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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?’





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