[Reviews - 229]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2438 times

- Text Size +




A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 16: ‘Being Here’


“Now I am in hell,” Buffy repeated to the door her forehead rested on.

Buffy glanced back at her bedroom, nervously, worried that Spike would suddenly appear out of it and confront Angel.

“Angel, what do you want?” she called through the door, never intending on actually opening the damn thing.

“I need to talk to you Buff,” he whined loudly, “face to face. It’s about Amy St. Claire and the Webster Empire. I think you should know something about this cousin of Webster’s. This Spike fool…”

Buffy groaned, again, and unlocked the front door, “make it fast Angel,” she ordered, curtly. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of tied up right now and…”

Angel looked Buffy up and down, gave her a questioning look, then plopped down, uninvited on her couch. “Busy are we?” he asked sarcastically.

“You could say that, now tell me what the hell you want, here and now? At ‘my’ home?” Buffy folded her arms across her robe covered chest and took a very commanding stance (or so she hoped).

“Do you have any idea how Amy St. Claire made bail on $500,000.00, this very morning, Buffy?” Angel looked like he was about to keel over from a heart attack, or worse as he finished his question.

“No idea,” Buffy responded, a little shakier voiced then she would have liked.

‘Jesus!’ she thought to herself, ‘who the hell…’ but the thought remained unanswered. His majesty, King Angel chimed in before she could finish it.

“Your buddy, Spike Williamson, the Billy Idol wannabe, had some English flunky go down to Levy and Chase Bonds and put the cash up. All of it! What the fuck is going on here, Buffy? How’d you ‘talk’ Williamson into putting up that much money and why is this British freak even in this town? Ever wonder that one?”

He looked so smug, Angel did, that Buffy felt like smacking that smirk off of his handsome face.

“He’s here to see to his cousin’s case, his funeral, I guess. Oh shit, Angel, I don’t know but…”

Before either Angel or Buffy could say another angry word at each other, Spike appeared, half dressed of course, from Buffy’s bedroom.

“Why don’t you let the lady ask me herself, O’Connor,” Spike drawled lazily as he closed the gap between Buffy and himself. When he reached her, Spike wrapped his arms about Buffy’s slim waist and pulled her to his own body.

For some reason, a very unfamiliar feeling came over Buffy at that moment. Imagine how shocked she was when she realized just what that feeling was.

‘Shit,’ she flinched slightly in realization, ‘Spike’s being here for me. I am being been here for! Spike is showing Angel that I, Buffy Summers, have a real live man of men standing up for me. This is so freakin’ weird, to have a guy actually stand up beside, okay, behind me and actually just be there for me!’

“Well, Buffy luv,” Spike murmered, loud enough for Angel to hear, “why don’t you just ask me about the bail I had my mate, Wesley put up for your friend, Amy St. Claire?”

Buffy grinned like a loon, for a moment, then asked quietly, her eyes still riveted on Angel, “why did you have your ‘mate’ Wesley put up the bond, Spike?” She felt Spike clutch her even closer to him.

“Because, Princess,” Spike began evenly, “actually it’s not me who had the money put up. It was really Wesley himself, and it was Holden’s money to begin with, well kind of anyway. However, kitten,” Spike continued as he planted an innocent kiss on the side of Buffy’s golden head, “I rather choose to discuss this with you, precious, alone. Not in front of the great ‘Brood King’ over here. Hey, O’Connor,” Spike chuckled suddenly, “isn’t this considered some kind of conflict of interests for you? I mean, bloody hell, boy, should you even be here, grilling one of the main investigating cops in her own domicile?”

Angel literally leapt up, his fists clenched at his side.
“I just want to protect you, my little Buffy,” he growled lowly, his glare on Spike. “This fool comes to town, turns your head with money and promises and…”

“Okay, Angel, that’s enough,” Buffy hissed with a very unnattractive scowl on her pretty face. “You should leave now, Angel,” she pointed at the door, “and, for the record, I am not your Buffy. Not anymore, especially since you dumped me for your soon to be ex.”

Angel hung his dark head, frowned, but then followed Buffy’s pointing finger to her front door.

“This isn’t over, Williamson,” Angel growled again at Spike before he slipped out of Buffy’s front door.

“Not by a long shot, fuck face,” Spike muttered to Angel’s retreating form.

After Angel left, Buffy turned, rather defiantly, and faced down Spike. Her angelic face was anything but sweet at this moment, but Spike kept her gaze, manly like even as he picked up his cell phone and speed dialed a certain number.

“Who the hell are you calling?” Buffy asked, indignantly.

“My cousin, Wesley Rhys-Smythe,” Spike responded simply as he waited for the other line to pick up.

“Wesley,” Spike chimed in greeting, “I need you to drop by my girl’s place. Yes, Buffy Summers’ apartment. Hold on, here’s directions and such, mate.”

Buffy stood, her arms still crossed over her chest, her mouth wide open in utter shock at the audacity of this man. This really manly man of a man who stood up to Angel O’Connor and dismissed him like nothing.

‘Okay, Buffy,’ she told herself, trying to get her emotions under control, ‘just let this play out. See what happens.’

Spike clicked his cell off and smiled, benevolently at Buffy, ‘like an freakin’ angel,’ he thought as he eyed his lady love.

“Why is Wesley whatchamacallit coming here?” Buffy asked, skeptically.

Spike walked over to Buffy, took her in his strong arms and smiled down at her lovingly.

“My cousin, Wesley, he’s a genious at number crunching, sweet. Was him found out about the ‘clause’ in old Holden’s will. Made sure everything went about like it should have, quickly. Besides,” Spike grinned widely, “I told him to stop and pick up breakfast and coffee for all of us…should be here any moment and…”

Buffy rolled her green eyes in exasperation, “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

“Can I come too?” Spike smirked at her, his left brow raised in question.

“No,” Buffy answered huffily, “I’m showering alone. You wait here for your so called cousin!” She turned and stomped off to her bathroom to wash off the wonderful, naughty, loving and really terrific remnants of the night before.

When Buffy exited the bathroom, showered, shampooed and dressed in her faded jeans and a halter, Spike actually whistled softly.

“You, Buffy darling, are beautiful!” he murmered happily.

“Hmmm,” Buffy rolled her eyes again and was just about to remark in her ‘quippy’ style, when there was a nice, polite knock at her front door.

Buffy hurried over to the door, peeked through the peep hole and then turned to glare at Spike, with a soft menance of something, she hoped.

“This cousin of yours?” she asked, “is he tallish, dark, handsome and totally…”

“That’s Wes,” Spike growled, feeling a sense of jealousy over take him. ‘How the fuck does she do that? Make over my poncey cousin Wes when she doesn’t even know him?’

Buffy threw the door open and welcomed Spike’s cousin in with open arms, figuratively speaking.

“Hi,” she bubbled with enthusiasm, “I’m Buffy Summers. You must br Wesley?”

The dark haired man smiled, almost shyly and reached out to take Buffy’s hand in a warm shake.

“Nice to meet you, at last, Miss Summers,” Wesley mumbled, trying not to look at Spike.

“Please, call me Buffy, Wesley,” Buffy offerred warmly, catching Spike’s jealous glare from the corner of his startling blue eyes.

“Sit down, Mr. Wesley Rhys-Smythe,” Buffy offerred coyly, still checking out Spike, who seemed to be going silently ballistic.

“Thank you Miss Summers,” Mr. Rhys-Smythe responded warmly, “I can see that you are a true lady, through and through and…”

“Get to the bloody point, Wes,” Spike growled impatiently.

“Please, Mr. Smythe,” Buffy continued with a wicked grin, “like I said, please call me Buffy.”

Wesley looked so damned pleased that Spike felt the urge to rip his throat out and shove it up his…

“Wes?” Spike nodded, an almost angry look in his blue eyes, “go ahead then?”

“Yes, well,” Wesley began with some hesitation, “my cousin, here, by marriage, William, I mean Spike, he asked me to come over and enlighten you, Miss S…Buffy.”

“Enlighten me?” Buffy asked, cluelessly, except for the hot cup of coffee from Starbucks that this Wesley had brought them all. That and the muffins he must have hand picked.

“It was Wesley here,” Spike broke in, “he found the Will and Testament of our cousin, Holden’s. Some interesting things in that Will, Buffy, my sweet,” Spike continued as he watched her reaction.

“It was Holden’s money, made your Miss St. Claire’s bail, Buffy,” Wesley chimed in. He had the most handsome, angelic look on his face.

“Well, no, that’s not right,” Wesley continued, “it was actually money that Holden left Amy St. Claire and young Harley.”

Buffy was totally confused now and she did not even try to hide it.

“Amy and Harley?” she asked innocently. “Who’s Harley?”

Spike nodded at Wesley and the dark haired man cleared his throat before he finished some of the tale.

“Harley, Buffy,” Wesley blushed and looked away for a moment, “apparently is Amy St. Claire’s and our cousin Holden’s ‘love child’ so to speak.”

Buffy almost fainted dead away. She shook her blond head and glanced at Spike then Wesley.

“Love child?” she inquired, still dazed.

“Yes,” Wesley affirmed then glanced at Spike who nodded at Buffy. “It seems that Ms. St Claire had more of a connection to our cousin, Holden Webster then anyone realized. Apparently,” the Brit continued, “this Amy St. Claire had this boy, Harley St. Claire, back somewhere around the year 2000 or so. Somewhere in Los Angeles. After she Amy and Andrew Price returned to Sunnydale, Miss St. Claire, sans young Harley. It seems that the mother, Amy that is, deposited her young son in St. David, Arizona, which might explain why your police force picked her up there?”

“So,” Buffy flopped down on the couch next to Spike, “you’re telling me that Amy St. Claire and Holden Webster are the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy? And,” Buffy scrunched up her brows in puzzlement, “that Holden, in an act of unusual gallantry, claimed this child? Left him and his Mother, Amy, money in his will?”

Wesley nodded, his serious expression sent shivers down Buffy’s spine.

“Buffy,” Spike finally spoke up, “my cousin, Holden left Amy St. Claire and their son, Harley, close to $1,250,000.00. Wes here, he found it and also found a way to rush the information through the regular channels.”

Buffy was so stunned, she could not, for once, respond with a witty quip or anything. She just sat on her couch, next to Spike and focused her gaze at the lovely coffee table she bought at an antique shop.

“See, luv,” Spike finally broke the silence again, “my cousin, Holden, completely accepted this boy, Harley, as his son. He made certain provisions for the mother and the boy, made sure they had some coverage. When Wesley told my family about this, made sure the poor chit got her bail from her end of it. Thought it was best, Wes and me. Hope you’re not pissed off and such Buffy.”

She gazed at Spike, before she knew what she was doing, Buffy placed her hands on his chiseled cheeks and leaned into his mouth with her lips. When they were mere inches apart, she whispered, “not pissed at all, Will.”

“Amy,” Buffy mumbled, “she’s got enough money to care for herself, here in Sunnydale. While this is all mucked out, I mean?” Buffy asked.

Wesley grinned happily, “more then enough, Buffy. Holden made sure of that. I’m in charge of everything and I promise, I won’t let anyone down. I’ve made sure Miss St. Claire’s apartment is secluded, paid for and totally taken care of. The boy, Harley, he is safe with his Grandmother in St. David, the old man, Mr. St. Claire, died a couple of years ago. Everything is fine, Buffy,” Wesley assured her.

Buffy stared at the coffee table, continuously, then finally sighed, “why?”

Spike took her in his arms and kissed the top of her golden head, affectionately. “Because,” he began carefully, “my cousin wanted it that way. Holden was sure that young Harley was his, so be it then.”

Wesley suddenly blushed bright red then kind of stammered softly, “Miss Chase, Cordelia that is,” he paused in embarrassment.

“Cordy?” Buffy asked with a grin.

“She, uhm, she is a Miss, right?” Wesley asked, his dark eyes were veiled in shyness.

“Yes,” Buffy offerred with another grin, “she was married, once. Divorced, no children, why do you ask Wesley?”

The dark man looked down at his well polished shoes, “just kind of wondered, you know.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s waist with his hand and nodded at his ‘girl’ to lighten up on his cousin.

“Cordelia Chase is the epitome of class, Wesley,” Buffy stifled a giggle. “She is the daughter of a Sunnydale councilman and although she married young, the first time, she bounced back with real style. Cordy and I have been friends for years, since High School, and although she’s a little snobby at times, she is a good person at heart.”

Wesley looked so damned happy that Buffy just had to throw in a kind of icing on the cake remark: “You know, Wesley,” she braved a smile at the dashing man, “I have to say that you are Cordelia Chase’s type, totally.”

The dark haired man looked so stunned that Buffy had to stifle another giggle.

“Well, thank you, Miss Sum…I mean Buffy,” Wesley stammered, looking at Spike with confusion.

Spike smiled at his cousin, Wesley, then kind of looked at Buffy’s front door. ‘Leave mate, now, while the getting’ is good,” he pointed his chin at the door to emphasize his motives.

“Oh, right then,” Wesley hopped up from the couch and headed toward Buffy’s front door. “I hope this pleases you Buffy,” Wes smiled gregariously as Spike showed him out.

“It pleases me, Wesley,” Buffy chuckled as she watched the two men manuveur around each other, “and thank you,” she added.

When Spike showed Wesley the front door, the younger, dark haired man grinned at him, affectionately. “I understand now, Spike,” Wesley chortled happily. “Miss Buffy Summers is quite special indeed.”

“Too right, Wes,” Spike nodded even as he showed his cousin the stairwell.

When Spike turned about, after closing and locking Buffy’s door, he found his love sitting on her couch, her blond brows scrunched up in serious thought.

“What is it, Princess?” Spike asked with concern as he sat on the couch next to Buffy.

“Well,” Buffy began with a pause, then continued weakly, “it’s about Amy, her son. Her son and Holden’s. If Amy didn’t kill Holden and Katerina because of old fashioned jealousy, then what if she killed ‘him’ because of the money? She might have known about the will, Spike,” Buffy continued with a frown.

“What if,” Buffy continued nervously, “Amy’s motive for murder was not jealousy, but financially? This could sew it up for the prosecution. A love child? Money left to Amy and her son in a will? Angel, the lovely, smart and very ambitious Angel O’Connor could use this, Spike. Against Amy, her son and us.”





You must login (register) to review.