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A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 12: ‘Something About You’





Buffy watched Assistant DA Angel O’Connor as he paced up and down in front of Judge Ethan Rayne, his dark, brooding face was a study in acting. ‘Oh, he’s good,’ Buffy thought with loathing and some admiration for her ex lover. Angel was in the midst of trying to convince Judge Rayne, known for his conservative stances, to place bail for Amy St. Claire at nearly $750,000.00. Lt. Summers did a quick add up in her mind; He wants $300,000.00 for Webster and $450,000.00 for Katerina McClay, she surmised. ‘Crap! If Judge Rayne goes for this, Amy’ll be jail for good, at least until we find enough evidence to clear her.’

“Your Honor,” Angel repeated, his voice full of rich honey tones, “Miss St. Claire is a flight risk. She was caught in her home town of St. David, Arizona, just days after the heinous murders of Holden Webster and Katerina McClay. The DA’s office feels that if Miss St. Claire is given the opportunity again, she will again try to flee justice.” Angel shrugged in his smooth matter of fact way and turned to actually smirk at Buffy. ‘Eat shit,’ Buffy mouthed back at Angel, silently. He must have realized what she mouthed, because he frowned, then scowled at Buffy in stunned anger.

Benjamin Whedon, the Public Defender that had been assigned to Amy St. Claire patted his client’s slim shoulder, assuredly. “Your Honor, Judge Rayne,” Whedon began quietly enough, “Miss St. Claire could not possiby raise the collateral needed on that kind of bail amount. The poor girl could not raise a $100.00, much less…”

Judge Rayne interrupted Whedon’s plea, his British accent clipped, stern and perfect, “then Miss St. Claire should have thought of that before she fled the State of California, Mr. Whedon. A very foolish thing for her to do, if she is indeed innocent of these crimes. However, I am feeling lenient today. I am placing bail bond at $500,000.00 for Amy St. Claire. Court is adjourned and Miss St. Claire will be taken to the Santa Barbara County Jail until her court date or her bond is issued.”

Buffy groaned inwardly; Angel’s team of top notch lawyers looked smugly pleased, while Benjamin Whedon looked physically ill. Amy looked lost, as always. Johnathan Levy, who had graciously joined Buffy in court just whispered, “well,” the elfin bail bondsman sighed in dissapointment, “I guess that’s that.” Shaking her blonde head, sorrowfully, trying not to look Amy in the eye as she was led away, Buffy muttered, “Angel O’Connor,” she murmered at the back of her ex, “you are a first class prick!”

“Let’s go, Johnny,” Buffy groaned to Levy, beside her as she stood to leave the audience seats of the courtroom. Some masochistic sense inside of her forced Buffy to glance at Angel and his legal minions, even as they quietly celebrated their victory of the morning. Angel returned Buffy’s stare, a gleam of control in his dark eyes as he again smirked at her in obvious glee. If Buffy ever wished for psychic powers, it would be right this minute, she realized. ‘I hope you run out of hair gel at the least, Angel O’Connor,’ Buffy tried to send her thoughts to him. ‘If not that, then I hope the next woman you screw over gives you a one-of- a kind STD and your penis drops off!’ She frowned and stormed out of the courtroom.

Outside, Buffy bade farewell to Johnathan Levy who slumped off to his office, she supposed. Buffy just slumped down on a nearby hallway bench and leaned her head back against the wall. ‘I could just kick the hell out of you Angel,’ she thought, frustration was building up inside of her. She sighed unhappily and tried to figure out what the heck she was going to do to help Amy St. Claire out of this horrible mess. However, since her own funds were not enough to help the poor girl, Buffy realized that she might have to just give it up and allow Amy to languish away in jail. ‘Tom, I’m sorry,’ Buffy thought to herself, ‘I just can’t help your Amy now. Forgive me.’

Buffy was about to open her eyes and stand up, at least to escape the jubilant Assistant DA and his group of merry legal men and women as they surely would parade right past her. Before she could do just that, however, she heard a strong, masculine British voice ask, “bad day, luv?” Now she opened her eyes…

Spike had watched Buffy exit the courtroom and could tell at first sight that things had not gone well for her. She looked like she’d been kicked by a horse, or worse, a fucking prick of an Assistant DA by the name of Angel O’Connor. When she told the little leperchaun of a man goodbye, Spike noticed that Buffy’s whole demeanor took on the look of defeat. He pitied Buffy. More then that, he wanted her and Spike realized more then ever that he needed her. Buffy was compassion and good, light over dark and Spike needed her more then anything then he ever had. ‘I’m so fucked,’ he silently admitted to himself, once and for all. ‘She’s imbedded inside me now. Inside my heart and head. It’s that simple.’

When Buffy lay her head back against the wall and closed her gorgeous green eyes, Spike slowly closed the gap between them. He came to a stop, right in front of her and quietly asked her if she’d had a bad day. Spike could tell, she knew exactly who he was, even before he spoke and she opened those mysterious eyes of hers.

“I have had better days,” Buffy responded honestly with a sigh. “A lot of better days, actually.” Spike gave her a sympathetic smile, “wanna’ go for a drink?” he asked evenly. She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “A drink? As in alcohol?” she asked in disbelief. “Spike, it’s 10:30 AM, for God’s sake,” she exclaimed in shock.
“It’s 6:30 PM in London, Princess,” Spike chuckled good-naturedly, “come on. I’ll take you to a decent place, get you good and toasted. I know it’s your day off and all.” Before Buffy could inquire as to how he knew it was her day off, Angel and his minions came out of Courtroom #5 and passed right by Spike and her. O’Connor gave Buffy another smirk, but she noticed he shot Spike a death glare before he headed on down the hallway.

“Nice guy,” Spike muttered snarkily, “a little too much hair gel and he could use a less broody demeanor, but…” Buffy couldn’t help herself, she burst out into tense laughter. “You know what,” she finally said through her chuckles, “I’ll take you up on that offer, Spike. Just lead me to a cantina. I’m all yours.”

Buffy watched Spike’s smirk turn into an all out grin of pleasure as he waggled his dark brows at her. “All mine, eh?” he purred, “there’s an offer I can’t turn down.” He took her by her arm and steered her out into the parking lot of the Sunnydale Courthouse and to his waiting BMW. “How about we go to a beachside bar, sweetheart,” Spike asked as he lit a cigarette and rolled down his window. “You and I seem to do well at the beach together.” He chuckled warmly and winked at Buffy, who just leaned back in the car seat and tried to rest her weary mind.

They had been at the Seaside Bar for over two hours and Buffy was on her third Cosmo. ‘Hold up, girl,’ she warned herself again, ‘you’re losing control here and it’s not of the good to lose control around this gorgeous hunk of a man.’ She gave Spike the once over with her green eyes and took in his face, body, clothes. ‘Why the hell does he wear so much black?’ she wondered silently as she sipped her Cosmo, determined it was her last one of the day. Spike had had just two whiskeys and Buffy was feeling a little like a lush next to him.

The two of them, Spike and her, had discussed everything under the sun, except his cousin’s murder case. Buffy, for the most part was thankful for that. Frankly, truth be told? Buffy was sick and tired of Holden Webster, Katerina McClay, Amy St. Claire and hell, the entire city of Sunnydale at this point. At the moment, Buffy was more concerned with the blue/green waves that crashed on the shoreline outside of the bar and Spike’s indigo blue eyes that watched her, intently.

Spike thought about ordering another round for them, then thought better of it. ‘She’s not a drinker, that’s for sure,’ he surmised as he watched Buffy sipping her Cosmo tentively. ‘Any more and she’ll be way gone. Which,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?’ He smirked to himself then changed his expression to one of curiosity. “Buffy,” he began, careful to word this just right, “tell me some things.” She gave him a wide-eyed doe look, “some things?” she asked in confusion.

“Tell me about my cousin, Holden and how he was. Here in Sunnydale and all. His life, as you knew it. I’m sure it was totally different then my take on it. I want to know about Hold’s problems, his run-ins with the law, everything. If you would, tell me about his relationship with Miss McClay, what you know about that. This apparent obsession of his with Amy St. Claire, that Andrew Price bloke and even your late partner, Thomas Ford.”

Buffy sat up, suddenly quite awake and sober. “What do you know about Tom Ford?” she asked quietly her eyes wide and anxious. “Only a little,” Spike seemed to be sincere to Buffy. “Only what someone found out for me.” She suddenly felt lightheaded and a little sick, but she swallowed her nervousness and asked, “what someone found out for you?” ‘Why the hell does he suddenly look so guilty and nervous himself?’ she wondered.

Spike sighed loudly and resisted the urge to light up an unlawful cigarette in the bar. “Buffy,” he began with some hesitation, “I had a friend of mine do some ‘research’ on you and the people in your life. Now don’t get cross with me,” he ordered gently. “I just wanted to know something about you. Something besides your cop life and everything. Found out about Thomas Ford, his association with you, St. Claire. Found out he’d died after drinking too much and driving.” She held up her hand quickly, “wait,” she mumbled.

“Tom Ford,” she started, sorrow in her green eyes, “he was a good guy. Stupid of him to get mixed up with a seventeen-year-old, I know, but maybe he could have helped her. If he’d lived. I don’t know,” Buffy looked out of the bar’s window, “it was weird, really. Tom,” she continued, “he never drank that much. Alcohol I mean. Really weird, even if he felt bad or guilty. About my baby and the gun shot wound that caused my miscarriage. About poor Amy. I guess that’s why I feel such an obligation to Amy, for Tom’s sake. I don’t know, it was always just so weird.”

“Actually,” Buffy continued, thoughtfully, “the best person in Sunnydale to discuss your cousin with is Rupert Giles. He’s a kind of omnipresent detective, desk job really, at my precinct. He knows more about your cousin Holden Webster then probably your own family. All the ugly stuff as far as Holden’s evil doings around here,” she noted the disturbed expression on Spike’s face. “Sorry, just being honest,” Buffy finished quickly.



Spike nodded sympathetically, “well, that was my cousin Hold’s world,” he said softly, “weird. At least on this side of the Pond.” Buffy was watching him, intently, her green eyes gazed at him, bore right into his soul. “You loved him, Holden that is,” she stated more then asked. He nodded quickly, “we were best buddies as children. Our Dads, they didn’t have much time for us. Always some crap, more important to do . You know.” Spike knew he sounded like a weakling with his sad, wistful tone, but he didn’t care. For some reason, he didn’t have a problem speaking in front of Buffy like this. Openly, honestly. She just brought out something in him, a long forgotten softer side of Spike. Actually, more of the William he once was.

“I cannot cover Amy’s bail bond, Spike,” Buffy murmered softly as she finished her drink and set it down on the little table between them. “I’m not a Hearst, much less a Getty, and I’ve not enough savings to cover any of it. Johnathan Levy, my little buddy of a bail bondsman said it’s a lost cause. I guess everything about me just screams lost causes. Doesn’t it? I mean, my marriage. Tom and Amy’s doomed romance that I turned a blind eye to. My screwed up relationship with Angel O’Connor? I won’t even go into poor Parker and how I treated him….I’m a mess, plain and simple.”

Spike was beginning to get very angry with Buffy, but not because she was really any of the things she accused herself of being. No, he was pissed because she had actually seemed to buy into all the bullshit that these so called men in her life had tried to lay on her. “How long are you going to buy into this bullshit that these losers you’ve tied yourself up hand out to you, Buffy,” he asked sternly. He knew his eyes flashed angry with harshness, something he didn’t like but couldn’t help.

“I don’t know,” Buffy responded weakly, “I’m kind of on a wave of bullshit overload and I’m not sure if I can wade out of it.” The couple looked at each other for a moment, in silence, then broke out in peals of laughter together. “Made you laugh again,” Buffy giggled at Spike warmly. “That you did,” Spike grinned back at her in admiration.

They left the bar, three hours after arriving and Buffy was beyond ‘happy’ she was toasted. If Spike had not been with her to help her manuveur out the door, down the pier that the bar sat on and to his car? Well, Buffy would probably be running amok in the waves of the Pacific, her proper skirt tossed aside on the sand; her perfect blouse unbuttoned to allow the sea breeze to whisper about her demi-bra clad breasts. Inhibitions thrown to the wind.

“I think,” Buffy slurred, a little embarrassed by now, “that you’d better get me home and into bed, Mr. Spike.” She tried not to notice the smirk on his rather cute mouth as he helped her into his BMW. “Yup,” he agreed simply. “I mean,” she continued in the most lady like manner, “just get me home, Mr. Spike. Nothing more. I’m perfectly capable of betting myself to ged. I meant, metting byself to ged. I mean. Oh forget it!” she sighed in exasperation as she slumped back into Spike’s car seat.

Spike was in a real dilema here. He had the pefect opportunity to get this tasty little morsel upstairs into her apartment; get her undressed and snuggled down into her assuredly comfy bed, then seduce the hell out of her. Tempting, no question, but then what? How satisfying would that be? Maybe a quick gratification would do for any other bloke, or any other bird. However, where this little golden Goddess was concerned? Hardly. And how about himself? Didn’t he deserve to have Buffy sober, willing ready and most importantly, able?

“Tell you what, Princess,” Spike chuckled as he eyed her prone little body up and down. “I’ll get you home, get you upstairs and yes, maybe even get you into your nice safe little bed. But,” and he gave her the most serious look of his life, “I won’t take advantage of you. Promise.” If he didn’t know better, Spike could swear that Buffy looked almost ‘dissapointed’ but he wrote it off as wishful thinking.

As they drove back to Buffy’s apartment, she began to think back to the questions Spike had asked of her. “Why?” she a inquired suddenly of him, careful not to sound too very sharp or curt.

“Why what?” he asked with a smile, careful to keep his eyes on the road. “Why do you want to know about Tom Ford?” She noticed his eyes grow narrower and he lit another cigarette, then pulled over to the side of the highway. Spike turned off the car then turned to face her, his expression very serious and thoughtful.

“Well,” Spike began with hesitation, “a couple of reasons, really. I don’t know quite how to tell you this, Buffy, but I’ve got reason to believe that a lot more people in ‘your’ world were involved with my cousin, Holden, then anyone might realize. Buffy sat up, suddenly less ‘tipsy’ then minutes earlier, she looked both puzzled and pissed Spike thought.

“What does that mean?” she asked quietly. “Well,” he ran his hands through his blonde hair, nervously. “The other night, after our little thing on your couch…” Buffy blushed furiously and Spike had to keep from laughing out loud, she was too adorable when she blushed. She was also too adorable when she worried her bottom lip with her tiny teeth, which she was doing right now.

“It’s all right Buffy,” Spike chuckled, “anyway, about later, when I was pulled over for speeding.” Now she looked really embarrassed as she realized how upset he had been after the other night and their botched love making attempt. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and continued, somberly.

“The cop that pulled me over, maybe you know him? Got a face like a choir boy, young. His name was something Doyle and he acted as if he knew me by sight. I don’t remember seeing him, ever and I’ve a pretty good memory for cops’ faces.” He watched her reaction, intently.

“Doyle?” she murmered thoughtfully, “I do know of him. He’s new, and yes, he does look like a kid. However,” she worried her bottom lip again, “I can’t imagine how he knows you.” Spike nodded determinidly, “that’s what I figured,” he finished evenly.

“Buffy,” he reached out and patted her arm tenderly, “there’s something wrong with this whole Sunnydale, perfect township, picture and it’s not just because of my dead cousin Holden. Although, I think he’s still involved with what’s been going on around here and how your own life has been touched by it. I can’t say more then that, I’m not even sure what ‘it’ is or who’s involved. I just don’t think anyone is really sure who are truly the good guys, or bad guys in this Sunnydale of yours. Just please, be very, very careful. And, don’t worry too much. I’ve got your back, Buffy.” His tone was even and somewhat comforting, but he knew his expression was a sincerely worried one.

Buffy had a million questions, but she remained quiet for the rest of the trip to her apartment. When Spike had pulled into the complex parking lot, she sighed slightly and began to open the car door, “thanks for the ride, Spike,” she began as she tried to get out of the car. Imagine her embarrassament when she almost fell out of the car onto the pavement of the parking area.

“Okay, Princess,” Spike grabbed her from the driver’s seat, “wait right there. You’re getting a walk up by yours truly, luv.” He tried not to laugh again, poor Buffy was as red as a beet and looked absolutely miserable with herself. “I’ll be fine,” she quipped abrubtly.

“Nope, I’m walking you up, sweetheart,” he insisted as he got out of his side of the car and hurried around to hers. When looked up at him, Spike reached into the car and literally picked her up in his strong arms. “Don’t make a fuss, Buffy,” he ordered good-naturedly, “I can’t have you falling on your stairwell and breaking that luscious neck or arse of yours, can I?”

Buffy actually giggled, horribly enough, giggled like a girly-girl. She was instantly mortified! “Okay,” she continued to giggle, despite her embarrassment, “but no funny stuff Mister!” she ordered as he carried her up the stairs to her front door. After he set her down, on her feet, Buffy dug in her purse for her keys. When she found them, Spike took them, gently from her shaky hands. “Let me,” he offerred with a gentle tone in his voice. Of course, Buffy just had to invite him in, he’d been so very kind, right?

“I’d offer you a drink but…” Buffy looked about her apartment, nervously. “It’s all right, luv,” Spike assured her with a warm chuckle. “However,” he closed the small gap between them, “I would like to take ‘you’ for a drink, and dinner and anything you want to do. I would love to take you tonight (!), but I’ve a feeling you won’t go for that. So, how about tomorrow night? Dinner, with me?”

Buffy scrunched up her pretty brows and pursed her luscious lips. Lips that Spike would just love to kiss, right then and there. However, he would bide his time, at least until tomorrow night. ‘Say yes,’ he prayed silently to God, ‘say yes, Buffy.’

“Okay, Spike,” Buffy finally answered shyly, “I’ll go to dinner with you. I’ll meet you and…” He shook his head firmly, “nope, I’m picking you up. Here. Come on Buffy, don’t let me in if you don’t want to, but at least let me take you and see you home.”

She relented and nodded her head, “okay. Tomorrow night. What should I wear?” she asked innocently. “Whatever you want, luv,” he grinned at her happily, “I know you’ll look gorgeous.” Spike said goodbye with a promise to call her at work tomorrow morning, early to firm up their plans.

After Buffy had seen Spike out, she picked up her cordless phone and dialed Anya’s dress shop quickly. “Anya,” she greeted her partner’s girlfriend, “I need a dress. By tomorrow afternoon. No, a red one, daring, but classy. Yes, this time it ‘is’ the Brit Billy Idol wanna’ be. Yeah, I think I’m going to enjoy this date. So, I need a great dress; one that screams ‘lady’ but ‘loving’ you know? In other words, a dress that can be described in one word: ‘Deadly’


A/N: Long chapter. I’m going to keep submitting this story and hope it generates more interest. Spuffy is definitely up next chapter. Of course, Spike/Buffy’s date will be anything but ‘deadly’! Thanks for reading, please review, we love reviews…Luv, Spuf





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