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A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 33: ‘The Gift’


“Now,” Buffy sighed heavily, “the problem is what do we do with all this info from your door nail dead relative. She really didn’t mean to come off sounding so damned snippy, but she realized she was and felt bad about it. For Will’s sake.

Spike opened one of his closed blue eyes, his head still connected to the huge, soft pillow on his and Buffy’s shared marital bed. He tried not to cringe at his beloved’s lack of ‘sympathetic wording’ for poor old Holden. If ‘anyone’ in the world deserved less sympathy then Satan himself? It was Holden Webster. The data Buffy and him and just uncovered confirmed that sentiment, even more then before.

His wife was sitting crossed-legged, right next to his prone body on the big bed. She was, obligingly enough, stark arse naked from head to toe and Spike was having a hard time remembering what they were discussing.

‘Wonder if she even realizes how exquisitely naughty she looks, sitting there, all flushed and naked,’ he pondered as he let his hand run down her silky thigh. ‘Probably,’ he smirked, silently, ‘she’s just doin’ this to distract me, I’m sure.’ He chuckled softly and pulled Buffy down to meet his own nude body.

“Hey,” she growled, all feminine like, “I was asking you something. What the hell are we going to do with this list stuff from Holden?”

They had read the whole three documents, from start to finish and found out the most surprising information. On, it would seem, some of the most surprising people in Sunnydale. Oh, and in Los Angeles, and even in New York, London and Moscow, oddly enough.

Buffy snuggled up closer to Will and scrunched her face up into his chest. “You know,” she began thoughtfully, “I’m going to contact my dad, Hank, give him some of this information on Riley and the others, down in LA. Dad’s a great PI, he’ll find out what we need to know about that end of the spectrum. It’s Angel, though, and Scott Hope, Councilman Wood and even Doyle, the rest up here. And Moscow?” Buffy sighed in exasperation, “why Moscow?”

“Who knows Princess,” Spike shook his head, pulling Buffy closer to him, using her lovely little rump to do so. “Holden always thought he was some kind of Global power player, probably figured Moscow was open territory. It is a bloody mess over there and all. Could have been doing anything, with anybody.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy murmered, her brows still scrunched together in serious thought. “Then like I said, what about the local boys and girls connected to Holden? We’ve got to figure out how to use this information your cousin left you, to nail these rat bastards and beat them at their own game. If Holden’s right, Angel O’Connor does want to be Emperor of Sunnydale, or some such shit.”

“What a mess,” Buffy sighed, frustrated that she just couldn’t run out and start making arrests all over the city. “I am going to download everything on those lists, right into my computer,” she thought out loud. “That’s a good start, then…..”

“Well, Holden was right about one thing, luv,” Spike tightened his hold on Buffy’s luscious little body. “Wes is the best man to give the so called lists to. If nothing else, they’ll be safe with him, until we figure out what to do and who else to tell about this.”

“Where you going?” he whined as his wife untangled her small frame from his and hopped out of bed.

“Going to make some coffee and at least toast for breakfast. It’s Friday, baby, I’ve got to shower and at least show up for work today. It’s going to be hard as hell to pass Hope or any other of these assholes in the halls and fight the urge to kick the shit out of them.”

“Do you have to go to work?” Spike pouted again, hoping this would deter Buffy from her obligations.

“Yes,” she giggled, throwing on her robe, “I’ve got to go to work. Which reminds me,” she continued, “this guy, your so called ‘bud’ back in London. Clem was it? You sure he’s got everything under control at your Pub.”

“Yup,” Spike grinned at Buffy, with a strong nod, “Clem’s a real fucking straight up guy. Besides, he called me, just last night to tell me all’s well at home. Just waitin’ for me, and you, for that matter to get back there.”

Buffy stiffened up a bit at that remark. ‘Didn’t think that one out, did you Summers?’ she asked herself. ‘Okay, Summers-Williamson, but still, this is something you are so going to have to face, and maybe sooner then later. Of course Will expects you to run off to Merry Olde England with him. After all this is over, someday.’

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Buffy blurted out, making a mad dash for the bedroom door. She was awfully good at changing the subject, quickly, was Buffy.

“I want you to be really careful, baby,” Spike warned Buffy, his fear for her masked by an almost playful, but loving tone. He had joined her in the kitchen and was now slinking up behind her, to wrap his arms about her tiny waist.

“You have got to stay away from O’Connor, at all costs. In fact,” he continued rather gruffly, “I’d prefer it if you stayed away from Angel, that major dickhead anyway. I don’t give a rat’s arse if he’s the epitome of Choir Boy material, I don’t want him around you. Knew that bastard was a crook,” he finished with a hiss. His expression, however, was very, very smug.

“I’ll be fine, Will,” Buffy giggled again, “For God’s sake, Will, I’m a cop. I can handle myself.”

Spike spun his wife about and pulled her flush against his half naked body. Trying for a ‘stern’ expression, he realized he probably only came off as ‘jealous’ but he said it anyway.

“Just don’t want anyone else ‘but’ me handling my wife,” he growled, kissing her on the mouth.

“Yeah, like there’s a chance of that,” Buffy giggled again and slapped, playfully, at her husband’s lovely chest.

“What are you going to do all day while I’m at the mines?” Buffy asked Will, rather warily.

“Oh, I don’t know. Got a few things to attend to,” he answered with a shrug. Which, alerted Buffy, immediately, that her man was ‘covering’ something up.

“William,” she began sternly as she slipped onto his lap, “do not, I repeat, do not go anywhere near Angel O’Connor. You do not need to go over to his office, ranting about your claim on me, or anything else for that matter. I’m sure that concerned co-worker of mine has already informed old Angel that I am off the market. Do you understand? No Angel bashing, especially to his face.”
She gave Will the ‘Buffy evil eye’ although she realized that it probably would do no good.

“Not going anywhere near that pillock,” Spike muttered, taking a bite of his toast. “I never said I was going to go seek out Angel and announce that I’ve marked my territory,” he pouted, severely, again hoping this would placate, or at least, disarm his Buffy.

“Okay,” Buffy sighed, “but at least promise me, no fingers crossed, that you are not going to go snooping around Angel or his buddies today. I think that’s best left to me, or at least me and you, together.”


“Cross my heart and all that,” Spike chuckled, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’ll stay out of Angel’s way, but if he gets in your way, or mine? Then all bets are off, understood?”

Buffy shook her head in exasperation, but finally shrugged, “understood,” she grinned. Before Will could utter another word, she leapt up from his lap and rushed out of the kitchen, headed for the bathroom and a shower.

“I so love that bossy little chit,” Spike mumbled with a happy grin, then he took another bite of his toast.

Buffy drummed the pen she’d been writing with, on her desk calendar. Oddly enough, she was keeping in beat with some silly punk song Will had played for her. ‘I’m doomed,’ she sighed deeply, but with great contentment. ‘My husband has me completely in his thrall and I’m caught.’

On a whim, Buffy picked up the phone and dialed the apartment telephone.

“Hello,” came Will’s deep, wonderful voice.

“Miss you,” Buffy admitted shyly, “too much really. But, there it is.”

“Miss you too, Princess,” Spike chuckled back to his wife. “Why don’t you blow off that place and come home to me?”

“Can’t, I do have to work here, darling,” she giggled. “But, I was thinking of skipping lunch, taking off out of here, early. What do you think? I’ll stop at the market, get some really great shrimp and do something crazy with it?”

“Better yet?” Spike interjected, “I’ll stop at the market, get some shrimp and do some really crazy thing with it? Okay?”

“That is better,” Buffy responded happily, “I think I like you this way. All domestic and stuff.”

“Domestic?” he chuckled again, “not really. Just trying to get you home and back in bed early, so don’t get too cocky, sweet. Besides, I’m going somewhere in about a hour or so, I’ll stop and get the food, do the thing I’m doing and be home. Hope you’ll be home soon after?”

“Soon,” Buffy murmered into the phone, affectionately. “Soon.”

After she had hung up the phone, Buffy heard a knock at her office door. “Come in,” she called cheerily.

Her whole demeanor changed when Angel strode into the office.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Buffy growled.

“Making sure you’re okay,” Angel responded evenly, he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m fine. Goodbye Angel.” Buffy was finding it difficult not to start cursing this man, loudly. She wanted to just smack that smirk off of his face and kick his ass down the hallway.

“So,” Angel hesitated, then finally got to the point, “you did it. Married this Billy Idol wanna be? I thought I cleared this up, Buff. The guy is just using you to get ahead in Sunnydale, take over for his……”

‘Liar, liar, liar,’ Buffy sang silently to herself. ‘Pants on fire, I’d like to take your ass and hang it on a telephone wire!’

“Angel,” Buffy stood up and leaned onto the desk with her hands. “Get the fuck out of my office and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“And, by the way,” she continued with a wicked smirk of her own, “what the hell would Will gain by marrying me? Especially as far as ‘power’ goes? I think you’re mixing up the characters here, sweetie. Fucking women and marrying them for ambition’s sake is more your style Ang. Don’t get confused here, mid-plot that is.”

“I, I just wanted to help you, Buff,” Angel stammered, hanging his dark head down. Not meeting her eyes with his.

“Well, I’m fine, Angel,” Buffy huffed, “time for you to run along go back to whatever it is ‘you’ do for a living. I need to finish up here, soon. My husband and I are having a nice, home cooked meal, and well, I think you can figure out the rest, right? Even you have some brains about these things.”

Angel skulked out of the office door and slammed it behind him.

“He always was a bit dramatic,” Buffy giggled softly. “Thank you God, for Will that is.”

She sat back down at her desk and was just about to call her Dad in LA when Willow Rosenberg came bursting though the door.

“You brat!” the red-head exclaimed, gleefully, “you little sneak! Running off and marrying that Brit! I am so proud of you Buff, so very proud of you. You followed your heart, for just once and I’m like really on cloud nine here!”

Buffy sat back and watched the rest of her friend’s little show. Willow had always been a bit ‘high strung’ at times and now was no exception.

“You sure you’re not disappointed in me, Wills?” Buffy asked, a little puzzled by her Shrink’s gleeful behavior. “I mean, it was rather sudden, huh?” Buffy began to feel like the doctor here.

“No,” Willow squealed happily, “it was past sudden. Gosh, Buff, it was absolutely impulsive! That’s why I’m so thrilled. You finally felt something, did something impulsive, just for yourself! I’ve succeeded!” By now Willow was practically screaming in joy. “I see my work is done here,” she sang happily.

“Well, maybe not completely done,” Buffy ceded to Willow, “but close. I think, anyway.”

“Well, close, done or finished completely, I don’t care,” Willow chortled. “I’m just thrilled that you are so happy. And, by the way, you are estatic, I can tell.”

“Yes, Wills,” Buffy grinned at her best friend, “I am definitely estatic.”

Buffy skipped out of her obnoxious little Porshe and hurried up the stairs to her and Will’s apartment. She could not remember ever being so damn happy to be home before. Not like this anyway.

When she opened the door of the apartment, Buffy caught a heavenly aroma and recoginized Shrimp Scampi cooking in the kitchen.

‘I knew I married this guy for a good reason,’ she surmised, silently. ‘Well, that and his rather gorgeous body and huge…..’


“Baby?” Spike called out when he heard his wife come through the door.

“I’m home, honey,” Buffy called back, savoring the ‘honey’ greeting she gave him. It was so nice to call someone ‘honey’ and on a freaking weeknight even.

Spike hurried into the living room, grabbing his wife and sweeping her off the floor, forcefully. He had to head her off at the pass before she got into the bedroom. With a silent prayer, Spike asked God for a moment to explain the little ‘gift’ that was waiting for Buffy in there.

“How was your day?” he asked, nervously eyeing the bedroom’s closed door.

“Fine,” Buffy responded evenly, deciding earlier not to mention Angel’s visit to her office. What good would that do?

“Buffy!” Spike yelped as she pulled away from him and headed for the bedroom. “Wait!” he cried anxiously.

“What?” Buffy inquired, suddenly interested in the closed bedroom door. “What’s up, Will?” Buffy asked firmly.

“Well,” he stammered, again quite nervously, alerting Buffy to some secret agenda waiting behind the door.

“Will…..” Buffy began, trying to get past him to the bedroom.

“Okay, okay,” Spike muttered, “I’ll go get the surprise, you wait here.”

Buffy nervously sat on the couch, trying not to imagine all kinds of weird ‘surprises’ coming from the bedroom.

“Close your eyes,” Will ordered gruffly, “now.”

Buffy actually did what she was told and waited with baited breath for the ‘gift’ from her husband.

“Okay, open them,” Spike whispered.

She did as she was told, again. When Buffy opened her eyes, she found herself staring into a black and tan furry face. The face, it seemed, belonged to some kind of an animal. At this point, Buffy had no real idea just what kind of animal, but some kind, that was for sure.

“Will,” Buffy began, a little breathless with apprehension, “what is this?”

“A dog,” Spike gushed with pride, “I mean a puppy, actually. A little, sweet, loving British Bull Mastiff. Got him from a reputable breeder. Isn’t he the shit though?”

Buffy found it hard to take a breath. Yes, the ‘puppy’ as her husband called him was definitely ‘the shit’ that was for sure. He was tan, all over, with a little black face and chocolate brown eyes.

“Will,” Buffy managed to gasp out, again, “there is no way that this ‘pony’ is ever going to grow into a dog. A small horse or large pony, but a dog? He’s, well he’s massive, for a puppy that is.”

“No,” Spike chuckled, “he’s just a little tyke. Brit Bull Mastiffs are the best, baby,” he tried to assure her. “They’re loyal, good watch dogs, tough and rough with bad blokes and…”

“Honey,” Buffy tried, really to reason with her husband, “this is an apartment. How can this dog (?) stay in an apartment?”

“Well,” Spike reasoned, with the utmost in common sense, at least he felt, “I talked to the land lady.”

“Mrs. Wiggins,” Buffy nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. Again she gave her husband a wary look.

“Yeah, her,” Spike continued happily, “I talked to the old bird and she decided that she’d make an exception, for us. On that silly ‘no pet’ rule of hers. She said that it would be fine for us to have a little puppy and…..”

“Little puppy?” Buffy asked with a grimace. “This is not a little puppy, baby, this is going to grow up to be a freaking buffalo and what then?”

“Well, then,” Spike hurried along into the conversation, “we’ll be at our home, in England. Bruiser here, he’ll make a great mate for the female Mastiff I thought we could buy and…..”

“Okay, sweetie,” Buffy interrupted him, “not Bruiser. I’m so not calling our little baby here ‘Bruiser’ that’s a no go. Winston maybe,” she conceded, but not Bruiser.” She was trying to ignore the ‘England and home’ remark, at least for now.

“Winston?” Spike asked with a raised brow? “Why Winston.”

“Because,” Buffy pouted, “he’s so cute, and British,” she tweaked their newest edition’s jowl. “Besides, he looks like Winston Churchill, don’t you think?”

“Yes, baby,” Spike laughed loudly, just happy that his bride seemed to have taken to the ‘surprise’ like he had hoped she would. “He looks exactly like Churchill and of course, we can call him Winston.”

“Okay then,” Buffy squealed, grabbing the ‘puppy’ into her embrace, affectionately. “I just hope he doesn’t find our bed too crowded to sleep in. Wouldn’t want the precious little thing to be unhappy, would we?”


A/N: Well, the puppy is officially part of the family now! Don’t worry, Winston will not be sleeping with Spike and Buffy for long. They need their ‘alone’ time after all. Old Winston will serve a purpose in the end.

Oh, the ‘relocating’ issue for Buffy may become a real issue later. Part of the angst to come. Let’s hope they can work something out.

In the next chapter, Hank Summers will speed up to Sunnydale with information on the names he’s been given. He may also give Buffy and Spike some insight to ‘his’ feelings and intuitions about the murders. Hank is a good guy in this and he has some interesting insights into the killings.

Please read and review. Thanks. Luv, Spuf





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