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A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 17: ‘If It’s Tuesday…..’


A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this fic. Thanks for the reviews. Luv, Spuf


“Listen to me Buffy,” Spike took her in his arms as he spoke.

His blue eyes, so full of honesty, not clouded or covert or secretive to Buffy. Not like other men in her life who had been like this. Spike, or William as she preferred now, his eyes were open and truthful. William’s eyes met and kept her gaze, never wavered or looked away from her.

That or he was an exceptional actor.

“If you believe that this little chit, Amy St. Claire, didn’t kill off my cousin? Then I believe it Buffy. Wesley does too. You said it yourself, luv,” he continued seriously, stroking her cheek with his long fingers, “you know this girl more then anyone else around this bloody awful town. You say she’s innocent, no matter what that idiotic ex of yours thinks, or claims to think anyway.”

Buffy gave Spike an odd look, “what is it about Angel O’Connor that you detest so?” she asked with a slight smirk.

“He’s a pompous arse, first of all,” Spike chuckled in response. “Secondly, he stupidly broke off with a treasure like you to seek his ‘higher ambitions’ so to speak. Man must be insane…”

She began to giggle, evoking such a happy, warm feeling in Spike that he was almost afraid for moment.

‘This little one is going to definitely be the end all for me,’ he assured himself, not very unhappy with that thought at all. ‘If we’re not together, permenantly, by the time this mess is finished? I’ll be bloody shocked, or dead.’

“I’ve got some eggs, bread for toast and everything to make an omelette, William,” Buffy stated, shyly. “Why don’t I make some real breakfast/brunch for us?”

Spike brushed a long, golden tress behind Buffy’s little ear, “I’d like that, Princess,” he admitted softly. “I’ll help you sweet,” he added as he followed her to the kitchen.

Tuesday morning, Buffy nearly sashayed into her office at the precinct. She was, Buffy that is, full of life, vigor and vim. Spike had stayed with her, last night, again, after he had treated her to a lovely supper at a wonderful little café in Sunnydale.

‘Wow,’ Buffy hummed to herself as she sat in her chair and eyed her phone message light. ‘I’m such a lucky…’

She hit the ‘listen’ button and waited for the messages on her phone:

1) “Buffy,” came Rupert Giles voice; “please pop in this morning and see me…..it’s quite imperitive.”

‘Oh God,’ Buffy groaned, ‘let me guess, Angel
brought poor Giles up to date on my love life
and…’

2) “Buffy, it’s Spike,” came William’s lovely
British accent; “just wanted to ‘thank you’
For the last few days and such. I’m uhm,
Counting the minutes until I see you again….”

Buffy blushed profusely, then giggled like a
School girl.

3) “It’s Willow,” came the next message,
“you are scheduled for an appointment,
sweetie, this afternoon. It’s at 1:00 PM.
Be there or be square…..”

4) “Summers,” came Captain Wilkens’ deep
voice, “I need to see you, ASAP!”

“Great,” Buffy sighed in frustration, “what
now? Poor Amy is the female coming of the
anti-Christ?”

5) “Buffy?” Connor’s voice echoed
over the line. “Dawn, I took her to the hospital, today. It’s about 7:30 or so, Buffy, she’s in labor and…..”

Buffy ignored the rest of the messages, but did, however, dial her Captain quickly.

“Captain,” she began anxiously, “my sister, Dawn, she’s in the hospital. I think the baby’s coming and I need to get to her.”

“Go on then, Summers,” Wilkens responded gruffly. “But when all this is over, you and me, we need to talk.”

Buffy grabbed her cup of Starbucks coffee and rushed out of the office, right past Xander Harris. He, Xander, was chatting amicably with some tootsie of a female clerk who was just hanging on his every word. The big oaf was practically drooling on this bimbette.

“Xander,” Buffy paused long enough to give both him and this upstart a quick scowl, “one word, Anya!” Then she furthered the statement, “freakin’ grow up!” she hissed.

“Where the hell are you going?” Xander asked innocently as the bimbo clerk shot death stares at Buffy.

“My sister is having her baby,” Buffy shouted back at him, “sorry, more important things to do. It’s Tuesday, Dawnie must need me!”

Spike nervously paced about his hotel room, smoking incessantly and thinking about Buffy. He had not been able to think about anything else since three nights ago when he and Buffy had first ‘slept’ together.

“She’s going to kill me with affection,” he admitted again, with just a hint of contentment. “That girl is going to rope me in, actually,” he reasoned, quite sanely, “she already has.”

Spike’s cell phone rang, the shrill tone of the bell almost sent him through the ceiling. He hoped, totally, that this was Buffy, returning his call from her office.

“Spike,” Wesley’s strong voice came over the line when he answered, “I have more information on that ‘problem’ you asked about.”

The blond Brit sat down on the hotel’s couch and lit another cigarette. Spike was almost a little apprehensive about what his cousin, Wes, might tell him.

“Go ahead, Wes,” Spike sighed gruffly, “give it to me.”

By the time Buffy made it to the Sunnydale Hospital, her little sister, Dawn, had delivered an 8 lb.; 5 oz. Baby boy. Connor was so stoked, he just kept pacing about the delivery room, his newborn son cradled in his arms.

Dawn, who had gone through labor like an old pro, was already sound asleep when Buffy arrived up to the room. Buffy watched her beloved little sister as she slept, soft snores of exhaustion escaped the young woman’s mouth.

“Let’s see my nephew,” Buffy turned her attention to Connor and his son. “I guess it’s Connor Jr., then, right?”

Dawn’s husband grinned, proudly, “right,” he stated firmly. “Well, not Connor Jr., but Connor Summers Crawford.”

Buffy felt a catch in her throat. ‘They’re giving him Summers as a middle name,’ she thought with silent joy. She, Buffy had planned to name her own son Riley Summers Finn, but that didn’t pan out and….’

When Buffy went down to the hospital break room to grab a cup of crappy coffee, she ran into her own parents, Hank and Joyce Summers.

“Mom, Dad!” she exclaimed happily as she hugged them both together. “You sure got here fast!”

Joyce clung to Buffy, desperately, but Hank seemed to pull away from her quickly. “Connor called us, first thing this morning,” Hank stated simply, giving his oldest child a kind of ‘look’ that Buffy did not appreciate at all.

“We got here as fast as possible,” Joyce interjected, after giving her husband a warning look that Buffy didn’t quite ‘get’ at all. “Dad drove like a bat out of hell and we made it in record time!”

Buffy grinned at Joyce, nodded at her Father, timidly, and sipped her crappy hospital coffee.

“Buffy,” Hank finally chimed in, sternly, “I think you and I need to ‘talk’ privately for a minute or two. Your Mother is on her way up to see the baby, I’ll go later. I want to discuss some things with you.”

“Okay, Dad,” Buffy mumbled, suddenly feeling like a two-year-old again. If Joyce Summers thought or knew anything, she kept quiet and headed off for the elevator that would chariot her off to the top floor and her new grandchild.

Buffy flopped down on one of the cafeteria chairs, her whole body language just screamed ‘defeat!’ Her Dad, Hank, sat down beside her, actually taking her hand in his meaty one.

She wondered, briefly, just what her Dad wanted to ‘talk’ about, although she had some idea. Any doubts about her intuition were dashed away when Hank Summers began his first sentence.

“Giles gave me a call, yesterday, Buffy and…..”

“he’s concerned about who I’m seeing,” Buffy finished the sentence for her Dad. Hank scowled at her and began to speak again, but Buffy cut him off, pronto.

“Look Dad,” Buffy sighed in exasperation, “I am 30 years-old. Well past the age that my Daddy, or his best friend ‘Uncle Giles’ need to watch over me or my love life. To top it off, this tells me that Angel O’Connor is back at his phone tag tricks and is calling everyone he can think of. Trying to get all of you to dissuade me, a 30 year-old woman, to stop seeing Spike Williamson!”

By the time she’d finished her paragraph, Buffy’s voice had raised to levels from whispering to near shouting. She shook her head at her father, warning him to not even say anything until she’d finished.

“First off,” Buffy continued, bringing her voice down to a more appropriate level, especially for a hospital, “it’s none of Angel’s business, or Giles for that matter. You, at least, have some stake in my life, personally, that is, and even then, I’ll remind you.”

She pointed to herself with her well manicured right hand, “Buffy is 30 years-old, Daddy. The big 3-0 and not back in High School. This isn’t the Prom Dad, you don’t get to scope out my date and threaten him with a severe beating if he lays a hand on his virginal daughter.”

Hank finally interjected, “Buffy,” he muttered under his breath, “Giles tells me this Brit is part of Webster’s family. That while this Spike as you so fondly call him, is probably the least ‘shady’ member of that sect, he’s still not pure as driven snow. You know?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and practically banged her head back against the wall in frustration. “Angel needs to butt out of my life, Dad. And Giles, he just freaks over anyone I’m seeing. He couldn’t stand Parker, ‘too boring’ for me, or so Gile’s said anyway.”

“Angel cares about you Buffy. At least he is a good member of society and…”

“Oh,” Buffy groaned miserably, “so, what part of Angel caring about me or being a good member of Society outweighs how he fucked me over? I mean, come on Dad, the man dumped me to, supposedly, further his career. There’s a romance highlight.” She finished with a wicked smirk, one that her Dad did not seem to appreciate at all.

“I don’t like your language Buffy,” Hank grumbled with narrowed eyes.

“Homicide Cop, Dad,” Buffy shot back. “Shop talk isn’t exactly parlour room faire, if you know what I mean.”

Hank looked so forlorned, that Buffy took a little sympathy on him, for once and patted his arm affectionately.

“Dad,” she began softly, “I’m okay, okay? Please let me decided who I slee…I mean see, okay, Dad? I know my past history is pretty sketchy, with men that is, but believe me, I’m being very, very careful with Spike and my feelings for him. Promise,” she said, feeling guilty for telling the teensiest of white lies.

‘Truth is,’ Buffy thought to herself, ‘I’ve been less careful getting involved with Spike then I’ve been with anyone in my life!’

Joyce Summers came into the cafeteria and strode up to her husband and daughter. “Get up to the nursery,” she commanded, with a grin, “that’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. Oh, Hank, they’re giving our little grandson Summers as a middle name!”

Hank brightened, visibly, and Buffy silently thanked her mother for arriving at the opportune time to cause and end to the awful conversation. Buffy stood up and offerred her dad a hand, “come on Gramps,” she chuckled, “let’s go see that new kid.”

Spike had called Buffy’s office, first thing in the morning that Tuesday. He missed her the minute he’d left her apartment, this rather disturbed him.

‘Well mate,’ he said to his mirror reflection, ‘she’s gone and dug herself into and underneath your skin now. No use in denying it, you’re falling big time for Buffy Summers.’

He really didn’t mind, of course, it had been so long since he felt this way about a woman. In fact, as he could remember, he had never felt quite like this about any woman, not even Drusilla, his ex-wife. Of course, no other woman had struck Spike like Buffy, right from the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

Spike wanted Buffy, physically, of course, but when he first turned and looked into those emerald green eyes of hers? He felt an instant connection with her. Actually, thinking back to a couple of weeks before, when he’d met Buffy? The minute their hands touched, Spike had felt a jolt of electricity, seen lightening and heard thunder.

‘How the fuck to you defy a force of nature like Buffy and me, together?’ he asked the air about him.

His cell phone rang and he answered to Wesley’s deep voice.

“Spike,” Wesley seemed excited, “we’ve got to find whatever it is that the key Holden left you fits!”

“Calm down, Wes,” Spike ordered as he lit a cigarette, “what’s so important? You found the Will and all. Poor Hold’s been cremated and…”

“No, listen for once you bloody wanker,” Wesley growled, stunning Spike momentarily. “There’s something in the whatever it is that must be pretty damned important. Someone’s been asking a lot of questions, at home in England, out here in Sunnydale. Even in Los Angeles. Something about paperwork, or some list is being bandied about by our people and others.”

Spike sat down on the couch and thought for a moment. “What do you think? What list? And for God’s sake, where would it be,” he asked Wesley.

“I don’t know, Spike,” Wesley answered almost breathlessly. “It’s a true mystery, but apparently whatever is on this list is of quite an interest to a lot of people, in England and on this side of The Pond.”

“Maybe it’s a safe? A desk, a bloody safe deposit box? I don’t know,” Wes continued quickly, “but we have to find it, Spike. I don’t know why, but I’ve a feeling it just might be something your Miss Summers would be highly interested in also. I’ve just got this intuition about this….something on that ‘list’ just might affect Miss Summers. Maybe, might even shed some light on Holden’s and Miss McClay’s murders?”

Spike nodded at the phone, “right, Wes,” he sighed, “you just might be right. You usually are. Let’s get to it. Start nosin’ around, find out anything pertinent to this. I’ll try and remember just what I saw or didn’t see at Hold’s apartment when the cops actually let me it there.”

After he’d hung up his cell, Spike quickly dialed Buffy’s number, hoping against hope that she answered.

“Hello,” came her wonderful voice.

“Hello, Princess,” Spike greeted warmly.

“Oh, Spike,” Buffy crowed happily, “my sister, she had a little boy today!”

“That’s wonderful Buffy, I’m happy for you and your family. You must be exhausted, huh?”

“Well I didn’t have the baby, Spike,” Buffy giggled, making Spike feel suddenly quite happy himself.

“Tell you what, Princess,” Spike murmered, “what do you say that I drive over there, to your place, pick you up and take you to dinner, tonight?"

“That sounds wonderful, Spike,” Buffy responded sincerely. “I am tired, though so maybe we should…”

“Okay,” Spike chuckled, “you throw a bag together of clothes for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up, bring you here to my hotel. We’ll have room service and do all kind of debauched things to each other, later. What do you say?”

“I’d say you are incorrigible, Spike. However, it sounds even better the dinner out. I would like to drive myself, however, if that’s okay. I guess I can just go to work from there, huh?”

Spike grinned at the phone in his hand, ‘marvelous woman, you are, Buffy Summers.’

“Yes, Princess,” Spike whispered huskily, “that sounds quite the best idea yet.”


A/N: What is on this list and where is it? Will it: 1) Prove to enlighten Buffy about who her true enemies are? 2) Prove to make her distrust Spike? 3) Post a threat to Buffy and all of her beliefs? 4) Shed some light on who murdered Holden and Katerina? 5) Implicate Amy St. Claire even more? 6) Enlighten everyone in Sunnydale on just what Holden’s true feelings for Buffy Summers were?

If you want answers to this and where Spuffy is going, stay tuned. Same Spuffy site, same Spuffy time...Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf





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