They had made it through the ridiculous LA traffic and into the Hollywood Hills before the nerves hit Buffy. There was no outward sign of this instant panic, but inside, her heart was beating as if she was staring into the belly of a beast. Which, in a way she figured, she kind of was.
“Right there with you, kid,” Gunn said as he checked his directions and pulled into the left turn lane. Buffy smiled, once again eternally grateful that they’d been assigned as partners. He was clearly in tune with her emotions, exactly what someone needed in a good undercover partner.
“So, my handsome boyfriend, are you going to take me out tonight to celebrate my brand new job?” She giggled, attempting to alleviate her tension.
“It’ll be a night on the town, girl,” he replied. They shared a grin and went quiet again, nearing their final destination.
“This is it,” he told her as they pulled up to a huge, dark wood gate. High stucco walls extended out for blocks in either direction, shielding the house from view.
Gunn rolled down his window and a tiny security guard game up. “Names?”
“Buffy Joyce and Gunn Hewitt?” Buffy leaned over and smiled.
“Purpose?”
“Here to see Mr. Grace?” She replied.
The man surveyed his list and nodded. “Drive straight up, and someone will meet you outside the front door.”
“Thank you---Jonathan,” Buffy flirted, causing the guard to blush, then leaned back into her seat as the gate opened and let the truck through.
They drove slowly up the driveway, lined on either side by a row of palm trees. The grounds were perfectly manicured, with rolling green lawns and gardens and ponds, causing Buffy’s mouth to hang open in shock.
“Damn, this is nice,” Gunn said as the house came into view. It was a sprawling, Spanish influenced mansion, with ivy crawling up its walls and bougainvilleas lining the circular, gravel driveway. They pulled up just as a well-dressed woman emerged from the huge front doors.
“Showtime,” Buffy murmured, as she and Gunn climbed out of the car to meet their fate.
“Ms. Joyce and Mr. Hewitt?” At the two nods, the brunette stuck out one perfectly manicured hand, “I’m Winifred Burkle, you can call me Fred, Mr. Grace’s assistant. He’s running a bit late but he asked me to show you out to the back patio for lunch, you haven’t eaten already, have you?” She said in a slight Southern drawl.
“Nah, we haven’t,” Gunn answered for both of them, intertwining his fingers with Buffy’s and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Lead the way.”
The pair followed Fred into the huge entryway with its circular staircase, through the living room that Buffy quickly calculated could hold sixteen of her college dorm room, and out onto a back deck, with a view of the canyon and the city beyond that.
“Help yourselves to whatever you want to eat,” Fred smiled, gesturing to the huge spread of snacks and drinks. “Mr. Grace should be out in just a few minutes.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving the two alone.
“I could so get used to this!” Buffy squealed, running over to the edge of the balcony and leaning out over the railing, closing her eyes and letting the light summer breeze blow her hair.
“Right there with you,” Gunn agreed, surveying the food before grabbing a croissant and tearing a chunk out of it with his teeth. “Nicest house I’ve ever been in.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Buffy scolded like only a girlfriend could, taking a look at the gorgeous pool area below before spinning around and staring up at the back of the house.
“God, there must be like, a thousand rooms in this house or something,” she said, wide-eyed.
“Or something,” a British voice came above them. William Grace was descending the staircase leading down from the upper deck, a friendly smile on his face.
Buffy had studied every piece of information they had on William Grace multiple times, and thus had of course seen pictures of him. So she was prepared for his sculpted features, and his shock of platinum blonde hair. She’d even seen a few photos of him on the beach in Cabo San Lucas, so she knew exactly was hiding under his casual black polo shirt and gray slacks. Was she wasn’t prepared for was the sparkle in his ice blue eyes, a glimmer she could see from twenty feet away, and the cat-like grace with which he carried his body.
“I’m glad you could meet with me,” the mouth attached to those eyes said smoothly, walking up to her and reaching out to shake her hand. “I’m William Grace, you’re welcome to call me Spike.”
“Well, thank you for having me,” Buffy replied politely, holding his hand just a tad longer than was socially acceptable. “I’m Buffy, and you can call me that.” She shivered imperceptibly as she felt this man appraise her, and from the slight raising of his eyebrows, she figured that he liked what he saw.
She had no idea. From the drivers license he’d seen of hers, Spike had expected a cute girl, and he never had a problem with adding another one of those to his staff. But the girl in front of him was so much more than he’d expected. His mind instantly went places he knew it shouldn’t be going, and he forgot what he was doing for just a moment as Buffy looked up at him expectantly
“And you must be Mr. Hewitt,” he finally said once he managed to tear his gaze away from Buffy’s hazel eyes.
“Just Gunn,” he said, reaching out and firmly shaking the hand of the shorter man in front of him. “How you doin’.”
“Gunn. Well thank you for coming too,” he said, then turned his attention back to Buffy. “From what I understand, your particular…talents may be exactly what I’m looking for.” He surreptitiously surveyed her body, well displayed in tight jeans and a low cut top.
Something in his tone and expression made Buffy think he meant more than just her computer talents, but she shook away that thought as quickly as it had formed, and shrugged, “Depends on what you’re looking for. I do have a lot of talents.”
“Well, what do you say we test them out?” He grinned, then continued at her slightly surprised expression, “I thought we’d do a little experiment right away. I don’t want to waste your time or mine if you aren’t what I want.”
“Honestly, I’m not too worried about that,” she said lightly. “I’m probably exactly what you want. What do you want me to do?”
Pleasantly surprised at the fact that this woman didn’t seem to be remotely afraid of him, Spike invited Gunn to remain outside while he and Buffy went into his office, but he received a firm denial.
“Where she goes, I go,” Gunn said gruffly, wrapping one arm around Buffy protectively.
“Don’t think I’m to be trusted?” Spike asked the woman, who was staring at him with a cool, impassive look on her beautiful face.
“Honestly, I don’t trust anyone,” she said back.
“Good answer,” was Spike’s reply, and he beckoned the pair to follow him into the depths of the house.
Spike led them down a hallway, past a gorgeous library that Buffy paused to stare at before Gunn pushed her along, and into a lavish home office. Waiting for them in the room was Fred, and a dark haired man who introduced himself as Lindsay Macdonald.
“Lindsay is one of my lawyers,” Spike said as he walked around the perimeter of his huge mahogany desk. From a black briefcase on the floor, he pulled out a thin laptop and set it down.
“Take a seat,” he gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Buffy complied and relaxed in the comfortable chair, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers on her thigh. Gunn hovered behind her, arms crossed.
“The test is a pretty standard one,” Fred explained, walking over and turning on the laptop. “We just want to see what your style is, how you work, that kind of thing.”
Buffy nodded and inspected the screen as it illuminated upon a list of password encoded accounts and a few complex encrypted files. “Do I have a time limit?” She asked, and began to type quickly.
“Well I would hope you’re quicker than the last person we talked to, what with your qualifications,” Fred smiled. “You came highly recommended. But, I guess, we won’t make you stop or anything if you—“
“Done,” Buffy said casually, leaning back into her chair again, a look of disinterest on her face.
Fred frowned, pulling the computer towards her and inspecting what was on the screen. She typed for a moment, and nodded. “Good job.”
Buffy allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. What they’d had her do wasn’t necessarily easy, but she had learned a trick a few years ago that allowed her to cut the standard time of decryption in half. It was always a crowd pleaser.
“Impressive,” Spike said, mirroring her posture and leaning back into his own chair.
“Not really,” Buffy shrugged, “I probably could have done that when I was sixteen.” Gunn coughed behind her, while both Lindsay and Fred stared at her, slightly wide-eyed.
Spike, however, just laughed. “Maybe you could have.” He considered her for a moment, before asking, “Gunn, any chance you’d let Fred take you to get something for us to drink? I promise the lady is safe in my presence.” When Buffy turned around and gave him a nod, he followed Fred out of the room, who closed the doors behind them.
“So, Ms. Joyce,” Lindsay began, perching on the edge of the desk.
“Call me Buffy,” she insisted. “Ms. Joyce makes me feel old.”
“Well, you’re not old, so I guess I wouldn’t want to make you feel that way,” he laughed. “Okay, Buffy. What do you think this job is about?”
The blonde shrugged. “You pay me, I play with the computer. I don’t really have any expectations beyond that.”
“Do you have any previous knowledge of the sort of business Mr. Grace is involved in?”
At this, Buffy paused, and chose her words carefully. “I don’t have any…pre-conceptions, I guess, if that’s what you’re asking. What I may or may not have heard doesn’t influence me. I just go by what I see.”
Lindsay seemed to like this answer, and leaned forward a bit for his next question. “And, Buffy, if you were to be working for Mr. Grace, we would need to have the utmost confidence in you. Confidentiality would be key. You would only be given the information we deemed it necessary for you to have. Does this bother you?”
Buffy answered honestly. “I’m a curious person, to tell you the truth. But yeah, I guess I can deal with being kept in the dark as long as I’m paid what I deserve.”
She glanced over at Spike’s blank face, and hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. But then he smiled, a smile she felt enter her body at the top of her head and spread throughout her body like wildfire. “Curiosity is good,” he said. “I’m a curious person too.”
Buffy smiled back at him, for a second forgetting Lindsay was even in the room. His next question had her crashing down to earth, though. “With the nature of the position you’d fill, we’d want to have you available at all times. You wouldn’t be working in Mr. Grace’s corporate office, but right here in his home. And because of that, we’d ask that you live here.”
“Live here?” She said in surprise. “That seems, I don’t know, a little weird.”
Spike shrugged. “I guess it is a little weird, yeah, but that’s the way it is. You wouldn’t be the only one of my employees living here, and of course, Gunn is welcome to join you. Fred’s discussing a position open for him as we speak.”
Buffy hadn’t expected this slight twist of events, but quickly figured it might actually work to their advantage. To actually be living in the home of the target of the investigation? That had to be an advantage. “I’d have to talk to Gunn, but I guess I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”
Lindsay nodded, and started to speak again, when he was cut off by Spike. “Why don’t you go check on Fred and Gunn, and give me a few moments alone with Buffy.”
Lindsay acquiesced and stood, nodding at Buffy as he left. Once the doors were shut again, Spike stood and took the lawyer’s perch on the desk. He studied the small woman in front of him for a moment, and said, “You know what, Buffy, I like you.”
“Well, I do like to be liked,” she quipped, suppressing the excitement growing in her belly. Had she actually done it? Did she actually get the job?
“I’m going to be a bit more explicit than Lindsay was,” Spike said seriously. “He’s a lawyer, and they never come out and say exactly what they mean. I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t pull any punches.” He leaned forward a bit, until his face was just a foot from Buffy’s. She felt her breath catch in her throat as he started intently at her. “Not everything I’m going to have you do is legal. Not everything you’ll see in this house is going to make you happy. That’s the nature of my work, and I won’t judge you if you don’t think you can handle it. But once you agree to take this job, I expect loyalty, and I don’t want you running off at the first thing that makes you uncomfortable. Once you’re employed, you’ll be privy to information that I wouldn’t want the rest of the world knowing, and you choosing to leave once you have knowledge of that information would not be in either of our best interests. Do I make myself clear?”
His eyes had hardened, and in that moment Buffy could see how this handsome man in front of her was the force behind all the crimes she’d read about. And he’d almost charmed her into forgetting that. “Crystal,” She smirked, feeling totally in control again. “So am I hired?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to those who commented! I'm writing a ton on this fic, so the chapters will be coming pretty quickly for awhile. As always, I don’t own most of the characters, some of the dialogue, or anything else that you recognize from the Buffyverse. That is all owned by Joss Whedon and the good folks at Mutant Enemy. This is meant for fun, not for profit. Any songs or quotes will be attributed to their owners.