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Authors Chapter Notes:
Welcome to my very first Buffy fanfic! Hope you enjoy the ride, and if you do, I wouldn’t mind hearing about it. Constructive criticism and plain old praise are always welcome, especially since I’m nervous! And a quick disclaimer: I don’t own most of the characters, some of the dialogue, or anything else that you recognize from the Buffyverse. That is all owned by Joss Whedon and the good folks at Mutant Enemy. This is meant for fun, not for profit. Any songs or quotes will be attributed to their owners.Enjoy!


This was it.

This was the culmination of all her dreams for the past five years, ever since that fateful moment when she was approached by Rupert Giles, head of special projects for the Federal Bureau of Investigations, after her senior year of high school.

She had graduated at the top of her class from the college the government had paid for, majoring in the fields they’d requested; she had then trained secretly for two years at a facility in Pennsylvania. She had learned everything from tae kwon do and krav maga to how to fool a lie detector test to how to break a set of handcuffs with her feet. That was one of her favorite tricks.

Buffy Anne Summers was finally ready for her first assignment as an undercover agent.

Staring intently in the mirror, she appraised her new look. The glasses she had been wearing since she was twelve had been replaced by contacts, her usually long and straight light brown hair had been cut in layers just below her shoulders and dyed a brighter shade of blonde. She’d traded in her usual business suits for the new uniform of the trendy, techno-hipster she was supposed to be. Today, that was low-slung gray jeans, expensive leather boots, a vintage Ramones tee and a leather and lace jacket. She didn’t look a thing like herself, which was good. She looked exactly like who she’d be for the next six to twelve months, which was better.

She took a deep breath and refocused her attention in the mirror, able to see Giles behind her, going over last minute details with her partner, a handsome, brilliant man named Charles Gunn. For the past month, the three had been holed up in a hotel in Bakersfield, California, solidifying cover stories, fabricating personal histories, and making sure that each and every possible link to their true identities was severed. And now, it was all done. They were officially no longer who they used to be.

“Okay, one more time, just the basics” Giles said when he caught her looking at him, shuffling his papers until he came across the one he wanted. Not that he hadn’t memorized every word on it days ago. “Name?”

“Buffy Elizabeth Joyce.”

“Education?”

“Went to Sunnydale High School, then graduated from Washington State University on scholarship with a double major in computer science and physics, minor in drama.” That part, at least, was mostly true, and thus easy enough to remember and recite.

“Personal statistics?”

“Age twenty four. Born April 21st, mother passed away when I was six from a brain aneurysm, lived with my father until I was seventeen, when I went away to school. Estranged, no longer speaking. No siblings.” Very little of that was true, but Buffy still delivered it smoothly, perfectly, and utterly convincingly.

“And this man is?”

“Gunn Hewitt, my boyfriend and bodyguard, met him on a job.”

“And I am?”

“Who are you? I’ve never even seen you before.”

Giles nodded. “Are you feeling at all nervous, Buffy?”

“Not a bit,” she smiled brightly. “Let’s take ‘em down.”


Ninety seven miles away, a file was dropped on the desk of William Grace.

“She looks good, boss,” Xander Harris said, crossing his arms in front of him as he waited for approval. “Not a mark on her record that I could find and doesn’t seem to have ever been caught. Quite a reputation, though. Brilliant, educated, but not exactly opposed to wrongdoings.”

“And what makes you think that?” the man drawled, grabbing the file and paging through it disinterestedly.

“She’s dating an ex-gang banger from Chicago, for one, and he’s got quite a rap sheet, but seems to have been out of the game for awhile. He comes with her, part of the package, but he could be some good muscle. Plus, she briefly worked for Ethan Rayne, and we all know you can’t have a lot of morals if you’re working for Rayne.”

Spike nodded, blue eyes narrowing as he inspected the poor photocopy of the drivers license of Buffy Elizabeth Joyce. A smile played at the corners of his lips. “Bring her in.”


Things had moved far more quickly than Buffy was expecting. Once Giles had sent out her information, she figured it would be a few days before background checks would convince William Grace that she was clean (or dirty) enough to bring in for an interview. Known as “Spike”, this man, elite member of the Angelus family criminal enterprise, was the primary target of these two agents, but not of the entire investigation. Giles had explained that Grace was just a link, the business man whose hazy dealings shielded the darker inner workings of the crime family from view. He’d be cut a deal with eventually, or thrown away for life, but what the two of them were hunting for was information about the true boss, the true villain, Liam Angelus, known as “Angel”.

But it didn’t take nearly as long as Buffy had expected. The call from Grace’s people had come the very next afternoon, requesting her presence at his home the following day at three PM sharp. It wasn’t an invitation, it wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“Ready to go, baby?” Gunn winked, easily slipping into his role, a former gang member with all the stereotypical trappings that went along with that. It helped that that was exactly what he was, having been picked around the same time as Buffy to change his path in life, to flee the dead-end road he was on and do some good.

“Rarin’ to go,” she corrected, squaring her shoulders and adopting the cocky, confident persona she’d honed over the past few years. Research indicated that Grace respected people who didn’t let him walk all over them—and Buffy had no problem with playing to that weakness.

They sauntered out to his beat up pick up, an unlikely looking pair. Giles watched them drive off, proud of the two agents he had helped to train. Strictly involved in this mission in an advisory capacity, Giles fondly remembered the days when he had been in the middle of things, right in the action, idealistic about the possibility of eliminating some evil in the world. He turned to go back inside, confidence in his heart that they’d do everything in their power to bring down the man they were after.



Anyone intrigued?




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