“They’re dead. They were brothers. Well, three were and one was just a friend. Seemed they made their living this way, and they all lived together in the same house on the other side of town.”
“How did they die? How were they found?”
“Fingerprints. The lost art. They weren’t apparently very bright thieves.”
“They wore gloves though,” Buffy said, frowning.
“Not when they dismantled the alarm and the cameras. Or put their hands on the garage door, and the basement door….They were tracked down, only by the time the cops made it down there, they’d already been murdered.”
“Murdered? How?” Buffy whispered.
“Shot in the chest.”
Buffy felt sick.
“Buffy, luv, it’s all right.” He took her hand and led her to the table, pulled out a chair for her and made her sit, kneeling before her, he took her hand in his and squeezed it.
“How do they know that all of them were thieves? I mean, it’s conceivable that not all of them were.”
“They were all thieves, Buffy. They had a shitload of garbage they’d obviously stolen and a couple of them had warrants out for their arrest already.”
“So, they used gloves in those houses?” Buffy joked lightly, feeling light-headed.
Spike chuckled, “Yeah, they got cocky most likely. Hit so many houses and got away with it that they didn’t think. It just takes one slip to end a lifetime of crime.”
“I don’t feel so well.”
“Baby, what is it?”
Had she been feeling better, she might have responded to the ‘baby’, but after hearing about her robber’s demise she felt ill.
“I just…I know they’re criminals and they need to be taken care of, but I didn’t wish death on them. I just wanted them to be caught and brought to justice, not to be murdered…I don’t, I don’t get it. As silly as it sounds, it’s like everyone that comes in contact with me, ends up dying. Do they know who did it?”
“No, they don’t. Not yet. Probably friends who were thugs that wanted a cut of something. That’s the way it always is with criminals like that.”
“Any leads?”
“Buffy, luv, relax.”
“Spike, I just don’t like this. I feel like death is all around me…”
He hated seeing her so distraught. She was positively trembling and she’d grown considerably paler. He could see how she might feel the way she did, but it was also far-fetched. They were criminals, with most likely, criminal friends. And those criminal friends were probably the ones that did it.
From her angle though, he supposed he could see how she made the links. First her boyfriend and so-called best friend, and then a short time after that, the thieves that rob her home are murdered.
“Luv, come on, how about we go out for breakfast, hmmm? Let’s get you out of here and into some fresh air, all right?”
She looked up at him, slightly dazed. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you think it’s possible that they’re still linked to Parker and Gwen?”
“I thought you didn’t think they were to begin with.”
“I didn’t, but I still hoped. If they were part of it then we’d be closer to finding out who the killer is.”
“Buffy, we will find who did it. We will, pet, I promise.”
She nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. He stood abruptly, the urge to hold her overwhelming him. Tugging on her hand, he encouraged her to stand. “Let’s go. Come on, we’re gonna get some breakfast. My treat.”
“Spike, you don’t have to—“
“Hush,” he said lightly, smiling and leaning in slightly. Big mistake. One look into her gorgeous green eyes and he was lost. His gaze dropped to her glossed lips and he felt himself losing a battle he knew he had to keep.
Stepping away, he smiled again, confidently. Her purse was on the counter and he handed it to her as he led her down to the basement. This was just what they needed. Time out in public away from temptation.
She had an appetite, Buffy did. Out at the local IHOP, Buffy ordered waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, and then asked for extra strawberries and toast. He found it funny that she asked for wheat bread. What was the point after all the waffles; strawberries dipped in sugar and whipped cream? But hey, that was his Buffy.
No…not his.
“Spike?” Buffy asked uncertainly as she took in a mouthful of waffles.
“Yes?” he asked, sipping his stronger than hell coffee.
“Um, can you tell me more about your stepfather?”
“Sergeant Rayne?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“Don’t start with that again.”
She gave him a dirty look.
“Pet, it’s not important,” he said, feeling guilty for bringing last night to her attention.
“Fine.”
It was anything but fine, Spike could tell that.
He heaved a sigh, “All right.” Except, she wasn’t looking at him, she was focusing intently on her breakfast, at the people next to them, at the people across the room from him – basically anywhere that was not him.
Putting his hand on hers, he stared at her, waiting for her to look at him. She did after some time and he could tell it was with great reluctance. “Yes?”
“Sergeant Rayne married my mother a month after my father died.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh.’ The corpse wasn’t even cold yet and they’d …they’d been carrying on behind my father’s back for years.”
“How did they meet?”
“Rayne was adopted into the family when he was a boy by my grandparents. He came over to the States a few years after my father to see if he too could find a new life here.”
Buffy’s jaw dropped, “So, he’s your uncle too?”
“Unfortunately. You could say I’m a poor man’s Hamlet. Rayne found what he wanted all right….my father’s wife. My darling mother.”
“Oh Spike…”
“Look, don’t be feeling sorry for me all right?” Spike snapped.
“Stop being such an ass,” she snapped right back, shocking the hell out of him. “It’s not that I feel sorry for you. It’s that it’s a horrible situation to have to be in; I can see how angry you are about it. Anyone would be. There’s nothing wrong with someone sympathizing with your situation, Spike. If we all went around not caring at all about others, then what kind of world would we live in?”
Spike stared at her, feeling something prickling behind his eyes that felt uncharacteristically like tears. How was that possible?
“Did your father ever find out?” Buffy continued, as if that little outburst had not happened.
Spike cleared his throat, “No, he never did.”
“Well, at least there’s that, right? How did your father die?”
“Heart attack.”
“Was he a cop too?”
“Yes. He had Rayne’s place.”
“My God. No wonder you hate him. How long ago did this happen?”
“A year ago my father died.”
“Ever consider moving?”
Spike barked out a laugh at her innocent question. “I have. But…I got my niche there, you know? Besides, I’m horrible at saving money and I make crap. You’ve seen my apartment. It’s a shithole—“
“Spike, it’s really not that bad. You just don’t decorate.”
He guffawed, “That’s a girl thing to do.”
Cocking her head to the side, she gave him an ‘oh really?’ look. “That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard you say. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you can’t decorate. I’m not saying you have to go out and buy fluffy bath mats or anything, but you could put up pictures of things that interest you. My brother has an appreciation for art, so he likes to gather pieces of art that catch his eye.”
“He gay?”
“Are you a child? No, he's not gay. He has a girlfriend as a matter of fact.”
“That doesn’t mean much.” He really didn’t mean that comment, but seeing her get riled up was fun to watch. Now, he was pretty much just goading her.
“Shut up, Spike,” she said, bristling and going back to her breakfast.
He laughed and put his hand under her chin, making her look at him. “Pet, I’m just kidding. I was just trying to get you going.”
She batted his hand away. “Just because your mother was awful in what she did to your father, and just because you flit around thinking it’s all right to treat women like a piece of meat, and just because you’ve seen things that most haven’t, and just because you’re jaded because of all of that, it does not make you an authority on anything, Spike. As far as I can see, you’ve got a lot to learn about life.”