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A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 2: ‘Cold Hard Facts’


A/N: I’m going to try and update this daily or at least every other day. I’m almost through with Stake Your Claim and I am done with Rebel Hearts. Thank you to all who read this and all the fics on this site! Luv, Spuf


Captain Wilkens gave both Xander Harris and Buffy Summers a dour look when they entered his office. “About time, kids,” the Captain spat at the two dectectives, not smiling at either of them. “Sorry Captain,” Buffy mumbled half-heartedly, “but you know Harris, here. Never met a MacDonalds he wouldn’t stop at on the way into work.” Xander shot his partner a pout and hid the take out bag of food he carried behind his back. “Well,” Wilkens began with a sigh, “it seems that the other day, when Mr. Meers came to look at our famous little picture gallery, he pointed out Ms. Amy St. Claire, immediately as the woman he’d seen at Webster’s place.” Buffy felt like she was going to throw up, “Captain,” she began to speak up. “Forget it Summers,” the Captain growled back at her. “Funny thing,” he continued sarcastically, “our Amy St. Claire seemed to have skipped town, a few days ago. Right after Webster and McClay’s bodies were found. Still think she’s innocent, Buffy?”

Xander actually gave Buffy a smug look, ‘asshole,’ she grumbled to herself, about her partner that is. “Maybe Amy and her little buddy, Andrew Price took a trip or something?” Buffy offerred, weakly, her eyes averted from either of the two men in the office with her. “Lt. Summers,” Captain Wilkens sighed in exhasperation, “first off. Andrew Price? He’s doing time in Sunnydale Correctional Facility. Seems he got picked up with a little too much heroin on him, about six months ago. As for Amy St. Claire, rumour has it, rumour only mind you, that she was palling around with Holden Webster again. Plutonically, I’m sure,” he finished with a smirk and a snort. Now, as far as her leaving town? Apparently, she grabbed a bus out of Sunnydale about an hour after the supposed death time of Katerina McClay. There’s an APB out for her, here in California, but all signs point to Arizona as St. Claire’s final destination. She was born there, near Tucson in some one horse town. We think she headed home, for whatever reason, after the killings.” Buffy didn’t have a comeback for that one, in fact, she couldn’t say a damn thing at all.

Captain Wilkens kept staring at Buffy, an odd look in his gray eyes. “Harris,” the Officer sighed, “run along and see if you can forage for doughnuts or something for yourself. Summers, stick around here. Oh, Harris,” he added, “close the door on your way out, huh?” Xander gave the Captain his patent grin and winked at Buffy, a little too friendly like, she felt. After he left, Wilkens turned his attention on Buffy and motioned her to sit down. “Buffy,” the Captain began, using her familiar name, immediately causing her discomfort. “Buffy, I’m worried about you, about your job performance.” Buffy shook her head, “I’m fine,” she responded simply. “No, Buffy,” you’re not fine, and everyone around you knows it. Your biased feelings in this St. Claire matter, your residual guilt feelings about the suspect, her past and yours. Officer Ford’s death and your unfounded belief that you had some part in it? Am I getting close, Buffy?” he asked with sincere concern.

Buffy sat, her blonde head hung down, slightly, “if I had been with Ford,” she mumbled, “that night he got so drunk, took off. If I hadn’t lost the baby, he, Tom Ford, he wouldn’t have felt so guilty and tried to drink it away. The baby died because I took Tom’s bullet; I was out of commission because I lost the baby; Tom Ford, he blamed himself for the baby. Went out, got drunk and drove into that highway wall. That and…” Captain Wilkens leaned back in his chair, “Buffy,” he murmered softly, “Officer Thomas Ford got involved with an ex-prostitute who was barely seventeen-years-of-age.” Buffy nodded, miserably, “yes,” she interjected, “but if Tom had of lived, he could have helped Amy, made a difference in her life. Instead, he died, because of me, because he was made to feel guilty about my child’s death. When Tom Ford died, Amy St. Claire spiralled right back down into Hell and we all know it.”

Suddenly, Captain Wilkens stood up and came around his desk, he sat on the edge, right in front of Buffy. “When was the last time you saw Dr. Rosenberg?” he asked quietly. “Last week, for coffee,” Buffy smirked in response. “Cut the smart ass crap, Summers,” Wilkens frowned in slight anger, “I mean as a patient, not as a pal.” Buffy slouched down in her chair and again avoided her Superior’s stare, “a month ago,” she whispered, “or two months, maybe three,” her voice trailed off. “I see,” the Captain nodded, “then I’m glad I made an appointment with her, for you, today. In fact,” the man looked at his wall clock, “if you trot off right now, down to her office, you’ll just make it in time.” She bolted out of the chair, “you can’t do that!” she cried angrily. “That’s my perogative to…” Wilkens shook his head, stubbornly, “no Buffy,” he chuckled, using her first name again, “it’s my perogative. If you want to be a part of this case, then you’ll go, right now and start your sessions with Rosenberg again.” Buffy shrugged and turned to leave for Willow’s office, “yes Sir,” she mumbled, unhappily.

“Yeah,” Captain Wilkens called behind her, “Dr. Rosenberg has orders to report to me, regarding your mental status and how prepared you are to work on this case. Christ, what a day,” he hissed. Buffy paused and turned to face him, “tough for you too,” she smirked at him. “You could say that,” he sighed in frustration. “Apparently, even a prick like Holden Webster had family that ‘cared’ about him, somewhere. Believe it or not. Some cousin of his, from England, called me earlier, screaming and swearing to high Heaven about the ineptness of Sunnydale’s finest. Evidently,” Wilkens continued with acrid sarcasm, “this Williamson, or something like that is being sent by his ‘family’ to make sure that Webster’s murder is top priority for our Department. He’s supposed to be here, any time now. This cousin of Webster’s, guy sounds like a damn street thug, at least to me.” Buffy had to keep from laughing at the Captain, ‘good,’ she thought triumphantly, ‘I hope you’re miserable Wilkens.’ Then, she stopped and really thought about it, ‘oh shit! That’s all we need, some British civilian coming over here and fucking things up even more.’ With a sigh, Buffy nodded goodbye at the Captain and ‘trotted’ off down the hallway to her good friend, Dr. Willow Rosenberg’s, office.

She walked into Willow’s outer office, actually, Buffy shuffled into it, rather reluctantly. Willow’s secretary didn’t even miss a beat, she hit the intercom and announced that Lt. Summers was here for her appointment and motioned Buffy into the Doctor’s inner office. “Thanks ever so,” Buffy grumbled sarcastically at the bimbette behind the desk and after taking a deep breath, she entered Willow’s office. “Hey Buff,” Willow greeted warmly, a cup of tea, probably, was in her slim hand. “Hey Wills,” Buffy mumbled and flopped down on the chair in front of her friend’s desk. The red-haired Psychiatrist chuckled and eyed her old friend, ‘sizing me up,’ Buffy mused, staring out Willow’s window. “Was it you,” Buffy finally asked, breaking the brief silence, “did you set up this shrink session or…” Willow shook her head, “nope,” she answered honestly, “Captain Wilkens idea.”

“So, how have you been Buffy,” Willow sat back in her chair and stared at her patient aka one of her best friends. “You should know,” Buffy chuckled snarkily, “we had coffee last Thursday. Oh,” Buffy asked with real concern, “how’s Tara, I mean about her cousin Katerina’s death?” Willow frowned slightly, “Tara’s okay, pretty much. She was never that close to Katerina, really, but, still, shocked, of course. Now, let’s not change the subject, shall we, Buff?” Willow raised a light red brow and gave Buffy one of her warmly stern doctor looks. “I’m fine, Wills,” Buffy mumbled in frustration, “honestly, I don’t know why everyone is so damned concerned about me. I get the fact that Amy St. Claire may have killed Webster and Katerina. I am a cop for God’s sake, bias isn’t in my vocabulary and…” Willow tossed her pen on her desk and folded her slim hands on that same desk. She leaned over the oak table and stared at Buffy, thoughtfully. “Yes,” Willow said evenly, “but, with you Buffy, this suspect, Amy St. Claire, Thomas Ford? How ambivilent or unbiased will you be, sweetie, when some cop drags Amy in here, into the precinct in handcuffs?” Buffy avoided her friend’s grey, honest eyes but whispered, “I really believe she didn’t do it, Will’s, truly.” Willow sighed, “well,” the red-head seemed sympathetic enough, “maybe she didn’t, maybe she did, but Buffy the fact is that you ‘still’ feel guilty over Thomas Ford’s death and how his death affected Amy St. Claire. Tell me,” Willow tapped her finger to her chin, “do you still think that if you had stayed off street duty, hadn’t been there that day to take Ford’s bullet. If the baby had lived, even, and Officer Ford never blamed himself for everything, Buffy,” she scowled again, “do you really think that everything would have turned out rainbows and roses? For you and Riley? For Ford and Amy?”

“No,” Buffy whispered, barely audibly. “What?” Willow asked evenly, “I don’t think I heard you.” Buffy held up her head, stared her friend in her grey eyes with her own green ones, “no,” she said loudly. “No,” Willow nodded in agreement, “because, Buffy,” the doctor continued, “Thomas Ford would probably have still drank too much that night, taken off in his car and literally killed himself in that accident. He was involved in an illicit affair with an underage, very troubled girl, really. When the Police department found out about it, what then? They would have made him, Ford, make the choice. What choice do ‘you’ think he would have made, Buffy? His job, his career, or a teenage prostitute with a minor drug problem?” Buffy felt tears well up in her eyes, “I know but…” Willow shook her head, “no, buts, Buffy. Just cold hard facts, Thomas Ford did not love Amy St. Claire, he felt sorry for her. Another cold hard fact is that Officer Ford loved someone else, someone close to him. You, Buffy. God and the Medical Board of Ethics forgive me for telling you this. But, Thomas Ford was my patient, too. He told me, a lot, Buffy and he loved you. I know, you never gave him reason to, I know that. So did he.”

Buffy looked away from Willow’s face again, ashamed of herself, Ford, even Riley maybe. “I never led him on, I swear to God, Wills,” she whispered shakily, “He knew I was ‘very married’ to Riley. Even if we had our own set of problems to contend with, Riley and me. That’s why when Amy came along, Thomas took such an interest in her. I was happy for him, and her, God help me. Thought they might do some good for each other, thought…” Willow shook her red head slightly, “I understand. But I also understand that this unending, vicious cycle of guilt from you, to Riley and Ford, then on to Amy? It’s useless, Buffy, useless. You’ll never move on, not until you get over this sick obsession that you, yourself, were the catalyst for all of the horrible events that happened later. By-the-way,” Willow paused a moment, “how is your relationship with Parker Abrams going?”

Buffy gave her friend a sly smile, “are you asking as a friend, or a Shrink?” she inquired of Willow. “A little of both, I’m afraid,” Willow chuckled warmly. “Well,” Buffy sighed and leaned back in her chair, “Parker is okay. I mean, he’s comfortable and predictable, at least. A little stale, sometimes, as far as sex goes. It’s usually right down to routine, Parker and me, our dates. We have supper out, on Friday, see a movie or go to the theatre. Sex follows, my place or his and then it’s breakfast together on Saturday morning. Saturday night, we rent some DVDs, eat take out Chinese or pizza and then it’s comfortable, predictable sex later at night. What more could a gal ask for?” Buffy grinned, kind of, at Willow who rewarded her friend with another scowl. “That’s just it, Buff,” Willow sighed, “comfortable and predictable, or even mundane? These descriptions of sex or a sexual partner, for you, just don’t add up. You’ve always needed a little spice in your lovers, Buffy. And that, you can quote me on, as a friend and Shrink.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Buffy murmered, “but I don’t know, Wills. My life is so ‘unpredictable’ in other aspects, guess I just want some mundane moments once in a while. Even if it’s in sex?” Willow thought for a moment then asked Buffy, “so, you know Angel O’Connor is back on the open market?” Buffy flinched, visibly, then shrugged, “that ship sailed, Wills,” she muttered, “a long time ago. Angel himself launched that craft when he married Darla Walsh, District Attorney Walsh’s darling daughter. It helped his career, his marriage, in a way I could never do.” She finished on a rather sorrowful note and changed the subject, again. “Besides, Wills,” Buffy grinned jovially, “you never know, not with me anyway. Some mystery man, a real sexual equal for me, he could be right around a corner. Just waiting for me to bump into him!” The two women giggled, like a couple of teen agers again and Buffy realized that her session with Willow was officially over.

“I want you to stop by my secretary’s desk, Buff,” Willow ordered gently, “make your next appointment with me. For next week, no later. Understand?” Buffy smiled and nodded at her dear friend then headed out to do just as she was told. When Buffy had finished setting up some future appointments, she left Willow’s outer office and ran smack dab into Xander Harris. “Don’t get too excited,” Xander muttered lowly, “but when you see the guy, in Captain Wilken’s office, it’s not Billy Idol. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Billy didn’t drop by Sunnydale for a visit, it’s that cousin of Websters. Who the hell would have guessed that Holden Webster actually had a ‘nuturing’ family somewhere, anywhere!” Xander thought this was pretty funny and he began to laugh loudly. In fact, Buffy’s partner was in near tears of glee by the time they had entered Captain Wilken’s office.

“Is everyone in this bloody place on fucking drugs!” Buffy heard a distinctive British voice, screaming loudly at their Captain. The first thing she noticed was the back of a man of medium heighth, with platinum blonde hair and wearing a black leather duster. ‘Xander’s right,’ Buffy mused, ‘this guy, at least from the back, is a mirror of Billy Idol.’ “The last time I checked, Mr. Williamson,” Captain Wilkens was explaining through gritted teeth, “none of our officers were using drugs.” The ‘Billy Idol’ wannabe roared in response, “this fucking department, you bloody morons couldn’t organize a group visit to the loo, much less find my cousin’s killers. I’m well aware of just how inept you stupid fucks are and…” Buffy had heard enough, “excuse me, Billy?” she called, trying to keep a straight face even as she failed to cover her sarcastic tone. The black clad man paused in his rant and turned to face Buffy. In a mere instance, the blonde Brit’s whole demeanor changed, the second he met Buffy’s green eyes with his indigo blue ones. “Well,” Brit boy finally purred, “maybe this whole trip wasn’t a waste after all,” he smiled as he eyed Buffy up and down with obvious appreciation.


A/N: I got Spike into the plot, as soon as possible. Hope it wasn’t too far fetched. Anyway, please read and review. Thank you, Luv, Spuf





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