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A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 4: ‘Who ‘IS’ Buffy Summers?’


A/N: Thank you to all of you who read this story. It’s inspiring for me and allowing me to write more. Luv, Spuf


Buffy’s alarm went off, precisely at 7:00 AM on Saturday morning, alerting her that she needed to get up, get her butt in gear and get down to the precinct by 8:30. She hit the alarm button, as not to wake the sleeping Parker, next to her in bed, and groaned as she got up. For some reason, Parker, who was usually anything but spontaneous or adventerous, had been quite ‘frisky’ last night and kept her up well past their usual bed time hour. ‘Poor Parker, he must realize my ‘mind’ is somewhere else.’ Buffy surmised as she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

When she was finished with her shower, Buffy wandered into the kitchen and checked the automatic coffee maker. “Yup,” she grinned, “right on time.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and waited, rather impatiently for Parker to join her by 7:30 AM, his usual time to get up. It was Saturday morning and Buffy needed to talk, honestly, with her good friend Parker Abrams.

Spike was smoking his third cigarette of the morning. He stood out on the balcony of the Sunnydale Arms Hotel and surveyed the quite lovely view. The Pacific Ocean was in sight, as was the rolling green hills that bordered it, right up to the shoreline. “Bloody hangover,” he grumbled grouchily to himself as he stubbed out the smoke and headed back into his suite. That’s when he heard his cousin Wesley Rhys-Smythe’s voice cackling over the hotel intercom… “Spike,” the insipid dolt greeted jovially, “it’s Wes. I’ve got that information you wanted.”

If Spike hadn’t been so eager to hear the report on Buffy Summers, he’d have sent his cousin, Wesley, away, but…
“Get your arse up here, Wes,” he snapped into the intercom, “and you better have a ton of info on our Miss Summers or I’ll send you packing, right back to England.”

Wesley Rhys-Smythe, who was Spike and Holden’s cousin by marriage, entered the spacious suite with a smug grin on his face. “Oh, you’ve got to have quite a bit,” Spike chuckled as he poured himself a whiskey, even though Wesley frowned at him, “to have such a shit eating grin on your face.” The other man, a tall, distinguished dark-headed fellow shook his perfectly styled hair and eyed his cousin, Spike with near disdain. “It’s a bit early for whiskey, Spike,” he chided, “even for you.”

“Hangover,” Spike grunted quickly, knowing that was all that was needed to explain the situation to his cousin, and information gatherer. “Oh,” Wesley simply shrugged and sat down on the plush sofa in the front living quarters of the posh suite. “So,” Spike began as he flopped down on the chair across from Wesley, “what’ve you got? About the lovely Miss Summers that is?”

“Well,” Wesley began cautiously, “I’ll give you the information I have, which, as you said, is quite a lot, if you tell me why you want it so badly?” Spike chuckled gleefully, “because, Wesley my dear cousin,” he grinned at the other man, “I intend on winning over the beautiful Lt. Buffy Summers. It’s that simple. And, to do so, I need all the ammunition I can get.” Wesley frowned again and shook his dark head, “I see,” he responded simply. “Spike,” Wesley mumbled, “I understand, about the family’s interest in Holden’s murder, but to get involved, with one of the main Detectives on the case?”

Spike’s grin dissapated into a slight scowl, “didn’t plan it, really, mate,” he assured his cousin. “But, well…” he paused a moment then continued with a smile, “if you’d met her, Buffy Summers I mean? You’d know where I’m coming from. She’s ‘different’ I guess you could say Buffy Summers is special and I just can’t let this opportunity pass me by. Not when I feel so ‘connected’ to her. This quickly that is.” Wesley sighed deeply, but nodded his understanding at his cousin Spike.

“Okay then,” Wesley acknowledged his older cousin’s wishes, “here’s the skinny on Buffy Anne Summers.” Spike settled back into the chair and lit another cigarette, illiciting another scowl from his cousin, “you smoke too much,” Wes advised. Spike hissed, “get to the information, Wes,” he ordered impatiently. “Buffy Summers,” Wesley began, “aka Elizabeth Anne Summers. Daughter of Hank and Joyce Summers. Hank is a retired, due to an injury in the line of duty, cop right here in Sunnydale. He and Joyce, his wife of 30 years are now living in Los Angeles where he runs a kind of Legal Consultant Agency.” Spike chuckled warmly, “figures, Daddy was a cop, so the little girl goes into the family business.”

“Yes,” Wes nodded, “there’s a younger sister, Dawn who is married to a local school teacher, Connor Crawford. They’re expecting a child, soon. Buffy was pregnant once, when she was married to Riley Finn…” Spike bolted up, “Buffy has a child?” he asked his cousin. Wesley shook his head, slowly, “no,” he murmered with true sympathy, “she ‘was’ pregnant, once. I found some sources, people who Miss Summers pissed off a bit and are not shy about revealing her personal history. Apparently, Lt. Summers was married to a police officer, like you suspected, a Riley Finn. Evidently, Buffy went against her husband’s wishes and continued to work as a kind of street policewoman. Along with her partner, at the time, a Thomas Ford.”

“Yeah and,” Spike nodded to Wesley to continue as he took a deep, thoughtful drag from his cigarette. “During some kind of confrontation, with a gang member, Buffy and this Ford fellow got shot at. Buffy Summers pushed Thomas Ford out of the way of the bullet, took it herself and…” Spike flinched, “the fuck, the gang banger? He shot the baby?” Wesley shook his head again, “no, not the baby, but Miss Summers took the impact in her right shoulder. The shock must have caused a miscarriage of her child.”

Spike was stunned, for a moment anyway, “go on,” he finally ordered Wesley quietly. “While Buffy Summers was out of commission, healing from the wound, this Thomas Ford, he was assigned another partner. Here’s where it gets quite interesting,” Wesley paused, then continued, “apparently, even before the shooting of Miss Summers, this Ford fellow got involved with an underage ex-prostitute. Can you guess what her name was?” The blonde man grimmaced, “no fucking way. Not Amy St. Claire,” Spike gasped in surprise. “Yes, way,” Wesley nodded, a very serious expression on his handsome face.

“Now,” Wesley continued evenly, “after Lt. Summers was shot, this Ford bloke, he was quite riddled with guilt. I got that from some very reliable sources who also claim, albeit it is not information that can be completely confirmed, that this Officer Ford had ‘feelings’ for Miss Summers. Who, of course, was still Mrs. Finn at the time.” Spike sat up and glared at Wesley, “are you saying that Buffy was having an affair with Ford?” The other shook his head, “absolutely not,” he assured Spike, “even the two officers’ enemies, they assured me that the present Miss Summers was ‘very married’ to Riley Finn. Even if…”

Spike gave his cousin the raised eyebrow look of his, “even if,” he asked a little confused. “Well,” Wesly began brokenly, “even if this Riley fellow asked for a divorce, soon after the loss of his and Buffy’s child.” ‘The fuck couldn’t even stick it out, step up to the plate and stick by Buffy,’ Spike snorted in disgust. “What about this Ford bloke?” he asked his cousin evenly.

“While Buffy Summers was recuperating from the gun shot wound,” Wesley sighed, “this Ford fellow, like I said, was assigned a new partner. One night, after duty, he the new partner, a Scott Hope person, were out together, on the town as they say. Had too much to drink. This Hope, he fell asleep in his truck, but Ford, he took off in a Mustang and while driving home, inebriated beyond words, hit a reinforcement wall along the highway that runs through Sunnydale. The man died on impact. Word has it, that Thomas Ford felt guilty about the Finn baby, that and his relationship with this Amy person.”

Spike stood up from the sofa and began to pace around the room, finally stopping to look Wesley in the face. “She blames herself,” Spike murmered to the air about him, “Buffy, she blames herself for everything. It’s just her style to. I can tell, even though I only just met her.” Wesley gave him that stern, highly intellectual warning look of his, “Spike,” he said in a hushed voice, “I do have more information. What I just told you, it’s from over five years ago. Miss Summers, she has moved on, a little anyway. Should I continue?”

“Go ahead,” Spike sighed and flopped back down on the sofa, grabbing his drink and taking a big gulp. “After her disasterous marriage, Lt. Summers was very dormant, shall we say,” Wesley began again. “She seemed to wrap herself up in her work, for over a year, never dating, barely socializing at all. Until she began a relationship with one Angel O’Connor, a up and coming local lawyer.” Spike eyed Wesley, warily, “let me guess,” he growled, “he’s the same O’Connor that is now Assistant District Attorney in Sunnydale?” Wes nodded, “yes, however, it appears that Mr. O’Connor may have come by that position due to a very slick move on his part. It was only after this O’Connor married the daughter, Darla, of District Attorney Walsh and his wife Margaret, that the man made Assistant Attorney.” Spike groaned, “oh Christ, he dumped Buffy and took up with the Walsh bint?” Wes could only nod in dissaproval.

“Lt. Summers, though,” Wesley quickly added, “seemed to take all of this in stride, according to sources. She went on, saw a few other young gentlemen here and there, then finally seemed to have settled on her present male companion, a Parker Abrams. He is a CPA, works at a Sunnydale consultant firm and seems to be a solid fellow, tall, dark haired and eyed, good looking in a preppy sort of way. At least according to who I talked to, including a very curious neighbor of Miss Summers.”

Spike shook off the sudden jealous emotion that overtook him, “CPA, huh,” he smirked at Wesley, “I suppose you think that’s just fine, right Wes?” The other man sighed again in frustration, “you told me to find out about Buffy Summer’s personal life, Spike,” he reminded his cousin, “I never said it was a good idea, however…” ‘A fucking CPA,’ Spike snorted, ‘Buffy needs a man with a somewhat risky career in her life. Like a cop, or a criminal, or better yet…me.’

“How do you find these sources, Wes,” Spike chuckled, a little in awe of his younger cousin. Wesley grinned, almost wickedly, “I’ve my ways, Spike,” he laughed. “By-the-way, cousin,” the dark haired man continued, “you’ll need to have a case of your finest Scotch sent, every month, that is to an old lady name of Mrs. Wiggins. She’s Buffy Summers’ nosey old lady neighbor and apparently, Mrs. Wiggins entertains a lot? That’s just one of the ways I get my information, cousin, bribery with your money and goods,” Wesley finished with a smirk of his own.

“There’s a lot more, of course,” Wesley added proudly as he watched Spike pace about the room. “Seems Miss Summer’s has a good friend on the force, actually her Father’s good friend. Rupert Giles, British, about fifty-years-old. Kind of a mentor to Miss Summers, he has a desk job now. Buffy is good friends with him and his wife, Jennifer who also teaches school.

Spike grinned at his cousin warmly, “you know Wes,” he chuckled, “it’s times like these that I realize just why the family keeps you around, business wise that is. You’re a fucking genious when it comes to reserch, mate.” Wesley smiled gratefully at Spike and reached for the whiskey bottle, “yes,” the man nodded happily, “I am cousin.”

Buffy Summers slumped down in her office chair and leaned her head back against the rest. ‘That wasn’t so hard,’ she scowled a little, allowing her thoughts to wander back to earlier that morning. She had gone ahead and had that ‘heart-to-heart’ chat with Parker, who did not seem the least bit surprised that Buffy wanted to cool their romance off for a while. In fact, Parker seemed almost relieved, Buffy thought, a little miffed at that. ‘Oh, well,’ she shrugged and turned on her answering machine to listen to the messages.

There was a few messages, the usual ones; Xander Harris who called her business phone at least once a day. “Now, why the hell does he do that?” Buffy asked herself in exhasperation, “he’s right down the hall, right at this minute!” One from her Mother in LA, “love you Mom,” she giggled at the machine, “but you could call me at home once in a while you know, or my cell phone.” Two of them actually had to do with police business, and one was from Spike Williamson. “Oh, brother,” Buffy rolled her green eyes, “this guy’s not going to give up, is he?” A part of Buffy was pleased that Mr. Williamson was so determined to see her, anyway he could.

It was the last message on the machine that really caught Buffy’s attention, though, one from Angel O’Connor. ‘Oh, God,’ she grimmaced through clenched teeth, ‘if that pompous ass thinks he’s going to weedle his way back into my life after…’

Xander Harris burst through Buffy’s office door and practically fell over her desk. “Buffy!” he exclaimed, “they’ve found Amy St. Claire. In Arizona, her home town of St. David. Officer Hope and Sgt. Marcie Ross are flying in with Amy, from Arizona to Sunnydale Airport, today!”

Buffy bolted up from her chair, “is she all right, Xand, Amy I mean,” she began to wring her hands nervously and bite her lower lip. “Yeah, Buff, Amy’s okay, well she is upset and animated, understandably. Amy’s screaming and crying, claiming her innocence of course and asking for you. Says she needs to see you, right away, when she gets here that is. According to Amy, you’re the only one who’ll believe anything she says.”


A/N: I wrote this chapter to at least mention some new characters in the plot. Mrs. Wiggins, the nosey neighbor is a variation on ‘the wig lady’ from Double Meat Palace. The female Sargent is named after a character from Season 1 of BTVS. Of course, I had to get Rupert and Jenny’s names in here too! I’m afraid this story is going to be long, long, long. Anyway, thanks for reading and keeping this tale alive. Please review if you like, Luv, Spuf





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