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Chapter 33

“The twins are sleeping soundly. Joy woke once I checked on her. She’s a little antsy. I’ve been walking with her, but she won’t relax.”

“She’s picking up on your anxiety, Buffy. How long have you been pacing out here?”

“Since he left. Something’s going down, I can feel it. I should be there.” Buffy brushed two kisses on Joy’s cheek before passing her to Tara. “He’ll need backup,” she continued, draping Joy’s baby blanket around Tara’s shoulders. “He hasn’t faced Angel alone since it happened.”

“Never?” Willow asked, fighting a yawn.

“Not officially, not without me, and not without a safe distance between them.”

“Take Willow with you. She has potions that might be helpful.”

Buffy nodded, already behind the wheel of the SUV. She was buckled in, her foot was on the brake and the car was set in reverse. The SUV was rolling down the driveway the moment Willow slammed the passenger door. “Potions are nice, but I doubt we can get away with any of that with his lawyer present.”

“You could always slip something into his drink.”

“Is that how Tara magically-drugged me?”

Willow shrugged, a guilty smile on her face. She grabbed onto the side of the car as Buffy turned through the neighborhood too quickly. “So, um, why hasn’t William been around Angel since the shooting?”

“Because we’d have another shooting on our hands.”

“You mean William would… How’d he avoid him if he’s been working on the case for so long?”

“Let’s call it divine intervention,” Buffy mumbled, flipping on her turning signal only a few seconds before swerving into another lane. “I’d get there first,” she added quietly. “Or Faith. She’d pop up at just the right time to keep them apart.”

“Oh, so you... It was divine Buffy intervention.”

“I was protecting him.”

“Oh,” Willow said again, with little nod. “So, the crazy overprotectiveness isn’t so one-sided after all.”

“Didn’t Tara fill you in at all about this week? I have to protect him, Willow.”

“Then why did you let him go tonight? Was it just because of the kids? You really don’t think he can handle Angel by himself?”

Buffy didn’t answer. She stepped harder on the gas.

“God, Buffy, now I remember why you became a cop.”

“To the help the helpless? To protect the innocent from scumbags?”

“So you wouldn’t get as many speeding tickets.”

Buffy just snorted and continued to drive.
***

“Where is he?” William demanded, walking into the station. “Why are you lounging out here?”

“Just waiting for you, boss. Take a chill pill.” Faith sat up from the reclined office chair and let her boots slide down from where they were propped on his desk. “His lawyer’s here.”

“Why not? Is it a Morgan? Lilah Morgan?”

“It’s a guy. Young, black, downright lickable in an Armani suit. He’s more than a little rough around the edges, but thinks he’s hot shit.”

“Where are they?”

Faith pointed down the hall. “Where do you think? I put them in the first interrogation room. I’ve got three guys watching him.”

“Get ‘em busy on something else. Why aren’t you watching him through the two-way?” William asked. Faith knew he was swiftly losing his patience, but only answered him with an arrogant shrug.

Spinning on his heel, he stomped down the hallway.

“B’s on her way,” Faith said, beside him, matching him step by step. “She’ll be here any minute. If you have, I don’t know, maybe something you want to say to Angel in confidence, I suggest you do it now. Or, you could keep your end of the bargain. Watch him through the two-way. Let me play Twenty Questions with the guy. Tell Buffy I got to him first.”

“This ends now.”

“You sure?” She reached for his hand before it could turn the knob to Angel’s holding room. “You’ve both played nicey nice for awhile now. You want to burn that bridge? The hit-and-run wasn’t too bad. Nobody died.”

“How many were sent to hospital?”

“Three. A mom and two kids.”

William’s nostrils flared and he turned the knob.

“You want to put her life on the line over a few bruises and broken limbs?”

“You took her to Wolfram & Hart,” William hissed between clenched teeth. “You broke the fucking bargain.”

“You…well, you weren’t supposed to know about that. You made B come clean? Good for you, boss! How many rolls in the hay did it take to make her squeal?”

“Faith, I ought to--.”

“Babe! Have you given him coffee yet?!”

Giving Faith one last glare, William backed away from the door. Reaching for Buffy’s elbow, he guided her into the workroom. “Coffee? Pet, you’re busting at the seams. Did you jog here?”

“She drove very, ah, very quickly. Safely,” Willow stressed, although her disheveled appearance suggested otherwise, “but very very quickly.”

“Ignore her. She’s exaggerating.”

“Sure she is,” William mumbled, eyeing his wife’s flushed features. “If anyone needs something to drink, love, it’s you.”

“Don’t worry about me, honey.” Faith watched with one eyebrow raised as Buffy pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. “We have a plan,” she heard Buffy murmur. “We can spike his drink.”

“With what?”

“With the stuff we made for Buffy,” Buffy’s redheaded friend answered quietly, pulling a little vile of her pocket.

“We’re going to the poison the guy? Alright! Okay, I’m game. Count me in.”

“Faith,” Buffy sighed. Reluctantly, she sat in the chair William had guided her to. “We aren’t going to poison him.”

“But--.” Faith cut herself off once William dismissed her by motioning the other two women into a huddle. She tiptoed close enough to hear him say, “Didn’t we discuss how bad off we’d be if he lost his bloody memory? Isn’t there something else we can give him? Didn’t you learn anything from your hours of research?”

Losing interest in eavesdropping quickly, Faith plopped in a nearby chair. She reclined it back, but couldn’t relax for long. Angel’s lawyer and another officer entered the room.

“Excuse us, but my client refuses to be kept waiting any longer. Who will be performing his interrogation?”

“That would be me,” William replied before Faith could get a word out. “We can start right away. Would you and your client care for something to drink? Hold on, I’ll have someone bring in a pot of coffee.”

“Take care of her,” Faith heard him whisper, his hand suddenly on her shoulder. “Do not let my wife near that room, you hear?”

“Aye aye, boss.”

“And put this in the coffee.” The vile made its way into her palm. “Bring it in after ten minutes, alright?”

She waited a beat before getting out of the chair. She went toward Buffy and was greeted by an impatient wave. It wasn’t welcoming her, it was waving her away. “What are you doing?” Buffy hissed. “Don’t just stand there? Get in there! Go help him!”

“But--.”

“If you don’t go in there, I will!”

Faith sighed, rolling her eyes. “If I’m not his bitch, I’m hers.”

“Faith, are you talking to someone?”

“Just to myself. No worries, B,” she said, giving Buffy and her redheaded friend a silent salute before entering Angel’s room.
***

“Spike.”

“Angelus.”

“You remember Gunn. It’s Attorney Gunn now.”

Faith looked from man to man. Angel, the typical tall good-looking lunkhead with money, was sitting surprisingly straight in his chair for someone who reeked of alcohol. Glued to his face was an overconfident smirk. He sat next to attorney Charles Gunn. He looked just as overconfident as his client did, but he seemed eager to prove something.

Maybe he wants William to believe he’s grown the brains to go along with the monkey suit, Faith wondered. But then, her eyes slid to William beside her. He’s got more to prove than all of them combined. The reformed bad guy turned good guy, the husband to the Mrs. America of goody-good cops.

“That’s alright, guys, don’t break up your glaring match to worry about who I am. I have no badass play yard nickname, I’ve just got this.” She held up a tape recorder and placed it on the table. “You big boys can duke it out all you want, but at some point I need to press this little red button.”

“You can press it now, record whatever you’d like,” Angel began, his eyes never leaving William’s. “I did nothing. It wasn’t my car. In fact, I was never pulled over, was I, Spike?” The nickname made William shift just barely in his chair. “I’m not under arrest. I’d know if I was under arrest, because then I’d be forced to order a hit on a pretty little blonde and her three little kids.”

Faith didn’t even blink as William shot up. She let him tackle Angel to the floor. She only helped by smiling sweetly at Gunn after pinning him against the wall and quickly cuffing his hands behind his back. “Stay in the chair, muscles,” she said, ignoring his yells about violated rights and broken laws.

“Please, oh please, be quiet,” she continued, bored, not trying to compete with his screams. “Okay, you give me no choice.” Enjoying herself, she stuffed his expensive tie into his mouth.

Not stupid enough to get between the two men, Faith patiently stood on the sidelines. Blood was coming from Angel’s nose and mouth. Angel, not quite sober enough to aim a decent punch, had resorted to kicking and scratching. William had three gashes across his face and many more on his arms, but that didn’t faze him. He didn’t say a word, and he hadn’t spoken throughout the brawl, apparently only interested in beating Angel to death.

“You can’t kill him, boss. You shouldn’t kill him.”

“Yeah, what would your kids do with daddy in jail? Three unprotected little brats, or is it four? I heard a rumor that you knocked her up again. Damn Spike, you’re really going hardcore at this domestic thing or—,” Angel paused to grin, ”—are you still making up for the first little brat of hers I exterminated?”

William let out a loud growl. When Angel tried to kick him, William clasped onto his foot and yanked hard, sending Angel flying backward against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

“What is going on in here?!” The door crashed open and Buffy charged in. With fire in her eyes, she scanned the room and Faith flinched once they landed on her. “You were supposed to avoid this, not stand by and watch!”

Hands on her hips, Buffy just barely acknowledged William once the other officers pulled him to his feet. With a heaving chest, she ordered him to be escorted outside. “Cuff him,” she barked, pointing at Angel. “And uncuff his attorney. I’m sorry, Mister… Sir, I’m so sorry. Faith—good God, did you gag him? You gagged his freaking attorney?!”

Buffy continued to apologize as Faith took her time checking each of her pockets for the handcuff keys. “Shit, B. I don’t know what I did with them.”

“Faith,” Buffy fumed.

“Alright, got it.” She held onto the captured man’s wrists and was about to free him when Buffy swayed on her feet. “Hey, Buff, are going to swoon on me?”

“Oh my God. I can’t…” Buffy’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “I can’t look at him. I know him.”

“What?”

“The way he’s looking at me… He wasn’t always bald. He wore a bandana. It was blue and,” instead of finishing, Buffy punched Gunn as hard as she could. His eyes rolled back and his head drooped.

“Way to go! Score one for Mrs. Goody-Good!”

“Ow,” Buffy whined, shaking the punch out of her hand. “He was there the night I was shot. He drove Angel away from the scene. He’s a witness.”

“William didn’t see him that night?”

“He fell apart the moment I went down. He developed tunnel vision. He could only see me. He only cared about me.”

“How sweet,” Faith huffed, not quite impressed.

“How long do you think they’ll be out?”

“The big guy was completely drunk off his ass before he got here. Baldy, here…you might have twenty minutes before he’s back from the dead.”

“But you can sit here and punch him whenever he wakes up, right?”

Faith smiled. “Now that’s a job I’d be happy to do.”
***

Buffy followed their hushed voices to the kitchen. Willow was leaning over her husband with a grimace on her face. “I think Buffy would be better at this,” she said, looking from his bloodied body down to the briefcase-sized first-aid kit. “What about one of the other officers? I’m sure they’d be better at doctoring than me.”

“Just try your best.”

“So, um, this is what six years of pent up anger and frustration leads to.” Willow’s face twisted with sympathy pains as she blotted the gashes on his face. “Buffy told me you haven’t been near him since it happened.”

“Yeah. That’s what she thinks.”

“What does that mean? Wait, maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”

“Somewhere along the line, Angel and I struck a deal.”

“I see.”

“Do you, pet?”

“No, not really, but I’m not sure I want to know more.” Willow gave him a little forced grin. She returned to the first-aid kit and quickly glanced in Buffy’s direction. “Did you make a deal that would keep your family safe?”

“Yeah, just had to stand back and watch as he slithered in and out of the system.”

“You didn’t do anything, right? I mean, you didn’t sabotage cases and hide evidence like they do on TV…right?”

“Are you asking me if I broke the law?” Buffy could only see the back of his head, but she heard the light laugh in his voice. “Angel only needed me for time. I’d stall a bit; his goons did the rest. I kept my distance, didn’t dig, didn’t give it my all; tried my best to make Buffy do the same.”

“And what do you think Buffy’ll say once she finds out?”

“I don’t know. We should probably ask her.” He attempted to face her, but hissed from the pain. “Come here, Summers. Love, my back doesn’t twist that way anymore.”

“You knew she was standing there the whole time?”

“Red, your face is like an open book.”

“It really is,” Buffy agreed quietly. She took a moment to study William. He was leaning against the cabinet, his shirt torn. Yellow bruises and bloody cuts dotted his pale skin. She swallowed and crossed her arms, forcing herself not to touch him. “Angel’s attorney, tell me about him.”

“Charles Gunn, leader of a nasty street gang. Full-time henchman, part-time attorney for Wolfram & Hart.”

“You worked with him too?”

“Why? Did he say something to you?”

“He wouldn’t stop leering at me.”

“Did he say something to you?” William asked more forcefully. “If that son of a bitch--.”

“He didn’t say a word because his tie was jammed down his throat, but that isn’t important. I recognize him. He was there, William. He looked at me and I felt sick. I remembered him and nearly passed out.” William’s eyes grew wide, but before he could speak, she held up her hand. “Can you make them tell the truth?” she asked, looking only at Willow. She crossed her arms over her chest again. “They’re both unconscious now. Can you do anything? I want their own words to bury them. I want confessions.”

“I should be able to. It’s Witchcraft 101. A truth spell’s almost as common as trying to see into the future, which is really tough by the way. I don’t care how talented you are, sometimes it’s just more effective to shake a smelly old Magic Eight Ball.”

“Will you need help?”

“I need a pen and something to write on. Don’t worry about me. I’m guessing you and your hubby have some talking to do.”

Buffy nodded once in response, not saying a word.
***





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