He leant over the bar, and ordered a glass of Jack Daniels and

“Something for the lady.” He asked, indicating the blonde on his right.

“That’s quite alright.” Buffy argued, but he insisted.

“C’mon love. How often do you get a bloke, as good-looking as myself, offering to buy you a drink?”

“You’d be surprised.” She replied dryly. “And I really don’t want another drink.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He sighed. Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’ll have a white wine, please.” She compromised. Heartened, the man stuck out a hand to her.

“William Thornton.” He offered. She warily shook it.
“Elizabeth Su- Simmons.” She back pedalled, well aware that he may be a federal agent, or a friend of a fooled mark out for revenge.

“Well, Liz…” he began, but was immediately cut off by his elder, barking to him across the club.

“Spike!” the voice came. He growled slightly, not noticing the stiffening of Elizabeth’s frame. She looked at him suspiciously.

“You’re Spike?” she asked disbelievingly. “Well, they said you were a loose cannon….” Spike spun to look at her, shocked at her recognition.

“Spike!” came the voice again, and both Spike and Buffy turned to see a tall, disgruntled man with dark hair and wearing a smart buisiness suit.

“Angel. What a pleasant surprise.” Buffy greeted dryly, Spike’s eyes widening further. She knew Angel.

“Buffy?” Angel asked menacingly.

“Maybe ‘pleasant’ was an exaggeration.” Buffy said calmly.

“Buffy? Buffy Summers?” Spike was agape. The woman he had been harmlessly flirting with was Buffy THE Grifter Summers? “The Buffy Summers?”

“In the flesh.” She responded, eyes still focused on Angel. “What are you doing here Angel? You know damn well this is my town.” She accused.

“Nice to see you too, Buffy.” He retorted with a snarl.

“It was nicer seeing you last time, being dragged off to jail.” She replied. “Jumpsuit orange really is your colour.”

“Glad you think so.” Angel replied.

“I doubt that.”

“Wait! Wait a minute!” Spike insisted. “Lemme get this straight. You’re Buffy Summers. The bird that got Peaches ‘ere sent to jail?”

“When you put it like that…yeh.” Buffy replied, her eyes still warring with those of her enemy. “What are you doing here, Angel?” she asked.

“I dunno. I just kinda, liked the ambience. And the drinks are good too.” He answered, as Buffy elicited a soft growl.

“I mean in L.A. Shouldn’t you be in New York, licking the shoes of your Master?” she asked.

“Masters has decided he wants to…expand…the network. Besides, L.A.’s big enough for the both of us, Buffy.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it’s big enough for you, me and that tectonic plate you insist on calling a forehead.” Buffy retorted, causing a loud chuckle from Spike, and a glare from Angel. Oh, this one had fire, Spike thought. “So, lets be straight here, Angel. What do you want?” He just smirked. “Fine. Play that game. But you can bet your forehead I’m gonna find out. Bye newbie.” She farewelled Spike, before sliding off her stool and walking out the bar, hips swaying, Spike noticed, as he tilted his head to appreciate the view better. Once Buffy was outside, the woman flipped open her cell, and pressed speed dial one.

“Will, you’re never gonna believe who I just saw…”

*~*~*~*

“William Thornton, you said he called himself?” Giles inquired.

“Yup. About, so tall…” she indicated a couple of inches above her head. “Bleach blonde. And I mean bleach. Gelled back, leather duster, high cheekbones, blue eyes…” Xander raised an eyebrow. “What?” Buffy asked.

“Nothing.” Xander insisted with a small knowing smile, and continued to write down her findings. Buffy glowered at him.

“Oh! And he’s British. Definitely British. And not upper-class British like Giles. More…Cockney. Think you can do anything with that?”

“I’ll run a name check on him. Bank accounts, address, stuff like that.” Willow volunteered.

“And I’ll look up some people, see if they know a guy that fits you description.” Xander said.

“Sounds good. But guys? Hurry. Angel is seriously up to something, and that doesn’t normally lead to hugs and puppies.” Buffy said.

“I’ll call up some people back home, see if they know anything about him.” Giles offered.

“Thanks. We’ll suspend any jobs until this mess is sorted. We didn’t have anything on anyway, although Michaels is still throwing a spanner in the works. But, we’ll sort it after. We need to know what Angel’s planning, and we need to know soon.”













Pleae review! This is the first fic I've posted so feedback is much appreciated- good or bad!





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