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!

“So. That was ‘er. Buffy Summers.” Spike said in an awestruck voice as he jumped down from the low, narrow ledge he had been walking along, until he was in stride with Angel.

“What? Yes.” Angel said, clearly deep in thought. Spike continued regardless.

“Wow. ‘s a shame she’s a, wot you call ‘em? Scoobie?” He asked. Angel didn’t reply. “’cos she’s a bit of all right. So, ‘sides bein’ bein one of them, what’s wrong wiv ‘er?”

“What?” Angel asked.

“Well, she shagged you, din’t she? Must be summat wrong wiv ‘er.” Spike commented, oblivious to the fact that his elder was ignoring him. “What did you hafta do? Knock ‘er out?” That got his attention. Suddenly Spike was shoved up against the wall, Angel holding him up by his duster lapels.

“What are you trying to say?” Angel demanded. Spike pushed him off and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I was only kidding, mate.” He explained, before a devious glint appeared in his eye. “’ey, you didn’t did you? Aw, is that the only way ole Peaches can get any?” he taunted.

“I’m warning you.” He threatened.

“Or you’ll what?” he asked. Angel came dangerously close, the two face to face, noses almost touching.

“You don’t want to find out.” He warned, before breaking away, and continued stalking down the street.

“I think you’re scared of her.” Spike shouted a moment of two later.

“You do, do you?” Angel sighed in despair.

“Yeh. I mean, the chit put you in behind bars before. What’s to stop ‘er doin’ it again?” he asked. “How’d she do it? Send you down, I mean?” he thought back to the young woman n the bar, and how she'd seem to effect him before he even knew who she was. OF course, once he'd heard her name, he could tell you a lot about her. She was renowned throughout the higher circles of the criminal world. She had brought millionaires to their knees, and humiliated anyone that tried to cross her. Sending Angel to jail when she was just nineteen, and brand new to the game had elevated her name into the higher circles, but it was her charm and cunning that had kept her there.

But, even knowing all that, Spike was still surprised when he had met her. She was sassy, no doubt about that, but their was also a vulnerability he had caught in her eyes. Eyes that had seen to much, cried too many tears. And the William in Spike wanted to reach out to her, comfort her. Something Spike was taking none too kindly too. Dru. Think about Dru. But he hadn't been thinking about Dru when he had first laid eyes on her, or when he watched the bitter banter between her and Angel. In fact, he was thinking of everything but his Dark Princess.

“Bitch set me up.” Angel replied bitterly, causing Spike to whoop with laughter. “What? What the fuck is so funny?”

“Is that it? Is that all it took? You were really that stupid?” he asked between laughs.

“Maybe…” Angel began, as he turned on him. “Maybe I wasn’t that stupid. Maybe she was that smart." Spike sobered slightly.

"So, she's a grass then?" he asked.

"That about sums it up, yes." Angel replied, as they turned into the foyer of the hotel.




*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



“Well, what do we know?” Buffy asked, seating herself comfortably on the leather couch.

“Not a lot.” Willow said. “He’s twenty-eight, studied English Literature at Oxford. His mother was Anne Jocelyn Thornton, father Michael William Thornton. His father died when he was six, his mother died of influenza- the flu- when Spike was twenty-one. Apparently her immune system was shot. He went to a local comprehensive in Vauxhall, London, until he was eleven. He got a scholarship to a private boarding school, which he left when he was eighteen. That’s all I got.” Willow finished disappointedly.

“Anything after that? Like, since he got to the states?” Buffy asked.

“Nope. Guy doesn’t have so much as a bank account. Sorry Buffy.” The blonde sighed in frustration.

“No worries. Anybody got anything else? Xander?” she asked.

“I did the rounds, and the guy doesn’t exactly keep a low profile. Him and our old pal Dru have been painting the town red. Local clubs and bars. He was thrown out of Pulse a couple of nights ago. Him and Dru were doing the nasty in the bathroom.” Willow choked on the glass of water she was drinking, and Giles began rubbing his glasses furiously. “Anyway….” Xander continued. “I was talking to the bouncer who chucked them out. Didn’t know their names, but Spike put up quite a fight. It took three guys to chuck him out, and one of them now has a broken wrist, the other a broken nose. He took off before the cops could show.”

“Doesn’t get any so throws a hissy fit. So, basically, your typical male” Buffy concluded.

“On behalf of my gender, hey!” Xander said. “Anyway, I was talking to Tripod, and apparently, Angel’s none too happy about Dru and Spike’s little liaison. And, rumour has it, Dru’s not entirely enamoured with Spike, either.”

“Daddy’s home, and he wants what’s his.” Buffy said. “ Typical Angel. Do we have anything else? I mean, do we know why they’re here, or what Angel’s next move is? Giles?”

“I was able to contact our friend Whistler, I’m sure you remember him Buffy.” Giles began, and Buffy nodded.

“Yeh. Part of the gang up in Chicago, right?” she asked. “He works undercover at Masters?”

“Indeed. He was able to divulge some information about Angel’s newest mark.”

“Who?” Xander asked.

“Not so much a who as a what. He’s after the cross of DuLac.” Giles explained.
“Why? That’s a theft, not a con.” Anya commented, puzzled.

“No. He’s gonna pull a Forthwright Diamond.” Xander twigged.

“What?” Anya asked.

“What!” Buffy cried in outrage. “He wouldn’t dare!”

“OK, what?” Anya asked.

“Before your time, Ahn.” Xander explained. “We stole the Forthwright Diamond and had copies made. Five copies, and sold them all to different bidders, though not before we replaced the original back in it’s case.”

“Bloody brilliant.” Giles whispered reminiscently. “Anyway, as Xander deduced, it does appear that Angel is planning on doing something to the same effect.”

“Why?” Buffy asked suddenly.

“To make money.” Anya offered. “That’s what a con-artist does. Makes money. That’s why I became one. I like money.” Buffy ignored her.

“When I was talking to him, he had this, I don’t know, evil gleam in his eye. Like he was planning something. Something that involved me, or, at least, us.” Buffy struggled to explain. “It’s difficult to say, but he was almost mocking me, like he knew I knew he was after me, but he knew I didn’t know what he was planning.”

“Perhaps he really is here on business.” Giles pondered.

“There is about as much chance of Angel being in the same town as the woman who sent him to jail for five years, and not exacting fresh vengeance, as there is of me going into Krispy Kreme’s and not buying a doughnut.” Xander said.

"So he's after the cross of DuLac. And using my technique. Words cannot express how much I hate this guy." Buffy said. "So we find out who he's selling to. Go through all our contacts, Xan, see what you can find. Will, can you do a check on the net? See if you can hack into Angel's e-mails, anything like that. And maybe find out where he's staying? Anya, do you think you could try and get in contact with any of your associates?”

"Sure, but I'm pre-tty much an outcast from them these days. I could try my old boss, but i doubt he'd be willing to help." Anya replied, referring to her days when she worked for part of the Master's family in New York.

"I get that, but can you try?" Buffy pleaded.

"Of course."

"What about you?" Xander asked Buffy. "What are you going to do?"

"What I do best."

The bus was crowded. Buffy tried to block her nasal passage from the smell of exhaust fumes mingled with sweat. She felt like she was being baked in an oven, but despite this Buffy was in a good mood. Ignoring the dead ends she’d come across whilst trying to work out Angel’s game plan, she’d had a pretty good night. Her pockets held a couple of watches, and half a dozen wallets lay inside her bag. Plus the Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses that she’d swiped from a particularly mean spirited woman- a lawyer, Buffy had deduced, when she saw the Wolfram and Hart emblem emblazoned on her briefcase.

‘Never liked lawyers anyway.’

Although the simple act of pick-pocketing didn’t require any masterful planning, something she’d always enjoyed doing, the skill of it was something she had picked up when she was sixteen, and living on the streets. Her mother had passed away a few months previously, and the foster home she had been sent to had left her in the care of a particularly abusive bastard who had hit his wife on a number of occasions. When he had turned his fist to her, she had taken off out her bedroom window, and ran off to Los Angeles. Eventually, the authorities caught up with her, and she was put back into care. Her new foster parents had been Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and his wife Fred. She had tried to run a couple of times, but they had persisted, and she had eventually settled into the family. It was Wesley who had put her through college, and inadvertently led her to crossing paths with Rupert Giles.

The simple skill of being able to slip your hand in someone’s pocket and pull it back full of cash was something Buffy had down to an art. The act of pick-pocketing soothed her frazzled nerves, which tonight, was exactly what she needed.

The bus screeched to a halt, the sudden stop causing her to jostle into the man opposite her. He reflexively shot his arms to steady her. Whilst she assured him she was okay, she slipped the wallet back into his pocket.

‘There’s something to be said for chivalry these days,’ Buffy mused.

She quickly departed from the Bus into Beverly Hills, quickly making her way up to the Hilton, and into Circa 55, the swanky restaurant there. She scanned her surroundings before making her way over to an occupied booth. She slipped in opposite the brunette who was lounging against the plush seating, who offered her a cigarette. Buffy refused.

“Your loss, my gain.” The brunette commented.

“I’m not sure if making sure I don’t suffer from lung cancer in later life counts as a loss.” Buffy pointed out. “Sides, I thought this place was non-smoking.” The brunette ignored her.

“How ya doin’ B?” she asked.

“Never better.” Buffy replied.

“Well,” The brunette leaned in slightly towards her. “If that’s so, why the hell you calling me?”

“Angel’s in town.”

Her companion choked on the smoke she had just inhaled.

“What?!?” she demanded.

“He’s in town, Faith. I was hoping you might have heard something.”

“Oh yeah. From my mini heart attack just there, you can tell I was totally prepared for that piece of news.” Faith said sarcastically.

“What about this guy?” Buffy asked, pulling out a CCTV still she’d managed to wrangle from the manager of Pulse.

“Damn” Faith muttered, with a low whistle. “That’s the kind of candy that could make a girl quit this biz.”

“His name's William…something or other, but he’s going by Spike. You heard anything?” Buffy queried.

“Spike…Spike. Nope, can’t say that I have.” Faith pulled a mock thoughtful face.

“There will be one thousand dollars going into your account tonight, ifyou can tell me anything useful.” Buffy said.

“One thousand? Oh. Well, that’s an entirely different ball game, then, isn’t it?”

“Look, do you know anything or not?” Buffy demanded, her patience thinning. She was interrupted as the waiter brought over a bottle of

“Your boy’s been seen hanging around with Mr. Finn a couple of nights ago.”

“He is not my boy.” Buffy hissed.

Faith looked at her, eyebrow raised.

“Well he’s not!” Buffy insisted. “Wait, do you mean Riley Finn?”

“The one and only.” Faith replied.

“How reliable is the source?”

“That depends on where you stand.” Faith said cryptically.

“Meaning?” Buffy said sharply.

“Meaning that I’m the damn source, B. I was with Finn last night and he mentioned it.”

“To you?” Buffy asked sceptically. “Faith, I find it hard to believe that Riley Finn would discuss his less than law-abiding friends with his escort.”

“He was talking to Wilkins about it.” Faith retorted coolly.

“Oh.” Buffy said, slightly sheepishly. “Did he say why Spike and Finn were…” Faith cut her off.

“No. All I heard was that Spike’s been talking to him. Don’t know what about.” Faith muttered, as Buffy leant back on her seat, pondering over these new discoveries. “Look, if that’s all, can I please go?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Buffy said absent-mindedly. “But if you hear anything else…”

“…I’ll sell the info to the highest bidder. But I will let you know.”

“How kind of you.” Buffy commented dryly.

“Auctions no good if you haven’t got any bidders,” Faith said. “Cya.”

Buffy remained in the booth, considering this new piece of information.

‘So Aurelius is after the DuLac cross. What business is that of Riley Finn’s? That brings the play to a whole new level. Unless this is a whole seperate thing? Or a thing that Angel’s not in on? But Spike’s new, he wouldn’t have the balls to try anything. Would he?’