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Chapter 25: Undercover

After it was decided that Buffy would stay the night, she phoned Willow so that she could let her other ‘friends’ know that she was going to be late, and not to worry – code for ‘let Giles know that I’m fine and will check in with him in the morning.’ She wished she could say more, but the risk of being overheard was too great.

After the emotionally exhausting evening, she’d borrowed something from Spike to sleep in, and they both turned in early. Buffy let herself nap until she was positive that Spike was asleep.

Surprising as it might be for a ‘secret agent’ this was the first time that Buffy had ever had to sneak around someone’s house. Until now she hadn’t really been the kind of agent who went on dangerous or deep cover assignments. Her work had been relatively routine. This was far more exciting and far more emotionally taxing.

Of course she felt that since she was on good terms with her suspect, she wasn’t actually in any danger. If she got caught snooping around, she could easily come up with an excuse, perhaps that she was looking for a something to read to help her sleep. Spike, although suspicious by nature, would never suspect her.

Her first goal was the workroom. If only she could examine it at her leisure! She wasn’t supposed to be working on the murder angle, but if the shoe fit…

Of course the door was locked again. Not really being a proper undercover agent, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the key code. Still, she had a good idea of the movements his hands had made. Undeterred, she tried a few combinations that she thought must be close until the panel shut itself down. It must have some kind of internal security to prevent just what she was trying. Sighing in disgust at her lack of ingenuity and foresight, she headed for her secondary objective, the study.

Perhaps he kept records of his dealings in a secret compartment in his desk, or in his computer. Even information contained in his email address book might prove useful to an investigation. She’d seen the room briefly on the tour Spike had given her first time she had been at his house. It certainly looked like a working study. It was bound to contain something useful.

Hoping that she’d be able to find what she was looking for quickly, Buffy belatedly began to realize what this night’s work would mean. She would no longer have a choice. The pictures by themselves might or might not be incriminating enough. And she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t seen them. Whatever Giles decided to do with the information that she gave him, either way her assignment would be over.

Despite what she had learned about his checkered past, she was conflicted because she had finally admitted that she found him attractive, and that she enjoyed his company a great deal. Without the complications brought on by her assignment, and what she now knew about him, she realized that she might have already done away with caution, and slept with him. Even if it meant nothing, a quick rough and tumble might be exactly what she needed. A guy that she could love and leave for a change.

She knew several agents who would have no qualms about it at all. Including Faith and Harmony. She wondered again if the rumors were true. But Buffy was not Faith or Harmony. The undercover work was hard enough for her now; Buffy wasn’t sure that she’d be able to keep her emotions in check at all if things turned physical.

Unwittingly, her mind pondered the possibility. If the night had gone differently, she might have chosen that route to this same end. Images of satin sheets and silky kisses were interrupted by a dose of reality. If she had been willing to give in and actually agreed to sleep with him, it would have made a convenient excuse to spend the night. But if they actually had slept together, it might have been difficult to slip out of his bed in the middle of the night and go prowling around his house. ‘SO not going that route,’ she vowed to herself. She needed to end this business quickly, before her emotions overruled her sense. Spike would probably be in jail soon, and she would be the cause, and he would never want to see her again, unless it was to get revenge on her for her betrayal.

A search of the desk turned up nothing. The computer was another problem. It was password protected. If Buffy was half the hacker Willow was, it wouldn’t be a problem. But she wasn’t. She had never even received special training in computers. She was sure that the Agency must have something, a program, or a key word, or something that would override security on any PC. But she didn’t know it, and didn’t have the time or expertise to have any hope of getting in to his system tonight. Perhaps once they obtained a warrant, trained agents would be able to hack into his system.

So far she had come up completely empty-handed. Nothing to show for this late night’s work at all. Perhaps if she wandered again she’d spy something that she had missed before.

A picture by the door caught her eye on the way out. She had noticed it before, and it had caught her eye although she hadn’t looked at it too closely. Having seen some of his other work, Buffy assumed that Spike had painted it. Fortunately it lacked the gruesome undertones she had seen in many of his other paintings. She might be out of her element poking about like a super sleuth, but she was supposed to be an art expert. She moved in for a closer look.

She knew the subject of the painting – it was the clock tower from the UC Sunnydale campus. Although unsigned, the painter was definitely William Thorndale. But something else caught her eye. As she inspected the painting closely, she realized that the shadows of the room were off. The painting was hung improperly – she touched it and it swung open, revealing a wall safe behind it. Bingo.

Like computer hacking, Buffy had received no training in safe cracking. She wasn’t supposed to be the type of agent who was sent on “mission impossible” field assignments. She thought ruefully that she might suggest that Agency re-evaluate their training decisions so that all agents would be required to take these types of classes. Perhaps she’d mention it to Giles on Monday.

Now, if she could only remember her rudimentary training! Just as many people used the word “password” or the name of a pet or a child as a computer password, they also used memorable sets of numbers for combination locks. Fortunately, she had memorized enough about Spike to try a few sets of numbers and see if she managed to get lucky.

First she tried his wedding date. No luck. She tried his birth date. The date his company was incorporated. Drusilla’s birthday. The date of their divorce. As she was wracking her brain for other ideas, a thought occurred to her.

The first night they met, at the gallery, Spike had said something odd, and it had stuck in her mind. He had said that he wasn’t really as old as everyone thought he was. He was only ten years her senior – not fifteen. She tried another combination, to no use. At least this safe was old-fashioned enough that it did not have an automatic shut off like the door lock upstairs. She had one more idea to try. Add to the younger birth date the odd birthday celebration in New York… the safe opened.





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