‘A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE’


Summary: This time, I’m going to get this ‘right’ right from the start by submitting my disclaimer!!!

All of the wonderful characters in this fiction are property of Joss Whedon and Mutent Enemy and although I know ‘we’ writers and readers wished that ‘we’ owned them, that, sadly is impossible…sigh.

Okay, I’m going to do a complex kind of summary, then a brief Prologue. I must finish at least ‘Rebel Hearts’ before I really begin posting this story, so this is just a tease I guess, to see if any readers are interested. I’m still not sure about this title, so, it’s kind of WIP on that, also.

First off, I’m starting, here, with a quick ‘cast of characters’ in this tale of mystery and mayhem. Please, read and drop me a review or contact me and tell me what you think.


Buffy Summers: A dissallusioned Homicide Cop in Sunnydale, California. She’s about 30 years-old and is divorced from another cop, Riley Finn. (there’s an angstsy tale in that itself that will come out later).

Xander Harris: Buffy’s partner on the police force. He’s a bit of a bumbler, but good hearted and adores Buffy. (this is also a tale in itself!)

Angel O’Connor: Sunnydale’s stellar Assistant District Attorney. Buffy and he have ‘a past’ history together, and Angel would like to bring it into the present. Especially since Angel has just become divorced from his wife, Darla.

Holden Webster: A crime lord in Sunnydale who ends up on the wrong side of a gun, along with his mistress, Katerina McClay. (Thus our murder mystery sub plot!)

William ‘Spike’ Williamson: A British ‘sometime criminal’ who is the dead Holden’s cousin and out for revenge. (Like how I get him to Sunnydale!)

Rupert Giles: Buffy’s friend and mentor, more of a scholar then a detective. He is married to Jennifer.

Willow Rosenberg: The Sunnydale Police’s bright, brilliant Psychiatrist. Buffy is not only her friend, but a patient of hers.

Tara Mclay: Willow’s girlfriend and live in companion. Oddly enough, also the cousin of Katerina McClay.

Anya Jenkins: Xander Harris’ on and off again girlfriend. She runs a dress shop in Sunnydale and is getting mighty tired of Xander’s infatuation with his partner, Buffy.

Amy St. Clair: A troubled young woman, very troubled. She’s been in trouble with the Police for years, but this time, she’ll find herself mixed up in murder. Buffy may be her only ally.

There will be appearances from various other characters of BTVS/ATS.


Summary:

Buffy Summers works on the Sunnydale Police Force in the Homicide department. She is divorced from fellow cop, Riley Finn, someone she met at the Police Academy. Riley is now remarried and works in Los Angeles, California. I’ll explain Buffy’s and Riley’s problems later. A notorious crime lord is found shot to death, along with his mistress, in their beautiful Sunnydale penthouse. All the signs point to a jealous woman as the shooter, but our Buffy is not convinced that she is the killer.

Of course, this tale will start out as PG-13 then go into NC-17, hopefully soon!!! Spuffy all the way!!!



Prologue:


It was Buffy Summers’ day off from the Force. Her contract with Sunnydale’s finest stated that and she certainly intended on honoring it. At the moment, Buffy was sitting at the local Coco’s Restaurant, listening to her younger sister Dawn Summers-Crawford prattling on about baby things. Buffy ‘was’ interested, really, but she still found it a bit disconcerting that her baby sister, Dawn, was giving their parents, Hank and Joyce Summers, their first grandchild. ‘Wasn’t that supposed to be me? I mean first and all,’ Buffy wondered with more then just a little bit of resentment and guilt. “If it’s a girl,” Dawnie was sighing, happily, “we’re going to name her Elizabeth, after you Buffy. If it’s a boy, then it’s Connor, for sure.” Connor was Dawnie’s husband, he taught at Sunnydale High School, of all things. Unlike Buffy, Dawn Summers had never been interested in anything to do with Police work, that was Buffy’s job. And, their Father, Hank Summers’ ex-job. Hank was on retired disability from the Force, having been shot on duty a few years before.

“So, what do you think, Buff?” Dawn’s question broke Buffy’s train of thoughts, “huh?” she responded, her green eyes wide in puzzlement. “About the names, Buffy,” Dawn whined, “I thought you’d be so pleased that we’re planning on naming our little girl, Elizabeth, after your given name.” Buffy glanced at her pouting little sister, guiltily, “I’m sorry, Dawnie,” she sighed loudly. “I guess I’m just thinking about my own baby. I mean the one I lost, you know,” the older girl frowned and tried to shake off the painful memory. “I am really happy for you, Dawnie,” Buffy reached over the little table and clasped her sister’s hand, warmly, “you and Connor. I’m so glad you two decided to stay in Sunnydale, even when Mom and Dad moved to LA.” Dawn finally graced Buffy with a sincere grin, “Connor and I love Sunnydale, we think it’s the perfect place to raise a family.” Buffy scowled for a moment, “well, I don’t know about that, Dawnie,” she stammered. “There’s a side to Sunnydale that a lot of people don’t see, or, choose not to.” The dark-haired, taller sister of Buffy’s just giggled and added, “well of course, you just see the bad side of SunnyD, Buff. That’s exactly why I chose not to follow in the Summers’ crime fighting tradition! Too damn depressing!”

“Thought I’d find you two here,” came Xander Harris’ booming voice. Xander was Buffy’s partner on the force and had been friends with Dawn and Connor for years. Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, “can I ask ‘why’ you’re here, Harris,” she asked evenly. “Business, babe,” Xander flopped down beside the pregnant Dawn and grabbed Buffy’s uneaten piece of toast, which he finished off in three bites. “Check the logs, Harris,” Buffy grumbled, “it’s my day off, remember?” The large brunette male grinned and nodded his head, “yeah, it ‘was’ mine too, but we got called in. If you’d actually wear your cell phone, or at least turn it on, Buff,” Xander grabbed the last piece of bacon, “you’d have gotten the call too.”

“What is it,” Buffy rasped in exhasperation, “bikers on PCP attack the Public Library again?” Xander grinned, while finishing off the errant bacon, “nope, bigger then that.” ‘Well’ Buffy glared at Xander, “gonna’ share the news, or just eat my sister’s and my food,” she muttered. “Guess what ‘big, big shot baddie’ right here in Sunnydale was just found, in his exclusive penthouse, no less, shot through the head? Oh, his ‘flavor of the week’ Katerina was found right next to him, both deader then dead.” Xander gave Buffy his ‘I know and you don’t’ smug look, as she sat up with a jolt. “Holden Webster is dead?” Buffy gasped wide-eyed at her partner in disbelief. “Uh, huh,” is all Xander could manage while he finished off Dawn’s sweet roll, hungrily. “Does Anya feed you?” Dawnie asked him, sarcastically. “We’re on break, again,” Xander replied simply with a shrug. “Well, Dawnie,” Buffy stood up to grab the bill and pay it, “sorry, but duty and all that. Tell Connor ‘hi’ and take care of yourself.” Buffy glared at Xander who was busy eyeing a cup of untouched coffee, “oh for God’s sake, Xander, get off your ass and let’s get going,” she hissed at the man impatiently.


A/N: Well, I must tell you, this fiction is actually based on something I was attempting to write as a murder mystery (novel form). I just felt that the characters from our beloved BTVS/ATS would fit in quite nicely to the plot line and decided to submit it as a Spuffy fan fic. I am going to try and get Spike over to Sunnydale, ASAP, of course, sparks will fly between Buffy and him, hehehe. Thank you for reading, please review and tell me what you think. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 1: ‘Scene Of The Crime(s)’


“Not very pretty, is it?” Captain Wilkens muttered as he unzipped the body bag that held Holden Webster’s now cold, dead body. Buffy wrinkled her slightly crooked nose in disgust, “yuck, can I just say gross,” she hissed as she glanced at her partner Xander, who looked like he was about to be sick. Captain Wilkens, Buffy and Xander’s superior on the Police force shook his head and shrugged, “yeah, gross,” he agreed with his female Lieutenant’s summation. “Of course,” the Captain continued in a rather weak voice, “the woman’s body isn’t quite as ‘gross’ really.” The man unzipped the other body bag to reveal the body of Katerina McClay, Webster’s once very alive, lovely mistress. Fortunately, the woman had been shot in the stomache before she bled to death, not in the head. Holden Webster, on the other hand, had not been so fortunate, since half of his once ‘lovely’ head was missing. All in all, however,with all of the blood that was spattered about the beautiful penthouse living room, it seemed like some grotesque Wes Craven or Rob Zombie film. Not a gorgeous, one-of-a-kind apartment unit in idealistic Sunnydale, California. ‘So much for Dawnie’s ideal Sunnydale family utopia,’ Buffy mused as she glanced, reluctantly, back at Katerina.

“I don’t know,” Xander mumbled as he took a gulp of the litre of Pepsi Cola he held, “might have been kinder if the killer had just offed the woman in the head, too. Faster anyway. Webster must have died fairly quickly, right? But the woman? She had to have sufferred longer, to bleed to death from a stomache wound?” Buffy had to hand it to Xander, he was right about this one, “yeah,” she nodded in agreement, “he’s right Captain Wilkens. Poor Katerina, it probably took at least 15, maybe 20 minutes before she died from the gun shot.” Their superior, Theodore Wilkens, nodded in agreement, “shocking, but true, Harris,” the man chuckled, “I mean you being ‘right’ for once. That’s the shocking thing,” he added. “It probably would have been less painful for the woman, had she have died instantly from a bullet to the brain, instead of to the gut.” Buffy shook her head in exhasperation, “okay, we get it. Whoever shot these two was a little more merciful, kind of anyway, to Webster. But,” she scowled, “what we need to know is who, why and when exactly did it happen?”

“Well,” Captain Wilkens pursed his lips and frowned, thoughtfully, “there is a survelance camera, and tape, that the apartment complex keeps. That should give us an idea of just who was here last, at least in the front door of the complex, but then again, it’s not like Holden Webster didn’t have a number of enemies. I mean, he wasn’t the most popular guy on the block. So, where do we start kids?” Buffy did not particularly like Captain Wilkens or his sarcasm, but she did respect him, most of the time anyway. About this, though? The man was right on. Holden Webster had more enemies then most normal people had friends and anyone of the local ‘baddies’ could have had a hand in his death. “You know, Captain,” Buffy began carefully as she surveyed first Holden’s mushed face, then Katerina’s entact one, “there’s one thing I don’t get.” Both the Captain and Xander gave her their best ‘huh’ looks. “Why kill Katerina?” Buffy reasoned vocally. “I mean, why not, if this was a power hit or something, why not do it in a public place? Or at least at Webster’s private Men’s Club. Everyone knows about that place? Why here, now?”

“Now see,” Xander chimed in with his own chuckle, “this is why my partner, the lovely Buffy Summers and I get the big bucks and all the perks! We ask the questions, do the math, make those snap decisions that…” Buffy shot Xander a warning look then made herself scan Webster’s devestated face and head, again. “Whoever did this,” she surmised as she cringed at the gruesome sight before her, “was in it for something more then just ‘power’ I’m sure of it. This was revenge, almost maybe out of jealousy or something like that? Had to be. A scorned lover of Webster’s, maybe?” She turned to her companions, then touched Katerina’s body bag with her latex gloved hand. “I mean, let’s face it, Holden Webster was the epitome of ‘playboy’ for years. After all,” Buffy nodded her head in self assurance, “he ran call girls, long before he ever got into the other facets of big business here in SunnyD. Must have made lots of love connections that way, right? Not only that, but for some bizarre reason, Holden was one of the most eligible bachelors in Sunnydale. Wasn’t it only recently that he settled down with Katerina McClay?” Xander nodded his dark head, “that’s right. Old Holden, he was the ‘Man’ when it came to the ladies all right.” Buffy felt her skin crawl a little, ‘Geez,’ she thought, a little queasy to her stomache, ‘it’s like Xand admires this fuck or something.’

“Captain Wilkens,” a good looking young police officer, Buffy recognized Officer Doyle, broke into the conversation. “There’s a door man, for the complex here. We’ve questioned him,” Doyle continued, “he saw something. Maybe important, maybe not, but…” Buffy spied an unobvious, rather different looking dark-haired man with Officer Doyle. “This is Warren Meers, Sir,” Doyle pointed at the door man, “he may have seen the last person who visited Webster and his lady up here.” Warren Meers was one of those guys, Buffy realized right off, who would always be a ‘wannabe’ or an also ran. He was not good looking, not in a conventional sense, but he had possibilities, at least in an intelligence kind of way. “I, I saw a woman,” this Warren fella began weakly, “a young woman. She was here, just a while before the regular maid found poor Miss McClay, and Webster.”

“Tell us more,” Xander ordered with masculine authority. “Well,” Meers continued, hesitantly, “she, the woman, she’s been here before. I remember her. She’s a young twenty-something, dark-haired, slim and kind of cute, I guess. Not pretty, well, not beautiful, anyway, not like some ladies. Anyway, I believe the woman’s name is Amy? Like I said, she’s been here before. Once or twice when Miss McClay may have been gone from the penthouse.” Buffy felt her stomache drop, literally, as she heard the description from this Warren Meers. “Mr. Meers,” Buffy waved the door man to come closer to her, “this ‘Amy’ was she about my size, maybe a couple of inches taller? Near skinny?” Meers nodded his head in confirmation, “not near as pretty as you, Officer Summers,” he smiled. “But cute, like I said. I know Mr. Webster referred to her as Amy, at least that much.” Buffy felt her uneasiness grow by leaps and bounds, “this Amy,” she mumbled softly, “did Mr. Webster ever mention her last name? St. Claire, perhaps?” The dark-haired door man frowned in thought for a moment, “no Maam,” he shook his head with confidence, “I only heard the first name of Amy mentioned.”

“What is it Buff?” Xander asked with a serious expression in his dark eyes. “I don’t know, Xand,” Buffy answered, honestly, “it’s just…” The female Lieutenant stepped away from the four nearby men and tried to remember something, from the past. Her past and many others. Buffy had started as a street cop, but that had never been enough for her. She wanted more. More cases, more tough cases, that is, and more what? Glory? Pressure and emotional pain? Anyway, whatever had driven Buffy, in the past or present, she had somehow made her way, way too young, to the Vice Squad of the Sunnydale Police Department. That had been over five years before, nearly seven years before, actually. Back then, Buffy worked with a male cop, a good cop by the name of Thomas Ford. He was a good guy, Thomas, cute, available and smart, compassionate even. Buffy shook her blonde head and tried to remember, clearly, the facts of that case, the one that had introduced them to the waif-like creature, Amy St. Claire. The poor, lost little girl, really, would haunt Buffy’s nightmares, and Ford’s for a long, long time.

Buffy never gave herself the credit of compassion. She had always been very cynical, even more so after she’d married Riley and lost their baby. It was Buffy’s fault, she had no doubt, the miscarriage, no matter what anyone said. At the moment, this moment, standing in Holden Webster’s exquisite, if blood spatterred living room, Buffy tried to remember the facts about Amy St. Claire and her connection to Holden Webster. Webster, who had been anything but compassionate and kind, started his criminal career by running whores for a living. Not your average, street walking, hooker type sluts, no, but high class, much better then average call girl types. Now, if Webster had just been content to manage young, twenty-something or even thirty-something girls in his stable, then that would have been at least somewhat ‘acceptable.’ However, Holden Webster was a real entrepeneur, from the get go. He knew what his customers wanted and needed. This is how poor Amy St. Claire, sixteen-years-old at the time, got mixed up with Holden.

There is always a client, to a pimp anyway, who is sick enough, distorted or disgusting enough to want or need a young girl. Men like that, and some women, didn’t give a fuck whether the girl in question was under age, or naïve or whatever. However, these same ‘pillars of society’ who wanted the underage girl in mind, were above hitting the streets and picking up mere hookers for hire. No, that kind of snatch was beneath these types. So, enter Holden Webster and his organization of quality whores; age, size and even gender was no problem. Amy St. Claire had fallen in, at the ripe old age of sixteen, with Holden and his horde of deviants. On a sting, back seven years before, that’s when Buffy first encountered Amy, and some other lost souls in Webster’s world. It was then that Buffy Summers first noticed Amy and her innocent stare, her lost little girl look. For whatever reason, Buffy never forgot that girl the Vice squad picked up, along with a very young boy, Andrew was his name. After the bust, Buffy had gone home, to her husband, Riley, and proceeded to throw up for over thirty minutes.

“Buff?” Xander’s deep timbre broke into her reverie, “you know this gal, this Amy. Don’t you?” She nodded, reluctantly, “I think so,” Buffy whispered. “She, if it’s her, she was one of Holden’s ring of teen whores, from years ago. My partner, Ford and me, we picked her up in the sting. I’m not sure, but…” Buffy swallowed hard then tried to continue, “she got involved with Webster, personally, a couple of years after that. They lived together, I think, for a a while, anyway, a short while. Thought she’d left town, really, took Andrew Price with her. They were friends, at least she said they were.” Buffy felt the bile rise in her throat, “oh, forget it,” she hissed. “It’s just a bad memory from a long time ago.” Captain Wilkens, the stalwart detective he was would not let it go, “Lt. Doyle,” he barked, “take Mr. Meers down to headquarters. Have him look at some pictures of female perps, from crimes before.” Wilkens eyed his best detective, Buffy Summers, warily, “Summers, we need to talk,” he mumbled to her.

“It’s not her,” Buffy insisted to her Captain, a little unsure maybe. “We have to be sure, Summers,” Wilkens gave his Lieutenant that authoritive nod of his. “If Meers can’t identify this Amy St. Claire, then so be it. But, if he can…” Buffy felt ill to her tummy. It wasn’t that she cared, not really, about the girl, well, now the young woman, Amy, but there was something about her. Buffy had always written off her concern for Amy St. Claire as a kind of transferance thingy. Amy, after all, could have been almost a mirror image of Buffy’s young sister, Dawn, when she was younger anyway. “Captain,” Buffy muttered, “Amy, she isn’t the ‘perp’ type, more the victim type, I swear.” Her superior nodded, almost sympathetically, Buffy thought, “I know, Lieutenant,” he sighed, “but we have to cover all of our bases.” With a shrug of her shoulders, Buffy followed Xander out of the ruined penthouse and down to the street below. “How about lunch?” Xander offerred as they hit the sidewalk.

Over the most disgusting sandwiches in the world, Buffy and Xander discussed the case at hand. “So,” Xander mumbled with a mouth full of bread and tuna, “this Amy chick. You do know her?” Buffy shrugged, trying to give an indifferent stance, “somewhat,” she muttered, taking a sip of her now cold coffee. “Let’s talk about something else, huh, Xand?” Buffy requested as she took a reluctant bite of her egg salad sandwich. “Like,” she glared up at her partner, “you and Anya? What gives there?” Xander blushed and actually set his half eaten sandwich on his plate. “Oh, you know Anya,” he sighed as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “She’s into commitment, but I’m still a free spirit, you know.” He hung his head and avoided Buffy’s grim stare.

“Xander,” Buffy tossed her own napkin on the table with a sigh, “you are not a free spirit. You, my friend, are a coward at heart. You love Anya, but you’re afraid to admit it. To commit, right?” Xander flinched a bit then frowned at Buffy, “you been taking lessons from our Willow Rosenberg, class shrink?” he mumbled nervously. “Okay,” Buffy sighed again in frustration, “let’s talk about the case.”

Later that evening, Buffy wondered into her lonely one bedroom apartment. It was neat, immaculate, really, and well decorated, but lonely, all the same. When her and Riley were married, Buffy remembered, they owned a nice little condo, close to the beach. But that was then and this was now. Riley, to his credit, had wanted Buffy to quit the force, her dream job, when she first found out she was pregnant with their child. Buffy had been stubborn, defiant and insistent. Oh, she remembered well, the argument she and Riley had had, back then:

‘Flashback’


“You can’t be serious, babe,” Riley Finn was admonishing his wife, Buffy. “You’re two months pregnant, you cannot go out on duty. Get a fuckin’ desk job, for God’s sake. Anything but actual street duty!” Buffy had been sitting on her neon green bean bag chair, her honey blonde hair up in a loose bun, her mouth in a tight, defiant pout. “I’ll be fine, for Heaven’s sake, Riley,” she’d insisted. “I’ll do street duty, for just another month or so, no big, really.” Riley had just thrown his hands up in defeat and gone into their bedroom, slamming their door as he went. Unfortunately, it had turned out to be a very ‘big big’ really. Buffy had been on a case, with Thomas Ford, just a week or so later. She was covering for Ford, not unusual, really, but some cranked up gang banger had decided to play ‘Gunsmoke’ and took a shot at her partner. Buffy had, on reflex, jumped in front of Ford and pushed him out of the way. The bullet, meant for her partner, hit Buffy instead. It wasn’t a mortal hit, as it turned out, at least not for Buffy. But, for the poor little baby?


‘Present Day’

Riley never forgave her, Buffy was fully aware of that. That’s why she wasn’t surprised, later when her husband of less then two years asked her for a divorce. Which, she granted without a second thought. Buffy wanted Riley to be happy and she knew that he would never, ever be happy with her, again. So, she had signed the death certificate to her marriage and let Riley go. Now, she, Buffy was alone, most of time, anyway, and by choice. It was almost 8:00 PM and Buffy was on her second Cosmo martini. ‘No one should drink alone,’ she mused sadly as she sipped the lovely magenta concoction. ‘Or,’ she thought with a smirk, ‘is that no one should be alone?’


A/N: That was a long chapter, but I could not stop writing! I’ve decided to work on the finish of ‘Rebel Hearts’ a little more. Another chapter and a nice Epilogue. In the mean time, here’s Chapter 1 of my new fic; ‘A Murder In Sunnydale’ and I hope you read and review. Thank you. Luv, Spuf

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

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 3: ‘Honour Among Thieves’


A/N: I’m kind of taking a chance on this and submitting another chapter. I’m not quite sure if there’s a lot of interest in this fiction, but here it goes.

In this chapter Buffy and Spike meet and ‘chat’ of course sparks fly. Spike’s character will definitely be in the rest of the chapters. I’m hoping this generates more interest from the readers. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Spike looked into the most beautiful, emerald green eyes he had ever seen. As if that wasn’t enough, the fiery green orbs seemed to belong to an angel, an earthbound angel that is, with honey blonde hair that hung well past her shoulders. If he could have spoken, Spike Williamson would have immediately spouted some sappy poetry, his original crap, or some more known prose from a famous writer, at least. However, Spike was at an instant loss for words. Well, okay, after he had mentioned the fact that maybe his trip to this outpost of Californian Eden which was Sunnydale, may have not been a total waste after all. That was when he first spied the little blonde before him, in her short skirt and proper little white blouse. ‘Good show, Spike,’ he chided himself, ‘react to seeing this Aphrodite with a real smooth line like that. God, William, you are pathetic,’ he admonished his alter ego in his own mind.


A part of Buffy Summers was ‘sorry’ that she had decided to wear her fave little black skirt to work that day. Okay, the description of ‘little’ may not have quite covered it, but short, as in three inches above the knee certainly did, especially for this job. However, the truth was, that this British, Billy Idol wannabe that now perused her like his last meal on earth, may have needed no added incentive, anyway, to stare at her that is. This man, who was apparently Mr. Williamson seemed to have a real good idea of just exactly what Buffy looked like, under her proper skirt and blouse. “This is Lt. Buffy Summers, Mr. Williamson,” she heard Captain Wilkens mumble, curtly, “and her partner, Xander Harris. Mr. Williamson,” the Captain continued with a sigh of obvious frustration, “is Holden Webster’s relative, from London.”

Buffy noticed that this Brit blonde neglected to even acknowledge Xander, instead, ‘blue eyes’ sauntered over to her and clasped the hand she reached out with to shake his. Instead, of shaking it with his very large one, ‘Billy’ brought Buffy’s hand up and lightly kissed the back of it. “Charmed, Miss Summers,” he purred, never taking his eyes from hers. She had to wonder, briefly, if Mr. Charming had felt the jolt of electricity that shot through her own body when he kissed her hand. ‘Yeah,’ she thought smugly, as she watched his reaction, ‘he felt it.’ Mr. Williamson’s blue eyes had lit up like fireworks when his lips touched Buffy’s hand and she definitely saw ‘voltage’ in them. Not only that, but the guy seemed to refuse to let go of Buffy’s little hand, as if they were melded together there. ‘Ha!’ she grinned in smug victory, ‘hope he’s happy. Trying to charm me. At least I think he was trying to charm me?’ Her pompous smirk suddenly turned into a questioning frown, but the blond Mr. Williamson’s somewhat dazed expression again assured Buffy that he had indeed ‘felt voltage’ himself when they touched.

“Exactly, why are you here again, Mr. Williamson. I mean, Sunnydale?” Xander’s deep voice was tinged with just the slightest bit of anger, Buffy felt and it broke the magic moment between her and this blonde stranger. “Like I told your boss,” Spike responded with irritation to Xander’s curt question, never taking his eyes from Buffy, “my family, Hold’s and mine, they sent me to make sure you make my cousin’s murder, top priority. Oh, by-the-by,” Williamson added with a dazzling smile, “you just call me Spike, okay, Princess?” Spike, as he asked to be called, looked directly into Buffy’s eyes and actually winked at her, causing her a mixed emotional reaction. On one hand, she did like the wink, she shouldn’t, but she did. On the other hand, who the hell was this handsome stranger to her, who gave off waves of danger to her; who was he to call her, Buffy Summers, a Homicide Cop, for God’s sake, ‘Princess!’ “You can call me Lt. Summers,” Mr. Williamson,” Buffy quipped back, knowing that her vocal slap hit home when she heard Xander’s sigh of relief.

Spike smirked, slightly at ‘Lt. Summers’ then shrugged his shoulders, “as you wish, Lt.” He responded politely, never taking his eyes from her fiery green ones. ‘Little brat,’ he seethed silently, ‘thinks she’s a little up there, above me, I wager. Well, we’ll just see ‘bout that, when it’s all said and done, bet I end up in her bed, her screaming my name. And that’s a promise to myself.’ Finally turning to the whelp, Princess’s partner, Spike smirked even wider, ‘oh,’ he chuckled to himself, ‘I see how it is. The whelp here’s got it bad for his partner. Bet the lovely Buffy hardly knows he’s alive, that way, anyhow.’ Spike sized the taller, larger built and younger man up before he answered this moron’s original question. He realized that it was obvious that he,Spike, was sizing up his potential competition, at least for Buffy’s affections, but frankly he didn’t give a fuck what this big ponce, Harris was it, thought. “Holden Webster, he’s…he was my cousin. My Dad is his Dad’s big brother and Holden actually was born in London. Me and Holden, we were best mates, that is until Uncle Weston decided to drag his arse over here to America and start him up in ‘business’ here,” Spike finished with a friendly grin, knowing that everyone in that room knew exactly what kind of ‘business’ Hold had set up. The shady kind of ‘business.’

Williamson turned his attention back to Buffy, “so Lt. Summers,” he shot her that damn smirk again, “what’d you think? That this little loony bint of Holden’s, Amy whatshername blew my cousin’s head off?” Buffy was stunned, momentarily that is. First off, she had no idea what ‘bint’ meant, but it didn’t sound like it was very nice. Also, the way the man, Spike, described the murder… ‘blew my cousin’s head off?’ she mused, ‘real sympathetic to your so called ‘beloved’ cousin’s death, asshole.’ Then it dawned on Buffy, why should she care if this Spike person was sympathetic to Holden Webster? If anyone did not deserve sympathy, it was Holden, now, Katerina McClay, that was a different story. The only thing that poor woman was guilty of was poor judgement, at least where her men were concerned. Something that Buffy could certainly ‘sympathize’ with and relate to herself.

Captain Wilkens took that very moment to break into the rather one-sided conversation. “Summers,” the Captain began carefully, “I want you to take Mr. Williamson here to your office. Bring him up-to-date on the case. Least we can do, he’s come all this way and…” Xander interjected with a loud whine, “but Captain, this is ‘our’ case, Buff’s and mine. Shouldn’t I be there, to you know, help fill in Williamson on the facts?” Xander eyed Spike warily, his brown eyes were filled with jealousy, “I don’t think that…” Captain Wilkens hissed loudly, “let it go, Harris. I’ve got some papers for you to look at. Oh, don’t worry,” their boss added, snarkily, “there’s pictures involved to help you understand better.” With that, the Captain motioned Xander to have a seat and to remain in his office, even as he dismissed Buffy to take Spike with her to her office. Xander slumped down into his chair, a childish pout on his handsome face as he eyed Spike and Buffy together, suspiciously.

“Oh, come on then,” Buffy hissed in exhasperation as she motioned for Spike to follow her down the hall to her office. She could feel the blonde man’s blue eyes trained on her bottom, all the way to the office, but he did hop to and open her door for her. “How noble,” Buffy mumbled sarcastically under her breath. Once the couple had entered her office, Buffy headed over to her file cabinet and began to rifle through the contents, at the same time, she nodded her head, motioning Spike to sit down. “So,” Buffy stammered as she pawed through the files in the drawer, looking for the Amy St.Claire papers, “what exactly does ‘bint’ stand for, Mr. Williamson?” She could feel Spike’s eyes, still trained on her backside, “if you’d stop purveying my ass and pay attention to my questions, Williamsom,” she snipped curtly, “maybe we could come to some understanding. About this case, I mean.”

“Sorry, luv,” Spike murmered wickedly, still eyeing this little angel’s arse with glee, “but you have the most exquisite little…” Lt. Summers slammed the cabinet shut, she carried a thick, manilla file in her tiny hands, “I’m not your love,” she hissed in frustration as she flopped down in her own chair, her cackles up. ‘No,’ he mused, ‘but maybe you could be…should be, actually.’ “I’m sorry, Lt. Summers,” Spike gave Buffy his most effective pout, “it’s just that you’re such a lovely young woman. I guess I’m not used to cops being so, well so very appealing?” Buffy shook her head in slight disgust, but he noted that she also smiled, softly, a purely feminine smile. “All right, Mr. Williamson,” Lt. Summers sighed softly, something that Spike found quite adorable, “let’s try and talk about this case, shall we?” He nodded eagerly, and leaned over Buffy’s desk to catch her pretty eye again, “I get the feeling, luv…I mean Buffy, I mean, Lt. Summers that you have doubts? About this Amy chit and all? Being my cousin’s killer?” A flash of pain swept across Buffy’s face, Spike noticed, then she shook it off and nodded to him. “I have some past knowledge of Amy St. Claire, Mr. Williamson,” she stammered, “I just don’t feel that the girl is capable of murder.”

“And,” Spike continued, his left scarred eyebrow raised in question, “do I get the feeling that you are the only one that thinks this chit’s innocent?” Buffy gave Spike a somewhat dubious look, “yes,” she finally admitted to him, “I’m probably the only one around that thinks that Amy is innocent. However, I’m also the one that knows the most about the girl. Did you know, Mr. Williamson,” the blonde woman muttered, “that Amy St. Claire was one of your beloved cousin’s young whores? I mean, the ones he oversaw in his first real Sunnydale venture? The call girl service I mean?” She glared at him, as if he was personally responsible for his cousin’s misdeeds. Spike flinched, slightly, took a deep breath, his eyes scanned Buffy’s smug, judgemental gaze, “I never said,” Spike mumbled evenly, “that my cousin, Holden, was a saint, or even a decent bloke. Just said he was ‘family’ and as such, I owe him.”

“You ever heard of the term ‘honour among theives’ Lt. Summers?” Spike stared right into the beautiful little brat’s green eyes and waited until she nodded, somewhat puzzled. “Well, there’s loyalty too,” he nodded at her with confidence, “as well as honour and our ‘family’ Holden’s and mine, we believe in loyalty.” Buffy seemed to ponder Spike’s last statement for a moment then, “so, what kind of honourable thief does that make ‘you’ Mr. Williamson,” she asked with a slight smirk of her own. He burst out laughing and leaned back in his chair, “no thief, I’m afraid to dissapoint you, Lt.,” he continued. “My business is owning and running a pub, in London. I’m afraid that the closest thing I come to breaking the law is if my place accidently serves minors liquer.” Spike continued to laugh, gleefully as he watched the little blonde angel’s reaction.

“I just bet,” Buffy mumbled under her breath, then stated more loudly, “well, that’s nice to know, Williamson. However, why is it that I don’t quite believe you?” This Spike stopped laughing and got the most injured look of innocence on his handsome face, “I assure you, Lt.,” he chuckled softly, “I’m as clean as a newborn lamb, luv.” He finished with a smirk that sent a tingle through Buffy’s body, so she quickly changed the subject. “All right then,” Buffy continued, scanning the files on Amy, “you get that I don’t believe Amy’s guilty. Even if she did run off? That’s a totally Amy St. Claire kind of thing to do…run off away that is. She probably knew, before the Police did, that Holden was dead. Not because ‘she’ killed him, mind you,” Buffy reminded the ‘victim’s’ cousin, “but because your cousin, Holden and Amy St. Claire had this,” she paused a moment. “They had this connnection between them, some kind of bond, I guess. I don’t know, sounds silly, but…”

Spike shook his head, “no, doesn’t sound silly at all, Lt. Summers,” he stated evenly. “In fact, Hold told me about this girl, Amy. More then once, actually. He did have feelings for her, this bond you talk about. Just can’t figure what kind.” Spike thought for a moment, “besides,” he leaned back onto Buffy’s desk and looked her straight in the eyes again, “I agree with you. I don’t think old Holden would have been taken out by a bint like this Amy, even a jealous one.” Buffy’s green eyes widened, there was a look of confusion in them, Spike noticed, that and maybe some gratefulness. “Well,” she murmered, “at least some one else believes me. About Amy that is.”

“Tell you what,” Spike broke the momentary silence, “why don’t you have dinner with me, tonight? There’s got to be a decent place, somewhere, in this berg of Sunnydale to eat, right? Holden’s club, it’s a bar and restaurant, we could eat there. Discuss the case?” He leaned even closer over the desk and gave Buffy his most dazzling smile. “Uhm, I…” Buffy hesitated, giving Spike some hope that she’d actually accept. “I can’t,” she finally mumbled after she glanced at her desk calendar. “It’s Friday,” she hurriedly explained to him as his smile turned to a pout, then a frown. “I have other plans,” she finished quickly.

“You’re not married, right?” he asked rather abruptly for her taste. “What?” she asked, stunned that he’d be so bold. “Well,” he pointed at her ring finger, “no band, no ring, no sign of any real ties for you. A woman like you, you’d wear a wedding ring, or engagement ring. You’d have to, keep the blokes away and let them know you’re attached.” Buffy just stared at the man in disbelief then she sighed and explained, “no, I’m no longer married, as if that’s any of your concern. However, I do have a personal life, Mr. Williamson and it so happens that my friend and I,” she paused and blushed, “that we have dinner on Fridays. It’s a standing date.” Spike was not to be deterred apparently because he then asked her if she’d see him Saturday night. “Can’t,” Buffy grinned slyly, “my friend and I, Saturday’s a standing date also.” ‘Why the hell am I explaining this to him?’ Buffy asked herself in disbelief, ‘none of his damn business. And why am I suddenly dissapointed in seeing Parker tonight? It’s not like I’ll ever date this Spike guy…I can’t, he’s, well, he’s a criminal, right? I don’t buy that ‘legal business crap’ of his for one minute.’

Spike frowned for a moment, a jolt of jealousy hit him, but he reasoned with himself, ‘of course she’s got a man, you stupid fuck. Why wouldn’t she? But,’ he continued his thought, ‘she did refer to him as a ‘friend’ and that’s rather interesting. Wonder if this friend of her’s is taking care of business…with Buffy that is?’ This gave Spike a little more hope, so he decided to just let it go this time. For the moment anyway. “Maybe another time, then,” he grinned at Buffy in delight when she actually squirmed in her chair and blushed profusely. ‘Gonna’ make you do both of those actions, soon, sweetheart, in bed,’ he promised her and himself, silently. Captain Wilkens’ voice crackled over the intercom on Buffy’s desk, “Summers,” he growled impatiently, “get in here. I’ve had just about enough of your boy, Harris’ whining about you and Mr. Williamson. Maybe you can calm him down?” Buffy laughed, again delighting Spike, “I’d better go rescue my Captain,” she grinned at him. “Xander can be pretty whiney when he wants to be. You stay here, Mr. Williamson, for as long as you want. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, if you like, if there’s any more information or if they find Amy St. Claire.” She stood up and left the office, pretty unceremoniously, Spike thought.

When she had gone, Spike pulled out his cell phone and fast dialed a number. “Wesley,” he barked at the man who answered the other end, “I need you to do something, now.” He frowned momentarily, “there’s a woman, Buffy Summers, a Homicide cop, I want you to find out everything possible, everything you can dig up on her. No, I know this isn’t about Holden’s murder, not really, but when I tell you to do something, you just fucking do it, right? Why the hell would I have dragged your arse over here with me, if not to have you do little things for me, huh?” Spike was losing his patience, “just do it, Wes,” he growled into the phone, “everything you can find. I think she’s been married before. Probably to a cop, wouldn’t doubt it anyway. Oh, she’s seeing ‘somebody’ at the present, find out about him. Yes, Wes, I’m fairly certain it is a ‘him’ all right?” He ended the conversation with Wesley Rhys-Smythe and snapped the cell phone shut. ‘We’ll just see, Buffy my Princess. How soon I can get between you and this ‘friend’ of yours and get ‘you’ sweet into my bed.’


A/N: Long chapter, sorry. As I said, I’m submitting this chapter in hopes of generating some interest in the story. Please read and review. Reviews, good or bad, help writers write better, really. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

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

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 5: ‘Here’s The Weird Part!’


A/N: In this chapter, through Spuffy banter, we find out how Spike and Buffy got their nicknames. Luv, S


“Amy?” Buffy mumbled softly at the younger woman who sat, handcuffed in an interrogation room of the precinct. “Buffy!” Amy cried eagerly, her dark eyes full of hope, “I mean, Lt. Summers,” the girl whispered and hung her dark head of hair down again. She was too thin, Buffy felt, Amy St. Claire was a stick, actually, thinner then herself. Even at almost twenty-five, Amy St. Claire resembled a mere waif of a girl, a wisp of the teenager she had once been when Buffy Summers first encountered her.

“Get out,” Buffy hissed at Xander and Officer Hope, yes, even Sgt. Ross, “get out, now,” she repeated. Xander began to protest, but Buffy shot him her most aggressive glare and her partner motioned to Hope and Ross to leave with him. “Amy,” Buffy turned to face the prisoner, her voice almost tender, almost that is, “what happened?” Amy shrugged, then suddenly burst out into tears, “I didn’t do it Buf…I mean Lt. Summers, I didn’t, I swear to God. Holden, that bitch of his, Katerina, I did not kill them. I…” Buffy shook her head and flopped down in the chair across from the table that Amy rested her cuffed hands and elbows on.

“Amy,” she began gently, “you were seen, at Webster’s penthouse, just an hour before the time of the murders. You left town, less then an hour after Katerina’s estimated death. How can you sit there and tell me that you didn’t have any knowledge of this mess? How?” The dark haired woman looked at Buffy, the desperation in her dark eyes glowed, bore it’s way into Lt. Summer’s hardened heart. “I did not kill Holden, Lt. Summers,” she rasped, “or his whore. I swear to God, I didn’t. It’s just, Holden and me, we had this thing, like a bond. I knew, knew that something was wrong that day and when a friend of mine told me that the cops had been called to Hold’s place. I just freaked, ran I guess. Buffy,” Amy whispered lowly, “I didn’t even know about the actual killings until I hit Yuma. I swear.”

Buffy sighed in frustration, “here’s the weird part, Amy,” she mumbled, “I believe you. As much as anyone had a right to blow Holden Webster’s head off, like you did? I just know you didn’t. The task at hand now, is to convince everyone else in Sunnydale that you’re not guilty.” Captain Wilkens stormed into the interrogation room, “Summers!” he barked angrily, “get this little loser into lock-up, or have someone else do it!” Amy gave Buffy that ‘little girl lost’ look she was so good at, but this time, her options had run out. “Send Hope in,” Buffy grumbled at her Captain, “Amy,” she turned her attention to the skinny, haggard younger woman, “go with Officers Hope and Ross. Do not give them any trouble. No hysterics, no drama and I will try and find some way to get you out on bail. I mean it Amy, no problems, right?”

Amy nodded in defeat, “sure,” she shrugged, almost indifferently. “Lt. Summers,” she gave Buffy her sincerest look, “I did not kill Holden Webster. I loved him.” Buffy felt her stomache drop, literally to the ground as she nodded for Scott Hope to remove the prisoner. When the prisoner and her captor had left, Buffy slumped down into the chair she occupied, ‘I hate this fucking job sometimes,’ she hissed to herself.

Later, hours later, Buffy was sitting at her office desk, a latte in one hand, her silver plated pen in the other. ‘Why would Amy kill Holden,’ she wrote the words on a tablet of paper on the desk in front of her. She listed reasons, one-by-one:

1) Holden Webster targeted Amy St. Claire as a whore for his call girl service. The minute she stepped off of a bus from Arizona, the manipulative bastard that Webster was.

2) Holden Webster spun a web of deceit, lies and promises around Amy’s sixteen-year-old impressionable mind. Promised her the moon, I suppose. Asshole!

3) Holden’s little ring of prostitutes got broken up by ‘yours truly’ and her partner Tom Ford. We play heros, Ford and I, save the desperate Amy and her pal, Andrew Price from a future life of prostitution, drugs and degredation. However, Holden escapes justice, as usual.

4) Tom Ford, who had issues of his own, takes up with young Amy, much to Holden’s chagrin. Or so we’ve heard. Ford dies, Amy falls back into Webster’s web of horrors.

5) Holden Webster, surprisingly, moves Amy St. Claire into a decent apartment of his. Actually makes gestures that ‘she’ is his woman. After her eighteenth birthday, of course. Even gives perks to Amy’s best buddy, Andrew.

6) Amy realizes, after a year or so, that Holden is not a long haul guy. He has women all over town and in LA. She, Amy, in an unusual act of self-dignity, packs up and takes her darling Andrew to LA with her.

7) Amy, a little older and wiser, returns to Sunnydale, a year later, with Andrew in tow, and sets herself and Andy up in a nice apartment on the west side. Holden, who is between mistresses, tries to renew their relationship, but Amy withholds. She stands her ground and insists (according to sources) that she and Holden remain ‘just friends’ or business associates, nothing more. However, the ‘bond or connection’ between Amy and Holden remains firm. Amy’s beloved Andrew falls back into drug addiction and…


“Oh, Amy,” Buffy whispered to the air about her, “you, if anyone had every reason to kill Holden. But, Katerina? It just does not add up. Not even for jealous motives.” Buffy reached for her office phone and hit a speed dial number: “Levy and Chase Bonds” came the greeting on the other end… “they bring you in; we spring you out!” Johnathan Levy, may I help you?” Buffy took a deep breath, “it’s Lt. Summers, Johnny,” she purred silkily, “and I need a big, big favor.”

Johnathan Levy sighed, audibly over the line, “Buffy,” he began tentatively, “if this is about Amy St. Claire, I already know. My sources informed this office, hours ago, that Amy is back in town and back in chains. Now, myself? I’d issue the bond paper immediately, but Cordy? Well…”

“Come on Johnny,” Buffy hated the whine in her tone, “Amy’s innocent, we all know that, right?” There was a pause at the other end, “well,” Levy hesitated, “maybe you and I know it,” he continued, his voice very conspiritorial, “but my boss, Cordy? Most of Sunnydale? I don’t think so, Buff.” Buffy thought for a moment then smiled to herself, smugly, “do you know of any of Webster’s British family?” She asked the elfin Johnathan Levy, almost indifferently. “Some,” he responded curtly, “why?”

“Well,” Buffy began again, “Holden has a cousin here, a Spike Williamson from England. He agrees with me, that Amy might be innocent that is. Think of it, Johnny. A Webster family connection, me and you, all together in the ‘free Amy the innocent’ camp?” Johnathan Levy could not resist name and money, this much Buffy knew for sure. “I’ll have a bond out, as soon as possible. But Buffy,” Johnathan muttered, “it’ll be high, the bond I mean. You must know that, huh?”

Spike sauntered through the Sunnydale Police Department precinct, determined in his destination. Lt. Buffy Summers’ office. He found her, Buffy, there at her desk, writing on some tablet of paper, her brows scrunched together in thought. “Lt. Summers?” Spike stood at the open door of his obsession’s office, “thought I’d stop by. I hear that they’ve brought Amy St. Claire in?”

“Oh,” Buffy sighed in mock frustration, “now my day is truly complete.” She motioned for Spike Williamson to come into her office. “Sit down, Mr. Williamson,” she ordered evenly. “Thought I told you to call me Spike,” he shot her a devlish grin. “Mr. Williamson might be more ‘businesslike’ for us, don’t you think?” Buffy gave Spike ‘her’ most saucy little grin. “Keep giving off naughty little smiles like that, Lt.,” Spike chuckled, “you’ll get yourself kissed, at the least, anyway.” Buffy rolled her green eyes in exhasperation.

“Can I ask you something, Lt.,” Spike asked the saucy little dectective in front of him. Buffy nodded, albeit a little reluctantly, “go ahead, Mr. Williamson,” she pursed her lovely lips. “Buffy?” he grinned, “where the devil did your Dad and Mum get a name like that?” The honey blonde woman before him, straightened up in her chair and eyed him, a little miffed he wagered. “I could ask you the same thing, ‘Spike’ Williamson,” she muttered defiantly. “How the heck does a guy get a name like Spike?”

“Okay,” Spike nodded, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag. “You’re on, Lt.,” he added with a wink. Buffy frowned, “you can’t smoke in an office or building Williamson,” she stated smugly, “not in California.” Spike laughed out right, “fuck the rules,” he chortled and continued to smoke his cigarette in defiance. “Oh,” Buffy gasped, almost in intimidated awe, “okay, uhm, well, about your nick name of Spike?”

Buffy was uncomfortable, as if what this blonde, Billy Idol wannabe might tell her, but she jutted out her chin and gave him her most defiant expression. “I’m nearly thirty-five, Lt.” Williamson grinned at her charmingly, “I was not quite fifteen when I embraced the ‘Punk’ world. If you think I’m a little punkish now, you should have seen me then,” he winked at Buffy, “now, I’m scaled way back.” “My hair, hell, every piece of jewelry I wore, and it was a lot, had spikes on them. That’s how I got my moniker and it stuck. Nothing more. Now, how about your nick name of ‘Buffy’ Elizabeth?”

Buffy sat up, a little disconcerned at Spike’s reference to both her nick name and given one of Elizabeth. “I, my Grandmother, my Mom’s mom, her name was Elizabeth,” she began, wondering why she was even offering this information to this asshole. “My Mom and Dad, they met on…well they lived on a commune, in Northern California, near Eureka. I was uhm,” she blushed bright red, she just knew it, “I was conceived at the commune. Mom, Joyce, that is, she wanted to give me some unique name, so, Buffy was born. I guess she thought it was a little more reasonable then Rainbow, or Moonshadow?”

Spike burst out into gleeful laughter, “yes, Buffy,” he smiled warmly at her, “I like Buffy much better then Rainbow or Moon whatever.” He was rewarded with a soft smile from Buffy, a delightful sight to him, “it fits you. Buffy that is,” he added honestly. “You’re such a little thing, you know? Kind of shiny like buffed silver or something.” Buffy blushed and Spike decided right then and there to ‘make’ her do that, blush that is, every chance he got.

“So,” Buffy stammered, “can I ask you this?” she eyed Spike up and down, pleased when he squirmed under her peruse, at least a little. “Go ahead, luv,” he purred at her with a smirk. “What ‘is’ your first name, really?” This time, Spike blushed bright red, giving Buffy the satisfaction she’d been looking for. With a raised brow, she dared this British man to answere her. “It’s William,” he whispered, obviously embarrassed. “What?” Buffy asked, “didn’t quite hear you?” Spike sat up and scowled at Buffy with his scarred left brow, “it’s William,” he responded, a little louder this time.

“William?” Buffy repeated, a little surprised, “as in William?” she chuckled. “What?” he scowled again, still blushing. “Your mother and father named you William Williamson?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Were they on drugs or something?” she chuckled loudly. “No!” he cried in his parents defense, “my Mum, she thought it was ‘cute’ William that is. Like Shakespeare and and Blake, that’s all.” He pouted, something that Buffy so did not need to see at that moment. ‘Too adorable,’ she thought with resentment.

“Nothing in your persona, William ‘Spike’ Williamson,” Buffy continued laughing, “cries ‘cute’ to me. Maybe, shady, dangerous or downright evil, but cute!” Buffy began to laugh even louder and ‘William’ stood up, leaned on her desk and growled, “I’ll have you know, William is a family name. A very proud one and…” She threw up her hands in defense, “I’m sorry,” she chuckled, “it’s really no worse then Buffy. I’ll give you that much.” The couple shared a mutual laugh that broke the tension between them, at least temporarily.

Xander Harris took that precise moment to stumble into Buffy’s office, “hey Buff,” he exclaimed, then apparently spied Spike standing at her desk. “Oh,” Xander growled through clenched teeth, “you,” he finished tensely. “Yeah, me,” Spike smirked at the taller man, “who’d you expect?” Harris frowned then dismissed Spike with a shake of his head, “Buff,” he turned his attention to his partner, “thought maybe we could grab a burger, after work?” Spike raised his brow, once again and looked at Buffy, who appeared to be caught left to right in a rather uncomfortable situation.

“Xander,” Buffy began, cautiously, “it’s Saturday, you know, Saturday?” she mumbled her finish. Harris, who appeared not to be deterred stood up straight and responded, “yeah, but like you said, you’ve cooled it with Parker, for now at least. Thought we might grab a burger, at the Bronze, talk about the case?” The dark haired man finished on a hopeful note. Buffy glanced at Spike, who was smirking, obviously at her, “Xand,” Buffy murmered, “why don’t you just go call Anya. Make a date with her. Work this out, huh? You know you love her.”

Xander gave Buffy a betrayed look, as if to ask ‘how could you talk of Anya and me’ in front of him? However, her partner nodded, in defeat, “okay, Buff,” he sighed dejectedly, “you’re probably right. I’m as tired of this break, between Anya and me as anyone. I’ll go call her.” Xander gave Buffy a pout and then scowled at Spike before he left the office. Buffy tried not to meet Spike’s blue eyes as she fumbled about with some paperwork on her desk.

After the lumbering fool, Harris, left Buffy’s office, Spike closed the door behind him. “So,” he purred, closing the gap between Buffy and himself, “this Parker, is he the ‘friend’ of yours?” Buffy slammed the paperwork in her hands down on her desk, “none of your business, Spike,” she hissed, with indignation. “You just called me Spike, Buffy,” he chuckled happily. “Slip of the tongue,” she explained curtly. ‘I’ll give you a slip of the tongue, Buffy Summers,’ Spike mused as he watched his obsession turn bright red.

“Have dinner, with me tonight, Buffy,” Spike ordered her, evenly. “I, I can’t,” Buffy stammered nervously. “Can’t, or won’t,” Spike slipped around the desk to stand next to her. “A little of both,” she responded quickly, maneuvering out of his space with an almost shy smile. “I don’t think my ‘seeing’ a relative of Holden Webster would bolster or be very good for my police career. Do you Spike?” she smiled at him and turned to file the St. Claire folder back in it’s place. “We could write it off,” Spike persisted, placing his body just behind hers at the cabinet, “write it off as business. You know, to discuss the case. I mean, Buffy,” he leaned in behind her, near whispered into her ear, “I do believe you, maybe even agree with you when you say that you don’t think that this poor, misguided chit is the shooter.”

Buffy snapped out of her daze, the one Spike was creating by murmering in her ear, business or not. She slammed the cabinet drawer shut and turned to face her nemesis, though why this particular man was such, she could not quite remember. “I’m not going to date you or sleep with you, Spike, I mean Mr. Williamson,” she hissed as she sidestepped him and moved back to her chair. “Sleep isn’t quite what I had in mind, Buffy,” Spike waggled his brows at her and smirked again. “Okay,” she spat, that’s it, “get out, Williamson.”

“Now, Buffy,” he pouted, “don’t be cross with me, I’m just in awe of your ‘natural appeal’ you know?” Spike smiled as he plopped back down in the chair across from her desk. “Awe or not, Spike,” Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, “this conversation, for at least today, is over. I would like to go home now, alone. Have a frozen pizza and a Cosmo martini. Maybe get a little tipsy, by myself, no matter what AA says and perhaps TIVO the new episode of Mad TV. Is that so much to ask?”

“All right, Buffy,” Spike threw up his hands in defeat. “You go on home, alone and eat your DiGornio, drink your martinis and TIVO your fave show. I’ll just toddle off to my lonely hotel suite, drink myself into oblivion and dream of what ‘might have been’ between us. I’ll say, good night, dear Buffy. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that rot…” With that, Spike saluted the lovely Lt. Summers and exited her office.

‘This guy is beginning to be a real pain in the neck!’ Buffy grumbled to herself, trying not to smile. ‘Thinks he’s all that, now doesn’t he? Comes into my town, my precinct and tries to…’ For God’s sake, Buffy shook her head in self exhasperation, ‘get over yourself Summers. So he wants to sleep with you, and you know he does. So what? You’ve handled these situations before, very well, actually. You’ll get this case cleared up. You’ll go on, keep Spike at arm’s length, then send him packing back to England where he belongs. No problem.’ However, something deep down inside of Buffy realized that there might just be a problem after all.


A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this fic. It truly inspires me. Please read and review, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 6: ‘In The Line of Duty’


Buffy knocked, almost timidly, on Rupert Giles’ office door. She always reacted this way, to Giles that is, her Father’s good friend, and hers. Not only was Giles a Summers’ family friend, he was Buffy’s mentor, so to speak. Even though the man had been at a desk job for years now. Ever since Buffy had been shot in the line of duty, that is, back when Tom Ford had been her partner and she had been Mrs. Riley Finn.

“Hello, Buffy dear,” Giles greeted her warmly. “It’s been a while since you have graced this office with your presence.” Buffy sat down in the chair across from Rupert’s desk and began to look about his office, nervously. “How have you been, Buffy,” Giles asked in his quiet, serene like voice. “Okay,” she shrugged as she picked up a paper-weight that sat near her side of his desk. She perused the item, carefully, interested in the fact that it seemed to be a replica of London’s Big Ben.

Actually, if Buffy didn’t know better, she could swear that Rupert Giles had a speed dial connection to her Father, Hank Summers’, own cell phone. One that only Rupert had, that he merely needed to hit the # key and a special number code that expressed his memo to Hank; #1 key: Buffy is fine and healthy. #2 key: Danger, danger! Buffy is in major meltdown!

“Giles,” Buffy murmered softly, “they brought Amy St. Claire in the other day, I spoke to her. She’s innocent, I know it.” The older man removed his glasses and began to wipe them on a kleenex, “well, Buffy,” he sighed, “I know you think that Amy St. Claire is innocent. I know that she was brought in Saturday, but I am afraid that most of your comrades disagree, with your innocence theory that is. Especially your superiors.” Buffy frowned, then scrunched up her face into a stubborn, determined scowl, “well ‘I’ think she is innocent. Especially now that I’ve spoken to her. She told me herself, Amy that is, that she could not have killed Holden Webster. She loved him, Giles.”

Rupert frowned himself and shook his head, “I see,” he mumbled in response. “So,” he continued, eyeing Buffy carefully, “so you think because Amy says she is innocent, that it makes it so? And, let’s be frank, Buffy,” he continued warily, when you caught Riley, in that compromising position, with that woman? At that moment, weren’t you capable of doing them both harm?” Buffy shook her head, “no, Giles,” she sighed, “I was never tempted to shoot, maim, or otherwise harm Riley or his little girlfriend, Samantha. I guess I should say, his present wife, Samantha. But then again,” she muttered sadly, “I’m not so sure I ever really loved Riley the way I should have.”

Buffy shook her blonde head, defiantly, “as for Amy killing Holden and Katerina McClay? I say a big no,” she stated firmly, “but then, I ‘know’ Amy. Murder just is not her style. I don’t give a rat’s ass who else agrees with me. By-the-way, Giles,” she added, focusing her stare on Rupert’s window, “what do you know about Webster’s extended family? I mean the American and British family?” Giles looked at Buffy as if she had grown two heads, but then just continued to wipe his glasses. “Any family member in particular, Buffy, dear?” he asked quietly, placing his glasses back on his face.

“Okay, Giles,” Buffy chuckled, somewhat amused by the fact that this brilliant man already knew just what Webster family member she was interested in, she was sure of that. “I get it, you know about Spike Williamson. So, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What’s his story and how deep in the ‘family’ muck is he?” Giles smiled at his best friend’s oldest daughter, affectionately, “well, as you know, Buffy, I was instrumental in the pursuit of Holden Webster, to bring him to justice. I studied him, his family here in the States, back home in England. Actually, Buffy, if anyone knows about the Webster ‘family’ interests here or abroad? It is definitely myself. As far as shady dealings or business, William Williamson, aka Spike is probably the cleanest member of the Webster/Williamson family there is. Except for some offenses, on record, as a minor, Williamson, aka Spike, seems to have no real crimes on his sheets. Oh, perhaps some numbers running in that pub of his, but not much more. We think anyway.”

Buffy nodded, “I see,” is all she responded with. “Tell me, Buffy,” Giles stammered, “why? Why the interest in Williamson, or his family back in England.” She thought for a moment, measured the way she should answere this question, “because for some bizarre reason, Giles,” she said evenly, “Spike Williamson seems to believe me. He actually is open to the fact that Amy is not guilty, like I believe and that gives me some hope. Hope to help that poor girl.”

Giles drummed his long fingers on his desk, then stood up and paced a bit about his office. “It’s not anything else then? This interest in Williamson?” Buffy shook her head, her eyes lowered and focused on her lap, “I’ll keep Spike at arm’s length, I have to. I know that, Giles,” she mumbled.” The man nodded his dark head in approval, “good then. For the best. No matter what we know about Williamson, his family, their past, no good can come from getting ‘too’ close to him. Or his Webster family connections.”

Xander was waiting for Buffy when she got back to her own office, he wore the look of a man who had ‘gone; seen and conquered’ or at the very least, seized the day. “I guess the Saturday date thing went okay with Anya?” Buffy grinned at her partner warmly. He nodded his dark head and and munched on a glazed doughnut, with great contentment. “Anya and me,” Xander sang happily, “we are definitely back on!” She patted Xander’s big shoulder affectionately, “see that you keep it that way, Xand,” Buffy advised, “I mean, back on, you and Anya that is. Geez, bud, you owe her that.”

“Buffy,” Xander sat his unfinished chocolate sprinkle doughnut on her desk, “about Amy and the bail bond you called Levy about?” Buffy rolled her eyes, “God, is anything confidential in this town?” Xander chuckled, “actually, it was Cordelia that called Anya and spilled the beans. Old Cordy, she’s not too thrilled with you or Johnny boy right now. Wonders exactly ‘who’ is going to set up the collateral on the bond, for little Amy that is.”

“Well, if you must know,” Buffy sighed, “I am. My savings account is enough to assure Miss Queen Cordelia, Her Royal Bail Bond’s Woman, that I’m sincere.” Xander’s brown eyes flew wide open in surprise, “Buff,” he stammered, “are you sure about this? I mean, Amy did run before, what makes you think she won’t jump bail?” Buffy shook her blonde head with a show of more determination then she might have really felt inside, “she won’t,” is all she said, simply.

“Oh,” Xander responded quietly, then looked away from his partner. “Hey,” he got an exicited look on his handsome face, “what say we all go out to the Bronze. You, me and Anya, Wills and Tara, Scott Hope and some of the other guys? We can boogie down, like the old days? Tonight?” Buffy grinned at Xander, “you know, Xand,” she chuckled, “back in High School, even College and yes, even in our early 20’s? The Bronze was fine, but now? Hon,” she scowled at Xander with mock sterness, “we ‘are’ almost all in our 30’s. I do believe the Bronze has passed us by.” Xander gave Buffy a pout and dropped the subject, reluctantly it seemed.

Buffy’s phone rang and she grabbed it quickly, “Summers,” she answered abruptly and businesslike. “Hello, luv,” came Spike’s deep timbre from the other line, “how are you?” She blushed hot and red, she felt it, but gathered her wits about her and motioned for Xander to please leave her office. Which he did, a little too slowly, she felt. “I’m fine,” Buffy responded cordially enough, trying not to give off too many warm vibes to Spike. “You alone,” he asked evenly. For some reason, Buffy just nodded, as if Spike could ‘see’ her response through the phone. “Luv?” he asked again, “you alone?” She pulled herself together and told him she was indeed alone. “Good,” Spike chuckled, “I was wondering, could we meet? You and me? For lunch somewhere, your choice of course. Since I wouldn’t know a good place to eat in this podunk town if my life depended on it.”

Now, Buffy was quite sincere with everyone and herself when she insisted that her ‘relationship’ with Spike Williamson was to remain purely police like business. For one iota of a second, she considered turning the man down, again, on his request to meet for ‘food’ and discussion of the case. ‘Why not?’ she finally asked herself, rather bravely she thought. ‘It’s business, it will be public? Why shouldn’t I meet this guy for lunch, a really big, great lunch that he has to pay for?’ Buffy giggled silently then finally told Spike that ‘yes’ she would meet him for lunch, at 1:00 PM, her usual lunch break.

“There’s a little eatery, by the beach,” she explained to Spike, who seemed almost overcome with shocked joy that Buffy had agreed to lunch with him, anywhere. “It’s called Willie’s Whaler. I know, Spike,” she giggled out loud this time, “too corny for words, but delicious, I promise. Ask your door man, at the Sunnydale Arms, he’ll direct you. I’ll see you, about 1:00 PM, your treat, of course.” Buffy was feeling quite empowered for some reason, where William was concerned. Spike quickly responded with a low, deep tone, “of course, Lt., absolutely my treat.”

Spike sat at the bar of Willie’s Whaler of all places and waited for his ‘date’ to show up. ‘Christ,’ he thought with some disdain, ‘this is a ridiculous name for a place to have a meal.’ The minute Buffy arrived at Willie’s, Spike knew it, time seemed to stop, that and all discussion, noise and such. She, Buffy walked through the door of Willies, in a pair of blue jeans and a silk blouse, a black leather jacket on, and that alone caused everyone in the place to sit up and take notice. Especially Spike.

‘Girl should wear her hair down all the time,’ Spike mused as he stood to meet Buffy. ‘If she did that, every punk, thug, criminal and hoodlum would just fall to their knees and confess their crimes. Just brings a man to his knees, in general.’ “Hello, Lt.” Spike smiled as he held out his hand to Buffy, to lead her to a table he had cleverly reserved earlier. “You look amazing, Miss Summers,” he added as he held her chair for her. “Hmmm,” is all Buffy could respond with.

The waiter came to the table and Buffy wasted no time in ordering. She had been here before, numerous times and knew exactly what she wanted for lunch. “Clam Chowder, to start,” she began knowingly, “a Shrimp Louie Salad, with lots of Ranch dressing and fries on the side. Oh, yeah, a chocolate shake, too. I love chocolate,” Buffy grinned at Spike as she sat down her menu. “I’ll have the same,” Spike tossed his menu at the waiter with a smirk. “Oh, but give me a beer on tap to go with.” Buffy, who was a little surprised that Spike took her ordering in stride sat back in her chair. “Beer?” she questioned with a raised brow, “with a chocolate shake?”

Spike chuckled, “Oh,” he gave a pretty good imitation of Buffy’s excited tone, “I just love beer!” Buffy broke out into laughter, delighting him. “Tell me, Lt.,” he leaned forward in his chair, “how do you stay so slim? I mean, an order like that? What’s your secret?” Buffy gave Spike a little pout, “are you saying I’m skinny?” she asked softly. “No,” he chuckled good-naturedly, “you, my Miss Summers, are just right, but how is that?” She finally lost the pout and grinned at Spike, “well,” she began smugly, “I ‘do’ jog, three times a week, an hour each time. That and I swim, at my apartment complex, every chance I get (anvil alert!).

“Oh,” Spike nodded as he eyed Buffy like a yummy feast. “I understand,” he changed the subject quickly, “that you’ve offerred to put up your own collateral, for Amy St. Claire’s bail?” Buffy sat up, a little disturbed, he could tell, but collected herself quickly and nodded, “well, if it’s enough,” she explained. “I mean, no telling what the District Attorney’s office will ask for, bail wise. I’m hoping to pull some strings, with the DA’s office and keep the bail for Amy pretty reasonable. However, it doesn’t look good. In the long run, it’s up to the Judge, presiding over the arraignment.”

Spike felt a little nagging voice begin to taunt him, in the back of his mind. ‘She’s going to ‘talk’ to Angel O’Connor, the fucking idiot Assistant DA. Talk him into keeping the bail bond low. Now, Spikey,’ annoying voice continued, ‘just how is Buffy going to accomplish this?’ Before Spike could respond to Buffy’s revelation, their drinks came, her shake, his beer and shake. He, Spike, tried to push the wave jealousy he felt back down within him, but failed miserably. ‘You fucking, bloody fool,’ Spike growled silently, to himself, ‘you’ve gone and done it. You’re really falling, totally, for Buffy Summers.’


A/N: Next chapter, Spike will reveal some things that Buffy and he have in common. Will Buffy ‘talk’ to Angel and try to persuade him to help Amy with a ‘get out of jail almost free’ card? How will Spike react to meeting Angel? Probably not well, huh? Thanks for reading, please review. Reviews are so very important to us! Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 7: ‘Honest Methods’


Spike watched Buffy eat her clam chowder, right down without missing a beat. ‘Little One can really put it away,’ he chuckled to himself, delighted at Buffy’s healthy appetite. After she had killed off the clam chowder, Buffy dove right into her Shrimp Louie, with gusto, even as Spike watched, again in admiration. “So,” Buffy munched a lettuce leaf thoughtfully, “why?” Spike gave her a puzzled look, “why what, luv,” he asked sincerely. “Why the backing, the support, the big ‘I believe you Buffy Summers’ from you. About Amy, I mean?”

He quit staring at Buffy’s fork and raised his blue eyes to meet her green ones, “can’t a bloke just believe in you Buffy,” he inquired with a raised brow. “I think you’re pretty insightful, Lt.,” he continued earnestly, “I mean that. If you say Amy is innocent, I believe you. I believe in you, Buffy,” he finished quietly as he took his first bite of his own Shrimp Louie. Spike heard Buffy sigh, almost wearily, “yeah,” she whispered sadly, “that’s me, insightful, Buffy.”

Buffy sat her fork down, her appetite suddenly fled from her, “I’m not some insightful psychic, Spike,” she murmered in defeat. “I’m not even really sure…” He placed his own fork on the table next to his plate, “go on,” he ordered her evenly. “There is a lot of mixed feelings and signals going on in this case of your cousin’s murder, Spike,” she shook her head slightly. “I mean,” she stammered reluctantly, “that a part of me, the one that has some common sense, some detective insight, really believes that Amy did not murder your cousin and his mistress. I ‘did’ believe that, but, after talking to Giles? I wonder, really.”

“Giles?” Spike asked her, even though he knew exactly who she was speaking of. “My Dad’s best friend, and mine,” she added with a soft smile. “If it wasn’t for Rupert and Jenny Giles, I don’t think my little sister Dawn or me could have survived here, in Sunnydale, after Mom and Dad left. Not for long, but they stepped in and kind of took us under their wings.” Spike nodded in understanding, “kind of a surrogate family,” he stated rather then asked. Buffy grinned, “yes,” she stated simply, “that’s it, exactly.” He watched as her warm, affectionate smile turned to a confused, puzzled scowl, “it’s just that Giles, that’s what we call him, never Rupert, kind of brought something up that caused me to stop and question my own opinions.”

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow again, causing him to wonder what this little blonde-haired angel would think if she knew exactly ‘how’ he received that scar. “Stop and ponder,” he repeated with a low, soft mumble, “like, how?” Buffy scrunched up her golden brows and thought for a moment, “well,” she paused then hurriedly spat out, “he brought up some things from my own past. Asked me what ifs and where fors, you know? Made me kind of step back and wonder about Amy’s would be motives in Holden’s and Katerina’s murders.

Buffy watched Williamson’s own brows scrunch up, ‘wonder how he got that kind of cute scar above his left brow,’ she asked herself. “What did this Giles bloke say, Buffy,” Spike asked somberly. She tried to forget that she had asked this man time and again ‘not’ to call her Buffy, just Lt. Or Miss Summers or some such crap. “Giles,” she began carefully, a little afraid to reveal too much of her own history, “he asked me if I could have killed my ex-husband, Riley Finn, if I’d had a gun, at the time.” Spike gave her another ‘look’ and asked boldly, “a gun? At the time?” She blushed, she felt the hot rush of heat to her face, “when I caught him and his girlfriend, in bed, in our very own condo. It was after that that Riley asked me for a divorce, well, by this time, it was a mutual decision of course.”

Spike felt such a pull at his heart, such a strong, painful tug on something that he thought he had toughened up years ago. “Buffy,” he whispered gently, “tell me about it, please, luv, if you think it might help you.” She looked up at him, from her ranch dressing covered Shrimp Louie and blinked a couple of times before she could continue. “I came home, early, from my temporary desk job, at the precinct.” Her voice started off a little weakly, but as she spoke, it became stronger, more sure. “I’d just returned to work, after my, my miscarriage. I lost a baby, when I was shot,” she stuttered and looked at the view through the huge glass window of Willie’s Whaler. “I don’t know why, but I just had to get home, felt like I should get things settled between Riley and me. Caught him and Samantha Saunders, who is now his wife, in our own bed, together.”

She wondered why she was telling this virtual stranger this, but she couldn’t seem to help herself, she had to continue. “I didn’t make a real big fuss; no threats, no ‘I’m going to destroy you both’ threats and all that drama nonsense. Why bother?” she shrugged, almost indifferently. “I sometimes wonder,” she continued as she stared off into the Pacific Ocean, “if I even really loved Riley. To not want to hurt them, him and Samantha, I mean, really. Giles, he said maybe I didn’t, love Riley that is. If I had, wouldn’t I have fought tooth and nail to keep him, or at least destroy his new love? That’s what makes me wonder about Amy and your cousin, Holden. Amy claims she loved your cousin, truly, so maybe she could have, with jealousy, malice and forethought, kill him and Katerina out of envy or jealousy. Oh,” Buffy sighed in frustration, “I just don’t know anymore.”

Spike shuffled his salad about on his plate, a thoughtful look on his handsome face, “so,” he began cautiously, “you’re saying that if Amy St. Claire loved my cousin, Holden so much, so strongly, that she might have been capable of murder? Right?” Buffy bit her bottom lip, worried it for a moment or two then sighed in confusion, “actually, no,” she responded firmly. “I don’t think Amy St. Claire could kill anyone, or anything, especially Holden Webster. You see, Spike,” he was pleased she used his nickname so freely now, “Holden was Amy’s Svengali, her Rasputin if you will. Oh, he may not have been the best mentor, friend or even lover for Amy, but he was all of those things to her. Spike,” Buffy stared into his eyes deeply, “poor Amy. She didn’t leave St. David Arizona, her hometown, at sixteen, for fun or profit, you know?

She fled that place, and her abusive father. I suppose your cousin, Holden, seemed like a heaven’s angel to Amy when she hit Sunnydale on that bus. Maybe we all would have, we females that is. The damaged ones, too many of them, really. My ex-partner, Thomas Ford, he is dead now, he saw that damaged look in Amy’s eyes, her lost, dazed expression. I don’t know, maybe I am just a silly, lost kind of woman myself. A silly, compassionate fool and loser at heart.”

Spike gazed at Buffy, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. On one hand, he felt as if she had pretty much admitted she was not all that sure that the main suspect in his cousin’s murder just might be guilty. Then again, she had offerred to put up some kind of collateral for the unstable bint’s bail bond. That meant something, right? He watched the conflicting emotions play out on this beautiful woman’s face, in her emerald green eyes and decided to take a chance. ‘Tell her,’ he reasoned to himself, ‘tell her about your past, so sadly in common with hers and help her not feel so much like a loser. Do this mate,’ he ordered himself silently, ‘do this and give the girl some kind of hope for a future of self respect, at least.’

“We have a lot in common, Buffy,” Spike murmered softly as he reached across the table and took her tiny little hand in his. “You and me, we’ve got some things in common, but I don’t consider myself a loser, luv. Neither should you.” Buffy tilted her blonde head to one side as if to ask ‘what?’ Spike actually chuckled softly, “I was married once too, Buffy,” he admitted sadly, “almost ten years ago. To a beautiful woman, tall, dark haired and brown eyed, by the name of Drusilla. We were young, like you and your ex-husband, full of dreams and hopes. Except,” he paused and thought for a moment, “my Dru, as I called her, was a bit of a paradox, right from the get go.

She was what we call ‘touched’ a little in the head. Saw things, in her mind that is. For the two years we were married, she, Dru that is, kept going on about how I was destined for the light, the golden Goddess and such, not for her, Drusilla. I was always devoted to Drusilla, couldn’t be any other way. Raised that way and all, but still, my wife was ‘wary’ of me and our vows. One day, I too came home early, from the pub I was working at, at the time, caught my wife in bed with another woman.”

“I never once thought of harming Drusilla or her female lover, Buffy. Felt, I guess, that it was something that the two of them had not planned and couldn’t help. Maybe,” he added thoughtfully, “I really didn’t love Drusilla. Maybe, I was almost relieved that this indiscretion of hers was the final straw to a bad marriage on my part. Whatever,” he shrugged, “I left that day, from my own home and never looked back. But a loser, Buffy? I think not, me that is, my marriage woes were both my and Dru’s faults. We simply were not mean to be married to each other, period, Dru and me. I am not a loser, Buffy, and neither are you.”

She sat, silently, for a few moments, then sighed deeply and picked up her fork to continue eating. “Spike,” she finally spoke, her voice soft and very quiet, “thank you. For telling me about your past. It kind of clears some things up in my own mind, a little more anyway. I guess it’s just I hope that I’m not being led down the rosey garden path by Amy St. Claire. That my loyalty to the poor girl isn’t totally misguided.” Buffy noticed Spike had begun to eat his own lunch, again and after he told her ‘your welcome’ she decided to drop the self-pity party completely. “Food is good here, huh?” she giggled lightly, “even if the name of this place totally sucks?”

Spike grinned at her, nodded his blonde head, “yeah, it is good. Buffy,” he continued, “one more thing, before we drop the ‘auld lange syne’ conversation.” He watched her lovely green eyes open wide, almost a look of wonder in them, “about ‘why’ I’m accepting your belief in this Amy person.” Pausing for a moment, to think about how he wanted to phrase his next statements, he scrunched up his forehead in thought. “I get the feeling,” he finally began, carefully, “that you think I’m using this ‘comraderie’ of ours to well,” he hesitated just a bit, then, “to seduce you?” Buffy now wore the expression of a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ and Spike almost laughed out loud at it.

“Are you?” she asked quietly, averting her gorgeous eyes from his. Gathering up every bit of sincerity and honesty he could in his gaze, Spike told Buffy to look him in the eye. When she managed to get up the nerve to do just that, he caught her gaze in his and answered, “no. I’m not agreeing with your conclusion about the main suspect to coherce you, or fool you or lull you into my web of seduction of you. Buffy,” he smiled softly at her when he realized she did believe him, “I’ll be truthful, I do want you, that way, I mean. However, I have decided to seduce you by more honest methods.” The expression on Buffy’s face was priceless, almost shock, but a bit of a smirk was there too, Spike noticed.

“Honest methods,” Buffy practically purred in response to Spike’s truthful admission. “Yeah,” this complex blonde Brit grinned at her again. “When I seduce you, Buffy my sweet,” he nearly chuckled, “I’ll do it by wining and dining you. That and using my own natural charm to woo you.” Now he just began to laugh, merrily and Buffy couldn’t help but join in. She finally shook her head, “ego much,” she giggled and went back to eating her salad, stopping only to take a sip of her delicious shake.


A/N: A little filler chapter to keep things flowing. I know this chapter was a bit short, and perhaps confusing, but I felt it important to reveal some of Buffy’s self doubts and just one of the things that she and Spike have in common. Also, needed to express, once and for all, that Spike is not using Buffy’s determination to get into her pants. He put his cards right out there on the table, there is not master plan to fool or trick her. Okay, that’s it, thanks for reading. Please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 8: ‘Red Rose; Proud Rose’


Buffy lay in her California King sized bed, looking up at her bedroom ceiling. “Crap,” she hissed out loud, “I’ve got to get to sleep, but I can’t.” She had gone to bed that night, fairly early, having been exceedingly tired after her lunch with Spike. For some reason, more tonight then ever, Buffy’s huge bed seemed mighty empty and it was causing her to toss and turn in it. “I suppose I’m just wound up, all that soul searching and stuff,” she explained to the empty air about her. “Yeah, that’s it,” she nodded, wide awake still, at almost midnight, “it’s got nothing to do with the fact that Spike Williamson is extremely good looking, gorgeous eyes, that man…a killer smile and he ‘is’ kind and compassionate, at least with me.

Of course,” she still spoke out loud, playing her own devil’s advocate, “he could turn out to be the British version of his cousin Holden Webster. Numbers, Giles says, that’s all. Uh huh, simple innocent betting. No drug or gun running, no prostitution rings, no evil minions or thug employees working for him. In other words, Spike is the ‘good’ cousin from England, just like Glinda was the ‘good’ witch from Oz. Right…”

Spike sat on his hotel balcony, a drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. Right at the moment, he was thinking about Buffy Summers and wondering what she was doing. ‘She’s asleep you idiot,’ he chided himself, ‘poor thing, that crap job she’s got, the hours must be hell. Wonder why a girl like that, one that could have any man she wanted, works a shitty, thankless job like a homicide cop? She could be married to a doctor, a school teacher, like her little sis, a lawyer even. Or,’ he hesitated with a frown, ‘a fucking Assistant District Attorney.’

Practicality was Spike’s long suit, however, patience was not. Spike wanted Buffy, more then anything but it wasn’t just that, no. From the moment he met her, mere days ago, he felt a connection to this woman, something he could not deny. The problem was, Buffy was not going to just roll over and accept Spike’s feelings for her, or his pursuit of her either. She, Buffy, he was well aware, was no fool, no naïve romantic that could just overlook exactly what she might ‘think’ Spike and his ‘family’ were involved with. Much less, what ill gotten gains they possessed. His own Father, Spike’s, was a powerful, ruthless man back in England, who would kill anyone that got in his family’s way, or hurt them, naturally.

“I’ve got to convince Buffy,” Spike sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette, “that I’m not such a bad bloke. Make her see that there’s something between us, I know it.” He had already made plans to send Buffy dozens of blood red roses, for passion, tomorrow, right to her office at work. Spike chuckled softly at the thought, “hope that whelp partner of hers is there when I do,” he smirked wickedly. “That loser has got to wake up and realize that Buffy is not interested in him, he’s not her keeper and in the end, she’ll belong with me.”

“You look like hell, Summers,” Captain Wilkens eyed Buffy with concern as she stepped into his office, early this Tuesday morning. “Well, thanks Captain,” Buffy responded evenly, “that’s always something a gal wants to hear from a man, even you, so early in the morning.” The Captain shrugged then asked, “you sleeping at all, at night? I mean, if it’s because of your boyfriend, Peter, or whatever his name is, the CPA? That’s different, but I’d hate to find out that it’s because of this damn Webster case. I…”

“My God,” Buffy cried in exasperation, “does everyone in Sunnydale know about my private life? Okay,” she shook her head somewhat miffed, “it’s ‘Parker’ not Peter and we’ve cooled it, for a while that is. And, yes, for your information, I am losing some sleep over this damn Webster case. I am sticking to my guns, Captain,” Buffy snapped at him, her jaw set in determination, “I ‘know’ that Amy did not shoot Holden or Katerina, period!”

Captain Wilkens sighed, loudly and sat down his coffee mug, the one that read ‘Best Daddy Ever’. “Buffy,” he began quietly, “I’m at a loss here, about this case I mean. On one hand, I admire you for your loyalty to this pathetic young woman, I do. I’m a Father, Buffy, of two young girls and a boy. Do you think I’m not sick at heart about what this sad little Amy St. Claire might have been pushed to do? She’s had a miserable existence, well, since forever, I know.

I read her files again, this morning and it makes me ill, as a Father, to realize what the poor thing has gone through in her life. I don’t know,” Wilkens shook his head sadly, “I just don’t know what to say. I’m a police officer Buffy, I have to uphold the law and this case ‘seems’ so open and shut as to who pulled the trigger that offed that dirty bastard Webster, and his innocent girl friend.”

Buffy was stunned at her Captain’s unusual show of compassion and understanding. “If you really knew Amy,” she began quietly, “understood what I do. What Thomas Ford might have been able to bring to her and how Webster was a manipulative, controlling monster, especially where Amy was concerned. I know that you and everyone else would…” However, she was not able to finish her case, Xander rushed in, excitedly. Before he blurted out his news, Xander tossed a half eaten breakfast burrito on his Captain’s desk, “it’s Warren Meers,” he crowed. “He’s downstairs, we’re going to do the line up and formal ID of Amy!”

Captain Wilkens eyed Buffy’s partner with obvious frustration and disdain, “get this freakin’ garbage off my desk Harris!” he growled. “Summers,” the Captain continued, “let’s take Harris here and lead him down to lock-up. We’ve got seven canidates in the line-up, including your gal Amy. Christ!” the boss hissed, “hope this Meers idiot doesn’t pick out Officer Ross as the suspect he saw at the crime!”

Buffy came back into her office, two hours later, her heart heavy, her head aching like a mother! The line-up/ID had started off terrible and gone down hill after that. This, door man, Meers, from Webster’s apartment complex, took less then ten seconds to point out suspect number 3 from the line-up. Amy St. Claire. Oh yeah, Meers was positive, no doubt. This was the young woman who the door man had seen enter the complex an hour before the set time of the killings. To top it off, Meers, Warren that is, never saw Amy leave again from the Webster penthouse.

It was less then two seconds, after entering her office, that Buffy found the five dozen blood red roses waiting for her. They were mixed with pure, white Queen Anne’s lace buds and lovely green ferns. “Hmmm,” she sighed, a little overwhelmed, “wonder who sent me these?” Although she was sure, no question. Only someone like Spike Williamson would think of Queen Anne’s Lace to compliment roses.

Picking up the rather large card that accompanied her gift of 60 roses or so, Buffy read:

Dear Buffy,

I am no poet, I’m afraid, so I will have to quote another
‘William’ Butler Yeats in this card to you:

Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose
Of all my days
Come near me,
While I sing…
The ancient ways

Yours,
William W.

Buffy felt a long hard pull at her heart, a feeling she had not experienced in so very long. At least not since Riley left, then Angel left her for someone else, too. The mess downstairs with the line-up, the smug looks of her co-workers as Meers pointed right at Amy and announced, ‘it’s her.’ Everything had overwhelmed Buffy that morning and now, this? Such a sweet gesture from a man she barely knew, who barely knew her? A man that should be her enemy, not believe anything Buffy had to say about her feelings in this case that hit so close to home for him.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “how did Spike know I needed this, these beautiful works of art, especially now?” She sat down in her chair and surveyed the blood red roses before her and began to cry like a child. This went on for a good ten minutes, before her office phone rang, shrilly, breaking Buffy’s crying jag. “Oh, shit,” she sniffled, “I must look like crap!” Then she remembered, she was alone in the office, miserable and alone. Buffy grabbed the phone on the fifth ring and answered softly, “yes, Lt. Summers.”

There was a slight pause on the end of the line, “Buffy?” came Spike’s deep voice, “are you all right, luv?” With a shake of her blonde head, Buffy automatically smiled, “yes,” she lied easily, “I am okay. It’s just that, well, they did a line-up today. Meers, the door man at your cousin’s complex, he picked Amy out immediately. I don’t know, I’m just so confused. But,” she added quickly, “thank you, Spike, for the roses I mean. You don’t know how much they mean to me, especially right now.”

Another moment of silence then, “well, if you feel that way, luv, why don’t you have dinner with me. We’ll talk, eat and drink too much and maybe I’ll get you to kiss me, at least?” Buffy giggled despite her pain and embarrassment, “I don’t know, Spike,” she teased, “knowing your plans of seduction for me? Might not be wise to make things to easy for you. Besides, I promised my little sister I’d have dinner at her house tonight. She’s pregnant and embracing the whole stay at home, housewife and mommy thing. Wanted to show me what a good cook she’s become. And also,” Buffy hesitated, “you know, the old thing of ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to see you?”

Spike chuckled lowly, despite his own dissapointment, “it’s okay, luv,” he assured her. “I understand about your little sister and all. About your other excuse? Not so sure, but doesn’t matter, I’ll wear you down, eventually, no doubt. Tell you what, I’ll stop by your job tomorrow, catch up on the case, hit you up again for a date. How’s that?” He heard Buffy sigh and it gave him some kind of hope. “That’s fine, Spike,” she finally responded, we’ll talk about the case then. Thank you again.” He smiled into the phone, “no problem, luv. See you tomorrow.”

When they had hung up their respective phones, Spike speed dialed his cousin Wesley. “Wes,” he barked into the cell phone, “have Dalton follow Buffy Summers, tonight. Do not ask why, cousin,” he ordered gruffly, “just do it. I want to know exactly where she goes after work and when she gets home. Do you understand?”

Buffy slumped down in her office chair and once again eyed the lovely bunches of roses that seemed to fill her office with beauty and fragrance. ‘It really was a lovely gesture,’ she thought with a stab of guilt, ‘I just wish…’

Her phone rang, once again and she reluctantly answered it. “Lt. Summers,” she responded professionally. “Hello Buffy,” came the masculine, deep voice of Angel O’Connor. “Thought you and I needed to talk, about this Webster case and Amy St. Claire. It’s time, Buffy. Thought we’d have dinner, tomorrow night, at our old place…La Tria Bellas. I need to hear your side of the story Buff, I’m going to be prosecuting you know. St. Claire that is and their talking Friday for her arraignment. If we could meet, talk things out in a relaxed atmosphere. I know you believe Amy is innocent, so why not meet me and try to convince me. If nothing else, we can come to some agreement on bail bond…Cordelia Chase called me, says you’re going to put up the bond.”

Buffy felt her tummy do a flip flop, then kind of sink lower into her upper thighs! “Gee, Angel,” she stammered, unsure and ashamed of her weak voice, “I don’t know. Say we do ‘meet’ and talk about the case? That would be ‘okay’ but that’s all there is to it, right?” Angel was silent for a moment, “of course, Buffy,” he answered evenly. “I just want to give you a shot at voicing your opinions and such. You know how much I respect you, Buffy, always. Thought maybe I’d pick you up, take you for a nice supper, you know. We used to talk together, quite well, made a good team once. What do you say?”

She pondered the question for just a moment, “I say yes, Angel, but,” she added firmly, “I mean it, just talk, nothing more.” He agreed and told her that he would call her the next morning and firm up the plans. When they had hung up ‘their’ respective phones, Buffy quickly dialed Anya’s dress shop and asked for the owner, Anya herself, a gleam of slyness in her green eyes.

“Hey, Buffy,” Anya greeted fairly warmly, which really surprised Buffy since Xander was acting like a complete ass, as usual, about their relationship. “Hey, Anya,” she responded friendly enough. “I need a dress, Anya,” Buffy stated, “a perfect dress that cries business, but with a touch of posh. A dress that screams ‘look what you gave up and won’t ever be getting again’ you asshole!”


A/N: Another so so chappie, I’m afraid. So, what do you think? Should I go on? Okay, so I’m going on no matter what. Next chapter, Buffy goes shopping then to supper at Dawn’s. That’s a given, then she goes to work tomorrow. Guess who’s going to dinner tomorrow night. Here’s a hint…two’s company, three’s a blessing! Tee hee! Thanks for reading, please review…luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 9: ‘Spy Games’


Buffy pulled up to Anya’s Magic Dress Box (okay a note here: my 13 year old insisted I name the shop this!) and parked her old lime green Porshe. If she knew Anya, and she did, the proprietor of the shop would have the perfect dress, size 3, waiting for Buffy when she walked in the door. That’s exactly why Buffy did not hesitate to park in the 30 minute only/green painted curb spot in front of the shop. When Buffy walked through the door, sure enough, Anya was practically waiting by it to welcome her, a black plastic dress bag in her hand.

“Okay, Summers,” Anya held the dress bag out to her, “spill! Who’s the date tomorrow night? I kind of had an idea it was that new guy, the Billy Idol guy Xander’s been bitching and moaning about for days, but, then you mentioned ‘not ever having it again’ and all. I’m putting my money on a certain Assistant District Attorney, and, that it’s sex he’s not getting?” Buffy blushed at Anya’s bluntness then shook it off, ‘God, I’m a cop for Heaven’s sake! So Anya just talks sex and money all the time, who cares?’

“Pretty close, Anya,” Buffy giggled as she took the dress and lifted the protective plastic off of it. Inside, Buffy found a little treasure of a dress, black, velvet, thin straps, not too low cut or too very short, in other words? Killer.” She practically clapped her hands in delight, “oh Anya,” she whispered in glee, “it’s perfect!”

“Wear your hair down,” Anya advised as she eyed Buffy holding the dress up to herself. “Smokey makeup, hair down and shiny, simple stilleto black strappy shoes. You’re gonna’ make Angel O’Connor drool, then make him die of thirst! Serves the asshole right, for what he pulled on you!” Buffy flinched a bit and frowned slightly, “yeah, I guess. But, really, Anya, this is just a kind of business dinner. I need to convince Angel to keep the bail bond low, for Amy St. Claire. I really have no intention on reopening the tome that is the Angel O’Connor/Buffy Summers doomed romance.”

“Good!” Anya nodded her approval of Buffy’s determination. “By the way,” she continued, “about this English guy, the punker, he must be really interested in you, Buffy. I can tell by Xander’s whine factor. Right now, Xand’s up at a ten rating on the scale of whine and overproctiveness where you’re concerned.” Buffy was a little surprised that Anya could be so cavalier about Xander’s ‘feelings’ about herself. The truth was, Buffy had no idea what Anya really saw in Xander, or for that matter, why the woman seemed to love her partner so very much. “Anya,” Buffy began softly, “Xander’s just playing big brother to me, you know that, right?”

To her credit, Anya smiled widely and nodded, “a holdover from high school, no doubt,” she chuckled as she led Buffy to the dressing room. “I know, Buff,” she continued good-naturedly, “Xander does love me, I get that. He just needs to grow ‘into’ the idea of loving and needing me desperately, that’s all. Besides, who’s going to give him the massive orgasms I do?” The two women laughed together before Buffy went in to try on the perfect black number in her hands.

Spike sat on the balcony of his hotel suite, staring out at the black emptyness that was the Pacific Ocean. It was nearly 10:00 PM and for some reason, he had a very uneasy feeling about Buffy and what she might be up to. “God,” he sighed in frustration, “you’d think I was back in high school! Keepin’ tabs on my girl and all. Buffy’s not even ‘my’ girl. Okay, she should be, but…” His one sided conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of his cell phone. Wesley, his cousin, greeted him coolly.

“Dalton says and I quote,” Wes began rather curtly, “Miss Summers left work at around 5:00 PM. Drove her somewhat ugly 1973 lime green Porshe, black top, to a dress shop. Parked in the green zone and was in the shop for less then 25 minutes. Came out, carrying a black plastic dress bag and sped off to a ranch style, one story house about 6 miles from the shop. A twenty-something, dark haired pregnant woman came out to meet Miss Summers. Dalton sat in his car, 3 doors down from the house until Miss Summers exited the residence, along with the pregnant woman and a young man, presumably the woman’s husband? Miss Summers got in her Porshe and then continued home to her apartment complex.”

“That’s it, huh?” Spike asked his cousin, somewhat relieved. “Yes, Spike,” Wesley responded with slight irritation, “that’s it. I don’t know what the bloody hell you thought the young lady would be doing. If you want to ‘date’ the lady, ask her for God’s sake. Give the bloody spy games up!” Spike noticed that the usually unflappable Wesley Rhys-Smythe was getting a little peckish right at the moment.

“I have to handle Buffy Summers very carefully, Wes,” Spike chuckled, but wondered what the hell he was explaining this to his cousin for. “She’s special, Wes, I mean that. Just want to know which way to come at her, make her see that I’m a contender for her affections.” Wesley just sighed loudly on the other end of the phone. “Contender for her affections? You sound like a bloody boxer, man. Oh, whatever you say cousin,” Wes responded in exasperation. “Thanks, Wesley,” Spike laughed, then clicked off his cell phone.

Buffy was on her third cup of coffee and second chocolate sprinkle doughnut, when Xander burst into her office. “Xand,” she growled at the big man, “do you ever, ever knock?” Xander gave her the ‘puppy dog’ look of his and flopped into a chair by her desk. “What the fu…!” Xander whistled in awe of the 5 dozen red roses in Buffy’s office. “Who died?!” he finished with a wide-eyed stare at the large card attached. “Well, Webster and Katerina for just two deaths, Xand,” Buffy shot her partner a miffed look. “But, if you’re speaking about ‘my’ roses, Spike Williamson sent them. If it’s any of your business.”

Xander gave Buffy a rather dubious look, then a pout that would do a spoiled child proud. “Christ Buffy,” he scolded, “you put out to the guy already? Have you got no…” Buffy stood up from her chair, “get the hell out, Xander,” she practically screamed at him, “now!” The dark haired man stood up from his chair, “I’m sorry, Buff,” he stuttered, a sincere look in his brown eyes, “I guess I just don’t trust this guy. He’s just too damn close to Webster, his operation, everything. In fact, I was thinking, just last night. What if this ‘family’ of his and Webster’s thought to send this guy over here, from England to kind of take over the business. Know what I mean?”

Buffy felt like she’d been hit with a rock, in the stomache that is. For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was something she had not even considered, this theory of Xander’s and it irritated her. More then that, it hurt her for some reason. The whole thought just kind of made her ill, actually, and she resented Xander for even bringing it up. “He’s a bar owner, Xander,” Buffy whispered a little too weakly for her liking, “a simple bar owner in London. Not much more. Don’t go putting your own paranoia’s and insecurities, or obsessions, on Spike Williamson, or me for that matter."

Xander blushed bright red then shook his head, “you know, Buffy,” he began with hesitation, “just because I care about you, want you to be happy? It doesn’t mean I’m still obsessed or possessive of you. Not like I was as a teen, okay? I do love Anya, really. I’m beginning to see how much, daily, believe me and I’m not going to risk my relationship with my Anya by obsessing over you, or anyone else. I just…”

There was a strong, steady knock at Buffy’s door. “Come in,” she called, glad to have the interruption in this conversation. Spike walked, confidently, through the door, “hello, luv,” he greeted Buffy happily then scowled at Xander. “Harris,” he muttered in greeting. “Williamson,” Xander hissed through clenched teeth as both men eyed each other up and down, suspiciously. “I’ll talk to you later, Buff,” Xander nodded at Buffy before he left the office. He never acknowledged Spike at all.

“I am so sorry,” Buffy sighed, “my partner sometimes forgets his manners. It’s the way he was raised, I assure you,” she finished with a grin. “It’s okay, luv,” Spike chuckled as he sat down in the chair Xander had once occupied. “He, Harris that is, is just a bit protective of you. Can’t blame him really. I’d be the same way, I’m sure.” She blushed brightly and Spike again reminded himself that he would do everything he could to cause sweet Buffy to do that. “So,” Spike smiled and folded his arms across his chest, “anything new? On the case that is?” Buffy gave him a worried look, then shook her head sadly, “not much more then we spoke of on the phone yesterday. Oh,” she continued nervously, “thanks again for the roses. See how pretty they are?” she asked brightly.

Buffy felt a bit embarrassed, and more then overwhelmed by this man’s presence. Spike Williamson was a formidable man, no question, but there was something about him, Buffy was sure, something of a paradox to him. If he was the British version of Holden Webster, then Buffy would be the first person shocked by the revelation. He, Spike, was a seemingly compassionate man, sincere, apparently honest? ‘Those eyes of his,’ Buffy sighed internally, ‘they look right through me. See into my soul.’

“They’re talking of Friday for Amy’s arraignment,” Buffy stated simply enough. “I’ve got to go, of course.” She glanced about the office, nervously, as if it was her first day in it’s walls. “How about your doubts, Buffy,” Spike asked evenly, “still not positively sure that this chit, St. Claire is not the shooter?” Buffy shook her head, “I think I’m sure she’s not,” she smiled sadly, “I think the odds are good she’s not. But,” she sighed softly, “I’ve never been a good gambler, so the ‘odds’ are not something I usually understand.”

“Well, luv,” Spike began to respond when Buffy’s office door burst open revealing a tall, dark-haired man in the doorway. Without waiting for Buffy to ask him in, the big oaf (who Spike took an instant dislike to) saunterered into the office like he owned the place. Spike noticed that Buffy got even more nervous then she had been earlier and a bad feeling came over him “Hello, Buff,” the rather huge, neanderthal looking man greeted the Lieutenant. Again, Spike decided that not only did he not like this idiot, he did not trust him, either. If there was one thing about Spike, everyone knew this that knew him, he had a good intuition about people in general. Spike did not like the vibes he was getting off this guy, nor the way the fool eyed Buffy up and down like she was his next meal.

“Hey,” cave man nodded at Spike with an unfriendly smirk that belied his tone. “This is Spike Williamson, Angel,” Buffy stammered slightly and pointed at Spike then back at the other man. “This is Angel O’Connor, our Assistant District Attorney.” Now Spike realized exactly why he disliked this poof, ‘fuckhead O’Connor,’ he hissed to himself. ‘Now, just let me guess why he’s here, sniffin’ around Buffy’s office and her?’

“Heard your family sent you here to Sunnydale to check up on the Police, Williamson,” Angel grinned at Spike. ‘I’d like to wipe that bloody stupid smirk off your ugly face, mate,’ Spike thought to himself, even as he rewarded this Angel with a false smile. “I can assure you,” Angel continued with a nod of his stupid rather too big head, “our guys are great at the police work. Especially our Buffy here.” Spike almost leapt up and kicked this moron’s ass when he smiled lovingly at Buffy and had the nerve to call her ‘our Buffy.’ “Yes,” Spike stated evenly, through clenched teeth, “she’s quite special, isn’t she O’Connor?”

Buffy cleared her throat, loudly, “and,” she grumbled, “she’s right here in the office with you two.” She had had just about enough of the tetosterone party that was going on in her office and thought to end it, right now. “Uhm, how can I help you Angel?” she asked quickly, hoping against hope that her ex had the sense and tact ‘not’ to mention their plans for the evening in front of Spike.

“Just wanted to firm up our dinner date for tonight, Buff,” Angel immediately responded with a happy grin. “Reservations are at 7:00 PM, sharp, even got our old table. Thought I’d pick you up at your place at 6:00 or so, have a drink before we go?” He looked like a hopeful school boy and Buffy felt a slight wave of affection sweep over her. Then the embarrassment and slight anger at his tactless announcement about her private life began to seep back into her mind. “About that,” Buffy responded nervously, glancing over at Spike who looked like he was about to go ballistic, “I thought I’d meet you, Angel. At the restaurant, that is.”

Buffy anxiously fussed about with some paperwork on her table, “I need to get some of the paperwork, about the Webster case in order. Stuff I need to discuss with you at dinner and all.” She again looked over at Spike who was eyeing her with the expression of a military officer who had heard his troops were all going AWOL. “We’re, Angel and I, we’re meeting to discuss the case, Spike,” Buffy explained lightly. “I’m trying to convince our Assistant DA that I’m sure that Amy St. Claire is innocent.”

Spike nodded, silently as he caught Buffy’s gaze and kept it, ‘oh, I just bet the fuck is going to listen to your case opinions, baby.’ He was actually reconsidering that good ‘ass kicking’ he’d thought about giving cave man here, when another thought struck him. “I see,” he suddenly smiled at Buffy, happily receiving a confused look from her. “In that case,” Spike continued evenly, “why don’t I join you two ‘old friends’ and give you my input?” Buffy’s green eyes flew wide open and Spike could just hear O’Connor groan from the other side of the office.

“Sorry, man,” Angel’s voice trembled with irritation, causing Spike much happiness, “but I’ve got reservations for two, only. The Tria Bellas is booked for days ahead. Sorry,” O’Connor shrugged, but shot Spike a nasty smirk when Buffy wasn’t looking. “I could catch you up, tomorrow?” Buffy nodded at Spike, her expression looked almost sympathetic, he thought. “Yeah, right, tomorrow,” Spike responded, in a deflated tone, trying not to pout outright.

“Well, then,” Angel grinned at them both, “I better get going, busy man today. See ya’ around Williamson,” he gave Spike a big toothy smile. Buffy,” he nodded at her, “walk me out?” Spike thought he was going to hurl, ‘Christ,’ he grumbled, ‘what is this guy? A five-year-old? Can’t walk himself out?” Spike nodded at Angel and grunted a quick goodbye as Buffy glanced at Spike and told him she’d be right back, then followed the big ox, O’Connor out of the door.

Once the two had left, Spike pulled out his cell phone and dialed Wesley’s cell. “Wes,” he greeted his oh so helpful cousin, “need you to find out where The Tria Bellas Restaurant is, exactly. Oh, and rent me a car, a great car, can’t show up there on a Harley, can I? No, don’t need reservations, I’m sure there’s a bar connected I can park my ass at. I’m not going until about 8:00 tonight, not going to eat dinner, just stake it out. Yeah, that’s right, cousin, Buffy’ll be there, with another bloke, but I’ll remedy that, right soon.”


A/N: Okay, next chapter is the business dinner between Buffy and Angel. And, please, do not worry, Buffy, as in Chosen, is not blinded by Angel’s line of bullsh**, honest. Spike has nothing to worry about. There will be some Spuffy moments in the next chapter and here’s a hint: it will be an R or NC-17 rating! Thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 10: Part I ‘Dinner At 7’


Buffy should have known, really, when at precisely 6:30 PM that Tuesday night, when her usually reliable 1973 Porshe did not start. It was an omen all right and it slapped her right up the side of the head, but did she listen? No. Did she take heed and say… ‘maybe I’m not supposed to meet with Angel tonight for our business dinner. Maybe this is a sign or something to cancel?’ Oh, no, not the intrepid, determined Buffy Summers. Instead, when the lime green monstrosity had not kicked over and started by 6:45 PM, Buffy just shrugged and called a cab on her cell phone.

Usually, Buffy could have opened up the hood of the Porshe, checked it out and fixed the problem herself. However, considering she was in a slinky, killer black dress, stiletto heels, her make-up perfect not to mention her vanilla washed shiny hair down and gorgeous? Well….what was she supposed to do? Exactly what she did do, of course, call a cab and keep her dinner appointment with Angel O’Connor ‘Super Assistant DA.’

By the time she had made it to La Tria Bellas, Buffy was already late, by fifteen minutes and Angel dear was already on his second bourbon and water. “Hey, Angel,” Buffy stammered as the ‘host’ sat her at the small, intimate table, across from her ‘date.’ Angel did not look too awfully happy to Buffy, but she really didn’t give a rat’s ass. This was a business meeting, to discuss the Holden Webster case, nothing more and if he couldn’t understand why she was late…TDB (too, damn bad!)! “You look beautiful, Buffy,” Angel smiled happily at her, taking in her dress, eyes, hair with appreciation.



“Thanks Angel,” she nodded as she nervously looked about the full restaurant, “sorry I’m late, car trouble. Had to hail a cab.” Angel eyed Buffy again, “I’ll pay for the cab fare, Buff,” she heard Angel mumble after her hasty explaination for her tardiness. “No!” Buffy cried out, a bit abruptly, but keeping her voice down. I’ve paid it, it’s a done deal.”

“Look, here’s some of the paperwork, some important aspects of the case.” Buffy eagerly set her briefcase up on the tiny table and unlocked it quickly to pull out the contents and place them in front of Angel. He, Angel, that is, actually gave her a ‘broody pout’ and reluctantly grabbed the paperwork. “Can’t we at least order, Buff,” he whined and shot her a puppy dog look, “before we delve into this mess?”

“Sure Angel,” Buffy responded weakly. ‘Should have known,’ she chided herself, ‘business dinner my size 3 ass!’ The waiter, who was quite amicable took their order quickly and hurried back to the table with a bottle of some lovely, expensive (no doubt), California Sparkling Wine, our best version of Champagne. Angel was the epitome of class, as usual, Buffy noted as he sipped the offerred taste of wine for his knowing approval. “It’s perfect,” Angel grinned at the waiter then at Buffy proudly, “nothing but the best for our Buffy Summers,” he winked at her. ‘Oh dear Mother of God,’ Buffy groaned inwardly.

After the waiter had poured them both an ample glass of wine, and departed to where ever waiters went to, Buffy pursed her lips and gave Angel a dubious glare. “I thought,” she began, hesitantly, “that this was business Angel.” The dark eyed man before her shook his head and raised his large hands in a gesture of innocence, “of course, Buff,” he chuckled. “Man’s got to eat, right?” If Buffy didn’t know better, she could swear that Angel gave her the old ‘double entendre smirk’ of his, but she overlooked it. For now, anyway. Frankly, Buffy was famished, the food here was delicious and she ‘had’ to try and convince the rising star of the Sunnydale legal community that poor little Amy St. Claire was ‘INNOCENT’ with a capitol ‘I!’

At precisely 7:50 PM, Spike Williamson drove his rented BMW into the valet parking area of La Tria Bellas. He threw the valet, a mere youngster of a bloke, his keys and sauntered through the wide door, right to the bar. Fortunately, the bar was to the side of the dining area, so, the object of his obsession, Buffy and her ‘business’ date, Captain Forehead, could not have seen him enter. Spike sat down at the bar, ordered a whiskey and patiently bided his time.

He, Spike, had a plan, of course. If this so called business date of Buffy’s and the ‘broody wonder’ lasted past 8:30, he would wheedle his way to their table and totally disrupt the whole thing. Spike had to chuckle softly, ‘I’ll be doing her a favour,’ he told himself, ‘that O’Connor is the worst excuse for an escort I’ve ever…”

The bartender leaned over the bar and whispered coolly, “Mr. Williamson?” Spike acknowledged the man, with little surpise. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the ‘couple’ in question,” the keep continued with a devilish grin. “Miss Summers is about as interested in being here with that moron, O’Connor, as I’d be,” the bartender finished with a gruff laugh. ‘Bless you cousin Wesley,’ Spike said silently as he tossed the bartender a fifty dollar bill. “Keep checking on them,” Spike ordered evenly, “I can’t be seen, just yet that is.”

Buffy groaned inwardly, yet again, as Angel munched on his Shrimp Scampi, his mouth going a mile a minute. She nibbled on her own Shrimp Pasta as she tried to avoid looking at her ex as he exercized his mouth in more ways then one. All’s the man had talked about, for the whole dinner, was himself, his family and career, Buffy and her family and the ‘old days’ when he and she, Buffy, were an ‘item.’ “I thought,” Buffy finally spoke up as she sat her silver fork down, “that this was a business engagement, Angel?” He closed his mouth, finally, and gave her a small pout, “well, yeah,” he stammered. “But, I thought maybe, especially since you’re without a ride home, I’d take you. Talk about the case there, at your apartment?”

“I see,” she murmered in response. “Angel,” Buffy swallowed hard and took a deep breath, “I would rather discuss the case here, and now. I’ll call a cab for myself. If you want to front me the cab fare, fine, I’ll gladly accept. But,” she sighed loudly, “let’s get this straight; you are in no way coming to my place. Tonight, or any other night of the week. Understand?”

Angel’s benevolent expression changed from friendly to irritated in a heartbeat. “I’d be careful, Buff,” he grumbled as as he went back to his shrimp, “might behoove you to be a bit more friendly with me. I know how much you want to play the saving Saint to poor little Amy St. C. If we could go to your place, have a nice ‘chat’ and come to some agreement about the bail bond, the whole case? I’m a betting man, Buffy, you know that. Right now I’m betting that you and me could ‘work’ things out tonight, in your favour, that is. All you have to do is…”

“Jesus,” Buffy hissed as she tossed her fine linen napkin down on the fine linen table cloth. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you Angel? Still the pompous, overbearing ass you’ve always been!” Buffy reached down to the floor and retrieved her Versace briefcase from it’s place under her chair, then slipped her Versace purse from it’s place on the her chair. “I’m going home Angel,” she whispered haughtily, “don’t worry about the cab. I’ve got it. Oh,” she leaned over to make sure only he heard her next words, “a little advice. Do not try and blackmail a Summers woman into your bed, Angel dear, it’s a futile mission. I wouldn’t sleep with you to save my dear old Granny from the ‘electric chair’ if I had to.”


Chapter 10: Part II ‘Dessert At 9?’


Spike sat at the bar, sipping his whiskey, a rather dour look on his face. The bartender hurried up to join him, “got some good news for you Mr. Williamson,” he almost giggled like a girl. “Call me Spike, mate,” Spike nodded at the chunky male bartender. “Okay, Spike it is,” the man grinned happily, “anyway,”he continued, “Lt. Summers, she just left the establishment.” Spike sat up and took notice of that quickly, “left?” The barkeep smiled warmly, “yeah, just now. Headed out the front door like there was a fire in the place. Mr. ‘DA’ O’Connor is lookin’ like he lost his last friend!”

With a satisfied laugh, Spike tossed another fifty at the man behind the bar, “thanks, mate,” he saluted the man and sauntered off to the dining area. It wasn’t that Spike wanted to rub O’Connor’s nose in his fiasco of a dinner date with ‘his’ Buffy, oh no. He wanted to grind this Angel’s face down into the mud, where it belonged.

“Hello O’Connor,” Spike grinned down at the morose looking dark-haired oaf slumped down in the chair. “Oh God,” Angel hissed, shaking his head miserably when he saw who geeted him. Spike sat in the chair Buffy had just occupied and waved at the waiter, “a whiskey and whatever this poor soul is having,” he grinned again at Angel. “What the fuck to do you want Williamson,” Angel groaned without looking into Spike’s eyes. “Simple,” Spike responded quickly, confidently, “I want Buffy Summers.”

Angel gave the man a nasty look and grimaced, “you’re beneath her, you know that right?” he hissed angrily. “Probably,” Spike answered evenly as he sipped his fresh drink, “but no more then you are. I mean, come on mate, dumping the delectable Miss Summers for another woman? Just to make it big in the DA’s office? Talk about beneath someone!” The dark haired man frowned, then sighed sadly, “don’t hurt her, please, Williamson.”

Spike scowled slightly, “hurt her?” he asked harshly. “I’d rather die myself then hurt Buffy. She’s an angel, perfection, my salvation and…” he abruptly stopped his ranting and eyed the dark man, cautiously. “Give what Buffy says a thought, O’Connor,” Spike changed the subject quickly, “think about what she says. If Buffy, who knows this little suspect chit the most of anyone says that she is innocent? Then, you can probably bet that she, Buffy that is, is right.” With that, Spike stood up, threw a hundred dollar bill on the table and hurried out the front door of the La Tria Bellas in search of his angel, Buffy.

Buffy had exited the restaurant as fast as she could, sailing right past the door man and down the street towards the direction of her place. The thought of waiting around for a cab, even for five minutes, disgusted her and made her feel weak. She scurried past the door man, down the block and turned the corner as fast as her stiletto heeled shoes could carry her, never once looking back to see if she’d been followed by Angel. ‘Hmmphh,’ Buffy snorted sardonically, ‘as if Angel O’Connor would follow anyone but a stepping stone for his career!’

Spike sped out of the restaurant like a mad man and tapped the valet on on his shoulder. “Did you see a little blonde, mate?” he asked anxiously, “tiny, gorgeous and hotter then lava?” The valet grinned and nodded, “she took off that way, Sir,” he pointed down the block to the east. “Tried to tell her to grab a cab, but she would have none of it. Took off on foot.” Spike pulled another hundred from his pocket and his ticket, “thanks,” he hissed, “now get me the BMW, gray with black leather seats.”

By the time Buffy had made it, three blocks down from the restaurant, she realized that she had probably made a big mistake by not calling a cab. Something she intended on remedying immediately when she pulled her cell phone from her purse and speed dialed the Sunnydale Cab Company. After the dispatcher answered, Buffy looked up to check the street signs and saw Spike Williamson leaning against a gorgeous BMW, parked across the street from where she now stood.

“Never mind,” Buffy told the cab dispatcher, “I’m fine.” She clicked off the cell phone and stared at the platinum Brit with a certain sense of exasperation. Spike sauntered over to her side of the street and stood right in front of her. “Date over so soon?” he asked with a grin that Buffy just wanted to slap off of his face. “Well,” she whispered, looking about the fairly empty street, “yeah, I guess it is. Not much of a date, though,” she assured him, though God only knew why.

“You know, Buffy,” Spike began smoothly as he closed the gap between them, “it’s not safe to wander around even the streets of Sunnydale by yourself. But,” he raised his left brow slightly, “you know that, right?” Buffy blushed despite herself, “sure,” she answered unevenly, “but I can handle myself.” Spike chuckled behind her as she sidestepped him and tried to continue down the darkish street. “No doubt,” Spike called, “but just think how much safer, more comfortable you’d be in a BMW, luv?”

Buffy was stubborn, she was determined and liberated as far as females went, however, she was not stupid. It was true, she would be safer and more comfortable in Spike’s BMW, especially since her own apartment was more then three miles from the place she was at! “All right,” Buffy sighed in defeat, “you can give me a ride…in your BMW that is, but nothing more. Understand Spike?” He grinned at her and nodded with enthusiasm, “course, luv,” he responded sincerely enough.

The first thing Buffy noticed as she and Spike drove ‘towards’ her apartment, was that they were going in the opposite direction. Of Buffy’s apartment that is. “Uhm, Spike,” Buffy stammered quietly, “wrong way?’ She pointed at street signs to elaborate on her confusion. “It’s okay, luv,” Spike nodded to her, “just going to get some dessert. For you that is.” Buffy felt completely helpless, something she detested beyond anything, “dessert?” she squeaked. “There’s a Baskin and Robbins, just up ahead,” Spike chuckled wickedly, “and I know how much you love chocolate!”

The little girl joy in Buffy tried to rear it’s appalling head, but she pushed it back down again, “I want to go home,” she almost whined stubbornly. “You will,” Spike laughed heartily, “when I take you. For now, you’re going to have dessert with me, period.” He pulled into the small 31 Flavors parking lot and turned off the car engine. “Come on,” he ordered firmly, “if anyone needs chocolate right now, it’s you. I can tell.”

Spike watched as Buffy exited the door he had gone around and opened for her, ‘chivilarous as usual William,’ he scoffed at himself, ‘next you’ll be spoutin’ poetry and layin’ your duster down for her to walk on.’ He was pleased, Spike that is, when Buffy allowed him to give her his hand and help her out of the rented BMW.

“Thanks,” she murmered softly as she sidled on past him and into the Baskin and Robbins. When they reached the counter, Spike gave her a raised eyebrow and asked what she ‘wanted’ for dessert. “Fudge Brownie Chocolate. Three scoops in a bowl,” Buffy giggled to the young boy behind the counter. Spike pulled out his wallet and tossed a ten dollar bill on the counter, “keep it,” he barked at the kid. “Just puttin’ up with the two of us is enough to earn a good tip.”

“You’re not getting anything?” Buffy asked in surprise as they sat at one of the small tables for her to eat her treat. “That remains to be seen,” Spike purred as he tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind Buffy’s ear. “Ooooohhh,” Buffy growled lowly, “always with the sex jokes, huh? You men, never change.” Spike reached out and stopped Buffy from tasting another spoonful of her ice cream, “give us a taste,” he order gently. Buffy couldn’t help it, she dipped her pink plastic spoon into her ice cream and held the delicious coldness out for Spike to taste. He took her tiny hand in his and sucked the ice cream from the spoon, a little slowly.

Spike watched Buffy as he licked her plastic spoon clean of it’s chocolaty goodness. Truth was, Spike loved chocolate and ice cream, he adored, but he couldn’t let Buffy know that. Not yet, anyway. For some reason (though he had a good idea why) Spike loved to tease this golden Goddess. He just enjoyed pushing her buttons (one in particular he’d love to push!), and felt that this blonde, beautiful Buffy just might be the answere to his prayers.

Buffy watched, mesmerized, as Spike Williamson licked her pink plastic spoon clean of it’s chocolaty goodness. “Oh,” she squeaked involentarily. He, Spike, the blonde updated version of Billy Idol, gave her a naughty smirk, “oh?” he repeated at her, his scarred left brow raised slightly. “I mean, well…” she hesitated, embarrassed by her blush she felt overcoming her face and neck, “I mean, just oh I see,” she finished with a bright red face.

When she had finished her dessert, Buffy looked out at the BMW parked in the otherwise empty lot. “I should get home,” she murmered softly, avoiding Spike’s blue eyes. “Yeah, you should,” he agreed reluctantly. They drove to her complex, which consisted of ten exclusive units and Spike turned off the motor to the BMW.

“Walk you up?” Spike asked quietly, almost afraid to look into Buffy’s dark green eyes. “Not necessary. Thank you for the ride,” she replied abruptly and turned to go into the apartment stairwell. “Buffy,” Spike murmered, “ask me in?” She stopped in midstep and turned around to meet his gaze, in the moonlight, her eyes looked like huge, green opals. Buffy’s eyes, however, were filled with an emotion that Spike could not quite pin point. A little confusion, maybe, some insecurity, definitely, but something more lay hidden in the green depths of her beautiful eyes. ‘Fear,’ Spike realized, a sympathetic pang tugged at his heart. He stepped closer to Buffy, held out his hand to her and stated rather then asked, “invite me in, Buffy.”

“I, uhm,” she began, her voice just a little shakey, “I don’t think…” Then, suddenly she just blushed slightly and asked, “would you like to come in for a drink or something, Spike?” Spike smiled softly at her and nodded, happily, “yes, definitely, sweetheart.” He followed her up the stairs to her second story apartment, thanking God, silently, all the way that she had agreed to his coming in.

Spike did not really have any intention of making a pass at Buffy, tonight, that is. Okay, he did, kind of, have an intention of at least getting a kiss goodnight, but he actually did want to see where Buffy lived. How her place was decorated and if it revealed any more of her personality or feelings. In other words, Spike desperately wanted to find out how Buffy lived, privately and all. It just seemed so important, at that moment, to be inside Buffy’s inner space.

Buffy led Spike into her small, but cozy apartment. She was proud of her place. Proud of the way she had it decorated, Asian motiff; the way everything matched perfectly and went so well together. However, having him, Spike Williamson in her own private space, alone with her, well, it did make her a tad nervous. That’s probably why when Buffy went to get them some wine, she almost dropped the bottle and spilled it all over the white tiled floor of the kitchen. “Nice place,” she heard Spike call from the sofa in the living room. “Thanks,” she squeaked out, her hands shaking as she tried to uncork the wine. “Uhm, Spike,” she grabbed two glasses and hurried into the living room, “could you open this?” she asked shyly, embarrassed at her sudden loss of composure.

“Sure, luv,” he chuckled and took the bottle and corkscrew from her. He had the damn bottle open in a heartbeat, causing Buffy to feel even more overwhelmed. “Thanks,” she whispered softly, allowing him to pour the wine into her favorite stemware. “I like wine,” she mumbled anxiously, sitting next to Spike on the couch, but not too very close. “Me too,” he responded simply, rewarding her with that killer smile of his.

“So,” Spike sat his glass on the coffee table, on the coaster Buffy had placed there, “what did Forehead have to say about the case thing? Or did he piss you off before anything could get discussed?” He could not help himself, Spike just had to smirk and laugh a little at the thought of that loser, O’Connor, sitting in that restaurant, all down in the mouth and pouting. Buffy looked at Spike in disbelief, “oh my God,” she gasped, “you were there, weren’t you?” Spike quit smirking and felt a little blush of his own coming on, “yeah, luv. I was. Wanted to check out the competition for your time and attention. Sorry…kind of. I guess.”

Buffy almost dropped her glass, but composed herself and set it on the table. “Spike,” she sighed in exasperation, “Angel is not competition for you or…” Spike grinned again and actually looked relieved, causing Buffy to stammer more protestations. “I mean, that Angel is no competition, for any man who comes my way…I mean, that I’m not interested in Angel O’Connor ‘that way’ anymore. It’s so over, done and finished. He wrote the death certificate when he dumped me for Darla Walsh. I do have some pride you know!” she finished in a huff.

Spike gazed at Buffy, soulfully (at least he hoped it was soulfully). “I know, Buffy, you’re very proud, and fiesty and beautiful and, well, everything about you just draws me in.” He reached out and tenderly stroked her soft cheek, his hope renewed when Buffy lay her cheek into his hand. “I really am drawn to you, Buffy,” he stated the obvious, “since the first time I saw you.”

Buffy scrunched her eyes closed, fully aware of what could happen if she let it. But, she didn’t dare allow it. No way. This man was dangerous, that much Buffy knew. However… Before she could think another thought, Spike pulled her face towards his and brought their lips together in a bruising kiss. For some reason, Buffy couldn’t help but kiss him back, somewhat reluctantly anyway.

“God Buffy,” Spike moaned into her mouth as he moved his hands down to the straps of her dress. Without asking, he pulled the thin straps down over her shoulders and then nearly yanked the top of her dress down to reveal her creamy breasts. He pushed her, gently of course, back against her own couch and raised her sweet bottom up enough to pull the dress down past her thighs and off of her. Buffy, to her credit, thank God, was not putting up much of a resistance and Spike took this as a sure go ahead to proceed.

“Spike,” she hissed as his very nice lips left hers and traveled down her neck to her right breast. There, much to Buffy’s pleasure, he began to kiss and suckle it, causing her to nearly buck up off of the couch under him. While his mouth was busy with her right breast, Spike’s hand was busy brushing her left breast. He didn’t hesitate after that, he went right for Buffy’s surely soaked core with his right hand and fingers. All the while, Buffy was busy running her hands down Spike’s neck and back, trying hard not to scratch his skin with her freshly manicured fingernails. That in itself was nearly impossible as he was making her convulse with pleasure. ‘This is wrong,’ she kept telling herself, ‘so very wrong on so many levels.’

“Spike,” he heard her hiss his name and assumed it was in consensual pleasure. So, he kept up his ministrations and began to push Buffy even further into pleasurable moans and groans. It didn’t take long, however, for him to wake up from his sexual lust and realize that Buffy was not begging him to go on, she was pleading with him, tears and all, to stop.

“What?” he rasped as he broke contact of her breast with his lips. “Why not?” he asked with stubborn dissapointment. “Please, Spike,” she whimpered sorrowfully, “I don’t want to. Not now, so soon. I’m, I’m frightened. No,” she shook her head and he swore he saw tears in those beautiful green eyes, “I’m terrified of you Spike.” Buffy looked away from him and he could see she was searching for her dress, to cover herself.

The next words out of Buffy’s mouth did not necessarily surprise Spike, but they certainly dissapointed him:

“I’m tired of hurting, Spike,” she said quietly, trying to cover what parts of her body she could with her tiny hands and slim arms. “I don’t want to hurt, or be hurt anymore,” she finished sadly. Spike felt his heart breaking into a million pieces, more for her then for even himself.


A/N: Long, long, long (the chapter that is! Tee Hee!) Okay, I left this on a rather odd note, but I’m famous for that…(snicker). I just can’t bear to have Spike and Buffy hit the sheets so soon after they’ve met. Makes me feel like I’m sticking to some BTVS canon! Please read and review, makes the next chapter which will reveal some surprises (Spuffy too) be submitted faster. Thanks. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 11: ‘Don’t Want to Talk!’


Somehow, though for the life of her, Buffy could not remember just ‘when’ she grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head and torso. Spike politely looked the other way while she dressed quickly, ‘a gentleman to the end no doubt.’ She could see his face, taut, slightly flushed in embarrassment, or dissapointment maybe. “I think you better leave now,” Buffy stammered in a voice lower then a whisper, barely audible.

“I’d rather stay, talk it out, Buffy luv,” Spike set his jaw in stubborn determination. He was certainly looking at her now, straight on staring at her. She shook her head, forcefully, “no. I want you to go now, please Spike.” Spike stood up, reluctantly and pulled his duster on, “I’m sorry, Buffy,” he murmered softly, the sincerity was obvious, but she was so confused now. “Me too,” she responded sadly, not able to look him in the face. Buffy flinched when Spike called goodnight from her front door. One loan tear slipped from her right eye when she heard that door close softly.

Spike had driven the rented BMW back to his hotel like an insane race car driver, his mind on the fiasco of a few minutes earlier. “Nice move, mate,” he chided himself in disgust, then, “Christ,” he hissed at the rear view mirror when he saw the flashing police lights and heard the sick whine of the siren. “This just gets better,” he groaned, pulling over to a nondescript curbside. “Good evening,” came the false, polite monotone speech of the cop. “Yeah, right,” Spike grumbled back. He pulled out the rental agreement from the glove compartment and handed the man his visa.

“Mr. Williamson?” the young cop eyed Spike in near awe. “That would be me,” Spike chuckled suddenly when he saw the change in the whelp’s demeanor. “Sorry to have stopped ‘you’ Sir,” the officer continued nervously, “had no idea that it was you.” Spike glanced at the young cop’s badge and tag, “Officer Doyle, right,” Spike stated, reading the man’s ID. “Yes Sir,” Doyle stammered anxiously. “It’s fine,” Spike assured the near boy, “you’re just doin’ your job. I admire a man that does his job.” This Doyle gave him an altar boy smile and Spike decided to cut the kid a break. “Here,” Spike reached for his ticket book, “write me the bloody thing and be done with it. I’ll pay it outright, no worries. I was speeding, I’m a bit pissed off, at a lady. You understand, right?” The cop nodded with a friendly grin, “I understand Mr. Williamson, but…”

“No buts, Doyle,” Spike mumbled and signed his name to the ticket. “I was speeding, you were right to pull me over. Here,” he handed the young cop his book and kept the receit copy for himself. “Drive safely, Sir,” officer Doyle smiled warmly as he went back to his car. “Right,” Spike responded evenly.

‘Well,’ Spike thought to himself trying to push his curious excitement back down inside of him. ‘Just how would that kid cop know who ‘I’ am and what does that mean?’ Spike could not remember seeing this Officer Doyle at Buffy’s precinct when he’d been there. His mind went back to the key, the rather odd looking one, that he, Spike, had found in Holden’s few things that he’d left for him. ‘There’s something really, really weird going on here in this fucking hellmouth,’ Spike realized silently. “Question is,” he thought out loud as he lit a cigarette, “what the fuck lock does Hold’s key fit? Just ‘who’ is in on the weird here and is my Buffy safe from ‘it’?”

The next morning, after another sleepless night, Buffy stumbled into work, barely half awake. Starbucks had gotten her Latte order wrong, again, and usually she would be much more forgiving. But, not today. Not after last night’s double fiasco. ‘My social life could be great fodder for America’s Funniest Video, that or The Year’s Best Bloopers!’ She was completely exasperated with herself and somewhat angry at Spike. Why she was angry at all with Spike, she wasn’t sure? After all, he had made it perfectly clear that he was interested in her, no false intentions there all right!

However, Buffy had to admit, that she had allowed the blonde Brit to fondle her, also no question about that! If she was really honest with herself, Buffy would have to confess that it was that damn Angel O’Connor she was really pissed with. “Asshole!” she hissed at no one in particular as she stumbled into her office. The first thing that greeted her were the still beautiful red roses that Spike had sent her. For some reason, this upset her more then anything. But, not in an angry way.

“No one had better get in my face today!” she groused to the empty air of the office. I’m in no mood for any damn surprises this morning!” She would find out, soon, that she was in for a rude awakening.

Buffy found a few messages on her office answering maching.

1) “Buffy, dear, it’s Giles. Could you please come to my office, ASAP? Very important.” That one was at 8:30 AM.

2) “Buff, it’s Willow. Don’t forget, your next appointment is of the today kind. 10:00 AM, on the dot! See ya’!” This message was at 8:33 AM.

3) “Buffy, honey, it’s Mom. Dawn says you look tired and nervous. Call me, please, sweetie. Love you.” Precisely 8:41 AM.

4) “Buffster, it’s the Xand Man. Will be late. Anya and me, well, never mind. Anyway, late as in after 11:00 late. Bye.” 8:50 on the dot.

5) “Buffy, luv, it’s Spike Williamson. About last night, I think we should talk about it. Please call me. Sunnydale Arms number is 850-573-1212. Just ask for my room phone. I’ll be waiting. Please, please call me, Buffy.” Right on the button…9:00 AM.


She decided to handle Spike’s call first. Buffy dialed the Sunnydale Arms Hotel and asked them to ring his room. Apparently, he really was waiting for her return call. Spike answered it on the second ring. “It’s Buffy,” she murmered softly into the phone. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of Spike’s mouth. “Don’t,” Buffy quipped simply, “I was as much to blame. I should never have let it get out of hand like that. Please, Spike, let it go.”

“Okay, Buffy,” he agreed quietly. There was a moment of silence then, “I would still like to ‘see’ you Buffy,” he finished on a hopeful not. “Oh, Spike” she sighed, “I just don’t think that…” He interjected immediatley, “then don’t bloody think about it. Just say you’ll see me. When you want. When you’re ready. Even if it’s to go for a walk together at the beach. I don’t care, just meet with me. Sometime?”

Buffy felt a tingle run up her spine and sighed, silently this time. “Okay,” she finally relented a little. “I’ll think about seeing you. Sometime. Is that good enough Spike?” She could hear his rich, musical chuckle from the other end, “more then enough, sweet,” he replied happily. “I’m bettin’ it’ll be sooner rather then later, dear one, believe me.” She giggled despite her exasperation, “you really are sure of yourself, aren’t you Spike?” He was suddenly quiet again, then, “not where you are concerned Buffy Summers. I’m not sure at all. Have a wonderful day, sweet.” Then he hung up.

The minute Spike hung up the phone, he picked up his cell and dialed his new best friend, Cousin Wesley. “Hello Wes,” Spike greeted jovially, “need another favour. Yes, you did fine with the restaurant thing, and yes it went great. Well, until I did something rather stupid, but… Nevermind Wes, it’s not important right now.

I need you to do some real detective work, Cousin. You know that key we found in Hold’s things? Well, I’ve a feeling that our dear departed cousin and my best mate in the world was trying to leave us some clues to something. No, not his murder, not necessarily, but maybe. Anyway, I’ve a feeling that where ever this ‘information’ is locked up at, it’s going to be very very revealing. Yeah, like in who’s in on what in this fucking dump of a town. Kind of our own little Watergate.”

Buffy reluctantly headed down to Gile’s office. She wasn’t sure if this had to do with Amy St. Claire and the Webster/McClay case, or if it was something else. The problem was, Buffy did not want to talk to anyone today, about anything. That botched up business dinner with Angel, then the couch wrestling with Spike had colored her whole week in shades of darkness. Buffy simply did not want to talk to anyone, now or for the rest of the week, that simple.

Giles motioned her into his office and told her to sit down. He looked pensive to say the least and Buffy felt quite intimidated by ‘this’ Giles personna. “What’s up?” she asked innocently.

“I guess I could ask you the same thing, Buffy,” Giles responded quietly, an odd look on his face. “My rent’s up,” Buffy giggled slightly, trying to break the tension between them.

“Not funny, Buffy,” Giles frowned and took off his glasses to clean them. Buffy recognized the man’s ‘I’m worried, concerned, angry or downright dissapointed’ move when she saw it.

“All right, Giles,” Buffy sighed, “let’s have it. What’s going on and what does it have to do with me?”

The older man put his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on his lap. “Buffy,” he began cautiously, “Angel O’Connor called me this morning.” Buffy groaned, audibly.

Giles held up his hand, to stop any comment, “let me finish. He’s made it clear that after your ‘business dinner’ to discuss the case and such, that he’s going to make things quite difficult on Ms. St. Claire at the arraignment. It’s tomorrow, absolutely. I am afraid that DA O’Connor is going to go out for blood in this. Starting,” Giles sighed loudly, “with the bail. Buffy,” he paused to clock her reaction, “Angel’s talking about somewhere up close to $1,000,000.00 for Amy’s bail.”

“That fucking bastard!” Buffy jumped up from the chair, shocking Giles by the look on the poor man’s face. “I wouldn’t sleep with him, so he’s upping the bail to as high as possible. I’ll, I’ll…”

“Sit down!” Giles ordered loudly. Which, for some reason, Buffy did. “Calm yourself, Buffy,” he instructed evenly. “I’m not sure even the rising Star of the DA’s office can get a judge to go for that, however…”

Buffy just hated Gile’s ‘howevers’ they made her feel about ten-years-old again. “However?” she asked timidly. “However, there’s more to this, isn’t there?” he asked with a stern glare at her.

“Angel mentioned Spike Williamson’s presence at that ‘dinner’ last night Buffy. And I heard about the Rose Parade that was delivered to your office from him. I think Angel is just worried, concerned for your welfare. After all, you two did date and…”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Buffy stated sarcastically with an evil smirk. “Angel fucked me, then dumped me to fuck Darla Walsh so he could ‘rise higher’ in the legal world. Talk about the big fuckover. Oh wait, it gets better…Angel’s going to use this case against Amy to fuck her over, royally, too. He ought to get a lot of press and shit for this one, huh, Giles? Hell, he could run for office after this. And all’s he has to do is keeping fucking over women to get to his political goals! What a charmer that ‘Angel’ is, huh?”

Giles looked ill to Buffy, suddenly, and she wasn’t sure if it was her fiflty language or her harsh words about Angel O’Connor in general. Frankly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass.

“Giles,” she began, much calmer now, “my social life is my business. Angel O’Connor is going through a ‘sense’ of rejection right now, the poor darling.” Her sarcasm was not lost on Giles because he smirked himself a little. “If I see Spike Williamson, I see him. Nobody, not even you or the DA’s office is going to stop me. Understand? Besides, I’ve got Wills to psychoanalyze my odd behaviors and stupid moves. Right?”

The older man nodded briefly, still smirking a little. “Yes, dear,” he sighed softly, “I understand and you are a grown woman so I guess that means you should do what’s best for you. I just worry, like your Mum and Dad do, especially since that awful day when…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Buffy knew exactly what he was talking about. The day she was shot and lost the baby she was carrying.

“Well,” Giles began, a littler brighter, “if Willow Rosenberg is your Doctor, then I guess that makes me your Confessor!” He seemed so pleased by the thought, that Buffy had to giggle a little. “Yes, that’s it, Giles,” she nodded warmly, “you’re my precinct Priest!”

“Well,” Buffy stood up, “if that’s it, I have to get to my next head shrinking session with Wills, like, right now. I’ll see you later, Giles, and thanks.” She exited his office and headed off to ‘confess’ her inner feelings to her best friend and doctor.

Spike watched as his cousin paced up and down in front of him in the living area of his room at the Arms hotel. “So you think that Holden left some secret papers, some insight to who was, let’s see…” Wes scrunched his dark brows together, “how do American’s put it? On the take to our dear, departed cousin?” The blonde man nodded and shot Wesley a serious look, “I’ve a feeling, Cousin,” he grunted, “that there’s more coverup shit going on in this town then Washington, D.C. Well, okay, not that much, but a lot. And,” Spike continued as he eyed his cousin’s reactions, “I think that old Holden was paying off more people then even we know about. I’m real interested as to just ‘who’ those people were and what Hold had on them, completely.”

Wesley nodded, “yes,” he responded, deep in thought. “You know, Spike,” he began carefully, a concerned expression on his handsome face, “I’m afraid you might be right about all of this. If this cop, the one that gave you the ticket ‘knew’ you like he seemed to, then that means there’s other cops involved here. I’m sure Miss Summers is on the up and up, no question. I respect your intuition about people, however, if someone close to her is involved deeply, or I should say ‘was’ involved deeply with Holden? Miss Summers could be in big, big danger.”

Spike took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “I know, Wes,” he sighed heavily, concern edged in every word. “But, no worries, mate. I’ll protect Buffy Summers, or die trying to.”


A/N: Sigh, what a guy that Spike is. I’ll be honest, I’ve decided to take this plot line in a litter different direction. The cover up, etc. Wonder who’s in that secret info of Holden’s? Anyway, thank you for reading. Please review and let me know how you feel about this fic. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 12: ‘Something About You’





Buffy watched Assistant DA Angel O’Connor as he paced up and down in front of Judge Ethan Rayne, his dark, brooding face was a study in acting. ‘Oh, he’s good,’ Buffy thought with loathing and some admiration for her ex lover. Angel was in the midst of trying to convince Judge Rayne, known for his conservative stances, to place bail for Amy St. Claire at nearly $750,000.00. Lt. Summers did a quick add up in her mind; He wants $300,000.00 for Webster and $450,000.00 for Katerina McClay, she surmised. ‘Crap! If Judge Rayne goes for this, Amy’ll be jail for good, at least until we find enough evidence to clear her.’

“Your Honor,” Angel repeated, his voice full of rich honey tones, “Miss St. Claire is a flight risk. She was caught in her home town of St. David, Arizona, just days after the heinous murders of Holden Webster and Katerina McClay. The DA’s office feels that if Miss St. Claire is given the opportunity again, she will again try to flee justice.” Angel shrugged in his smooth matter of fact way and turned to actually smirk at Buffy. ‘Eat shit,’ Buffy mouthed back at Angel, silently. He must have realized what she mouthed, because he frowned, then scowled at Buffy in stunned anger.

Benjamin Whedon, the Public Defender that had been assigned to Amy St. Claire patted his client’s slim shoulder, assuredly. “Your Honor, Judge Rayne,” Whedon began quietly enough, “Miss St. Claire could not possiby raise the collateral needed on that kind of bail amount. The poor girl could not raise a $100.00, much less…”

Judge Rayne interrupted Whedon’s plea, his British accent clipped, stern and perfect, “then Miss St. Claire should have thought of that before she fled the State of California, Mr. Whedon. A very foolish thing for her to do, if she is indeed innocent of these crimes. However, I am feeling lenient today. I am placing bail bond at $500,000.00 for Amy St. Claire. Court is adjourned and Miss St. Claire will be taken to the Santa Barbara County Jail until her court date or her bond is issued.”

Buffy groaned inwardly; Angel’s team of top notch lawyers looked smugly pleased, while Benjamin Whedon looked physically ill. Amy looked lost, as always. Johnathan Levy, who had graciously joined Buffy in court just whispered, “well,” the elfin bail bondsman sighed in dissapointment, “I guess that’s that.” Shaking her blonde head, sorrowfully, trying not to look Amy in the eye as she was led away, Buffy muttered, “Angel O’Connor,” she murmered at the back of her ex, “you are a first class prick!”

“Let’s go, Johnny,” Buffy groaned to Levy, beside her as she stood to leave the audience seats of the courtroom. Some masochistic sense inside of her forced Buffy to glance at Angel and his legal minions, even as they quietly celebrated their victory of the morning. Angel returned Buffy’s stare, a gleam of control in his dark eyes as he again smirked at her in obvious glee. If Buffy ever wished for psychic powers, it would be right this minute, she realized. ‘I hope you run out of hair gel at the least, Angel O’Connor,’ Buffy tried to send her thoughts to him. ‘If not that, then I hope the next woman you screw over gives you a one-of- a kind STD and your penis drops off!’ She frowned and stormed out of the courtroom.

Outside, Buffy bade farewell to Johnathan Levy who slumped off to his office, she supposed. Buffy just slumped down on a nearby hallway bench and leaned her head back against the wall. ‘I could just kick the hell out of you Angel,’ she thought, frustration was building up inside of her. She sighed unhappily and tried to figure out what the heck she was going to do to help Amy St. Claire out of this horrible mess. However, since her own funds were not enough to help the poor girl, Buffy realized that she might have to just give it up and allow Amy to languish away in jail. ‘Tom, I’m sorry,’ Buffy thought to herself, ‘I just can’t help your Amy now. Forgive me.’

Buffy was about to open her eyes and stand up, at least to escape the jubilant Assistant DA and his group of merry legal men and women as they surely would parade right past her. Before she could do just that, however, she heard a strong, masculine British voice ask, “bad day, luv?” Now she opened her eyes…

Spike had watched Buffy exit the courtroom and could tell at first sight that things had not gone well for her. She looked like she’d been kicked by a horse, or worse, a fucking prick of an Assistant DA by the name of Angel O’Connor. When she told the little leperchaun of a man goodbye, Spike noticed that Buffy’s whole demeanor took on the look of defeat. He pitied Buffy. More then that, he wanted her and Spike realized more then ever that he needed her. Buffy was compassion and good, light over dark and Spike needed her more then anything then he ever had. ‘I’m so fucked,’ he silently admitted to himself, once and for all. ‘She’s imbedded inside me now. Inside my heart and head. It’s that simple.’

When Buffy lay her head back against the wall and closed her gorgeous green eyes, Spike slowly closed the gap between them. He came to a stop, right in front of her and quietly asked her if she’d had a bad day. Spike could tell, she knew exactly who he was, even before he spoke and she opened those mysterious eyes of hers.

“I have had better days,” Buffy responded honestly with a sigh. “A lot of better days, actually.” Spike gave her a sympathetic smile, “wanna’ go for a drink?” he asked evenly. She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “A drink? As in alcohol?” she asked in disbelief. “Spike, it’s 10:30 AM, for God’s sake,” she exclaimed in shock.
“It’s 6:30 PM in London, Princess,” Spike chuckled good-naturedly, “come on. I’ll take you to a decent place, get you good and toasted. I know it’s your day off and all.” Before Buffy could inquire as to how he knew it was her day off, Angel and his minions came out of Courtroom #5 and passed right by Spike and her. O’Connor gave Buffy another smirk, but she noticed he shot Spike a death glare before he headed on down the hallway.

“Nice guy,” Spike muttered snarkily, “a little too much hair gel and he could use a less broody demeanor, but…” Buffy couldn’t help herself, she burst out into tense laughter. “You know what,” she finally said through her chuckles, “I’ll take you up on that offer, Spike. Just lead me to a cantina. I’m all yours.”

Buffy watched Spike’s smirk turn into an all out grin of pleasure as he waggled his dark brows at her. “All mine, eh?” he purred, “there’s an offer I can’t turn down.” He took her by her arm and steered her out into the parking lot of the Sunnydale Courthouse and to his waiting BMW. “How about we go to a beachside bar, sweetheart,” Spike asked as he lit a cigarette and rolled down his window. “You and I seem to do well at the beach together.” He chuckled warmly and winked at Buffy, who just leaned back in the car seat and tried to rest her weary mind.

They had been at the Seaside Bar for over two hours and Buffy was on her third Cosmo. ‘Hold up, girl,’ she warned herself again, ‘you’re losing control here and it’s not of the good to lose control around this gorgeous hunk of a man.’ She gave Spike the once over with her green eyes and took in his face, body, clothes. ‘Why the hell does he wear so much black?’ she wondered silently as she sipped her Cosmo, determined it was her last one of the day. Spike had had just two whiskeys and Buffy was feeling a little like a lush next to him.

The two of them, Spike and her, had discussed everything under the sun, except his cousin’s murder case. Buffy, for the most part was thankful for that. Frankly, truth be told? Buffy was sick and tired of Holden Webster, Katerina McClay, Amy St. Claire and hell, the entire city of Sunnydale at this point. At the moment, Buffy was more concerned with the blue/green waves that crashed on the shoreline outside of the bar and Spike’s indigo blue eyes that watched her, intently.

Spike thought about ordering another round for them, then thought better of it. ‘She’s not a drinker, that’s for sure,’ he surmised as he watched Buffy sipping her Cosmo tentively. ‘Any more and she’ll be way gone. Which,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?’ He smirked to himself then changed his expression to one of curiosity. “Buffy,” he began, careful to word this just right, “tell me some things.” She gave him a wide-eyed doe look, “some things?” she asked in confusion.

“Tell me about my cousin, Holden and how he was. Here in Sunnydale and all. His life, as you knew it. I’m sure it was totally different then my take on it. I want to know about Hold’s problems, his run-ins with the law, everything. If you would, tell me about his relationship with Miss McClay, what you know about that. This apparent obsession of his with Amy St. Claire, that Andrew Price bloke and even your late partner, Thomas Ford.”

Buffy sat up, suddenly quite awake and sober. “What do you know about Tom Ford?” she asked quietly her eyes wide and anxious. “Only a little,” Spike seemed to be sincere to Buffy. “Only what someone found out for me.” She suddenly felt lightheaded and a little sick, but she swallowed her nervousness and asked, “what someone found out for you?” ‘Why the hell does he suddenly look so guilty and nervous himself?’ she wondered.

Spike sighed loudly and resisted the urge to light up an unlawful cigarette in the bar. “Buffy,” he began with some hesitation, “I had a friend of mine do some ‘research’ on you and the people in your life. Now don’t get cross with me,” he ordered gently. “I just wanted to know something about you. Something besides your cop life and everything. Found out about Thomas Ford, his association with you, St. Claire. Found out he’d died after drinking too much and driving.” She held up her hand quickly, “wait,” she mumbled.

“Tom Ford,” she started, sorrow in her green eyes, “he was a good guy. Stupid of him to get mixed up with a seventeen-year-old, I know, but maybe he could have helped her. If he’d lived. I don’t know,” Buffy looked out of the bar’s window, “it was weird, really. Tom,” she continued, “he never drank that much. Alcohol I mean. Really weird, even if he felt bad or guilty. About my baby and the gun shot wound that caused my miscarriage. About poor Amy. I guess that’s why I feel such an obligation to Amy, for Tom’s sake. I don’t know, it was always just so weird.”

“Actually,” Buffy continued, thoughtfully, “the best person in Sunnydale to discuss your cousin with is Rupert Giles. He’s a kind of omnipresent detective, desk job really, at my precinct. He knows more about your cousin Holden Webster then probably your own family. All the ugly stuff as far as Holden’s evil doings around here,” she noted the disturbed expression on Spike’s face. “Sorry, just being honest,” Buffy finished quickly.



Spike nodded sympathetically, “well, that was my cousin Hold’s world,” he said softly, “weird. At least on this side of the Pond.” Buffy was watching him, intently, her green eyes gazed at him, bore right into his soul. “You loved him, Holden that is,” she stated more then asked. He nodded quickly, “we were best buddies as children. Our Dads, they didn’t have much time for us. Always some crap, more important to do . You know.” Spike knew he sounded like a weakling with his sad, wistful tone, but he didn’t care. For some reason, he didn’t have a problem speaking in front of Buffy like this. Openly, honestly. She just brought out something in him, a long forgotten softer side of Spike. Actually, more of the William he once was.

“I cannot cover Amy’s bail bond, Spike,” Buffy murmered softly as she finished her drink and set it down on the little table between them. “I’m not a Hearst, much less a Getty, and I’ve not enough savings to cover any of it. Johnathan Levy, my little buddy of a bail bondsman said it’s a lost cause. I guess everything about me just screams lost causes. Doesn’t it? I mean, my marriage. Tom and Amy’s doomed romance that I turned a blind eye to. My screwed up relationship with Angel O’Connor? I won’t even go into poor Parker and how I treated him….I’m a mess, plain and simple.”

Spike was beginning to get very angry with Buffy, but not because she was really any of the things she accused herself of being. No, he was pissed because she had actually seemed to buy into all the bullshit that these so called men in her life had tried to lay on her. “How long are you going to buy into this bullshit that these losers you’ve tied yourself up hand out to you, Buffy,” he asked sternly. He knew his eyes flashed angry with harshness, something he didn’t like but couldn’t help.

“I don’t know,” Buffy responded weakly, “I’m kind of on a wave of bullshit overload and I’m not sure if I can wade out of it.” The couple looked at each other for a moment, in silence, then broke out in peals of laughter together. “Made you laugh again,” Buffy giggled at Spike warmly. “That you did,” Spike grinned back at her in admiration.

They left the bar, three hours after arriving and Buffy was beyond ‘happy’ she was toasted. If Spike had not been with her to help her manuveur out the door, down the pier that the bar sat on and to his car? Well, Buffy would probably be running amok in the waves of the Pacific, her proper skirt tossed aside on the sand; her perfect blouse unbuttoned to allow the sea breeze to whisper about her demi-bra clad breasts. Inhibitions thrown to the wind.

“I think,” Buffy slurred, a little embarrassed by now, “that you’d better get me home and into bed, Mr. Spike.” She tried not to notice the smirk on his rather cute mouth as he helped her into his BMW. “Yup,” he agreed simply. “I mean,” she continued in the most lady like manner, “just get me home, Mr. Spike. Nothing more. I’m perfectly capable of betting myself to ged. I meant, metting byself to ged. I mean. Oh forget it!” she sighed in exasperation as she slumped back into Spike’s car seat.

Spike was in a real dilema here. He had the pefect opportunity to get this tasty little morsel upstairs into her apartment; get her undressed and snuggled down into her assuredly comfy bed, then seduce the hell out of her. Tempting, no question, but then what? How satisfying would that be? Maybe a quick gratification would do for any other bloke, or any other bird. However, where this little golden Goddess was concerned? Hardly. And how about himself? Didn’t he deserve to have Buffy sober, willing ready and most importantly, able?

“Tell you what, Princess,” Spike chuckled as he eyed her prone little body up and down. “I’ll get you home, get you upstairs and yes, maybe even get you into your nice safe little bed. But,” and he gave her the most serious look of his life, “I won’t take advantage of you. Promise.” If he didn’t know better, Spike could swear that Buffy looked almost ‘dissapointed’ but he wrote it off as wishful thinking.

As they drove back to Buffy’s apartment, she began to think back to the questions Spike had asked of her. “Why?” she a inquired suddenly of him, careful not to sound too very sharp or curt.

“Why what?” he asked with a smile, careful to keep his eyes on the road. “Why do you want to know about Tom Ford?” She noticed his eyes grow narrower and he lit another cigarette, then pulled over to the side of the highway. Spike turned off the car then turned to face her, his expression very serious and thoughtful.

“Well,” Spike began with hesitation, “a couple of reasons, really. I don’t know quite how to tell you this, Buffy, but I’ve got reason to believe that a lot more people in ‘your’ world were involved with my cousin, Holden, then anyone might realize. Buffy sat up, suddenly less ‘tipsy’ then minutes earlier, she looked both puzzled and pissed Spike thought.

“What does that mean?” she asked quietly. “Well,” he ran his hands through his blonde hair, nervously. “The other night, after our little thing on your couch…” Buffy blushed furiously and Spike had to keep from laughing out loud, she was too adorable when she blushed. She was also too adorable when she worried her bottom lip with her tiny teeth, which she was doing right now.

“It’s all right Buffy,” Spike chuckled, “anyway, about later, when I was pulled over for speeding.” Now she looked really embarrassed as she realized how upset he had been after the other night and their botched love making attempt. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and continued, somberly.

“The cop that pulled me over, maybe you know him? Got a face like a choir boy, young. His name was something Doyle and he acted as if he knew me by sight. I don’t remember seeing him, ever and I’ve a pretty good memory for cops’ faces.” He watched her reaction, intently.

“Doyle?” she murmered thoughtfully, “I do know of him. He’s new, and yes, he does look like a kid. However,” she worried her bottom lip again, “I can’t imagine how he knows you.” Spike nodded determinidly, “that’s what I figured,” he finished evenly.

“Buffy,” he reached out and patted her arm tenderly, “there’s something wrong with this whole Sunnydale, perfect township, picture and it’s not just because of my dead cousin Holden. Although, I think he’s still involved with what’s been going on around here and how your own life has been touched by it. I can’t say more then that, I’m not even sure what ‘it’ is or who’s involved. I just don’t think anyone is really sure who are truly the good guys, or bad guys in this Sunnydale of yours. Just please, be very, very careful. And, don’t worry too much. I’ve got your back, Buffy.” His tone was even and somewhat comforting, but he knew his expression was a sincerely worried one.

Buffy had a million questions, but she remained quiet for the rest of the trip to her apartment. When Spike had pulled into the complex parking lot, she sighed slightly and began to open the car door, “thanks for the ride, Spike,” she began as she tried to get out of the car. Imagine her embarrassament when she almost fell out of the car onto the pavement of the parking area.

“Okay, Princess,” Spike grabbed her from the driver’s seat, “wait right there. You’re getting a walk up by yours truly, luv.” He tried not to laugh again, poor Buffy was as red as a beet and looked absolutely miserable with herself. “I’ll be fine,” she quipped abrubtly.

“Nope, I’m walking you up, sweetheart,” he insisted as he got out of his side of the car and hurried around to hers. When looked up at him, Spike reached into the car and literally picked her up in his strong arms. “Don’t make a fuss, Buffy,” he ordered good-naturedly, “I can’t have you falling on your stairwell and breaking that luscious neck or arse of yours, can I?”

Buffy actually giggled, horribly enough, giggled like a girly-girl. She was instantly mortified! “Okay,” she continued to giggle, despite her embarrassment, “but no funny stuff Mister!” she ordered as he carried her up the stairs to her front door. After he set her down, on her feet, Buffy dug in her purse for her keys. When she found them, Spike took them, gently from her shaky hands. “Let me,” he offerred with a gentle tone in his voice. Of course, Buffy just had to invite him in, he’d been so very kind, right?

“I’d offer you a drink but…” Buffy looked about her apartment, nervously. “It’s all right, luv,” Spike assured her with a warm chuckle. “However,” he closed the small gap between them, “I would like to take ‘you’ for a drink, and dinner and anything you want to do. I would love to take you tonight (!), but I’ve a feeling you won’t go for that. So, how about tomorrow night? Dinner, with me?”

Buffy scrunched up her pretty brows and pursed her luscious lips. Lips that Spike would just love to kiss, right then and there. However, he would bide his time, at least until tomorrow night. ‘Say yes,’ he prayed silently to God, ‘say yes, Buffy.’

“Okay, Spike,” Buffy finally answered shyly, “I’ll go to dinner with you. I’ll meet you and…” He shook his head firmly, “nope, I’m picking you up. Here. Come on Buffy, don’t let me in if you don’t want to, but at least let me take you and see you home.”

She relented and nodded her head, “okay. Tomorrow night. What should I wear?” she asked innocently. “Whatever you want, luv,” he grinned at her happily, “I know you’ll look gorgeous.” Spike said goodbye with a promise to call her at work tomorrow morning, early to firm up their plans.

After Buffy had seen Spike out, she picked up her cordless phone and dialed Anya’s dress shop quickly. “Anya,” she greeted her partner’s girlfriend, “I need a dress. By tomorrow afternoon. No, a red one, daring, but classy. Yes, this time it ‘is’ the Brit Billy Idol wanna’ be. Yeah, I think I’m going to enjoy this date. So, I need a great dress; one that screams ‘lady’ but ‘loving’ you know? In other words, a dress that can be described in one word: ‘Deadly’


A/N: Long chapter. I’m going to keep submitting this story and hope it generates more interest. Spuffy is definitely up next chapter. Of course, Spike/Buffy’s date will be anything but ‘deadly’! Thanks for reading, please review, we love reviews…Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 13: ‘The Date’


A/N: Still no response button on my home computer.
Please give this fic a read??? (Please)

This chapter is for the sole purpose of building the Spuffy relationship. I hope someone reads and enjoys this. Please review. Thanks, Luv Spuf


Buffy practically skipped out of work, at precisely 1:45 PM that Saturday afternoon. She was on her way to her rather homely little lime green Porshe, and then on to Anya’s dress shop. The owner, Anya herself, had called Buffy early that very morning to inform her that she had found the perfect red dress for her dinner date that night. A size 3 no less and everything that Buffy wanted in the dress. Daring but classy; cut low in back, decent in front and most of all ‘deadly.’

After picking up the ‘dress’ that Anya had chosen for her, Buffy headed home for a nap and to prepare for this date tonight. Spike had called, earlier while she was at work, to firm up their plans. If Buffy was surprised at her date’s choice of a restaurant, she quickly overcame it. He, Spike, had arranged a reservation for them at Sunnydale’s own ‘Bayou Bistro’ and that in itself was almost a miracle. Spike was to pick Buffy up at 7:00 PM and spirit her off to the magnificent Bistro for supper at 7:30.

“Wow,” Buffy gasped as she had hung up the phone with Spike earlier, “that’s amazing. I don’t think even Angel O’Connor could have gotten reservations on such short notice at the ‘Bayou’ not in a day, anyway.”

Something about Spike’s pull in Sunnydale nagged at Buffy, just a little, but she pushed her fears aside and prepared her nice, relaxing bath.

Spike nervously paced about in his hotel suite, smoking one cigarette after another. ‘I’m hopeless,’ he derided himself. ‘Fucking 35 years old and stumbling about like a school boy on his first date.’ What was it about Buffy Summers that did this to him? He had only just met the woman (note here, Spike thinks of Buffy as a woman, not a girl!!!) but she had managed to turn his life around in just a matter of days.

He decided to take another shower, especially after smoking like a bloody chimeny for the last hour. “Don’t want Buffy to smell so much smoke on me,” he sighed with consideration, “she doesn’t like cigarette smoke. It’s obvious.”

Spike had chosen the most elegant black silk button down shirt he could find to wear tonight. ‘I’ll probably shock the poor thing,’ he chuckled to himself as he eyed the shirt and pants he’d chosen.

‘All’s poor Buffy has ever seen me in in mostly black Levis, black tee shirts and my leather duster. She just might freak out over the change!’ He laughed joyfully as he stripped down to take another shower for their date tonight.

Buffy lay back in her massive tub and relaxed against the cool tile. She had mixed vanilla and lavendar bath oils into the near hot water, to soak in. After her bath, she would wash her hair, seperately, with vanilla scented shampoo, her favorite scent, and let is dry on it’s own. No hair dryer tonight, just air dried. Then, she planned to wear it down, curled just ever so slightly.

Her makeup would be perfect. Smokey hues, but a red lipstick to match the shade of the ‘deadly’ dress. As she settled back into the tub, again, thinking of Spike’s reaction to her appearance, Buffy sighed with contentment, ‘Mr. William Williamson,’ Buffy giggled into the air about her, ‘you are so toast.’

Spike was showered, again, changed into his attire for the evening and was just about to gel back his naturally curly hair, when his cell phone rang. ‘God,’ he flinched anxiously, ‘if this is Buffy, canceling our date…I’ll go over to that apartment of hers and…’

“Spike, it’s Wesley,” came his cousin’s clipped voice over the cell line. “I’ve got some really interesting news for you, cousin. Just came across it. Has to do with Holden’s will. I think it will make a certain blonde Homicide dectective very, very happy,” Wes continued rather smugly.

“Speak,” Spike ordered, resisting the urge to light another smoke up. What Wesley proceeded to explain to him, both shocked and made him rather happy. For Buffy’s sake that is.

Buffy was ready, ten minutes early, which was in itself a true miracle. She glanced in the full length mirror of her bedroom and realized that she looked, well…PERFECT!

“Damn, I look good,” she giggled at her reflection. “Just hope Mr. Williamson agrees!” ‘Oh, he will, Buffy,’ her mind giggled along with her as she inspected herself in the mirror.

Spike arrived at Buffy’s apartment, precisely at 6:59 PM. He would have arrived sooner, but he did not want to seem ‘too’ pushy. “Can’t wait to tell Buffy about my cousins’ last will and testament,” he crowed, out loud. “Might help the lady to give in to me, a little more easily,” he mumbled to himself as he rang Buffy’s doorbell.

When Buffy answered the door, all thoughts of his pushing the issue with her escaped Spike’s mind. Buffy was beautiful, no surprise there, but what she had on? The dress was a kind of silk, to be sure, red, but not just any shade of red. This confection was blood red and even though it was not too short, or too low cut, it draped on Buffy like a dream.

As Buffy asked Spike in, she turned to reveal a very low cutout back, almost down to her pretty little rump. All in all, Spike’s mouth was suddenly quite dry and his appetite just went from hungry to starving, however, not necessarily of the ‘food’ kind of starving.

“You look gorgeous, Buffy,” Spike gasped. “Honestly, you look amazing.”

“Thank you, Spike,” Buffy responded quickly, but coyly. “Just let me get my wrap,” Buffy purred as she grabbed a silky red stole from her coat rack.

‘I’ll give you a wrap, Princess,’ Spike thought to himself, ‘I’ll wrap my arms around you and have you wrap your…”

Buffy smiled at Spike, brightly, and all of his naughty thoughts took back seat to the giddy feelings that he now felt. He offerred Buffy his arm, which she took, easily, and led her down the stairs of her aprartment to his rented BMW.

“Hope you’re in the mood for French food, luv,” Spike grinned at her. ‘Or just French, that is,’ he thought naughtily to himself.

“I love French food, Spike,” Buffy murmered to him as he held her passenger side of the car door for her.

‘I think I just may love you, Buffy,’ Spike thought to himself, only slightly nervous about this realization. Then, ‘but you’ll never accept that, will you luv? Not my unconditional…’

When they reached the Bayou Bistro and had been seated, by a very anxious, obliging waiter, Buffy glanced around the place. She had only been here one time before, with Parker, actually. He had been nervous, anxious and out of place, it seemed. Later, at her apartment, Buffy couldn’t help but send him home to his own place for the night. She did not even remember why she had behaved that way. But, she did.

“Have I told you that you look amazingly beautiful, Buffy?” Spike asked sincerely, taking her tiny hand in his.

“Yes,” she murmered with a slight giggle, “you did, but please, don’t stop now.” They laughed, easily together.

“Ready to order, luv?” Spike asked politely as he surveyed Buffy, yet again. ‘I know what I’ll have,’ he thought to himself as he felt his pants, in the groin, get suddenly tighter.

“Uhm,” Buffy began to respond, her face flushed with embarrassment, “I don’t speak French,” she finished shyly. “Could you possibly order for both of us?”

Spike grinned, happily, and proceeded to order for both of them, from the menu and then clasp the wine list with authority. He requested some bottle of something, Buffy noted, and then leaned back in his side of the plush booth seat, comfortably. Which is more then Buffy could claim at the moment. She felt like a fish out of water at this wonderful place. With it’s murals of Paris, New Orleans and it’s live music in the bar connected to the dining area.

“Wine,” Spike offerred Buffy after the waiter had poured enough for him to taste and okay. “It is wonderful, pet,” he purred as he nodded at the waiter to pour her a healthy glass of the grape. He grinned at his date as she smiled, warmly, when she sipped from her crystal glass.

“It is wonderful,” she cooed, softly herself with a smile.

“So,” Buffy began with polite hesitation, “I was wondering…what’s your story, Spike?” She was almost matter-of-fact about it and hoped that it would put Mr. Williamson at some ease.

“My story?” he asked with a smirk. “What story?” ‘She’s digging,’ he surmised, not at all offended. ‘I’ll give her my story, if that’s what she really wants. Then, when it’s time, I’ll pull out my ace card and nail her.’

“You know,” Buffy prodded playfully as she twirled her glass to make the red wine swirl inside of it, “your childhood. Don’t tell me you know nothing of mine, Spike. You admitted yourself you had me checked up on and found out some things, so…”

He blushed and then laughed heartily, “too true, luv. I did that. So, turn about’s fair play, right?” She smiled at him, so sweetly, but yet, so seductively.

“I was born a poor British child,” Spike began in mock dramatic tones. “Okay, I wasn’t born poor. Actually, I was born better then well off.” Buffy giggled, he noted with glee.

“My parents, the honorable Johnathan and Anne Williamson were well on their way to upper class status before I was even thought of.”

“A Lord and Lady, no doubt,” Buffy interjected with an unladylike snort. She actually winked at Spike, then blushed hot with embarrassment, ‘geez,’ she scolded herself, ‘get a grip. He is only a man, after all.’

“Hardly royalty, luv,” Spike chuckled as he sipped his wine and eyed Buffy carefully. “My Mum, she was a lady all right, but not ‘that’ kind I’m afraid. My Dad was anything but a blue blood, however, his ‘family’ had already made it’s mark in London society by the time he married Mum.”

Buffy shivered at the ‘family’ implications that Spike spoke of, and took a healthy sip of her wine to fortify herself. “So, your family, as you put it. Who exactly does that consist of Spike?”

He gave her a mischivious grin and winked back at her, “oh, my Dad, Mum of course, my sister Katie and assorted others.” Spike watched, with amusement, at the puzzled look on Buffy’s pretty face.

“So,” Buffy began again, tentively, “your family does consist of others besides blood relatives?” She scrunched up her brows and surveyed Spike, who was looking much like the cat that ate the mouse.

“Some others, Princess,” Spike responded, evenly, “some I’d rather not mention in ‘your’ company, that is.” He scowled, momentarily, that is until the waiter appeared with their salads and he dropped the unpleasant discussion completely.

They talked of many things, but not of the case and his cousin’s murder. Buffy did feel like she should mention that Katerina McClay had been a cousin to Tara, her friend, Willow’s, significant other.

“I’m sorry for the family,” Spike mumbled quickly and looked towards the bar. Buffy followed his lead and saw him looking at the dance floor that lay in the bar area. Some guitar player was strumming soft, almost bluesy tunes.

Buffy glanced at the singer/guitar player and recognized Daniel Osbourne, from college as the source of the lovely music.

“I know him” she said matter-of-factly to Spike, “from High School and College. He dated by best friend, Willow.”

Spike grinned at her, “he’s good,” he nodded at the man in the bar. “Wonder why he’s in a podunk place like Sunnydale? Which reminds me, luv. Why are you here, still in Sunnydale and tell me some about your childhood. Especially since I’ve settled some of my more mentionable past on you?”

Buffy had to laugh, albeit softly, “why don’t you tell me about ‘my’ childhood and past, Spike?” she asked coyly. “You yourself admitted to checking up on me and all.”

Spike knew a challenge when he heard one, and he certainly could not let this opportunity pass him by. “All right, Buffy Summers,” he scooted closer to her and even took her tiny hand in his, “I’ll give you a short, but sweet bio of your life.”

She suddenly felt a little more then overwhelmed. The dress she wore, Spike’s attire, his amazing blue eyes and the nearness of him. Maybe she had overstepped her bounds in trying to ‘play’ Mr. W. Williamson?

“You, Buffy Summers,” Spike began slowly as he gently ran his long fingers across the back of her hand, “are an amazing woman. However,” he held up his other hand to stop her obviously sarcastic reply, “you’ll never admit it. That would be just too bloody egotistical of you, sweet.” He gazed into her green eyes and tried to convey the sincerity he felt with his words.

“You were born in on a Commune up near Eureka, on January 18th, 1975 to Hank Summers and his beloved wife, Joyce. Though your given name is Elizabeth, you go by Buffy to friends and family because your Mum, at present an Art dealer in Los Angeles, decided it suited you more, years ago at the Commune you were born on.”

Buffy was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable and she began to object to Spike’s continuance, but he shushed her gently.

“From the day your Dad became a cop, you were destined to follow in his footsteps, even though you were a mediocore student in High School and barely graduated College. In fact,” and Spike just had to smirk at this, “you were blamed for the unfortunate ‘rah rah rally’ incident of your senior year in high school when you accidently burned down the gymnasium?” He winked and grinned wickedly at Buffy when she blushed profusely.

“No one could ever prove that,” she offerred weakly and focused her green eyed gaze on her wine glass.

“You have a younger sister, Dawn, who is married to a solid bloke, school teacher by the name of Connor Crawford Little sis is about to make you an Auntie and you love the idea although…”

Buffy flinched as Spike’s hesitation, knowing he stopped himself before he could mention the fact that she should have been a mother by now. Her eyes became clouded with pain and guilt.

“Stop it,” Spike ordered harshly as he clutched her tiny hand in his, tightly. “You’re not to blame for the loss of your child Buffy,” he continued sternly. “A ‘cranked’ up loser of a gang banger shot you instead of your partner. If Thomas Ford couldn’t handle the guilt, so be it. His problem, just like it was your bloody arse of an ex-husband’s problem that he couldn’t make you happy.”

She looked at him in utter shock. No one had ever thrown that much of her past at her in one sentence, not even her shrink, Willow. A moment ago, Buffy was slightly amused at how much Spike ‘knew’ about her; now, she was pissed about it.

“You married Riley Finn,” Spike continued evenly, gazing into her green eyes, “probably for one main reason. You thought that since your were both cops, fighting the good fight and all, together, that you’d make a perfect team. Turned out, you were wrong. Your idiotic ex wasn’t near good enough for you,” he finished with a shrug.

“We are finished with supper, Spike,” Buffy whispered softly. “I think you should take me home now,” she murmered as she tried to stand. Spike held her still.

“ And I think it’s time you reliazed what a truly amazing woman you are Buffy Summers,” Spike murmered as he tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “Just because some worthless men in your life chose to batter your self esteem, to make themselves feel more important, no doubt, doesn’t mean you have to continue to buy into this bullshit of theirs.”

Buffy felt her throat tighten up and she found it hard to breathe, all of a sudden. “Please, Spike,” she rasped as she looked about to make sure no one could hear them.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Spike’s blue eyes fell to look at the wine glasses on the table, momentarily. “I just can’t stand to see such a wonderful woman, as yourself, keep beating herself up for shit that some idiotic blokes decide to use against her. And you are,” he stated sincerely, taking her small hand in his again, “you are a wonderful woman. Knew it the first time I looked into those emerald green eyes of yours.”


A/N: Short chapter to connect to the next series of events. There will definitely be Spuffy loving in the next chapter. And no, Spike may not have to use that ‘ace’ card to get Buffy’s affections.
Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf





“

CHANGE THE WORLD (Eric Clapton)

‘If I can reach the stars
Pull one down for you
Shine it on my heart
So you could see the truth’

‘That the love I have inside
Is everything it seems
But for now I find
It’s only in my dreams’

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 14: ‘Change The World’


Buffy could hear her old friend, Oz’s, melodic voice and wonderful Spanish guitar from the bar area where he played. Even with her eyes closed, Buffy could sense Spike watching her, wondering, she supposed, if she had heard anything he had said to her. She had, however, right at that moment, Buffy was caught up in Oz’s guitar and his words:

(Change The World…sung by Eric Clapton)


‘If I can reach the stars
Pull one down for you.
Shine it on my heart
So you could see the truth.

That this love I have inside
Is everything it seems.
But for now I find,
It’s only in my dreams…

And I can change the world,
I will be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something
Good,
Baby if I could change the world.

And if I could be king,
Even for a day.
I’d take you for my queen,
I’d have it no other way.

And our love would rule
This kingdom we had made.
Til then I’d be a fool,
Wishing for the day…


That I can change the world,
I would be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something
good.
Baby if I could change the world.
Baby if I could change the world.

Yes, I could change the world,
I would be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love was really something
Good,
Baby if I could change the world
Baby if I could change the world
Baby if I could change the world.


Spike still had Buffy’s tiny hand in his and he could not help but stroke the soft skin there, tenderly.

‘She’s listening to the singer’s words, feeling them,’ he thought to himself, as he felt his body being drawn even closer to Buffy’s. He was mesmerized by the soft, almost senusal look on Buffy’s beautiful face as she listened to the singer finish his song in the bar next door to them.

Spike couldn’t help himself, he scooched even closer to Buffy, embraced her little body and pulled it to his own, happy that she kept her eyes closed. At least for this moment.

“Any real man would want to change the world for you, Buffy luv,” he murmered in her ear as he stroked her soft hair, gently. “You just need to let ‘me’ try, sweet,” he added in a whispered breath.

Buffy half opened her eyes and half smiled up at her admirerer, “now,” she began in a silky whisper, “just how are you going to ‘change’ my world, Spike Williamson?”

She dropped her gaze to his utterly delectable mouth, just in time to see it close the gap between them and meet her own lips.

When they had finished their deep, but almost sweetly chaste kiss, Spike pulled back and smiled down at Buffy warmly.

“To start,” he murmered, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, “I could treat you right, like the amazing woman you are should be treated. Wouldn’t you like that, Buffy dear?” he whispered as his blue eyes met her green ones. “Wouldn’t you like to be adored and treated right like an amazing woman like yourself deserves to be?”

“Yes,” she answered, in more of a breath, then a word, her eyes still half closed.

Spike motioned to the waiter for the check, then paid it immediately in cash. His blue eyes never broke contact from her green ones, which were now quite wide open.

Buffy couldn’t help but notice, even in the dream like state she was in, that Spike must have left $100.00 in a tip alone, before he half picked her up and manuveured her from the table and out the door. He left the valet nearly $50.00, then another $20.00 because the kid hurried with his BMW.

‘I’ve got to stop noticing crap like this,’ Buffy chided herself, ‘I’ve never been the type to be so impressed with money and all. This could get a little risky.’ Still, it was hard for her not to notice.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked, a little nervous now that they were on the open road.

Spike turned to look at her briefly then grinned, “that my sweetheart, is entirely up to you,” he murmered.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” Buffy asked almost shyly. ‘Nimrod,’ she hissed at herself, ‘you’re not sixteen-years-old anymore. Geez!’

Spike had to make a stop at the light and he took the opportunity to gaze at Buffy again. ‘She’s adorable,’ he thought to himself in awe, ‘absolutely adorable. Thirty-years-old, a Homicide cop, seen it all. Still as innocent and guiless as a babe.’

“You have no idea how much I want to go anyplace you do, luv,” he admitted honestly. “However,” he continued with a slight chuckle, “that lovely dress of yours may not quite work out at the shore. You know?”

After they had driven another two miles or so, Spike suddenly swerved over to the side of the road. By a curb in front of a now closed market. He turned off the motor to the BMW, then turned to face Buffy, a thoughtful look on his handsome face.

“Would you come back with me? To my hotel room,” he asked almost shyly. For some reason, Spike felt unsure as to Buffy’s answer and he was suddenly afraid of her rejection.

“For a drink, if that’s all…” his voice trailed off to a whisper. He still, however, kept Buffy’s wide-eyed gaze connected with his own.

Buffy looked away, momentarily from Spike’s gorgeous indigo blue eyes, then returned his gaze again.

“Yes,” she murmered, a little flush of hotness ran up her neck and face. Buffy didn’t feel the need to inform Spike that a ‘drink’ was the last thing on her mind. She figured he pretty much realized that, right? After all, the man practically seemed to read her thoughts. And, truth be told, Buffy was surprisingly in tuned with Spike’s thoughts. She ‘thought’ anyway.

Spike turned his body, half way, towards Buffy, then leaned over and kissed her, softly, on his luscious lips. He was only mildly surprised when she kissed him back.

‘Okay,’ he thought to himself, ‘I get her to my hotel room. No repeat of the other night, right? She can’t send me away, and I certainly won’t send her away, so…’

“Let’s get you home,” Spike whispered after they broke the kiss.

“Home?” Buffy murmered, puzzled. ‘Thought we were going to his place? God, I’m so confused.’

“I mean,” Spike whispered as he stroked Buffy’s soft cheek with the back of his hand, “home to my hotel room.”


Spike kissed Buffy on her funny, but adorable nose and turned back to start the car again. As much as he truly wanted to converse the rest of the way to the Sunnydale Arms, he got the feeling that Buffy would rather remain quiet, with her own thoughts.

Once they had reached the Hotel, Buffy realized that Spike threw money around, constantly. The valet practically fell over his own feet, trying to get the BMW keys and the tip he was so sure of from Spike.

Spike led Buffy into the lobby of the Sunnydale Arms, something that embarrassed her, deeply. She had been here, once before, long ago, but under somewhat similar circumstances.

‘Different time, different man,’ she told herself. Spike’s hand was on Buffy’s waist and he gave it a little squeeze. Then, he began to skim the flesh (well under the dress) beneath that long fingered hand of his, sending a shiver up Buffy’s spine.

Spike felt Buffy nearly quiver as he ran his fingers, lightly, in circles on her waist. This certainly gave him a sense of new found hope!

‘Play this right, mate,’ he ordered himself, ‘she’ll bolt like a bloody rabbit if you push her too hard.’

Buffy and Spike had made it to the elevator, up to his top floor room. They were oddly silent with each other, something that Spike really hated, he liked the way Buffy talked. She had a way of putting things, in words that is, that Spike found both interesting and entertaining. In other words, Spike was completely mesmerized by Buffy Summers.

“Top floor, huh?” Buffy asked Spike, wide-eyed and nervous as hell. It was obvious, to him anyway. Buffy was getting a little antsy about being here. Spike, who wasn’t always much for the ‘thinking’ things out, made a sudden decision.

He wrapped both of his arms around Buffy’s tiny body, pulled her flush to his own body and kissed her, passionately. Imagine how delighted he was, when Buffy kissed him right back.

Buffy felt Spike’s arms envelope her, like freakin’ vice grips, really. However, she decided not to ‘think’ this particular thing out so much. Not like usual, for her anyway. She wrapped her own slim arms about Spike’s neck and eagerly kissed him back.

‘Mmmmm, such a bloody amazing kisser,’ Spike hummed as he felt Buffy’s luscious lips produce the desired affect, right down in his groin.

‘Mmmmm, such a devine kisser,” Buffy purred to herself, as she felt the desired affect of his kisses travel right down to her…’

By the time the elevator door had opened at the top floor of the Hotel, Buffy’s whole body wrapped around Spike’s. That is, Buffy’s legs and arms were wrapped about his waist and chest.

Spike, who was usually quite ‘together’ about most things, found this situation rather unnerving. Delightful, wonderful, marvelous? Oh, yeah, but unnerving.

‘Oh, Buffy,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m good and caught, luv. If we do this…’

Buffy and Spike stumbled, still kissing, to his Hotel room and he had to set her back down, on her tiny feet, to find his room card. Once he opened the Hotel room door, Spike picked Buffy up in his arms and carried her into the living room area.

Neither one of them said a word (okay, they did, but I get shy about naughty talk! Tee hee) as they pulled each other’s clothes from their bodies. Once they were both stripped naked, Spike pulled Buffy into the bedroom and laid her on the huge king sized bed.

He paused, for a moment to survey his ‘beauty’ all laid out on the pluch covers of the bed.

“Now,” he purred, silkily, “there’s a ‘Queen’ for my bed if I ever saw one.”

Buffy blushed bright red and let her eyes fall on Spike’s muscled chest and stomache. Try as she might, she could not keep from looking lower, to his other attributes.

‘Wow!’ she gasped silently, ‘he’s…’

Spike crawled up onto the bed, sat up on his knees and perused Buffy, intently. He smiled warmly.

“You are so beautiful, Buffy,” he whispered in awe as he eyed her naked form from head to toe.

“So are you,” Buffy murmered back, not the least bit embarrassed by it. For once.

Spike got such an unsure, but delighted expression on his face, in his indigo blue eyes, that Buffy felt a hard tug at her heart.

‘Oh, Buffy,’ she groaned inwardly, ‘you are in trouble now, for sure.’

Spike crawled up Buffy’s body, laid himself over her like a blanket and began to kiss her, desperately. Only breaking their lip contact long enough to ask her…

“Are you sure about this Buffy?”

She smiled, softly, a totally feminine, warm smile and nodded her golden head, shyly.

“I want to worship your body,” Spike whispered lowly as he skimmed his lips over her cheeks and jaw; her lips and neck. He headed for her bare, beautiful breasts, but, she stopped him with her tiny hands.

“Huh?” he asked, trying to mask his sudden dissapointment in her actions.

Buffy took Spike’s handsome face in her hands and shook her head, gently.

“Worship later,” she began softly, “I want you in my body, now. Please Spike.”

Reluctantly, okay not so much, Spike positioned himself between Buffy’s thighs and drove into her wetness.

“Jesus, Buffy,” he gasped at how tight and hot Buffy was. “I…” he rasped huskily, his eyes half closed from pleasure.

Buffy gasped at how big and well, manly, Spike was.

“I…” she rasped back, her eyes half closed from pleasure.

Our Spuffy couple (had to get that one in there!) did not waste time. They ‘made love’ (hear that Joss? ME? ‘MADE LOVE!) together like there was no tomorrow.

“Wanted to worship you,” Spike murmered into Buffy’s hot, slick flesh of her neck and then her lips. He pummeled into her, whispering his adoration of her as he did.

“You are,” Buffy responded as she bucked up to meet Spike’s thrusts.

They writhed and moaned and writhed and moaned (okay, I’m lost here. I totally suck at writing sex scenes!)

“Gonna’ cum, Princess,” Spike rasped, finally, “you feel so damn good.”

“Me too,” Buffy replied with a gasp. Heck, it had been ages since Buffy had an impending orgasm like this one!

Finally, they came together. When they’d finished, Spike collapsed on top of Buffy, his slick body seemed to mesh with hers, totally.

“That…” Buffy began in short, hot pants…

“Was amazing…” Spike finished for her. His own voice was breathy and quite ‘sated’ also.


Later, after they came down from the first time, Buffy and Spike worshipped each other’s bodies for most of the rest of the night.

Spike discovered that his Buffy was quite a ‘talker’ during sex. Buffy found out that there was more then one position while having sex?!

Later, Buffy woke up, glanced at the little alarm clock by the side of the big bed and saw the time read; ‘6:35 AM’

She glanced over at Spike, who was dead to the world, but still had his arms, wrapped possessively around her body. He had the most delicious smile on his face. A look of pure contentment.

“Oh SHIT!” Buffy exclaimed to herself. “What the hell have I done? I, I had sex with Spike? Unprotected! Jesus, it’s like ‘sleeping with the enemy!”

She untangled herself from Spike’s arms and body, carefully as not to wake him. Spike turned over in his sleep, still with the smile of contentment and a soft whisper of ‘Buffy’ from his mouth.

In the time it took to bolt for the front living area of the Hotel room, Buffy had grabbed her clothes, her purse and her shoes and slipped out of the front door. She dialed the Sunnydale Cab Company as she fled to the elevator.

Spike woke up to the sound of the Hotel room telephone, ringing shrilly. He flopped back on his other side and reached for Buffy’s warm, gorgeous body, only to find her side of the bed ‘empty.’

He bolted up in the bed and looked around the room, desperately.

“Buffy!” he called out. No answer.

“Shit!” he hissed as he finally thought to pick up the hotel room phone.

“Mr. Williamson?” came the front deskman’s timid voice.

“What!” Spike barked as he got up from the bed and began to his search for Buffy.

“Well, Sir,” the deskman hesitated, “I saw your ‘visitor’ the lovely lady with the beautiful dress. She ran past my desk, from the front elevator, as if there was a fire. Thought I should check and make sure everything was okay?”

Spike groaned, inwardly, ‘no you fucking idiot,’ he thought wryly, ‘everything is far from okay.’

To the deskman however, he said, “everything is okay. I wonder, could you possibly have the door man stop the young lady?”

“Sorry, Mr. Williamson,” the deskman apologized, “I believe she’s already caught a cab?”

Spike groaned again. He ran his hands through his bleached hair and thought for a minute.

“Thanks anyway, mate,” he replied curtly, “I’ll handle this from here.”

Once he had hung up the room’s phone, Spike sat on the edge of bed and lit up a cigarette. He pondered his next move, carefully.

“So,” he surmised, rather angrily, “Buffy thinks she’s going to shag me senseless then run off and behave like it never happened? Oh, I don’t think so…”

A/N: I’m trying to renew some interest in this fiction…I detest writing sex scenes (yeah, that’s it!). Isn’t it just like Buffy to bolt like that?!

Okay, next chapter, Spike will track down Buffy….oooh, yum!
We will find out just what it is that will make our blonde, homicide cop so happy? (Besides Spike’s…that is!)
Please read and review. There is much angst to come, for many of our characters. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 15: ‘Before I Break Down The Door!’


Spike paced nervously back and forth inside of his Hotel room. Since Buffy had made her great escape, and the deskman had alerted him to it, he had smoked at least five cigarettes. Even for him, that was a ridiculously high amount.

“The little minx!” he growled as he stubbed out the last smoke in the ash tray provided. “Running off from me that way! I’ll go and force her to…”

He paused for a moment, scrunched up his brows and thought about what he was going to do. With a rueful sigh, Spike dialed his cousin, Wesley, on his cell phone.

“Wes,” he greeted evenly, even though he felt like killing someone. “Need you to track down Buffy Summer’s home phone, and her cell phone. Immediately.”

“Spike,” Wesley sighed, obviously woken from his own slumber, “if the young lady doesn’t want to date you then…”

“Oh,” Spike hissed, “she dated me all right. Shagged me too, into oblivion. Then high tailed it out of my bed and into the sunrise.

“Spike,” Wesley drawled in warning, “that is a bit too much information for me. Especially at this time of day.”



“ Get the numbers for me Wes,” Spike orderered his employee, and cousin, “I’ll be sure and call Miss Summers before I go breaking her fucking door down.”

Wesley groaned loudly from the other end of the phone line, “really Spike, I’d think that if you told her about the money, the bail and all that she would have succumbed to your…”

“Like I said,” Spike growled again, his voice gravelly and impatient, “Buffy and I. Well, we had ourselves quite the time last night. I didn’t even have to pull out the ‘ace’ card, but she left this morning. Ran like a refugee. I want her back, Wes. In my bed, soon as possible. Now, hang up, like a good lad and find her phone numbers for me.”

Buffy was at home, of course, showered, lying in her safe, comfy queen sized bed. She was trying to sleep, but failing miserably.

‘I’m such a damn fool,’ she chided herself, ‘giving in to Spike that way. Falling into his arms like a stupid, silly naïve school girl. And without protection!’

She had always insisted that even poor Parker use condoms, always. What had she been thinking last night? With Spike?

It was now close to 8:50 AM and thankfully, Buffy had today, Sunday off and tomorrow, Monday off. If nothing else, she could collect her thoughts and most of all…avoid Spike Williamson. After all, the man may have known where she lived, but he only had her work number to contact her by.

“Hmph,” Buffy snorted, “try and talk to me now, Spike. Or maybe…” she bolted up from the bed, “shit!” What if Spike didn’t want to talk to her, or see her or anything after last night?

“Why that useless son-of-a…” Her angry monologue was interrupted by the ring of her home, cordless phone.

Checking caller ID, Buffy saw a number that she did not recognize.

“No way,” she hissed, “even Spike couldn’t have gotten this number? Not this fast, anyway.”

A part of Buffy wanted it to be Spike, but she was almost afraid to answer, for many reasons. Instead of picking up the phone, Buffy hit the cancel message button and buried her face into her satin covered pillow.

“I’m such an idiot,” Buffy groaned into the pillow.

Buffy rather wandered through Sunday morning and afternoon, kind of in a daze. She was not happy with herself, not at all.

‘What the hell was I thinking?’ she kept asking herself of the night before. ‘Okay, Spike is handsome, smart, charming, rich, cute, incredibly hot in bed…AhhhhhGGG!’ she screamed silently at her stupidity.

She stopped and caught her reflection in the dining room’s wall length mirror, “idiot!” she hissed at herself in anger.

Buffy’s cell phone, which she always left on, for business reasons, rang shrilly and broke her angry banter with her own reflection.

“Hello,” she answered the cell, her voice abrupt and all business. She had not bothered to check the ID screen on it, so Buffy was blown away when Spike Williamson greeted her from the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Princess,” came Spike’s clipped British voice, “I have a question for you…”

“A question?” Buffy asked nervously, trying to focus on the mirror again.

“Yeah,” Spike continued evenly, “why the hell did I wake up alone in my bed this morning?”

Buffy resisted the urge to just click the cell phone off, ‘I have got to face this,’ she told herself. Taking a deep, reassuring breath, Buffy replied quickly…

“About that, Spike,” she began in a hurried voice, “I got, I mean, we both got a little carried away. I get that. I’m sorry it went so far, I didn’t mean to let it go…” her voice trailed off then she got a second wind.

“I mean, Spike,” Buffy sighed heavily, “I was all you know, weirded out and you were all, you know, warmy and, well, Spike…”

Buffy tried to keep from groaning in frustration out loud. “We did what we did, didn’t use, you know, protection. Stupid on both our parts, but I’m as equally to blame. I’m just sorry that it got so out of hand and…”

“Bullshit!” Spike exclaimed loudly.

“What?” Buffy asked, stunned by the man’s outburst.

“I said,” Spike lowered his voice to a more normal level, “I said that’s bullshit. You and I both know it. We wanted last night and it was bloody amazing. For Christ’s sake, Buffy,” he continued in exasperation, “at least be honest with yourself and admit it was the greatest sex ever for you. I know it was for me and I don’t give a fuck that we didn’t use protection. I don’t have a problem, I assure you. I’ve a feeling you’re just a okay too, so…”

“You egotistical, overbearing SOB,” Buffy gasped. “I’m hanging up now, Spike. Lose this number, now…” she ordered. However, something kept her from actually clicking the cell phone off.

“Buffy,” Spike cried quickly, “don’t hang up. I’ll just come to your front door anyway so, don’t bother to cut me off.”

Buffy gaped at the cell phone, wide-eyed and in shock.

“What do you mean, come to my door, anyway, Spike?” she asked apprehensively.

“I’m down at the bottom of your stairs, Princess,” Spike tried not to chuckle at the completely silent response he got to that little revelation. “By the way,” he continued, almost smugly, “I plan to stay down here, or better yet, right at your front door, until you ask me to come in. At least to talk, sweet.”

Buffy cringed in embarrassed horror, ‘oh my God!’ she thought to herself, her heart began to race, ‘the neighbors? Mrs. Wiggins! What will they all think?’

“Spike,” Buffy began in a low, even growl, “go away,” she ordered.

“Nope,” Spike chuckled evilly, “not until you open your front door and invite me in. ‘Til then, luv,” he continued smugly, “I will sit outside of your door, in your little hallway and keep a vigil on your virtuous doorway. You decide, sweet. Inside your apartment, we talk, or…outside, through the door. I wonder,” he paused with a reflective note, “do you think your neighbor, Mrs. Wiggins, is it? Do you think she’ll overhear us discussing our little sexcapades last night and all? I mean, sweetheart, if I sit outside your door, any longer then…”

“Ahhhhgggg!” Buffy hissed as she threw her front door open to find Spike leaning up against the door frame.

“Thought you’d see it my way,” he laughed with a smirk as he sauntered into Buffy’s living room.

“Make this fast,” Buffy growled, clicking off her cell, even as Spike clicked off his, “I’ve got an old episode of All My Children to TIVO today! The original, better Kendall Kain actress is on and…"

“Sit your beautiful arse down and listen,” Spike ordered Buffy as he closed the gap between them and literally stared her down.

For whatever reason, Buffy felt the need to obey him. “I mean it, Spike,” she murmered, glancing around her own living room as if she didn’t recognize it, “get to the point.”

Spike laughed and flopped down next to Buffy on the couch, “oh, I will,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. When she tried to pull it away, he just gripped it tighter.

“First off,” Spike began, pulling Buffy’s body closer to his, “let’s get something straight, shall we?” She said nothing, just met his gaze and nodded slightly.

“I am not walking away from ‘this’ Buffy,” Spike stated simply. “Not away from what we had last night, will have and certainly I’m not walking away from you. Understood?”

“Look Spike,” Buffy started to speak up, but he shushed her quickly.

“Why do you want to run from something that could very well turn out to be ‘the something’ in your life? And mine?” Spike gazed into her green eyes, soulfully.

“You’re the enemy,” Buffy mumbled quickly, looking away from his indigo eyed gaze.

“What!” Spike gasped, apparently stunned by her verbal slap.

“You are the enemy,” Buffy spoke quite clearly, she felt, this time and wondered why this man could not understand.

“I see,” he stammered, his brows scrunched up in thought. “You think ‘I’m’ the enemy Buffy?” She nodded, silently.

“Buffy, sweet,” Spike brushed a loose tress from her right cheek, “I’m not your enemy. I don’t think you have any idea who or whom your true enemies just might be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buffy asked, defensively.

“Just what I said,” Spike scowled in answer. “I think you might have more so called enemies, who you think are friends, then you know.”

Buffy sat, silently, mulling over what Spike had said. He did seem to be sincere, that was for sure and after what he’d told her about that Officer Doyle, knowing him, without ever meeting him?

“Oh, God,” Buffy groaned, shaking her head in defeat, “I’m so confused.” She leaned into Spike’s chest and noticed he took this opportunity to clasp her closer to him, his arms wrapped about her.

“Let me help you, Buffy,” he whispered into her ear even while he stroked her golden hair. “I won’t let you down, not like the others, promise you, Princess.”

“Told you before,” she mumbled against his black tee shirt, “I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

Buffy sounded so damn vulnerable, just right at that moment to Spike, anyway, that he felt his stomache clinch and a tug at his usually hardened heart.

“I’d never hurt you, Buffy,” Spike whispered as he clutched her even tighter to him. “Never, not intentionally. I mean that, truly. Can’t you at least try and believe that, Princess?” he murmered into her warm little ear.

She looked up at him, her huge green eyes searched his for the truth and finally found it there, within his.

“I can try,” she whispered, smiling softly when his lips met hers in a sweet kiss.

Buffy suddenly stood up, pulling a somewhat surprised Spike with her. “Come on,” she ordered gently, leading him through her bedroom door.

‘Thank you,’ Spike looked up and mouthed to his God above, as Buffy led him to her rather cozy looking bed.

Somehow, Sunday afternoon turned into Sunday evening with Spike and Buffy making love (okay, hear that Joss/ME…MAKING LOVE, again!) all afternoon. Finally, around 6:30 PM or so, Spike who had Buffy totally wrapped up in his arms, decided to ask Buffy if she was hungry.

“I am famished,” Buffy giggled into Spike’s muscular chest.

“Let’s go out to eat,” he suggested, half-heartedly, apparently more then content to stay in and eat. (hehehehe)

“Let’s order pizza!” Buffy squealed in delight. “With those hot chicken wing thingies and all!” She was absolutely giddy with excitement over the simple feast she yearned for.

“Okay, then,” Spike chuckled and reluctantly distangled his long arms from her precious little body. “I’ll order up and you just lay there, looking exquisite, right?”

Buffy giggled again, blushed and pulled the covers over her head. ‘God,’ she sighed to herself, ‘I’m such a slut!’ However, truthfully, the majority of her mind, body and soul did not feel sluttish at all.

After the food came and they ate, Buffy decided it was time for a bath, which of course, Spike agreed with, whole heartedly.

Once the bathtime was over, Spike and Buffy lay down together, naked of course, in Buffy’s bed and cuddled. They switched on the TV and found some silly, but suspenseful old movie to watch; something entitled ‘Suddenly!’ It was all about a small, 1960’s type town, an assasination attempt, everyone against everyone else, yada yada.

Finally, after the old flick was over, Buffy realized that Spike was sound asleep, his head resting on the right side of her chest.

‘He looks like an angel when he’s asleep,’ she thought with a smile. ‘Oh, shit,’ she flinched, ‘more like a demon, I think…’

Buffy lay down next to her new lover and let her eyes close in rest.

Monday morning dawned, clear and bright, but Spike and Buffy couldn’t know that, they were still sound asleep when the sun rose. Buffy woke up first, finally, about 9:30 AM or so, and found Spike, still asleep next to her, his arm draped across her waist, possessively.

‘Good thing I’m off today,’ Buffy thought with relief, ‘or I’d be so in trouble at work and…’

Her morning inner monologue was broken by a strong, hard rapping at her front door.

‘Who the hell is that!’ she wondered as she slipped out of Spike’s grasp and threw on a robe.

“Who the fuck is that!” Spike hissed, his eyes still closed, his mouth in a frown.

“I’ve no idea,” Buffy shrugged and hurried out of the bedroom to the front door.

She thanked God for peep holes and peered through it to find Angel O’Connor standing on the other side.

“Oh for the love of Pete,” Buffy groaned and banged her head, gently, against the door, “now I am in hell!”


A/N: Hmmmm, what does Angel want? Okay, if you have ever read any of my other fics, then you know, I’m one to drop anvils and hints all through the chapters, for the future. Please pay careful attention to this chapter and some references to movies, TV shows and even yes, food, etc. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf






“

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 16: ‘Being Here’


“Now I am in hell,” Buffy repeated to the door her forehead rested on.

Buffy glanced back at her bedroom, nervously, worried that Spike would suddenly appear out of it and confront Angel.

“Angel, what do you want?” she called through the door, never intending on actually opening the damn thing.

“I need to talk to you Buff,” he whined loudly, “face to face. It’s about Amy St. Claire and the Webster Empire. I think you should know something about this cousin of Webster’s. This Spike fool…”

Buffy groaned, again, and unlocked the front door, “make it fast Angel,” she ordered, curtly. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of tied up right now and…”

Angel looked Buffy up and down, gave her a questioning look, then plopped down, uninvited on her couch. “Busy are we?” he asked sarcastically.

“You could say that, now tell me what the hell you want, here and now? At ‘my’ home?” Buffy folded her arms across her robe covered chest and took a very commanding stance (or so she hoped).

“Do you have any idea how Amy St. Claire made bail on $500,000.00, this very morning, Buffy?” Angel looked like he was about to keel over from a heart attack, or worse as he finished his question.

“No idea,” Buffy responded, a little shakier voiced then she would have liked.

‘Jesus!’ she thought to herself, ‘who the hell…’ but the thought remained unanswered. His majesty, King Angel chimed in before she could finish it.

“Your buddy, Spike Williamson, the Billy Idol wannabe, had some English flunky go down to Levy and Chase Bonds and put the cash up. All of it! What the fuck is going on here, Buffy? How’d you ‘talk’ Williamson into putting up that much money and why is this British freak even in this town? Ever wonder that one?”

He looked so smug, Angel did, that Buffy felt like smacking that smirk off of his handsome face.

“He’s here to see to his cousin’s case, his funeral, I guess. Oh shit, Angel, I don’t know but…”

Before either Angel or Buffy could say another angry word at each other, Spike appeared, half dressed of course, from Buffy’s bedroom.

“Why don’t you let the lady ask me herself, O’Connor,” Spike drawled lazily as he closed the gap between Buffy and himself. When he reached her, Spike wrapped his arms about Buffy’s slim waist and pulled her to his own body.

For some reason, a very unfamiliar feeling came over Buffy at that moment. Imagine how shocked she was when she realized just what that feeling was.

‘Shit,’ she flinched slightly in realization, ‘Spike’s being here for me. I am being been here for! Spike is showing Angel that I, Buffy Summers, have a real live man of men standing up for me. This is so freakin’ weird, to have a guy actually stand up beside, okay, behind me and actually just be there for me!’

“Well, Buffy luv,” Spike murmered, loud enough for Angel to hear, “why don’t you just ask me about the bail I had my mate, Wesley put up for your friend, Amy St. Claire?”

Buffy grinned like a loon, for a moment, then asked quietly, her eyes still riveted on Angel, “why did you have your ‘mate’ Wesley put up the bond, Spike?” She felt Spike clutch her even closer to him.

“Because, Princess,” Spike began evenly, “actually it’s not me who had the money put up. It was really Wesley himself, and it was Holden’s money to begin with, well kind of anyway. However, kitten,” Spike continued as he planted an innocent kiss on the side of Buffy’s golden head, “I rather choose to discuss this with you, precious, alone. Not in front of the great ‘Brood King’ over here. Hey, O’Connor,” Spike chuckled suddenly, “isn’t this considered some kind of conflict of interests for you? I mean, bloody hell, boy, should you even be here, grilling one of the main investigating cops in her own domicile?”

Angel literally leapt up, his fists clenched at his side.
“I just want to protect you, my little Buffy,” he growled lowly, his glare on Spike. “This fool comes to town, turns your head with money and promises and…”

“Okay, Angel, that’s enough,” Buffy hissed with a very unnattractive scowl on her pretty face. “You should leave now, Angel,” she pointed at the door, “and, for the record, I am not your Buffy. Not anymore, especially since you dumped me for your soon to be ex.”

Angel hung his dark head, frowned, but then followed Buffy’s pointing finger to her front door.

“This isn’t over, Williamson,” Angel growled again at Spike before he slipped out of Buffy’s front door.

“Not by a long shot, fuck face,” Spike muttered to Angel’s retreating form.

After Angel left, Buffy turned, rather defiantly, and faced down Spike. Her angelic face was anything but sweet at this moment, but Spike kept her gaze, manly like even as he picked up his cell phone and speed dialed a certain number.

“Who the hell are you calling?” Buffy asked, indignantly.

“My cousin, Wesley Rhys-Smythe,” Spike responded simply as he waited for the other line to pick up.

“Wesley,” Spike chimed in greeting, “I need you to drop by my girl’s place. Yes, Buffy Summers’ apartment. Hold on, here’s directions and such, mate.”

Buffy stood, her arms still crossed over her chest, her mouth wide open in utter shock at the audacity of this man. This really manly man of a man who stood up to Angel O’Connor and dismissed him like nothing.

‘Okay, Buffy,’ she told herself, trying to get her emotions under control, ‘just let this play out. See what happens.’

Spike clicked his cell off and smiled, benevolently at Buffy, ‘like an freakin’ angel,’ he thought as he eyed his lady love.

“Why is Wesley whatchamacallit coming here?” Buffy asked, skeptically.

Spike walked over to Buffy, took her in his strong arms and smiled down at her lovingly.

“My cousin, Wesley, he’s a genious at number crunching, sweet. Was him found out about the ‘clause’ in old Holden’s will. Made sure everything went about like it should have, quickly. Besides,” Spike grinned widely, “I told him to stop and pick up breakfast and coffee for all of us…should be here any moment and…”

Buffy rolled her green eyes in exasperation, “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

“Can I come too?” Spike smirked at her, his left brow raised in question.

“No,” Buffy answered huffily, “I’m showering alone. You wait here for your so called cousin!” She turned and stomped off to her bathroom to wash off the wonderful, naughty, loving and really terrific remnants of the night before.

When Buffy exited the bathroom, showered, shampooed and dressed in her faded jeans and a halter, Spike actually whistled softly.

“You, Buffy darling, are beautiful!” he murmered happily.

“Hmmm,” Buffy rolled her eyes again and was just about to remark in her ‘quippy’ style, when there was a nice, polite knock at her front door.

Buffy hurried over to the door, peeked through the peep hole and then turned to glare at Spike, with a soft menance of something, she hoped.

“This cousin of yours?” she asked, “is he tallish, dark, handsome and totally…”

“That’s Wes,” Spike growled, feeling a sense of jealousy over take him. ‘How the fuck does she do that? Make over my poncey cousin Wes when she doesn’t even know him?’

Buffy threw the door open and welcomed Spike’s cousin in with open arms, figuratively speaking.

“Hi,” she bubbled with enthusiasm, “I’m Buffy Summers. You must br Wesley?”

The dark haired man smiled, almost shyly and reached out to take Buffy’s hand in a warm shake.

“Nice to meet you, at last, Miss Summers,” Wesley mumbled, trying not to look at Spike.

“Please, call me Buffy, Wesley,” Buffy offerred warmly, catching Spike’s jealous glare from the corner of his startling blue eyes.

“Sit down, Mr. Wesley Rhys-Smythe,” Buffy offerred coyly, still checking out Spike, who seemed to be going silently ballistic.

“Thank you Miss Summers,” Mr. Rhys-Smythe responded warmly, “I can see that you are a true lady, through and through and…”

“Get to the bloody point, Wes,” Spike growled impatiently.

“Please, Mr. Smythe,” Buffy continued with a wicked grin, “like I said, please call me Buffy.”

Wesley looked so damned pleased that Spike felt the urge to rip his throat out and shove it up his…

“Wes?” Spike nodded, an almost angry look in his blue eyes, “go ahead then?”

“Yes, well,” Wesley began with some hesitation, “my cousin, here, by marriage, William, I mean Spike, he asked me to come over and enlighten you, Miss S…Buffy.”

“Enlighten me?” Buffy asked, cluelessly, except for the hot cup of coffee from Starbucks that this Wesley had brought them all. That and the muffins he must have hand picked.

“It was Wesley here,” Spike broke in, “he found the Will and Testament of our cousin, Holden’s. Some interesting things in that Will, Buffy, my sweet,” Spike continued as he watched her reaction.

“It was Holden’s money, made your Miss St. Claire’s bail, Buffy,” Wesley chimed in. He had the most handsome, angelic look on his face.

“Well, no, that’s not right,” Wesley continued, “it was actually money that Holden left Amy St. Claire and young Harley.”

Buffy was totally confused now and she did not even try to hide it.

“Amy and Harley?” she asked innocently. “Who’s Harley?”

Spike nodded at Wesley and the dark haired man cleared his throat before he finished some of the tale.

“Harley, Buffy,” Wesley blushed and looked away for a moment, “apparently is Amy St. Claire’s and our cousin Holden’s ‘love child’ so to speak.”

Buffy almost fainted dead away. She shook her blond head and glanced at Spike then Wesley.

“Love child?” she inquired, still dazed.

“Yes,” Wesley affirmed then glanced at Spike who nodded at Buffy. “It seems that Ms. St Claire had more of a connection to our cousin, Holden Webster then anyone realized. Apparently,” the Brit continued, “this Amy St. Claire had this boy, Harley St. Claire, back somewhere around the year 2000 or so. Somewhere in Los Angeles. After she Amy and Andrew Price returned to Sunnydale, Miss St. Claire, sans young Harley. It seems that the mother, Amy that is, deposited her young son in St. David, Arizona, which might explain why your police force picked her up there?”

“So,” Buffy flopped down on the couch next to Spike, “you’re telling me that Amy St. Claire and Holden Webster are the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy? And,” Buffy scrunched up her brows in puzzlement, “that Holden, in an act of unusual gallantry, claimed this child? Left him and his Mother, Amy, money in his will?”

Wesley nodded, his serious expression sent shivers down Buffy’s spine.

“Buffy,” Spike finally spoke up, “my cousin, Holden left Amy St. Claire and their son, Harley, close to $1,250,000.00. Wes here, he found it and also found a way to rush the information through the regular channels.”

Buffy was so stunned, she could not, for once, respond with a witty quip or anything. She just sat on her couch, next to Spike and focused her gaze at the lovely coffee table she bought at an antique shop.

“See, luv,” Spike finally broke the silence again, “my cousin, Holden, completely accepted this boy, Harley, as his son. He made certain provisions for the mother and the boy, made sure they had some coverage. When Wesley told my family about this, made sure the poor chit got her bail from her end of it. Thought it was best, Wes and me. Hope you’re not pissed off and such Buffy.”

She gazed at Spike, before she knew what she was doing, Buffy placed her hands on his chiseled cheeks and leaned into his mouth with her lips. When they were mere inches apart, she whispered, “not pissed at all, Will.”

“Amy,” Buffy mumbled, “she’s got enough money to care for herself, here in Sunnydale. While this is all mucked out, I mean?” Buffy asked.

Wesley grinned happily, “more then enough, Buffy. Holden made sure of that. I’m in charge of everything and I promise, I won’t let anyone down. I’ve made sure Miss St. Claire’s apartment is secluded, paid for and totally taken care of. The boy, Harley, he is safe with his Grandmother in St. David, the old man, Mr. St. Claire, died a couple of years ago. Everything is fine, Buffy,” Wesley assured her.

Buffy stared at the coffee table, continuously, then finally sighed, “why?”

Spike took her in his arms and kissed the top of her golden head, affectionately. “Because,” he began carefully, “my cousin wanted it that way. Holden was sure that young Harley was his, so be it then.”

Wesley suddenly blushed bright red then kind of stammered softly, “Miss Chase, Cordelia that is,” he paused in embarrassment.

“Cordy?” Buffy asked with a grin.

“She, uhm, she is a Miss, right?” Wesley asked, his dark eyes were veiled in shyness.

“Yes,” Buffy offerred with another grin, “she was married, once. Divorced, no children, why do you ask Wesley?”

The dark man looked down at his well polished shoes, “just kind of wondered, you know.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s waist with his hand and nodded at his ‘girl’ to lighten up on his cousin.

“Cordelia Chase is the epitome of class, Wesley,” Buffy stifled a giggle. “She is the daughter of a Sunnydale councilman and although she married young, the first time, she bounced back with real style. Cordy and I have been friends for years, since High School, and although she’s a little snobby at times, she is a good person at heart.”

Wesley looked so damned happy that Buffy just had to throw in a kind of icing on the cake remark: “You know, Wesley,” she braved a smile at the dashing man, “I have to say that you are Cordelia Chase’s type, totally.”

The dark haired man looked so stunned that Buffy had to stifle another giggle.

“Well, thank you, Miss Sum…I mean Buffy,” Wesley stammered, looking at Spike with confusion.

Spike smiled at his cousin, Wesley, then kind of looked at Buffy’s front door. ‘Leave mate, now, while the getting’ is good,” he pointed his chin at the door to emphasize his motives.

“Oh, right then,” Wesley hopped up from the couch and headed toward Buffy’s front door. “I hope this pleases you Buffy,” Wes smiled gregariously as Spike showed him out.

“It pleases me, Wesley,” Buffy chuckled as she watched the two men manuveur around each other, “and thank you,” she added.

When Spike showed Wesley the front door, the younger, dark haired man grinned at him, affectionately. “I understand now, Spike,” Wesley chortled happily. “Miss Buffy Summers is quite special indeed.”

“Too right, Wes,” Spike nodded even as he showed his cousin the stairwell.

When Spike turned about, after closing and locking Buffy’s door, he found his love sitting on her couch, her blond brows scrunched up in serious thought.

“What is it, Princess?” Spike asked with concern as he sat on the couch next to Buffy.

“Well,” Buffy began with a pause, then continued weakly, “it’s about Amy, her son. Her son and Holden’s. If Amy didn’t kill Holden and Katerina because of old fashioned jealousy, then what if she killed ‘him’ because of the money? She might have known about the will, Spike,” Buffy continued with a frown.

“What if,” Buffy continued nervously, “Amy’s motive for murder was not jealousy, but financially? This could sew it up for the prosecution. A love child? Money left to Amy and her son in a will? Angel, the lovely, smart and very ambitious Angel O’Connor could use this, Spike. Against Amy, her son and us.”

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

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 18: ‘Why?’


“Oh, Jesus Buffy,” Spike was moaning loudly as he was pummeling into her little, hot body with his…

Suddenly, the distinct sound of a cell phone, playing of all things ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ tinkled, in time actually, with Spike’s thrusts of passion into his Buffy.

“Oh fuck!” he exclaimed in frustration, as Buffy froze up and looked anxiously over at her cell phone that lay on the end table next to Spike’s bed.

“Sorry,” Buffy whispered with an embarrassed frown and automatically reached for the cell. “Cop here, on call, 24/7, you know?”

Spike eyed Buffy first, then the offensive cell phone and groaned again, this time in complete defeat. He stopped his pleasant activity and flopped back on his bed with a sigh.

“Hello,” Buffy answered timidly as Spike watched her intently with a pout.

“It’s Xander, Buff,” came Harris’s deep voice, “where the hell are you? Called you like a hundred times at your place, left messages. Even called your folks at Connor’s and Dawn’s. What’s up? Just wondered if you knew where Amy St. Claire dissapeared to? She’s not at her old apartment, whoever this mystery man, this tall dark Brit that’s charmed old Cordelia Chase? He’s done a…..”

“Xander, for God’s sake!” Buffy growled into the phone while she eyed her lover next to her. “I’m out, obviously. Can’t I go out and actually have a life?”

If Spike was pissed before, now he was really pissed. He resisted the urge to rip the cell phone out of his lover’s hand and throw it across the room of his hotel. Instead, he rolled his eyes and groaned again. Then, a really neat thought struck him.

Before Buffy could say another word, Spike crawled down, his head between her thighs and began to nibble on first her right thigh, then her left.

“Stop it!” Buffy hissed at Spike in exasperation. ‘No,’ he shook his head, stubbornly, actually brushing her wet center with his blond head.

“What’s that Buffy?” Xander asked innocently.

“Xander,” Buffy mumbled as she swatted at Spike’s blond head, “what the hell do you want?”

“Like I said,” Xander continued, oblivious to the events going on in Spike’s room, “where’s Amy?”

Buffty sighed, clamped her thighs together around Spike’s head to block his naughty tongue from continuing the wonderful ministrations he was performing and cut Xander off.

“Xander,” Buffy began, trying to keep a level tone in her voice, even as Spike tried to nibble Buffy’s other lips. “I am not going to tell you, or anyone where the suspect is. It’s none of your concern, as long as she doesn’t flee town, which I’m sure she won’t. After all, she’s got quite a lot to lose, monetarily wise that is.”

Buffy finally pushed at Spike’s head and hissed, “get back, Billy!”

Xander must have heard something, he suddenly got quiet, then…..

“Billy? Buffy where the fuck are you and…..”

“Okay, Xander,” Buffy grumbled, “this conversation is over. Go find your girl and get a life or get laid. I’m out of conversation range tonight. I’ll be in, in the morning, so……Good Night!”

When Buffy clicked off the cell phone, she looked at Spike who was wearing the most naughty grin on his face. His head was resting on his left arm, and he looked like the cat who stole the cream.

“Funny,” Buffy stated with a mock frown, her arms crossed over her breasts.

“Do me a favor,” Spike chuckled as he near slithered up Buffy’s body to meet her green eyes with his blue ones, “turn that bloody cell phone off for the night. Now,” he continued with a smirk, “where were we?”

Buffy hurried into work the next morning with a huge grin on her face. ‘That was the most amazing night of sex that…..’ she began in her head.

Halfway to her office in the hallway, Buffy spied Giles headed her way and made a quick U-turn to make her escape.

“Oh, Buffy dear,” came Rupert’s clipped British accent, “I need a word with you?” Giles stared straight into Buffy’s eyes and crooked his finger to motion her into his office.

‘Oh, double damn it to hell!’ Buffy hissed as she followed her mentor into his cozy little office. After she sat down, reluctantly, on the ergonomically correct chair, she stared out the open window at the ‘view’ of Sunnydale.

“Buffy,” Giles began quietly, that patent look of his that screamed ‘you are a naughty child, Summers,’ all over his face. “I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy or butting into your affairs, but…..”

“Then don’t do it, Giles,” Buffy muttered as she focused on her left boot that was slung across her right leg. “Don’t butt into my affairs, or affair as the case may be. And dear God, don’t waste your breath by telling me how Spike is part of Webster’s web of horror, no matter how ‘tame’ he might be. I am sleeping with Spike, period. I am going to continue to sleep with Spike and…..”

Giles looked as if he’d been informed that the Queen herself had been spied riding half naked into Westminster on Sunday morning. His shocked, if confused expression caused Buffy to pause in her tirade and quirk her brow up in question herself.

“What about Spike Williamson, Buffy?” Giles asked innocently, when he finally found his voice. “I was wanting to discuss Amy St. Claire and this sudden coverage of her bail? I thought you had something to do with it and all. Just worried about you and your finances, dear. Never meant to……”

Buffy sunk down into the ergo chair and prayed for some miracle cloud to just envelope her and spirit her from this place. She began to tap her foot, nervously, on the floor beneath it and chewed on her bottom lip with her top teeth.

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them with a tissue, apparently biding his time while he gathered his thoughts. When he finally replaced the glasses on his face, he gazed at Buffy with a kind of Gile’s scowl. Firm, but affectionate.

“Giles,” Buffy finally spoke up, “it wasn’t me that helped Amy. In fact, it wasn’t really anyone’s money, except Amy’s that bailed her out. Apparently, Holden Webster is more of a human being then any of us gave him credit for. He left Amy enough money to bail her out of jail, move to a better area and send enough support to their son in St. David.”

Poor Rupert’s eyes bulged out of his head, nearly, and he actually choked on his next sentence. “Holden, Amy? Son?”

Buffy nodded quickly, “yup. Harley Webster, who turned four-years-old this year. Lives in St. David with Granny St. Claire. Just might explain why Amy high tailed it there when she felt threatened here?”

Giles stood up from his desk and began to pace about his office, his hands clasped together behind his back. “This might not be good, Buffy,” he muttered as he stopped in front of his window and stared out. “If Amy knew about this money and all, well, it could prove quite a lot of ammunition to the DA’s office and Angel.”

Buffy stood up and joined Gile’s by the window, actually laying her tawny head on his left shoulder and arm. “Since when are you concerned about Amy St. Claire’s innocence, or her at all, Giles?” she asked softly.

The tall man wrapped his left arm around his little protégé and his best friend’s daughter. “Since I think highly of you and your opinion Buffy. And,” he continued with a slight chuckle, “I detest Angel O’Connor. Can’t stand to see the bloody wanker be right about this, or win this case.”

Spike heard the ring of his hotel’s intercom and pushed the button to find out who was there to see him.

“It’s me, Spike,” came Wesley’s proper voice. “I’ve got some more information for you and I think you are going to just love this.”

“Get up here, Wes,” Spike ordered gruffly, tempering with just enough affection.

It was nearly 11:00 AM and Spike welcomed his cousin, Wes, into his suite with open arms. Buffy had left for work hours earlier and Spike missed her, already. This frightened him, a little, but mostly, he was thrilled with this new sense of romance he’d discovered with Buffy.

‘Get a grip mate,’ Spike kept telling himself, ‘the girl’s got you sewed up already and you barely know her.’ But he wasn’t sorry about these feelings, not really. He had pretty much always been a loner, by choice, finding women when he needed, then saying goodbye to them just as easily.

Buffy was different, right from the start. Spike wanted her, needed her even and yes, he had to admit it, truthfully, he was falling in love with her.

Wesley hurried into Spike’s suite, an excited, almost smug grin on his handsome face. He sat down on the couch and set a briefcase on the huge coffee table in front of it. Spike flopped down next to his cousin and eyed the case, warily.

“What’s this?” Spike asked evenly, “find that bloody list everyone’s all it a fever about?”

Wesley shook his head ‘no’ but kept the shit eating grin expression he had come in with. “More from Holden’s ‘Will’ Spike,” Wesley stated matter-of-factly, “some very interesting facts, Cousin,” he finished with a chuckle.

“Well,” Spike almost growled with impatience, “get to it man. What’s the news?”

Wesley produced a huge document, pages long, but thumbed down to about the sixth or so page of it. “I’ll read this to you, Spike,” the dark-haired man said, “wouldn’t want you to miss a thing.”

Spike rolled his blue eyes and leaned back into the couch, an unlit cigarette in his left hand. “Wes….”

“Okay,” Wesley began, all business like. “We know about the monies that Holden bestowed on his Amy and their son, Harley, but there’s more here. This information involves Miss Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers.

Spike gave Wesley a stunned look, “Buffy? What the bloody hell does Holden have to say about Buffy?”

“Well,” Wesley began quickly, as he leaned forward and read the paperwork before him. “Apparently, our cousin, Holden, decided to endow your Miss Summers with a little stipend of her own? $100,000.00 to be exact.”

If Spike was shocked, he didn’t show it, he was sure, he stood up and began to pace, however, about his room, a lit cigarette in his hand. “Why the fuck would Holden leave Buffy that much money in his Will? It makes no sense, unless…”

Spike refused to finish the thought or the sentence. Wesley just shook his head for a moment, then finally spoke up.

“I don’t know, Spike,” he answered honestly. “Whatever the reason? There just may be some answers in this mysterious list of Holden’s.”

Spike flopped onto the couch and leaned his head in his hands, “maybe, Wes,” he muttered.

Wesley checked his watch, “have to fly, Spike,” he stated quickly, “I’ve a luncheon engagement. With Miss Cordelia Chase. Want to make a good impression and all. I still need to thank Miss Summers for paving the way and all for me.”

“You go Wes,” Spike looked up and grinned at his cousin warmly. “I’ll thank Buffy for you. I’m supposed to meet her at her apartment tonight, after her duty at the precinct.”

After Wesley had left, Spike sat on the hotel balcony, staring out at the view of the Pacific Ocean. He had started drinking earlier then usual, a part of him confused and apprehensive about just why Holden would leave his Buffy $100,000.00 in his last Will and Testament.”

“What spell did you weave about my cousin, my Princess,” Spike asked the empty air about him. “Why would a prick like Holden Webster leave you that much money?”

Buffy hurried home from the Connor and Dawn’s house. Dawn had been released, earlier that afternoon and she, Buffy, had stopped at the house to visit for a while with the darling new baby, her little sis and her parents. And, of course proud daddy, Connor.

Earlier that day, Buffy had stopped at her bank to make arrangements for a special account for baby Connor’s future. It was to be a present for the baby and his parents. The amount wasn’t a lot, but since Amy’s bail was met with her own money, Buffy could afford to be more generous with the baby’s account.

When she arrived at her apartment, Buffy found Spike sitting in his rented BMW, parked just in front of her building. She parked in the lot in back and hurried out front to meet him. If she thought he was acting rather odd, she didn’t say anything, just smiled at him warmly and motioned for him to come upstairs to her place.

“This is for the baby,” Spike mumbled as he pulled a huge, baby blue fur covered stuffed bear out of the back seat of the car. It had this white ribbon around it’s neck, and Buffy could swear she saw a $100.00 bill tied into the bow of the material.

“Will,” Buffy gasped, “you shouldn’t have done this! It’s too much and…”

Spike cut her off with a shake of his blond head, “no, it’s fine, really Buffy,” he murmered as he walked past her and headed up the stairs to her apartment. “Least I can do, for my girl’s little sis and nephew and all.”

He seemed distant, Buffy thought, distant and confused about something. She just didn’t know what it was he was so ‘odd’ about.

“Is something wrong Will?” she asked, puzzled, as she opened her front door.

William just shrugged and followed her into the apartment, immediately flopping down on her couch.

‘What the hell?’ Buffy wondered as she began turning on lights in her apartment. ‘What’s his problem?’

She was beginning to get just the slightest bit perturbed and peckish by William’s distant, almost cold demeanor.

“Okay, Williamson,” she finally tossed her house keys onto the bar counter and turned to face William. “What’s the deal here? Why the cold front?”

Spike sat, staring at Buffy, an inquisitive expression on his face. “All right, Princess,” he began evenly, his eyes narrowed into slits, “tell me something…why the fuck would my prick of a cousin leave you $100,000.00 in his ‘will’?”

Buffy slumped down on the couch, next to Spike and eyed him with a stunned expression. “$100,000.00!” she gasped.

Spike nodded, his stare now focused on the coffee table in front of them. “Why would my cousin, who supposedly detested you and you him, leave you money, sweetheart?” he grumbled lowly.

“I have no idea,” Buffy whispered, reaching out to touch Spike’s arm with her little hand. “But you seem to have some idea, don’t you?” she asked, almost snippily. “You’ve come up with some macho, ego breaking reason, haven’t you Spike?” she inquired with impatience.

“Buffy, I…..” Spike immediately went on the defensive, his own sense of honor and feelings for this woman caused him remorse at his earlier, unworthy thoughts. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted, somewhat embarrassed by his inner insecurities.

“You thought, didn’t you, Spikey, that Holden and me, that we were what? Intimate? I was bought off? What?” Buffy now crossed her arms over her ample breasts and raised her right brow at him.

“I don’t know, Buffy,” Spike whimpered softly, “I don’t know what the hell prompted my idiot cousin to leave you money. It’s just so fuckin’ weird and all…..why would he do it?”

Buffy stood up and walked to her front door, slowly. “Good night, Spike,” she murmered as she opened the door for him and motioned him to leave. “Take your bear and bill with you.”

Spike reluctantly stood up from the couch and headed toward the door, even more slowly then Buffy had. “I…” he began, shame faced, then started through the door, a sorrowful look on his face.

Buffy felt tiny tears begin to form at the corner of her green eyes, but she shook her head to rid the urge to let them fall. ‘Stop it, Summers,’ she hissed to herself, ‘he’s like all the rest of them. Jumps to conclusions, never lets you explain or…’

Before she could finish that thought, Spike moved like a flash back through her front door and into the hallway. He manuveured Buffy back from the doorway and slammed it behind him, even as he grabbed her and pulled her towards her bedroom, ignoring the stunned expression in her emerald green eyes.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his old swagger back in his walk and talk, “but you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

When they reached the bed, Spike picked Buffy up and tossed her, rather unceremoniously onto it, with a wicked laugh. “Fuck Holden and his money,” Spike growled as he divested himself of his clothing.

“If my good old cousin wanted to leave you $100.00 or $1,000,000.00, so be it. I don’t give a fuck, why or how. Obviously, old Hold knew a great woman when he saw one…”

Buffy just stared up at her lover with a ‘what the hell!’ look on her face. When Spike got down to taking off his boxers, she suddenly grinned like a loon.

“You are one bent Brit, Will,” she chuckled, holding out her arms to him, longingly.

“Buffy,” Spike smiled down at her, before he joined her on the bed, “I think, no, I know I’m totally falling in love with you.”


A/N: Okay, odd little chapter…now, here’s the question readers: Why did Holden leave Buffy money? (I just love these little mystery quizzes!) 1) Because Buffy was on the take? 2) Because Holden knew that Buffy would always be there for Amy and his son, Harley? 3) A future pay off for sleeping with his cousin, Spike? 4) Holden thought Buffy could use a new wardrobe? 5) Holden feels a certain guilt over Buffy???

I promise, all of the questions in this fic will eventually be answered. Apparently, Spike is not going anywhere away from Buffy. There was a hint/anvil in this chapter, I’ll tell you that much. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv Spuf



A/N: Leaving off on that note! Why would Holden leave Buffy $100,000.00 in his ‘will?’ Please read and review. Thanks, luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 19: ‘The Question Is…..?’


Spike and Buffy lay snuggled together in her bed, both of the couple’s expressions were pure contentment. Their naked bodies were so entwined that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other one began.

“Spike, can I ask you something,” Buffy murmered shyly as she ran her fingers down his right arm. He was laying on his left side, propped up on his left arm, his right arm enbracing her body to his.

“Uhm huh,” he murmered in reply, his eyes half closed in sated pleasure. “Ask away,” he finished with a sigh of contentment.

“Well,” Buffy began hesitantly, “not to bring up an uncomfortable subject, again, but why the heck would Holden Webster leave me $100,000.00?”

She scrunched up her brows in puzzlement while Spike sighed deeply and shook his head. “Don’t know,” he replied simply, “thought maybe you could shed some light on it.”

Buffy shrugged in confusion, “I have no idea, really. It’s all so bizarre. Which leads me to another question,” she quirked her right eyebrow at Spike. “Just what, if anything, if I may ask, did your cousin, Holden, leave you or Wesley in his ‘will’?”

Spike actually grinned with some enthusiasm and winked at Buffy. “Well, Princess,” he began, almost proudly, “actually my cousin left me something quite grand. A factory custom, decked out 2001 Harley Davidson. Holden was quite fond of that bike, left it to me. More sentimental value then anything, I suppose. My cousin loved Harleys, suppose that’s why him and his Amy named their boy that.”

Buffy grinned at Spike, momentarily then frowned. “About Holden’s funeral service and all? Was there one?” She truly hoped that Spike wouldn’t get all wiggy about her asking so many questions. For some reason, Buffy just needed to know, so many things about Spike’s family and such.

“Well,” Spike began slowly, “of course you know that Hold was cremated, just recently. His Dad, Westin, insisted that his ashes be sent back to England for internment. Kind of odd, really. Holden felt no real attachment to England, that I know.”

He scowled for a moment, causing Buffy to feel bad that she brought any of it up. “Katerina,” she interjected to change the subject, “they cremated her also. There was a simple, family only type service. Of course Willow went, for Tara’s sake, but…..”

Spike nodded, pulled Buffy closer to him and sighed sadly, “wish Hold would have straightened up, before and all. I did love my cousin, Buffy. I remember the boy he was, not the man he became.”

“I know,” she murmered softly, carressing his cheek with her hand. “Which brings me to another question, if you don’t mind, Spike?”

“Don’t mind, like I said. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Buffy dear,” he replied honestly. He played lovingly with her long golden tresses.

“Why,” she began evenly, “if your Dad and Holden’s Dad are brothers? Why the different last names?” She kind of stumbled over the question, a little remorseful to ask something so personal, but Buffy just had to know.

“Oh, that,” Spike chuckled with a shake of his blond head, “case of same Mum, different Fathers,” he finished with a shrug. “My Dad and Holden’s Dad had different Fathers. My Dad was a Williamson, he was Gran’s first hubby. Webster was Gran’s second old man. Thus, the different last names. Granny ‘Webster’ was the common parent for the Dads.”

“Oh, I see,” Buffy blushed, embarrassed that she had asked such a personal question, but relieved that Spike didn’t seem to mind answering it. In fact, he seemed almost happy to relay his family secrets to her.

“Told you, Princess,” he chuckled again as he ran his long, slim fingers down her cheek this time, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Even the fact that old Holden left me a couple of rather odd things, along with the Harley that is.”

“What was that?” Buffy asked, curiously, finally giving into her inquisitive nature, completely.

“Well,” Spike laughed heartily, “a rather plain, but lovely locket of our Grandmother’s. The ‘will’ told me to give it to the woman I would truly love, someday. (hint here) And of all things,” he frowned slightly, “my Grandmother’s antique vanity table. Problem with that is, it’s still over at Holden’s apartment and the Sunnydale Police won’t let anything out of there for a while yet. Not that I have any use for an old vanity table, of course.”

He smirked and winked at Buffy again, who gave him a raised eyebrow in answer. “You sure you’re not ‘vain’ yourself, William?” she asked wickedly. “The way you do your hair, that old vanity might come in handy!” She began to giggle uncrontrollably and Spike smirked at her.

“I’m only, truly vain where you’re concerned, precious,” he replied, with a gentle slap on her bare bottom.

“Oh, by the way,” Buffy cuddled up closer to Spike and shyly buried her head into his strong chest. “About that ‘I think I love you thingy you said, just before we, uhm, you know?”

Spike pulled back from Buffy, “first off,” he began with a wicked grin, “I didn’t say ‘think’ I finshed with ‘I know’ and I meant it. I’m falling in love with you Buffy Summers. The question is, sweet, how do you feel about me?”

Buffy reared back in near panic at Spike’s question. “I, uhm, well Spike,” she stammered nervously, avoiding his indigo eyes. Her own green ones were wide and confused, she didn’t want him to see the fear there, in them.

She sighed heavily and finally got up the courage to meet Spike’s gaze again. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly enough, “this is way too early for me Spike,” she finished with another sigh.

If Buffy expected any kind of negative reaction from Spike, she was pleasantly surprised. Instead of even a frown on his handsome face, Spike rewarded her with a warm, affectionate smile.

“I know, Princess,” he murmered, nuzzling her jaw and then her lips with his own mouth. “It’s early for me too, believe me, but I still know how ‘I’ feel about you. I can wait for you to suss your feelings out. Believe me, sweetheart,” his eyes were dead serious as he gazed into her emerald orbs, lovingly, “I have every intention of sticking around Sunnydale, and you for as long as it takes.”


Two Weeks Later (skipped around that one, didn’t I!)


Buffy knocked on the unmarked apartment door. No number of any kind designated the place of this uptown residence. If Buffy didn’t have ‘inside information’ she would be like the majority of Sunnydale, clueless as to who lived here now.

However, since Buffy did have inside information, from Wesley Rhys-Smythe himself, she had every idea who resided in this unmarked place. Amy St. Claire, that’s who.

Only a few people knew that Amy resided here now. Buffy, Wesley and Spike, yes, Angel O’Connor (for practical purposes), Rupert Giles had been informed and of course, Captain Wilkens and by now, even Xander Harris. Amy’s Mother and son, who was not old enough to understand what was going on, were also privy to the info.

“Buffy!” Amy threw the door open, presumably after checking through her peep hole. “I’m so glad you came,” Amy crowed as she threw her arms about Buffy.

‘She looks better,’ Buffy thought with relief. ‘Looks like she’s eating properly and all.’ Why Buffy felt such an obligation to Amy, she probably would never know, but she did.

“Come in, come in!” Amy laughed wildly as she led Buffy into her rather fancy living room. “Isn’t this just bitchin!” the girl giggled with glee.

“Only you could get away with ‘bitchin’ in this day and age, Amy,” Buffy chuckled as she allowed the younger woman to seat her on a plush sofa.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Amy giggled again. “Buffy,” she became suddenly serious, “thank you, for everything.” Amy took Buffy’s hand in her own and squeezed it tightly.

“Not me,” Buffy shook her head, “you know it’s the Webster family, behind all of this.” Buffy pointed around her to the room, “and the money Holden left for you and your son.” Buffy raised her brow at Amy as if to ask ‘now, about this son?’

“Harley,” Amy sighed with a warm smile. “My baby boy. He’s just perfect, Buffy, everything I’m not. Or that his Father wasn’t,” she scowled at the thought of her ex.

“Apparently Holden thought he was something, Amy,” Buffy added, thoughtfully. “Which,” she continued without pause, “leads me to ask you something. Just why would Holden leave me $100,000.00?”

Buffy watched as Amy digested her question, then clocked the younger woman’s reactions. Amy flinched, briefly, then casually shrugged, “no idea,” she answered simply and looked away from Buffy.

‘She’s lying,’ Buffy realized immediately. ‘For whatever reason, Amy knows why Holden did that, but won’t tell, or doesn’t want to tell me, anyway.’

Buffy decided to drop the question and let it go. For now.

“So,” Buffy changed the subject quickly, “let’s see pictures of your son, sweetie.” Amy was more then willing to produce hundreds of snapshots of her pride and joy, Harley Holden Webster.

After the two woman looked at and ‘made’ over the young boy, Amy grew deadly quiet. Finally, with a deep sigh, Buffy took Amy’s hand, again, and held it tightly. She hated what she had to say, but it had to be said and Buffy knew it was best to just get it over with, now.

“Amy,” Buffy began slowly, trying to think of the best way to word this. “If things don’t go our way, in the trial I mean…..what about Harley? Can your Mother take care of him? I mean, if she needs to?”

The younger, dark haired woman flinched in emotional pain at Buffy’s question and hung her head down. Buffy was well aware that Amy was already tearing up and didn’t want her detective to see it. However, this whole scenario that Buffy had asked the troubled woman about was quite possible and it was something that Amy, as a mother, would have to face.

“I didn’t kill Holden, or Katerina, Buffy,” Amy whispered as she avoided Buffy’s gaze. “I swear to God, I didn’t.”

Buffy heard the tearful strain in Amy’s voice and again, believed her words. “I know you didn’t, honey,” she tried to comfort the young woman. “In fact, I believe Holden’s entire family believes you didn’t, now. However,” Buffy sighed in frustration, patting Amy’s hand with hers, “it’s the DA’s office and the rest of the world that we have to convince.”

Amy looked up at Buffy, the tell tale tears in her dark eyes, “I didn’t kill Holden or Kat,” she repeated, firmly. “They were alive when I left that apartment, I swear it.”

Buffy felt a sick, sinking feeling in her tummy, but tried to keep from revealing her sense of doom she was feeling. It would do no good to frighten Amy even more, that might just lead to the poor girl’s fleeing again. The next time, Buffy was well aware, Amy wouldn’t be so careless as to run back to St. David, AZ, son or no son there. No, little Amy St. Claire was naïve, possibly, but not stupid, definitely.

“We have to find out the truth,” Buffy mumbled, more to herself then to even Amy. “We have to get to the truth, the real killer, or killers as the case may be, before you even go to trial.”

Amy just nodded, an almost defeated expression on her sad little face, and it near broke Buffy’s pretty tough little heart. ‘I’ll talk about something else, for a while anyway,’ Buffy thought to herself.

“Amy,” Buffy began with a forced smile, “what do you think of Mr. Wesley Rhys-Smythe?”

The young woman’s expression went from a frown to a huge smile, immediately. “I like him,” she mumbled softly, almost shyly. “He’s been so kind to me. Even helped me round up my few things and move them here. You know what?” she asked Buffy excitedly.

“No, what,” Buffy responded, warming up to Amy’s excitement and glad that they were both now distracted from the previous unpleasant conversation.

“Mr. Wesley says that maybe he can help with Andrew! Help him get out of that awful place he’s in. Wouldn’t that be great Buffy?” Amy looked so excited and hopeful that Buffy forced another grin and nodded, “yes, that would be great, honey,” she responded weakly.

“What about Spike Williamson,” Buffy asked casually, changing the also painful subject of Amy’s beloved Andrew Price. “What do you think of this Spike, character?”

Amy seemed to read Buffy’s eyes with her own and broke into another slight smile. The young woman actually giggled and winked at Buffy mischieviously. “Oh, I know why you’re asking about Spike,” Amy chuckled loudly. “Now don’t be mad, Buffy,” she continued with another grin, “but Mr. Wesley told me all about how you and Holden’s favorite relative are well, growing ‘quite close’ as he put it!”

Buffy was stunned, momentarily, that Wesley would have told Amy such things, but then shook off her shock, quickly. The fact was, Buffy and Spike had not made a secret of their relationship to anyone, since it had began. Even the people at the precinct were by now, well aware, that Spike and Buffy were ‘an item’ and frankly she, Buffy, didn’t give a fuck who liked it or not.

“That’s okay, Amy,” Buffy assured the girl, “it’s no secret that I’m ‘seeing’ Spike. I just wondered, did Holden ever talk about him?”

Amy nodded with enthusiasm, “only all the years I’ve known Holden,” she admitted. “Holden adored Spike, loved and respected him. That’s for sure. You know, Buffy,” Amy suddenly got quite serious and gave her a thoughtful look. “I don’t think Holden loved or admired too many people in his short, rather miserable existence. Maybe himself, but not even his Dad or anyone else. Except Spike that is. I think, the way Holden used to talk about Spike Williamson, that he was the only other person that he loved or even looked up to.”


“Yeah,” Buffy chuckled lowly, “Spike’s something all right. Even Holden Webster must have thought so.”


A/N: I wanted to set some things up here for future chapters. There was some ‘anvils’ dropped in this chapter. Did you catch them? Since this is a mystery, I like to throw these little quizzes in here (kind of Ellery Queen and all!) Anyway, I wanted to explore Buffy’s and Amy’s relationship together, since this is about our ‘slayer’ and the suspect too. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv Spuf





















Chapter 9:

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 20: ‘Protector’


Buffy sat, crossed legged and straight up, in the patient’s chair of her Shrink’s, Willow Rosenberg’s, office. Willow, who, for the past thirty minutes had been grilling Buffy about her love life, among other things, seemed fairly pleased. In fact, Will’s expression could be described as down-right smug.

“So,” Will began again, “you and Spike are quite the team, huh? Inside the bedroom and outside?”

Buffy blushed, bright red, something she could not seem to control, but hated, considering she was a thirty-year-old woman and not some teenager.

“Wills!” Buffy groaned with a shake of her blond head, “God, graphic much?”

Dr. Rosenberg began to giggle, much like a teenager herself, “Not being graphic, I’m glad for you Buff,” she admitted happily. “What have I said, for ages, inside this office and out? You need a man in your life like this Spike fella, a real hard ass. You’re such a strong woman, sweetie, you need a guy who’s your equal. This Spike seems to fill the bill for you. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s only been six weeks or so since I even met Spike, or William, actually is his given name. We’re just really starting to know each other. Even though he says he loves….” Buffy didn’t finish the sentence. She felt like she had shared enough of her love life with her best friend and head shrinker for one session.”

“He loves you!” Willow gasped excitedly. “I knew it! I could tell just by the way you spoke about him! And, you really like him too, huh? In fact, I think you just might love him!”

Willow was really beginning to get out of the control with her unbridled enthusiasm about Buffy’s affair with Spike. Buffy felt the need to calm her friend down, even if she meant well.

“Willow,” Buffy mumbled, “I didn’t say I loved him, okay. I mean,” she paused, suddenly deep in thought. ‘What do I mean,’ she asked herself before she could continue her sentence to Willow.

“I mean,” Buffy began, then hesitated again, her brows scrunched up in confusion.

“What do you mean, Buffy?” Willow asked with another smug smile.

“I mean that I, oh shit,” Buffy groaned in frustration, “I mean that I just might be falling in love with him, okay!”

If you can’t be honest with your best friend, much less your ‘shrink’ then who can you be honest with?

Buffy shuffled back to her office that morning, her mind deep in thought. ‘If I am falling in love with William,’ she conversed with herself, ‘then what does that say about my other romantic relationships?’

She had never ‘fallen’ quickly in anything with any man in her life, so far that is. Buffy had always been on the cautious side where her feelings were concerned and now, to feel this strongly about William Williamson? So quickly?

‘What a silly name,’ she grumbled softly as she flopped down in her chair. ‘William Williamson, geez! Think Mom and Pops Williamson could have come up with something a little more original, right? I mean, who cares if Shakespeare’s first name was William? So what if Will has a poetic side and, oh crap! What’s the big deal…..so William means ‘proctector’ and such! I don’t need a protector! Oh for God’s sake, here I go again!’

By the time her office phone rang, breaking her derisive, internal conversation, Buffy had worked herself up into quite a snit.

“Yes!” she answered the phone, almost angrily, definitely impatiently.

“Yes? That anyway to answer a phone, officer?” came Will’s deep, British accent that just made Buffy’s toes curl and a tingle run down her spine.

“Oh, it’s you,” Buffy mumbled lowly, suddenly not the least bit worried or concerned about her misgivings of earlier. “I, how are you?” she asked almost shyly.

“Well,” Spike chuckled softly, “since you just left my bed and my arms, only hours ago, not much has changed. Except of course, that I miss you terribly and wish you’d come back to me, like now.”

Buffy blushed, even though there was no one around to witness her reaction. There was something about William that just made Buffy feel all (oh God help her!) girly inside. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but if she didn’t know better, Buffy could swear that Will (okay, Spike) made her feel, well, loved and yes, protected. Protection is something Buffy had never felt too much of, at least not for herself. Not by anyone in her life before and while it confused her, scared her and left her feeling a little anxious? Something about this new feeling made her feel almost exhilerated inside. She definitely felt of the warmy inside of her body when she thought of William.

“Will?” she finally spoke up, “do you know that your name means ‘protector’?” Immediately, Buffy felt silly for even asking such a stupid question.

“Yeah,” he answered simply, then continued evenly, “and your given name of Elizabeth means ‘oath of God’ or vow. Did you know that?”

“No,” Buffy answered honestly, “I didn’t. Kind of heavy for a moniker, huh?” she giggled, suddenly feeling quite happy inside, quite uplifted actually. ‘He knows the meaning of my name,’ she thought, with awe. ‘He bothered to know it!’

Xander Harris took that moment to burst into Buffy’s office and throw himself into the chair across from her desk. He eyed Buffy, suspiciously, causing her to turn around, her back to him and continue her conversation with William.

“What time will you be home tonight, Princess?” Spike asked in his best silky voice. “Thought I’d take my girl out for dinner?”

“Around 7:00 or so,” she nearly whispered, “and yes, dinner sounds wonderful. But dessert sounds even better,” she giggled into the phone.

“Oh, dessert shall be had, luv,” Spike laughed warmly, “I’ll make sure I eat dessert, no question there….”

“Buffy,” Xander whined, “can you please continue this convo later with your bed buddy, we’ve got some actual police business to take care of.”

“Xander, go away,” Buffy hissed without turning to face her partner. “I’ve got some personal business to take care of,” she muttered.”

“It’s okay, luv,” Spike piped up, “I understand. You’re a cop and your partner is an idiot.” Buffy broke out into merry laughter, which made Spike’s heart skip a beat. “Love it when you laugh, Buffy,” he murmered sincerely.

“See you tonight, Will,” Buffy said, loud enough for Xander to hear. She even ended the conversation with a noisy kiss into the phone.

“Oh shit,” Xander groaned after Buffy had hung up the phone. “You two make me wanna’ hurl. Why don’t you go look up Angel, at least, Buff? At least he’s a good guy, right? You don’t even know this Billy Idol wannabe and…”

“Xander,” Buffy leaned on her desk, her hands folded together and a look of ‘fuck off’ on her face. “Are you actually here for a real reason, or just to piss me off?” She glared at her partner, the look of murder in her green eyes.

“Okay, yes,” Xander grumbled unhappily, “I am here for police business. Captain Wilkens got approval for us to go back over to Webster’s apartment, meet up with Angel O’Connor and that loony Psychic friend of yours, Cassie Newton. O’Connor actually approved of Cassie’s ‘investigation’ into the murder scene. I guess they buy into all this psychic mumbo jumbo of hers and your belief in her accuracy.”

Buffy set up, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Really?” she gasped, “I’m shocked. I didn’t know Wilkens or Angel had that much nerve, or were that enlightened to bring Cassie Newton into this. Let’s go,” she ordered simply, grabbing her purse and heading to the door.

“Hey, Buffy,” Xander called behind her. “I’m starved, can we stop at Burger King and get a value meal?”

Once they, Xander and Buffy had arrived at Webster’s apartment, the scene of the crime, they hurried into the top floor unit. Holden and Katerina had occupied this place for only a few months before their murders, but already, it had the look of a lived in residence. Of course, that could be because of the dried blood splattered wall décor that was left as evidence of the crime.

When the detectives arrived into the apartment, Captain Wilkens, Angel O’Connor and even Cassie Newton ‘Psychic Extraordinaire’ were already there. Cassie looked cosmic, Angel looked nervous and the Captain looked disdainfully bored. The door man, Warren Meers was also present, though Buffy could not figure out why.

“Hey Cassie,” Buffy smiled and shook the Psychic’s small hand with hers. She truly admired Cassie Newton, Buffy did. This so called ‘loon’ as Xander put it, had helped solve a difficult case for Buffy before and she was quite grateful to the woman.

“Hello Buffy,” Cassie greeted warmly, accepting Buffy’s tinier hand in hers. “Well,” Cassie chuckled softly, “I feel a spark in you Buffy, quite a spark really!” Buffy glanced down at her hand, still in Cassie’s then pulled it away quickly, “yeah, well…”

“Can we just get this over with,” Angel grumbled, staring at Buffy with unhidden animosity. “I think this is whole lot of bull shit anyway, so….” Angel’s voice trailed off when Buffy threw him a nasty look.



Cassie took the cue and began to wander around Holden’s living room, stopping here and there, touching certain items of furniture, pictures, even vases still in the place. She came upon the sofa, a plush Asian silk masterpiece. After she ran her right hand over the material, a cushion, then the arm of the piece, she turned to look at Buffy, speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“There’s a lot of anger here,” Cassie began softly. “Oh, there’s news,” Xander muttered under his breath, snarkily. Buffy jabbed him with her elbow with a non too gentle warning.

“Lots of jealous anger is in this room,” Cassie continued, ignoring Xander’s smart ass remark. The Psychic crossed over the floor to a picture on the wall, touched it almost tenderly. It was a picture of Holden and Katerina, slightly tinted deep red with their own dried blood.

“Rage, hateful, envious rage is everywhere in this place and it just radiates off of this particular picture.” Cassie shivered in revulsion and pulled her hand from the portrait. “Especially from the man’s image, it’s giving off the most vibes of jealous rage,” she whispered in respectful awe as she scanned the picture before her.

“This was a crime of passion and jealousy,” Cassie finally sighed sadly. “Purely evil and passionate jealousy. Nothing more.” She turned to Buffy and shrugged, “sorry Buffy,” she shook her head, “but whoever did this and it was only one person, I am more then certain. They were so very enraged from jealousy that I cannot even be sure that they knew what they were doing. It blinded them, overwhelmed them and made this person do this horrible thing.”

Buffy could almost hear the sighs of relief in the room, but she wasn’t sighing in relief. She was feeling physically ill again. ‘Oh, God, Amy,’ she thought miserably, ‘what have you done?’

“Well, no surprise here,” Angel chimed in, finally, the smugness in his voice made Buffy want to scream. “Amy must have just snapped, couldn’t take another woman being first with old Holden. Actually, I’m glad we had this little session today, clears some things up, huh Buff?”

“Angel,” Buffy turned to face her ex lover, she could feel the contempt just seep from her body and onto him. “Fuck off, will you?” She turned to Cassie and actually smirked, “do you think everyone else here feels the contempt just radiating off ‘my’ body for the DA here?” she spat evenly and stormed out of the apartment.

Buffy waited outside the open door, could hear this Meers character rambling on, again, about how he’d seen Amy St. Claire here, at the apartment, just minutes before anyone found poor Miss McClay and Holden. Yada, yada, yada….

“Buffy, I’m sorry,” Cassie’s voice broke into Buffy’s reverie. “I know you wanted to hear something else, but that’s what I ‘felt’ honest.” The dark haired woman joined Buffy in the hallway and took her arm in her hand.

“I know Cassie,” Buffy whispered sadly, “I just hoped that it might be something else. Maybe a hit or something. I guess I’m just a fool, since I still don’t believe that Amy St. Claire murdered Holden or Katerina McClay. I don’t, I can’t help it, it’s an intuition, you know?”

Cassie nodded, “I know, believe me, I know, especially about intuitions. But, Buffy,” the woman shook her head again, a serious expression on her face, “I never said it ‘was’ Amy I saw or felt that was enacting the rage of jealousy. Just that it was an ‘act’ of jealousy.”

Buffy snapped to attention, “no, you didn’t, did you?” She thought for a minute, “if Amy didn’t kill Holden and Katerina, for jealousy’s sake or whatever, then who did?”

“I don’t know, truthfully,” Cassie sighed, “I might be able to ‘see’ something, if I could touch the actual murderer? I don’t know, it just doesn’t always work a certain way. I am sorry, truly.”

“Thanks anyway, Cassie,” Buffy sighed and leaned against the hallway wall, “you tried and I do believe you. That it’s a jealousy thing and all.”

Before Cassie left her, she took Buffy’s hand in her own and looked at her tiny palm. “You’re in love, Buffy Summers,” Cassie grinned softly at her, “be sure to tell your guy, your ‘protector’ that you love him that is. And soon.”

Buffy watched Cassie walk down the hallway to the elevator and then turned to go back into the apartment. For some reason, she needed to ‘find’ something in that place. She ignored the smug, self-righteous stares of Angel, Xander and yes, even Captain Wilkens, as she searched out the item of furniture she was looking for.

In the corner of the dining area (an odd place for it, Buffy thought) she found the simple, if elegant piece of furniture she sought. A lavendar vanity table, antique, well kept and very out of place in the apartment’s modern décor, set in against the wall.

Buffy gasped, softly, so no one could hear. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she exclaimed silently. ‘Spike’s lucky to have this, well, when he gets it, that is. Once this is all over with, I suppose.’

While she ran her fingers over the fine wood of the vanity, Buffy pictured Spike’s Grandmother, sitting at the treasure. She could see, kind of, the Grandmother going about her beauty ritual, daily, at the little vanity. Buffy’s fingers just itched to open the gorgeous panels of the vanity, peek inside and see the past unfold before her in it’s mirrors. The problem was, much to Buffy’s chagrin, the vanity appeared to be locked, tighter then a vault.

Buffy paced about her apartment that evening. She had left work earlier then she should have, her head was just pounding by the time she and Xander had left the Webster apartment. Begging off the rest of the day of work, due to an oncoming migraine, Buffy hurried home, soaked in a warm tub and prepared for Spike to arrive around 7:00 that evening.

Instead of dressing all up, to go to dinner with her guy, Spike, Buffy just let her hair dry naturally, applied a minimal amount of make-up and slipped on a silky, short, mini-robe. More of a kimono, really, that just touched the very tops of her lotion smoothed thighs.

When Spike knocked on Buffy’s door, right at 6:55 PM, he expected to find his girl, yes. But not decked out like she was, certainly. ‘Fuck,’ he gasped when she threw the door open to reveal her state of ‘undress’ to him, ‘my baby’s such a little package of surprises!’

“Come here,” Buffy growled at Spike, huskily, as she pulled him into her apartment and slammed the door behind him.

“But, baby,” he whimpered, not a complaining type of whimper mind you, but… “what about dinner?” he finished with a half grin.

“It’s ordered,” Buffy stated gruffly, pulling Spike into her bedroom. “It’ll be here in an hour or so, doesn’t leave us much time before so…”

Spike nearly laughed in pleasure when Buffy shoved him onto her bed and leapt on top of him. Whatever happened that day, at work, good or bad, well, he, Spike, was not complaining one bit.

‘God,’ he moaned silently as his Buffy worked her magic with her luscious mouth, ‘I love this girl.’

After Buffy had ridden Spike for all he was worth, they lay together in the afterglow. Their sweat slicked bodies actually rather stuck together as they hugged each other tightly, in sated silence.

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” Spike murmered, finally breaking the silence, “but just what happened at your job today to lead you to ‘vent’ on me like this?” He grinned at Buffy and snuggled her closer to him.

“I’ll explain it later, after we eat,” she whispered, her forehead nuzzled into his chest.

“Thought we ‘ate’ already,” Spike chuckled lewdly, “in fact, I thought we pretty well feasted and…..”

“Spike!” Buffy groaned loudly, “that’s just nasty!”

“Okay, sorry,” Spike chuckled again, but then pouted, “don’t be mad Princess. You just bring out the demon in me.”

“Right, that’s me, the demon bringer,” she mumbled back, but smiled at him anyway.

“Oh, speaking of bringing,” Spike said, suddenly crawling out of bed. “I’ve brought something for you,” he continued as he pawed through his duster pocket.

He returned to the bed, obviously hiding something from Buffy in his large hand. “Close your eyes,” he ordered gently.

Buffy rolled her eyes first, then closed them and waited, expectantly for the ‘something’ that Spike had brought her. She quirked her right brow up in anticipation.

“Okay,” Spike said softly, “open your eyes.”

When Buffy opened her eyes, she first saw Spike’s lovely mouth, set in a happy, expectant smile. Next, she saw his left hand, held out between their still naked prone bodies. In his hand, Buffy saw a simple, golden heart-shaped locket that she thought she recognized right away. ‘His Grandmother’s locket?’ she thought to herself, slightly stunned.

“Well?” Spike murmered, his blue eyes never broke their gaze and he looked at her, hopefully.

“Will,” Buffy gasped, finally, “is that your….”

“Grandmother’s locket,” he finished for her. “I want you to have it Princess. Will you accept it from me?”

Buffy reached for the locket, in an almost daze, “yes,” she answered simply. “Will you put it on me Will?”


A/N: This was a weird chapter for me to write. I wanted to get another BTVS character into the mix, therefore I chose Cassie Newton as the Psychic, seemed appropoe. However, I wanted to have Spuffy in it because hey…..it’s Valentine’s Day! Did you notice some anvils, hints, etc? I hope you will read and review this. Thank you, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 21: ‘Falling In Love’


A/N: This is a longish chapter. I’m moving the time up here, getting it going a bit more. Lots of hints in this chapter…


Spike slipped out of his hotel bedroom, closing the door, ever so softly behind him. Buffy was sound asleep in the sumptious bed of the Sunnydale Arms and he had no intention of waking his ‘angel’ from her rest.

Although his Buffy was totally naked, and had been for several hours in his bed, thank you, she wore around her neck Spike’s Grandmother’s locket. It had been over two weeks since Spike had placed that special locket around his true love’s neck and it pleased him to know she rarely took it off.

‘If that’s not love,’ he assured himself with a smile, ‘then what is?’

He clicked his cell phone open and dialed his cousin, Wesley, hoping the man would answer. Lately, old Wes was pretty tied up with one Cordelia Chase and Spike was happy for him. Wesley was a little too tightly wound, for the most part, and this bird seemed to have loosened the man up a bit.

“Hello,” came Wesley’s clipped, proper voice.

“Wesley,” Spike greeted, “won’t keep you, just wanted to know what’s up with that key we have?”

Spike’s cousin sighed loudly, “not much, I’m afraid Spike,” he admitted with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve tried the bloody key in every lock I’ve found so far; a safe in the wall of that ridiculous Club our Holden owned. A few safe deposit boxes I scrounged up, nothing new there, really. Even an old roll top desk in Holden’s front of an office of his. Nothing, nothing at all. I just don’t know what to think of it.”

Spike was disappointed, no question, but he covered it and asked if Wesley had thought to get in touch with the maker of the key.

“There has to be a name of the locksmith? A number on the key?” Spike pointed out to his cousin.

“Well,” Wesley began carefully, “there is some words, a number on the key, but when I tried to check those out…..another dead end.”

“The words, letters really read; ECCLII4, and that’s it, Spike,” Wesley muttered. However, I checked out key makers, locksmiths, everything I could think of and it just does not pan out I’m afraid. Those etchings surely are some kind of company name and number?”

“Fuck,” Spike hissed into the cell phone. He was beginning to get really frustrated about this damn key thing and all. Both he and Wesley were sure that this key fit into whatever held the all mighty, fucking end all ‘list’ that half the known world seemed to be looking for.

Spike was more then worried, really, both he and Wesley were sure that something on that list, some name or something was very important. He, Spike had an uneasy feeling about the document and worried that it had something to do with Buffy. Even Wesley agreed with him on this one and it pissed Spike off to no end that they could not find the container of the list, at all.

“We’ll just have to keep looking, Wes,” Spike sighed and lit a cigarette, nervously. “Whatever this ‘list’ is, it’s got to be important to the ‘family’ since so many bloody people want it.”

‘That and I have a real fucked feeling in my gut,’ Spike continued silently, ‘that it’s got something to do with Buffy, or at least someone she’s close to.’

Spike heard the sound of a female voice on the other end of the line, from behind Wesley he supposed. He smirked wickedly, “better let you go, Wes,” he chuckled. “Sounds like you have much better things to do then talk to me.”

“Yes, thank you Spike,” Wesley almost stuttered. “However, I will keep looking, scouting all of the avenues, Spike. We will find that bloody whatever it is that holds the list. If that is even what’s in the damn locked thing!”

Wesley sounded pretty well frustrated himself, causing Spike to feel even more anxious about the key, the lock and this mystery list.

‘Where the fuck did Holden put that damn list?’ he asked himself again. Spike did not want Buffy worried about this whole mess, so he tried not to discuss it in front of her, ever. Not since he had first mentioned the possibilty of someone on the Sunnydale Police Department being involved with Holden. It was all so fucking bizarre, really.

Spike sighed and stubbed out the cigarette, his mind wandering back to the bedroom and his wonderful little Buffy bundle in his bed. He smiled softly, thinking about how responsive Buffy was to him, their love making was amazing.

‘Too fucking good for me, she is,’ Spike assured himself as he thought about his Buffy. ‘Too perfect for my fucked up existence,’ he shook his head and again lit another cigarette.


‘Thank you God,’ Spike mouthed as he looked up. Although, actually, Spike was not religious, at all, he found himself thanking God a lot lately. Mainly for sending Buffy his way and allowing him to love her like he did. For love her, he did, and the fact of the matter was, Spike intended on spiriting Buffy back to England with him when he went home.

“Just hope Buffy’s on board with that plan,” Spike chuckled softly.

“On board with what plan?” came Buffy’s voice from the bedroom door.

Spike almost jumped up from the couch, he had not heard her at all. Had no idea she had risen from bed and opened the door.

“Christ woman,” Spike yelped slightly, “you’re quiet as a stealth cat!”

Buffy giggled and strode over to the couch to join him. She flopped down on his boxer covered lap, being stark naked herself.

“You know,” she began with a smirk of her own, “it helps to be all ‘stealth’ like when you’re a cop, William. I’d think you of all people would know these things?”

For just a moment, Buffy noticed Spike flinch, almost in regret, but she couldn’t be sure. She had been smirking, but suddenly frowned when he did that.

“Never been a cop,” Spike mumbled with a forced smile.

“No, that’s for sure but…..Spike,” she asked, softly, “is there something wrong? When I mentioned the word cop, you got all distant and almost wiggy. What is it?”

Spike avoided Buffy’s beautiful eyes, relit his cigarette and thought for a moment or two. He had tried to be careful, really, about just exactly how he reacted to the word cop. Especially in front of his Buffy, especilly since the very naked woman he loved, who was snuggled up on his lap at this very moment, was a cop.

‘No fucking way is Buffy ready to hear this one, mate,’ he assured himself firmly. ‘If she finds out, while ‘we’re’ still so new together? If she gets wind of what I pulled back in England, when I was a fucked up teenager? Jesus, she and I’ll be over before I get a chance to get her precious arse home to London with me.’

Spike could not let that happen. He needed Buffy, loved her, treasured her in his life. No, he had to keep her in the dark about his rather unsavory past with the law. She would never, ever understand that fucked up mess in his dark past, never.

“It’s nothing, baby,” he finally mumbled, meeting her confused green eyes once again with a slight smile. “You know,” he shrugged, “my family, me and my misguided youth and all.” He actually managed a brief laugh, just to break the tension that had suddenly engulfed them both.

“Oh,” Buffy murmered as she searched his indigo blue eyes, “I see.” She decided to let the matter drop, completely and snuggled even closer to him. ‘I can ask him some other time,’ she told herself, ‘when we’re even more comfortable with each other.’

“Are you hungry?” Buffy asked Spike with a huge grin. “Cos’ I’m starving!”

“Oh, starving is it?” Spike growled as he lay on the couch, positioning Buffy so that she was prone, covering his body with hers.

“Really starving!” Buffy giggled merrily. “I could eat a horse!”

“How about a Spike?” he raised his left brow and gave a wicked smirk.

“Uckkk!” Buffy squealed with traitorous glee as Spike tickled her mercilessly. “That’s nasty!” she slapped at him, playfully.

“What can I say, Princess?” Spike chuckled happily, “you just bring out the nasty in me!”

He pulled Buffy’s lips to his own and kissed her, greedily, “my girl,” he murmered into her mouth.

“Yeah,” Buffy responded slowly, “I guess I am your girl.”

Spike somehow sat up, Buffy still in his lap and then stood up from the couch. He carried her back into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, covering her with his own body.

He began nibbling Buffy’s neck, tenderly, then ran his lips down to her breasts. After he’d left her moaning and wanting for more that way, he traveled down to her tummy and gave it a quick little nip.

“Mmmm,” Buffy hummed as Spike slid his lips and tongue down to his ultimate goal. But first, he nipped and licked her inner thighs, causing the most lovely little squeak from her lovely little mouth.

“Like that?” he purred up at her, delighted to see Buffy watching him as he ministered to her.

“Uh huh,” she sighed dreamily.

“Well,” Spike smirked up at her, “then you’re going to just ‘love’ this.” And he buried his warm, wet tongue into her sweet, warm, wet cunny.

Buffy sat at her office desk on Tuesday morning, going over the paperwork in front of her. Her mind, however, kept wondering back to last night and her ‘activities’ with William. She sighed, dreamily, something she rarely did, until lately that is.

‘God,’ she shook her head in self-derision, ‘we’re practically living together at our respective places. You are so in deep this time, Buffy Summers,’ she warned herself.

‘Yeah, you are, Buffy Summers,’ her inner voice echoed back to her, ‘what are you going to do when Mr. Wonderful goes back to England?’ Buffy snapped to attention at that thought, “shut the hell up!” she growled lowly at ‘inner Buffy’. The thought of Will leaving back to England was something that Buffy so did not want to even consider right now.

“Hey, Buff,” Xander Harris burst into her office, distracting Buffy from her unpleasant thoughts, “the St. Claire trial starts next week, it’s official!”

Buffy resented the fact that her partner, Xander, was so damned excited about the upcoming trial and all.

‘They, all of them,’ she thought to herself, angrily, ‘Captain Wilkens, of course Angel, Xander, even Giles. They all are so damn sure it was Amy that murdered Holden and Katerina.’

She truly resented this, from Xander the most, no make that Giles. If anyone should have backed her own theory, Buffy’s that is, it should have been Giles. He was the ‘rock’ in Buffy’s life, always had been, even before her folks moved to Los Angeles. However, it was also Giles that ‘knew’ Holden Webster, his past criminal history, his ‘family’ and all, the most.

Buffy rolled her eyes at Xander and motioned for him to sit down in the chair across from her desk.

“I suppose old Angel is dancing in the streets of Sunnydale over this one, huh?” she asked Xander, sarcastically.

“Yeah, he sure is,” Xander chuckled back at Buffy, then stopped abruptly. Xander was well aware of just how far to push his partner, Buffy Summers, and he was coming dangerously close to the limits.

“That nerd, Warren Meers, is going to be one of the first witnesses that DA O’Connor is pulling up on the stand. Amy’s in trouble, Buff, we both know that. This guy, Meers, he’s a pretty reliable guy, or so the information we have would tell us.”

Buffy pulled out a file on Warren Meers, Door Man extraordinaire, from her desk. She skimmed over the history information on this Meers character. For some reason, since the day she’d met this guy, Buffy had disliked him, on sight really. ‘Probably because he’s the one that can put Amy at the crime scene, last of all,’ she snorted to herself.

“Warren Meers seems to be a pretty up front guy,” Buffy said out loud to Xander as she went over his history sheet, again.

“No criminal record, juvenile or adult; no traffic tickets, not even a fucking parking ticket,” she sighed, ashamed that she’d used the ‘f’ word so easily.

Xander reached over and took the file from Buffy, gently, then began to read, also outloud, the personal history that they had on Warren Meers.

“He’s been married, since he was twenty-one, to his child hood sweetheart, April Anderson-Meers. They have a daughter, Audry and a son, Warren Jr. No signs of martital problems, at least publically, but, then, who the hell knows what goes on behind other people’s bedroom doors, eh Buff?”

Xander shot Buffy a smug, knowing look that she quickly dismissed with a shake of her blond head.

“Do not go there, Xander Harris,” Buffy warned menacingly, “neither one of us, especially you, have any right to talk about relationship problems!”

“By the way,” Buffy gave him a best scrutinizing, cop look, “how ‘are’ you and Anya? And, is she aware that you’re flirting, rather openly and stupidly, with the little bimbette file clerk out there?” Buffy jutted her chin out towards her office door and tilted her head to the side, slightly.

“Oh, Buffy,” Xander whined, defensively, “that little skirt, Sandy is her name by the way, doesn’t mean a thing to me. She’s just young and overwhelmed by the whole ‘cop’ thing. Just sensitive and impressed by a big bad cop like myself,” he finished with a self-satisfied grin.

“You mean, naïve, foolish and all out ditsy, don’t you?” Buffy finished for him with a smirk.

Xander didn’t respond to that, just kind of hung his head, slightly, and shuffled the Meers’ paperwork around on the desk in front of him. He finally peeked up at Buffy and gave her a little grin, “you know I love Anya, Buff,” he answered, sincerely enough.

“I know,” Buffy nodded her head, “but you need to ‘do’ something about that, Xander. If you don’t make the move with Anya, and soon, I’m afraid you’ll lose her for good and I do care about both of you. You are both my friends, Xander, I want you to be happy, together, preferrably.”

The dark haired man nodded then went back to the history file on Warren Meers. He shook his head as he kept reading the information, silently for a while.

“You know,” Xander mumbled, “this Warren guy is almost too damn good to be true? He’s just too fucking perfect for the real world. When they interviewed him, the task force, with his wife, this April chick? She, his wife that is, just hung on Warren’s every word, like he was some kind of prophet or guru or something.

Then, when Scott Hope asked her about ‘their marriage’ and all, April just gushed about how perfect it was, yada yada. No arguments, no seperations, no problems of any kind, even financially. April’s exact words to Scott were “my Warren takes care our little family, always. He’s just perfect!”

Buffy snorted, unladylike, “this April sounds like a freaking ‘Stepford Wife’ to me.”

“Yeah, too good to be true, too, huh?” Xander chuckled. “But, since the history we have on Warren seems to confirm his wife’s adoration of him, what can we do?”

“Buffy,” Xander sighed as he tossed the file on her desk, again, “let’s face facts here. With the way this trial is apt to go, the witnesses, the motives, everything? Amy St. Claire is in major shit, up to her chin.”

Buffy echoed Xander’s sigh, “I know,” is all she could whisper in response.

They sat in silence for a moment or two, until Buffy’s phone rang, shrilly. She answered it with a smile, knowing full well that it was probably Spike calling her.

“Hello gorgeous,” Spike greeted warmly to Buffy, “just wanted to call and run something past you.”

“Okay,” Buffy responded, softly, noting the roll of Xander’s brown eyes when she spoke. Buffy nodded at Xander, then at her door, motioning him, obviously, to leave. And now.

Xander took the hint, he shook his head and reluctantly left Buffy’s office. Buffy thought she heard her partner say some like ‘fucking Brit’ when he left, but she dismissed it.

“Okay, Will,” Buffy spoke normally now, “what’s up?”

Spike chuckled, wickedly, “well since you asked. The sound of your sexy voice just made me go…”

“William…..” Buffy warned evenly, trying not to laugh out loud at her lover’s crudity.

“Okay, baby,” Spike chuckled, “seriously now. I know how much you’re into good wine and all. Thought maybe you and me could go up to one of those wineries you talk about? There’s one in Santa Barbara, by the sea? Right? Thought we might go next weekend, or the next, whatever you say, sweetheart?”

‘He’s done his homework,’ Buffy though happily, ‘not a lot of people in California even know about ‘that’ winery.’

“The trial is starting next week, Will,” Buffy frowned for a moment, “but maybe we could go in two weekends? I’ll have the following Monday off anyway, unless something comes up?”

“Two weekends it is then,” Spike chuckled warmly, “can’t wait to get you away from this town. You need a break, Princess,” he continued. “I was thinking, would you like to go on my Harley? You know, wind in our hair, drive the Blue Highway, all that sillyness?”

Buffy cringed, just a little, for just a moment, “yeah,” she finally responded, nervously. “We could do that, but remember, this is California, helmuts are not optional, they’re demanded. So, no wind in our hair, I’m afraid,” she finished with a giggle.

“Okay, luv,” Spike murmered, “it’s a date then. In the meantime, are you going to come over tonight? Or, should I just meet you at your place and ravish you, properly and all?”

Buffy felt a warm tingle shoot up and down her spine. ‘We are really spending too much time together,’ her mind warned her, twice even. ‘You want him, Buffy,’ her heart reminded her.

“I’ll fix you dinner, Will,” Buffy answered quickly, “anything you want.”

“I love you Buffy,” Spike finished, honestly and then said goodbye.

A few moments after Buffy and Will ended their phone conversation, she picked up her phone and dialed Willow’s office extension. ‘I need to talk to Willow, now,’ Buffy decided as she waited for her best friend to get on the line.

Before Willow picked up her line, Buffy looked into the rather unobvious mirror on her office wall. For once, she noticed, a very serene, very happy looking reflection of herself looked back at her.

“I am so falling in love with Spike Williamson,” Buffy admitted, almost in awe to her reflection.


A/N: Long, long chapter, but I have to get this show on the road.
I am trying to incorporate some of the murder plot line into each chapter. Along with various characters from the show. Also, it’s important for me to show the building of the Spuffy relationship in each chapter.

Here’s the ‘anvil’ notes for this chapter: 1) The etchings on the key ‘are’ important. 2) Spike is hiding something, totally, from Buffy, at least about his past. It’s not of the good thing either; Buffy will be very upset by it. 3) This planned trip to the winery is going to be a catalyst for the rest of the story.

Thanks for reading, please review! Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 21: ‘Falling In Love’


A/N: This is a longish chapter. I’m moving the time up here, getting it going a bit more. Lots of hints in this chapter…


Spike slipped out of his hotel bedroom, closing the door, ever so softly behind him. Buffy was sound asleep in the sumptious bed of the Sunnydale Arms and he had no intention of waking his ‘angel’ from her rest.

Although his Buffy was totally naked, and had been for several hours in his bed, thank you, she wore around her neck Spike’s Grandmother’s locket. It had been over two weeks since Spike had placed that special locket around his true love’s neck and it pleased him to know she rarely took it off.

‘If that’s not love,’ he assured himself with a smile, ‘then what is?’

He clicked his cell phone open and dialed his cousin, Wesley, hoping the man would answer. Lately, old Wes was pretty tied up with one Cordelia Chase and Spike was happy for him. Wesley was a little too tightly wound, for the most part, and this bird seemed to have loosened the man up a bit.

“Hello,” came Wesley’s clipped, proper voice.

“Wesley,” Spike greeted, “won’t keep you, just wanted to know what’s up with that key we have?”

Spike’s cousin sighed loudly, “not much, I’m afraid Spike,” he admitted with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve tried the bloody key in every lock I’ve found so far; a safe in the wall of that ridiculous Club our Holden owned. A few safe deposit boxes I scrounged up, nothing new there, really. Even an old roll top desk in Holden’s front of an office of his. Nothing, nothing at all. I just don’t know what to think of it.”

Spike was disappointed, no question, but he covered it and asked if Wesley had thought to get in touch with the maker of the key.

“There has to be a name of the locksmith? A number on the key?” Spike pointed out to his cousin.

“Well,” Wesley began carefully, “there is some words, a number on the key, but when I tried to check those out…..another dead end.”

“The words, letters really read; ECCLII4, and that’s it, Spike,” Wesley muttered. However, I checked out key makers, locksmiths, everything I could think of and it just does not pan out I’m afraid. Those etchings surely are some kind of company name and number?”

“Fuck,” Spike hissed into the cell phone. He was beginning to get really frustrated about this damn key thing and all. Both he and Wesley were sure that this key fit into whatever held the all mighty, fucking end all ‘list’ that half the known world seemed to be looking for.

Spike was more then worried, really, both he and Wesley were sure that something on that list, some name or something was very important. He, Spike had an uneasy feeling about the document and worried that it had something to do with Buffy. Even Wesley agreed with him on this one and it pissed Spike off to no end that they could not find the container of the list, at all.

“We’ll just have to keep looking, Wes,” Spike sighed and lit a cigarette, nervously. “Whatever this ‘list’ is, it’s got to be important to the ‘family’ since so many bloody people want it.”

‘That and I have a real fucked feeling in my gut,’ Spike continued silently, ‘that it’s got something to do with Buffy, or at least someone she’s close to.’

Spike heard the sound of a female voice on the other end of the line, from behind Wesley he supposed. He smirked wickedly, “better let you go, Wes,” he chuckled. “Sounds like you have much better things to do then talk to me.”

“Yes, thank you Spike,” Wesley almost stuttered. “However, I will keep looking, scouting all of the avenues, Spike. We will find that bloody whatever it is that holds the list. If that is even what’s in the damn locked thing!”

Wesley sounded pretty well frustrated himself, causing Spike to feel even more anxious about the key, the lock and this mystery list.

‘Where the fuck did Holden put that damn list?’ he asked himself again. Spike did not want Buffy worried about this whole mess, so he tried not to discuss it in front of her, ever. Not since he had first mentioned the possibilty of someone on the Sunnydale Police Department being involved with Holden. It was all so fucking bizarre, really.

Spike sighed and stubbed out the cigarette, his mind wandering back to the bedroom and his wonderful little Buffy bundle in his bed. He smiled softly, thinking about how responsive Buffy was to him, their love making was amazing.

‘Too fucking good for me, she is,’ Spike assured himself as he thought about his Buffy. ‘Too perfect for my fucked up existence,’ he shook his head and again lit another cigarette.


‘Thank you God,’ Spike mouthed as he looked up. Although, actually, Spike was not religious, at all, he found himself thanking God a lot lately. Mainly for sending Buffy his way and allowing him to love her like he did. For love her, he did, and the fact of the matter was, Spike intended on spiriting Buffy back to England with him when he went home.

“Just hope Buffy’s on board with that plan,” Spike chuckled softly.

“On board with what plan?” came Buffy’s voice from the bedroom door.

Spike almost jumped up from the couch, he had not heard her at all. Had no idea she had risen from bed and opened the door.

“Christ woman,” Spike yelped slightly, “you’re quiet as a stealth cat!”

Buffy giggled and strode over to the couch to join him. She flopped down on his boxer covered lap, being stark naked herself.

“You know,” she began with a smirk of her own, “it helps to be all ‘stealth’ like when you’re a cop, William. I’d think you of all people would know these things?”

For just a moment, Buffy noticed Spike flinch, almost in regret, but she couldn’t be sure. She had been smirking, but suddenly frowned when he did that.

“Never been a cop,” Spike mumbled with a forced smile.

“No, that’s for sure but…..Spike,” she asked, softly, “is there something wrong? When I mentioned the word cop, you got all distant and almost wiggy. What is it?”

Spike avoided Buffy’s beautiful eyes, relit his cigarette and thought for a moment or two. He had tried to be careful, really, about just exactly how he reacted to the word cop. Especially in front of his Buffy, especilly since the very naked woman he loved, who was snuggled up on his lap at this very moment, was a cop.

‘No fucking way is Buffy ready to hear this one, mate,’ he assured himself firmly. ‘If she finds out, while ‘we’re’ still so new together? If she gets wind of what I pulled back in England, when I was a fucked up teenager? Jesus, she and I’ll be over before I get a chance to get her precious arse home to London with me.’

Spike could not let that happen. He needed Buffy, loved her, treasured her in his life. No, he had to keep her in the dark about his rather unsavory past with the law. She would never, ever understand that fucked up mess in his dark past, never.

“It’s nothing, baby,” he finally mumbled, meeting her confused green eyes once again with a slight smile. “You know,” he shrugged, “my family, me and my misguided youth and all.” He actually managed a brief laugh, just to break the tension that had suddenly engulfed them both.

“Oh,” Buffy murmered as she searched his indigo blue eyes, “I see.” She decided to let the matter drop, completely and snuggled even closer to him. ‘I can ask him some other time,’ she told herself, ‘when we’re even more comfortable with each other.’

“Are you hungry?” Buffy asked Spike with a huge grin. “Cos’ I’m starving!”

“Oh, starving is it?” Spike growled as he lay on the couch, positioning Buffy so that she was prone, covering his body with hers.

“Really starving!” Buffy giggled merrily. “I could eat a horse!”

“How about a Spike?” he raised his left brow and gave a wicked smirk.

“Uckkk!” Buffy squealed with traitorous glee as Spike tickled her mercilessly. “That’s nasty!” she slapped at him, playfully.

“What can I say, Princess?” Spike chuckled happily, “you just bring out the nasty in me!”

He pulled Buffy’s lips to his own and kissed her, greedily, “my girl,” he murmered into her mouth.

“Yeah,” Buffy responded slowly, “I guess I am your girl.”

Spike somehow sat up, Buffy still in his lap and then stood up from the couch. He carried her back into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, covering her with his own body.

He began nibbling Buffy’s neck, tenderly, then ran his lips down to her breasts. After he’d left her moaning and wanting for more that way, he traveled down to her tummy and gave it a quick little nip.

“Mmmm,” Buffy hummed as Spike slid his lips and tongue down to his ultimate goal. But first, he nipped and licked her inner thighs, causing the most lovely little squeak from her lovely little mouth.

“Like that?” he purred up at her, delighted to see Buffy watching him as he ministered to her.

“Uh huh,” she sighed dreamily.

“Well,” Spike smirked up at her, “then you’re going to just ‘love’ this.” And he buried his warm, wet tongue into her sweet, warm, wet cunny.

Buffy sat at her office desk on Tuesday morning, going over the paperwork in front of her. Her mind, however, kept wondering back to last night and her ‘activities’ with William. She sighed, dreamily, something she rarely did, until lately that is.

‘God,’ she shook her head in self-derision, ‘we’re practically living together at our respective places. You are so in deep this time, Buffy Summers,’ she warned herself.

‘Yeah, you are, Buffy Summers,’ her inner voice echoed back to her, ‘what are you going to do when Mr. Wonderful goes back to England?’ Buffy snapped to attention at that thought, “shut the hell up!” she growled lowly at ‘inner Buffy’. The thought of Will leaving back to England was something that Buffy so did not want to even consider right now.

“Hey, Buff,” Xander Harris burst into her office, distracting Buffy from her unpleasant thoughts, “the St. Claire trial starts next week, it’s official!”

Buffy resented the fact that her partner, Xander, was so damned excited about the upcoming trial and all.

‘They, all of them,’ she thought to herself, angrily, ‘Captain Wilkens, of course Angel, Xander, even Giles. They all are so damn sure it was Amy that murdered Holden and Katerina.’

She truly resented this, from Xander the most, no make that Giles. If anyone should have backed her own theory, Buffy’s that is, it should have been Giles. He was the ‘rock’ in Buffy’s life, always had been, even before her folks moved to Los Angeles. However, it was also Giles that ‘knew’ Holden Webster, his past criminal history, his ‘family’ and all, the most.

Buffy rolled her eyes at Xander and motioned for him to sit down in the chair across from her desk.

“I suppose old Angel is dancing in the streets of Sunnydale over this one, huh?” she asked Xander, sarcastically.

“Yeah, he sure is,” Xander chuckled back at Buffy, then stopped abruptly. Xander was well aware of just how far to push his partner, Buffy Summers, and he was coming dangerously close to the limits.

“That nerd, Warren Meers, is going to be one of the first witnesses that DA O’Connor is pulling up on the stand. Amy’s in trouble, Buff, we both know that. This guy, Meers, he’s a pretty reliable guy, or so the information we have would tell us.”

Buffy pulled out a file on Warren Meers, Door Man extraordinaire, from her desk. She skimmed over the history information on this Meers character. For some reason, since the day she’d met this guy, Buffy had disliked him, on sight really. ‘Probably because he’s the one that can put Amy at the crime scene, last of all,’ she snorted to herself.

“Warren Meers seems to be a pretty up front guy,” Buffy said out loud to Xander as she went over his history sheet, again.

“No criminal record, juvenile or adult; no traffic tickets, not even a fucking parking ticket,” she sighed, ashamed that she’d used the ‘f’ word so easily.

Xander reached over and took the file from Buffy, gently, then began to read, also outloud, the personal history that they had on Warren Meers.

“He’s been married, since he was twenty-one, to his child hood sweetheart, April Anderson-Meers. They have a daughter, Audry and a son, Warren Jr. No signs of martital problems, at least publically, but, then, who the hell knows what goes on behind other people’s bedroom doors, eh Buff?”

Xander shot Buffy a smug, knowing look that she quickly dismissed with a shake of her blond head.

“Do not go there, Xander Harris,” Buffy warned menacingly, “neither one of us, especially you, have any right to talk about relationship problems!”

“By the way,” Buffy gave him a best scrutinizing, cop look, “how ‘are’ you and Anya? And, is she aware that you’re flirting, rather openly and stupidly, with the little bimbette file clerk out there?” Buffy jutted her chin out towards her office door and tilted her head to the side, slightly.

“Oh, Buffy,” Xander whined, defensively, “that little skirt, Sandy is her name by the way, doesn’t mean a thing to me. She’s just young and overwhelmed by the whole ‘cop’ thing. Just sensitive and impressed by a big bad cop like myself,” he finished with a self-satisfied grin.

“You mean, naïve, foolish and all out ditsy, don’t you?” Buffy finished for him with a smirk.

Xander didn’t respond to that, just kind of hung his head, slightly, and shuffled the Meers’ paperwork around on the desk in front of him. He finally peeked up at Buffy and gave her a little grin, “you know I love Anya, Buff,” he answered, sincerely enough.

“I know,” Buffy nodded her head, “but you need to ‘do’ something about that, Xander. If you don’t make the move with Anya, and soon, I’m afraid you’ll lose her for good and I do care about both of you. You are both my friends, Xander, I want you to be happy, together, preferrably.”

The dark haired man nodded then went back to the history file on Warren Meers. He shook his head as he kept reading the information, silently for a while.

“You know,” Xander mumbled, “this Warren guy is almost too damn good to be true? He’s just too fucking perfect for the real world. When they interviewed him, the task force, with his wife, this April chick? She, his wife that is, just hung on Warren’s every word, like he was some kind of prophet or guru or something.

Then, when Scott Hope asked her about ‘their marriage’ and all, April just gushed about how perfect it was, yada yada. No arguments, no seperations, no problems of any kind, even financially. April’s exact words to Scott were “my Warren takes care our little family, always. He’s just perfect!”

Buffy snorted, unladylike, “this April sounds like a freaking ‘Stepford Wife’ to me.”

“Yeah, too good to be true, too, huh?” Xander chuckled. “But, since the history we have on Warren seems to confirm his wife’s adoration of him, what can we do?”

“Buffy,” Xander sighed as he tossed the file on her desk, again, “let’s face facts here. With the way this trial is apt to go, the witnesses, the motives, everything? Amy St. Claire is in major shit, up to her chin.”

Buffy echoed Xander’s sigh, “I know,” is all she could whisper in response.

They sat in silence for a moment or two, until Buffy’s phone rang, shrilly. She answered it with a smile, knowing full well that it was probably Spike calling her.

“Hello gorgeous,” Spike greeted warmly to Buffy, “just wanted to call and run something past you.”

“Okay,” Buffy responded, softly, noting the roll of Xander’s brown eyes when she spoke. Buffy nodded at Xander, then at her door, motioning him, obviously, to leave. And now.

Xander took the hint, he shook his head and reluctantly left Buffy’s office. Buffy thought she heard her partner say some like ‘fucking Brit’ when he left, but she dismissed it.

“Okay, Will,” Buffy spoke normally now, “what’s up?”

Spike chuckled, wickedly, “well since you asked. The sound of your sexy voice just made me go…”

“William…..” Buffy warned evenly, trying not to laugh out loud at her lover’s crudity.

“Okay, baby,” Spike chuckled, “seriously now. I know how much you’re into good wine and all. Thought maybe you and me could go up to one of those wineries you talk about? There’s one in Santa Barbara, by the sea? Right? Thought we might go next weekend, or the next, whatever you say, sweetheart?”

‘He’s done his homework,’ Buffy though happily, ‘not a lot of people in California even know about ‘that’ winery.’

“The trial is starting next week, Will,” Buffy frowned for a moment, “but maybe we could go in two weekends? I’ll have the following Monday off anyway, unless something comes up?”

“Two weekends it is then,” Spike chuckled warmly, “can’t wait to get you away from this town. You need a break, Princess,” he continued. “I was thinking, would you like to go on my Harley? You know, wind in our hair, drive the Blue Highway, all that sillyness?”

Buffy cringed, just a little, for just a moment, “yeah,” she finally responded, nervously. “We could do that, but remember, this is California, helmuts are not optional, they’re demanded. So, no wind in our hair, I’m afraid,” she finished with a giggle.

“Okay, luv,” Spike murmered, “it’s a date then. In the meantime, are you going to come over tonight? Or, should I just meet you at your place and ravish you, properly and all?”

Buffy felt a warm tingle shoot up and down her spine. ‘We are really spending too much time together,’ her mind warned her, twice even. ‘You want him, Buffy,’ her heart reminded her.

“I’ll fix you dinner, Will,” Buffy answered quickly, “anything you want.”

“I love you Buffy,” Spike finished, honestly and then said goodbye.

A few moments after Buffy and Will ended their phone conversation, she picked up her phone and dialed Willow’s office extension. ‘I need to talk to Willow, now,’ Buffy decided as she waited for her best friend to get on the line.

Before Willow picked up her line, Buffy looked into the rather unobvious mirror on her office wall. For once, she noticed, a very serene, very happy looking reflection of herself looked back at her.

“I am so falling in love with Spike Williamson,” Buffy admitted, almost in awe to her reflection.


A/N: Long, long chapter, but I have to get this show on the road.
I am trying to incorporate some of the murder plot line into each chapter. Along with various characters from the show. Also, it’s important for me to show the building of the Spuffy relationship in each chapter.

Here’s the ‘anvil’ notes for this chapter: 1) The etchings on the key ‘are’ important. 2) Spike is hiding something, totally, from Buffy, at least about his past. It’s not of the good thing either; Buffy will be very upset by it. 3) This planned trip to the winery is going to be a catalyst for the rest of the story.

Thanks for reading, please review! Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 22: ‘Admitting’

“I think I’m in love with Spike Williamson,” Buffy whispered to her best friend, and coincidently, her Psychologist, Willow Rosenberg. “No,” Buffy continued with a shake of her pretty golden head, “I know I am in love with Spike, or William, that’s his given name, actually.” She actually ended her admission with a tone of firm conviction, for once.

Buffy watched her friend, carefully, trying to clock the reaction that she might give her. If she expected a frown from the red-head, or a scowl, or even a ‘be careful’ kind of warning, Buffy was sadly disappointed.

“Buffy,” Willow began, softly, “what do you expect me to say? That I want you to ‘take care’ or ‘go slowly’? Well,” the good doctor sighed, “I won’t do that, or say that. I think, in fact, I know, that this Spike, or William that is, might be exactly what you need in your life. Why should I caution you, about loving him I mean?”

With a shrug, Buffy shook her head again, “I don’t know Wills,” she murmered, “Spike, I mean Will, he’s so, so very overwhelming, I guess.” Buffy looked out the window of her friend’s office and took in the now clear blue Sunnydale sky.

‘The sky,’ Buffy mused, ‘Spike’s eyes are that color. Just that shade of blue, after the rain.’

“How is William overwhelming, Buffy?” Willow asked, seriously.

“I don’t know, can’t explain it, really,” Buffy responded quietly. “He’s just, you know, overwhelming. Will, he’s,” she thought for a moment, then continued, carefully, “he is so protective, but not in a controling or patronizing way. Not at all in a ‘Buffy can’t take care of herself’ kind of way. Not like Riley was, and certainly not like Angel still seems to be. Even though old Angel and I are now officially mortal enemies.”

“Spike, I mean William is protective, in kind of a ‘I’ve got your back, Buffy’ way, but only if you need me to. He is so not of the ‘Buffy is weak’ train of thought; he’s a ‘Buffy is a strong, formidable woman train of thought, but…”

Willow quirked her auburn hued brow up, “but?” she asked, slowly.

Buffy cleared her throat quickly and met her friend’s grey-eyed stare. “William is a real man, a real complex one. His personality is somewhere in between old Victorian values and 21 Century ideals, especially where I’m concerned. He knows I can take care of myself, really, but he wants to help me, emotionally that is. Be there for me, just in case I need him and his strong shoulder to lean on. Is it weak of me, Willow? To want to have William in my life? To need his emotional support and want to be a part of his life and have him be a part of mine?”

The Psychologist, and best friend of Buffy Summers, Willow, broke out into gleeful laughter and shook her red head.

“Hardly, Buff,” she chuckled. “I mean, if you can’t lean on your loved one, emotionally especially, from time to time, then who can you lean on? And frankly, why bother to have these loved ones in your life if you can’t lean on them when you need to? Or want to lean on them for that matter? Geez, Buffy,” she continued in a rather motherly tone, “there’s nothing wrong with depending on people you love, and who love you. I have Tara for that and she has me. Why shouldn’t you get to have that too, with this William?”

“I guess,” Buffy stammered as she fidgeted with her ID badge that was pinned on her white blouse, just over her heart. “But what happens, if I do let myself get so close to Spike?” Buffy felt tears begin to form in her wide, green eyes. What happens when he goes home to England? Another guy, what? Leaves me?”

“If you don’t ‘get close’ as close as can be to this man,” Willow gently lectured her, “then look what you’ll lose out on Buff? If you allow your fear of love to overwhelm you, disallow you to take a chance with Spike? I think you’ll find that you will lose out on something that could be ‘the something’ in your life.”

Willow gave Buffy a firm, but affectionate look. “There’s an old saying, Buffy, I’m sure you’ve heard it before. It’s not very ‘professional’ really, at least not for a ‘Shrink’ like me to quote this but you need to hear it.

The red-head grinned widely at Buffy, then stated simply:

“No guts/no glory.”





Buffy wandered back to her office, almost in a daze. She had admitted to her Shrink and best friend that she was indeed in love with Spike, okay, with William Williamson. This was quite a scary thought for Buffy, but one that she was beginning to get rather used to. For some reason, just admitting it to Willow, friend and doctor to her, Buffy, made her feel much lighter in her heart and soul.

When she got back to her office, Buffy found a couple of messages on her machine. She hit the ‘listen’ button and sat down to hear the first message.

“Buffy!” came Xander’s rushed, animated voice, “it’s Amy. Fuck Buff, she’s run again! Early this morning, maybe last night. Angel O’Connor just had another APB put out on her and…..”


Buffy hit the stop button before Xander’s message to her was completed. She suddenly felt very sick to her stomach and even dizzy.

“Oh my God,” Buffy gasped, horrified, as she fell into her chair. “Amy, what the fuck were you thinking!”

Before Buffy could completely fall apart in shock, and disappointment at Amy, a strong, loud knock sounded on her office door.

“Buffy, Princess,” it’s me, Spike, “can I come in, luv?”

“Yes,” Buffy called out, weakly, even more stunned that Spike would know to show up here, now. Just when she needed him most.

“Baby,” Spike strode into the office, closing the door behind him, “Wesley just called me, about 30 minutes ago. He told me about this St. Claire, chit, that she ran again. I knew you’d be upset so…”

Before he could finish, Buffy rose from her chair and hurried over to him, throwing her arms about his strong, comfortable chest.

“I can’t believe this,” Buffy whispered in horror, “I can’t believe that Amy would pull this, now. Why? Does this mean she ‘is’ guilty? What? And, how did Wesley find out so fast?” She looked at him in complete confusion.

Buffy looked up into Spike’s indigo eyes, questioningly, “how come you guys know everything, like first?”

Spike stroked Buffy’s long hair, lovingly, “honey,” he began softly, “Wesley and me, we like get the word before anyone on this crap about my cousin’s murder. It’s the way it works, baby,” he finished and pulled Buffy’s golden head back to his chest.

“Oh,” Buffy whispered in response, still confused a bit.

“Buffy, let’s sit down,” Spike ordered gently as he led her to the chair and pulled her on his lap. “I can’t promise you, baby,” he murmered into her warm ear, “that this chit, Amy, didn’t whack Holden or Katerina, but I think I know why she ran away.”

Buffy pulled back and looked at him, even more confused by now. She started to ask ‘why’ then closed her mouth, tightly. ‘If he wants to tell me, he will,’ she surmised.

“Wesley’s been keeping an eye on St. Claire, Buffy,” Spike began evenly, “you know that, right?” Buffy nodded silently.

“Well, he’s also, Wes that is, been trying to help Amy with this Andrew bloke. The one the girl is so attached to, the one in prison for drugs. Wesley thought he could help the kid, Andrew that is, but apparently, at this time, he can’t swing an early release for him. I guess Amy was all broken up over Wes’s failure to spring this Andrew bloke. But, that’s only part of the reason the chit took off again, at least according to Wesley.”

Buffy was totally shocked at this. She knew Wesley was going to try and help Andrew, for Amy’s sake, but she had no idea he was already acting on his promise. “What’s the other reasons, then,” Buffy mumbled, “if not that Amy’s guilty?”

Spike sighed loudly, he had not wanted to upset Buffy with this information he had from Wesley, thought it best she wasn’t aware of the even more problems St. Claire had had recently. He wished he could light a cigarette, desperately, but of course this being California and their fucked up rules about indoor smoking?

“Wesley told me that St. Claire had received a couple of ‘notes’ or something. Okay,” Spike sighed again, “threats. At least two of them in the last week. It was Amy that didn’t want you to know, she didn’t want you upset or scared and Wes and I? We agreed with her.” He shook his head, “I’m thinking that St. Claire got real scared, took off because of it. Stupid move on her part, but I suppose she’s not thinking straight.”

“Threats!” Buffy exclaimed, “who? What and why?” She leapt off of Spike’s lap and began to pace about the office. anxiously.

“Don’t know who, or what, Buffy,” Spike watched her as he spoke, “just maybe a clue as to why. Whoever this ‘person’ is that sent the threats? They made it clear that Amy is going to pay for Holden and Katerina’s death, one way or another. If the fine justice system of California doesn’t convict her of this crime? This real brave fuck, who sent the notes, will convict her and carry out the sentence.” He finished on a sour, sarcastic note.

Buffy collapsed back on Spike’s lap and buried her head in his chest again. “Oh, shit,” she groaned into his shirt, “this is so fucked up. All of this. You know, this ‘threat’ crap, it’s not going to bull the DA’s office, or Angel ‘fuck them and dump them’ O’Connor. He’ll have a field day with this one.”

Spike nodded, “I know, baby,” he cooed, stroking her hair again, tenderly. “Of course, you know that you, Wesley and me, we’re about the only ones that ‘think’ St. Claire might be innocent, so yeah, your ex is going to wreak havoc in the courtroom with this one.”

Buffy shook her head, “I don’t know why,” she began, the pain in her voice was thick, “why I care so much about Amy. What happens to her in life, since the day Ford and I pulled her and Andrew out of that prostitution ring your cousin was running.”

She looked deeply into Spike’s blue eyes and saw so much love and concern there, so much caring. Buffy ran her slim fingers down his left cheek and nuzzled her lips to his right one.

“Then again,” she whispered raspily, “maybe I do know why I feel so ‘connected’ to Amy St. Claire. Why I always have, since day one. Spike,” Buffy paused a minute, “I need to tell you something, about myself, my own ‘misguided’ youth. Will you listen to me? Hear me out and maybe, just maybe, I can suss out these feelings I have now?”

Spike scrunched up his brows, puzzled, but happy inside that his girl wanted to confide in him. ‘She’s opening up,’ he realized in silent delight, ‘she’s commin’ around.’ He nodded in response and clasped her tightly.

“When I was sixteen-years-old,” Buffy began hesitantly, “I was pretty naïve, real naïve actually. Of course, I lived here, in Sunnydale with Dad and Mom, little Dawnie and we were a pretty happy family. I’d say anyway.”

Buffy averted her eyes from Spike’s, then looked back at him, her eyes tinged with insecurity. “I got mixed up, in my Jr. year of High School, with a guy, a real bad ass guy. At least bad ass for Sunnydale, California.” She smirked, slightly, then continued.

“His name was Richard Pike, Rick Pike actually, but everyone called him ‘Pike’ because it just seemed to match his hard ass personality. God, he was always in trouble and…”

Spike cleared his throat, “Pike?” he smirked, “bad ass?” Buffy actually grinned, “yeah, bad ass, bad boy, whatever you call it. That was Pike.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I really liked this guy and…”

“Should I be jealous?” Spike interrupted with a smirk and Buffy slapped at him, gently. “No!” she exclaimed, “come on William, let me finish!” He nodded again, “I’ll be good, or at least quiet.”

“Okay,” Buffy began again, her voice a bit shakey, “so I really liked Pike and he ‘really’ liked me. We, uhm, well we kind of, uhm…” she blushed profusely.

“We did the nasty, a lot,” Buffy finally muttered, still red with embarrassment. When she looked at Spike, he just stared at her, intently. ‘No judgement there,’ she thought, relieved, ‘no sarcasm in those open blue eyes of his.’

“Well, no big surprise really, but I got pregnant and, well, Pike, he got in trouble, again. With the law. Got sent away to a Youth Correctional facility and I was left, well….here in Sunnydale, alone and pregnant at 16.”

Spike didn’t say anything, just continued to stroke Buffy’s long golden hair and thinking about what she’d told him. He was pretty sure where this was going and he hoped his expression was comforting, at least understanding enough for his Buffy.

“I never told anyone about the baby, except Willow, my best friend, even then and,” she paused again, “my Dad.”

“You can imagine what my Dad did? How he reacted to this ‘great’ news? Pike never knew it, but it was probably a blessing that he did end up in that facility before anyone knew about the baby, especially my Dad. Anyway, Dad, he made me, no,” she shook her head quickly, her brows scrunched up, “no, Dad talked me into getting an abortion. Which I did, without my Mom, or little sister, or anyone else knowing about the baby. Only Dad, Wills and now you, had any idea about that baby or the abortion. I think some part of me still blames my Dad for talking me into it, but then again, how could I take care of a baby? At 16?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Spike murmered, nuzzling his forehead into hers, “I’m so bloody sorry about all that crap in your past. I only hope you don’t let this always bring you down, keep you from living now and all. You have to let it go, sweet, but I’m sure your friend Willow has told you this?”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded sadly, “and I have, pretty much, let it go. The baby part anyway. It’s just that, when I first met Amy St. Claire, she was just sixteen-years-old. So damned innocent, really, and God, fucking naïve as I was at her age. I guess,” Buffy scrunched her brows again and thought a moment, “I guess that I’ve always felt a sense of connection to Amy, because she reminded me so much of myself at that age. I also always wondered, you know? The baby, what if my poor little baby had been born? Ended up like Amy St. Claire, so lost, such a mess? I think that’s why I ‘act’ like Amy’s Guardian Angel, or something?”

Buffy began to cry, softly against Spike’s chest, while he tried to comfort her, tenderly.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmered into her warm, golden hair, “I’ve got you.” ‘I’ll always have you,’ he promised her silently. Spike cradled his weeping love in his arms and rocked her, gently.

“Will,” Buffy finally murmered with a little sniffle, “thank you, for being with me. For being here and all.”

“That’s okay, Princess,” Spike smiled warmly at her, “I love you Buffy. I want to be here with you, for you.”

Buffy gazed into her lover’s gorgeous, honest blue eyes, her heart began to race, loudly beating in her chest. ‘No guts; no glory,’ the words echoed through Buffy’s overworked mind.

“Will,” she whispered, never breaking their mutual gaze, “I love you too.”

Spike gaped back at Buffy, his own heart was racing now, like a fucking race horse. ‘Christ!’ he thought in shock, ‘did I hear wrong or did my girl just admit she loves me!’

“Say it again,” he ordered gently, holding Buffy’s warm, green-eyed gaze with his. “Tell me that you love me, again, now.”

“I love you, Will,” Buffy murmered with a little blush, but she didn’t look away from him this time.

“God, Buffy,” he moaned as he began to kiss her, hungrily and run his hands down her arms. Without hesitating, Spike began to unbutton the white silk blouse that his Buffy was wearing.

“Will!” Buffy gasped, stunned, “we can’t…..” she glanced nervously at her office door.

“Yeah, we can, baby,” he whispered with desperation, “I locked the bloody door on the way in. I need you Buffy and you need me, now.”

Buffy thought about what they were about to do, in her office for the love of God, then, proceeded to unbutton Spike’s shirt with her own nimble fingers.

They began to kiss again, their mouths were greedy for each other’s lips, throat, shoulders. By the time Spike had pushed Buffy’s skirt up around her hips, she had unzipped his jeans and freed up his very hard erection.

Spike groaned as Buffy positioned his shaft up to her thong and allowed him to push the offensive little scrap of lace aside to gain access. “Jesus Buffy, what you do to me,” he moaned again, huskily, as he slid, into her wet cunny.

“What you do to me,” she hissed back, her husky tone matched his.

He clasped her hips and began to help her rotate from side to side on him, up and down, slowly. “Fuck, Buffy,” he moaned again into her mouth, “I love you, I love you so much.”

Buffy threw her head back and began to moan, softly. Her pleasure moans were barely audible to him, they had to be very careful as not to be heard. Even he understood that.

When they came, together, Buffy collapsed onto her lover and buried her head into his neck. He buried his face into her neck at the same time, gently biting her softness there.

“I love you,” they stated, in unision, their voices were a mix of breathy groans and whispers.

Before Buffy could even stand up to pull herself back together, and allow Spike to do the same, her phone rang, shrilly.

Buffy leaned over the desk and picked up the phone, reluctantly, winking at Spike, wickedly. Poor guy was ‘all out’, collapsed back into the office chair, a very sated, happy smile on his handsome face.

“Buffy! It’s Xander, again,” came the annoying one’s voice over the phone. “Christ Buffy,” Xander continued excitedly, before Buffy could cut him off and hang up the phone.

“It’s Amy St. Claire,” her partner continued, almost screaming into the phone.

“They caught her, up north, by Salinas of all places! Buffy, you better sit down,” Xander warned her.

“What is it, Xander,” Buffy asked, suddenly very frightened, “what’s happened?”

“It’s Amy,” Xander repeated, “they caught her, yeah, but Jesus, Buff….”

She heard her partner take a deep, calming breath, “I guess Amy put up a fight, Buff,” he finally said, somewhat more legibly, his deep voice sounded almost sympathetic. “She’s been shot.”




A/N: Hehehehe, how’s that for a cliff hanger? Looks like there’s not going to be a trial, for a while, anyway. Hope that the office Spuffy sex wasn’t too far out there or hokey.

That’s okay, now we can concentrate even more on Spuffy, right? Oh, yeah, besides, now Buffy can get more information to help clear the wounded suspect.

As for Buffy’s admission, well I guess everyone, all of us have secrets from our past. The only problem is, will Buffy be able to accept Spike’s violent past, from his misspent youth? That remains to be seen.



Please read and review. Thanks, luv Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 23: ‘Won’t Let You Down’


“What the hell do you mean, Xander!” Buffy screamed into the phone at her partner.

“How the hell did Amy get shot?” she practically growled at poor Xander, who grew suddenly quiet on the other end of the line.
Apparently, Xander Harris knew when Buffy Summers, the ‘Lion Queen’, was emerging, even over the phone.

“Buff,” he stammered, finally, “I guess she wouldn’t give up, in Salinas I mean. Held the cops at bay and…..”

By this time, Buffy had hit the speaker button of her phone so William could hear this crap for himself. Speaking of William, he had stood up from the chair he’d collapsed in, after his and Buffy’s little office sexcapade and joined her by her desk.

“Held the cops at bay, Xander?” Buffy growled in disbelief, again, “like how do you mean? Amy’s what now, Bonnie of ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ fame? Let me guess, Amy sprung Andrew Price from the Drug Facility and he’s up in Salinas with her? He’s starring in the role of Clyde Barrow? What next, a Federal ambush on the Amy and Andrew gang?”

“Jesus Buffy,” Xander yelped over the speaker, “you don’t have to be such a fucking bitch about this! I didn’t shoot Amy, a Salinas cop did!”

“That’s it!” Spike growled angrily and gently scooched Buffy aside from the desk, “let me talk to this fucking moron!”



He reached for the receiver to ‘reach’ out and touch Xander Harris, on a more personal note, but Buffy stopped him with her tiny, but quite powerful hand.

“Don’t bother,” she grumbled to her lover, “Xander’ll only say something stupid and make an ass out of himself. Don’t worry,” she continued, “even poor Xand knows that Amy would never have ‘held’ the cops at bay. The girl couldn’t hold a half a glass of beer, much less hold a unit of cops and bay and……”

In the mean time, Spike flopped back down on the Spuffy sex chair, and indignant pout on his face. With narrowed eyes, he stared at the offensive speaker phone and the even more offensive voice of Harris coming out of it.

“Nobody calls my Buffy a bitch and lives to talk about it,” Spike grumbled under his breath. Temporarily forgetting the ‘no smoking’ laws of California, Spike pulled out a smoke and lit it, defiantly.

If Buffy was the slightest bit pissed off about Spike’s rule breaking, she ignored it and continued her tirade with Xander Harris.

“Of course I intend on going to Salinas,” Buffy hissed over the intercom to Xander, “Amy is shot. She needs a true friend to come and….”

“She’s shot in the arm Buffy,” Xander whined from the other end of the line. “It’s not really life threatening or anything. Just uncomfortable.”

“Oh Jesus!” Buffy groaned loudly, “leave it to you to think that an arm wound is nothing more then ‘uncomfortable’ Xander Harris!”


“Buffy,” Xander tried a ‘calmer’ approach with her, “Angel O’Connor is already arranging to have Amy St. Claire extradited back down here, immediately if not sooner. He even…..”

“What the hell does Angel have to do with Salinas!” Buffy gasped in disbelief, an uneasy feeling starting in the pit of her stomach. She glanced over at Spike who just shrugged at her, apparently somewhat confused himself, and definitely upset over the mention of Buffy’s ex.

“Well,” Xander began carefully, “it was Angel that had the APB put out. I ‘guess’ he told the Salinas cops to take Amy in, no matter how….”

“That fucking, egotistical, fame seeking, star fucking bastard!” Buffy screamed back at Xander. “Did he tell some two bit country cop to shoot my friend?” She was livid, Spike was afraid Buffy might ‘shoot’ through the ceiling right at the moment.

“No, Buff,” Xander whined loudly, “but if the girl wouldn’t surrender, I suppose he had to okay the cops up there to take her in no matter what. I mean, Angel did slap an ‘armed and dangerous’ alert on the APB and all. I guess some over zealous rookie or something over reacted and…..”

“Armed and dangerous! Amy St. Claire!” Buffy screamed back at Xander, once again.

“Geez, Buff,” Xander whined in reponse, “the bitch is accused of shooting two people to death. Of course old Angel would alert the police everywhere that she could be armed and…..”

“Xander,” Buffy said in her most dangerous, deadly calm voice, “when the hell did you become Angel O’Connor’s messenger boy, or for that matter, his butt monkey?”

“Dammit Buffy,” Xander whined again, “just because some fucking freak from England shows up here, makes a successful play for you and apparently scores? You have to start treating your real friends like shit and…”

“Goodbye Xander,” Buffy hissed and shut the speaker phone off, ending the conversation with her partner.


“I am so going to fry Angel O’Connor’s ass for this!” Buffy barked at Spike, who was really trying not to smirk. ‘That wouldn’t do,’ he assured himself, ‘but hell, my Buffy is so sexy when she’s pissed. Can’t help but smile over it.’ He forced his mouth into an even, almost neutral expression and kept his mouth shut, for once.

“Can you believe this crap?” Buffy asked, incredulously of her boyfriend. Then she re-thought that… ‘I’m too old to have a freaking boyfriend,’ she immediately chided herself for thinking of that term for Spike.

“Not really,” Spike responded to her question, “In fact, I think the whole bloody situation is a fucking mess. Can’t believe how screwed up your crack Sunnydale legal team really is.” He tried his best to keep a cool, calm manner, but the look in Buffy’s beautiful green eyes made him very uneasy. ‘Don’t like her so unsure of herself, so upset like this,’ he thought anxiously.

“The press is going to have a field day with this, Spike,” Buffy sighed as she flopped down on her own chair. “Angel’ll get such press over this that when he’s finished with the spin on it, he’ll look like some kind of hero that took out the Sunnydale equal of Ma Barker!”

Spike stood up and maneuvered around the desk until he was in front of Buffy. He leaned back onto the desk, watching her intently for a moment, then finally spoke up.

“Buffy,” he began softly, “you have done everything in your power to help Amy. You’ve gone above and beyond the call, so to speak, maybe even broke some of your own rules to be a friend to her. All’s you can do now is be there when they get her back to Sunnydale and try to support her, emotionally. That and try to find some kind of evidence, or information that’s going to clear the girl.”

“What if I can’t do it, Will,” Buffy mumbled, sadly, “what if I fail at this?”

“You won’t,” Spike leaned over and placed both his hands on either side of her soft, pretty face. “You don’t have it in you to fail, Buffy, no matter what you think. Or what some fuck of a man has ever told you in the past. Besides,” he smiled at her warmly, “you got me now, to help you out. I love you Buffy, and I won’t let you down, won’t leave you, ever. I told you before, I’ve got your back, baby.”


A/N: A very short chapter for me. Just to assure concerned readers that Spuffy is alive and well, Spike is going to watch his Buffy’s back. She ‘will’ need that, believe me. Okay, next chapter is going to be long and updated soon. Just wanted to get this up here and keep it going. Keep in mind all of theh players in this chapter, they may or may not have something to do with all the mysteries in Sunnydale? Thanks, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 24: ‘Some Things Revealed’


A/N: Thanks to everyone reading this. Thank you to reviewers also, as I am home today and cannot respond to reviews.


Spike sat in his hotel room, nervously smoking a cigarette and contemplating his next move. Finally, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Wesley’s number, on speed dial of course.

“Wesley, before you say how’s your day or some such happy shit like that, I need a favor. I want you to check out Assistant District Attorney Angel O’Connor. There’s something about that dickhead that doesn’t sit right with me and I want everything you’ve got on him. Yes, Wes, I know, he dated Buffy, dumped her and took up with the DA’s darling daughter, but there is more. I know it. Like I said, something’s not right with the prick and it’s not just jealousy on my part.”

After he hung up with Wesley, Spike dialed Buffy at her apartment, again. ‘Still no answer,’ he sighed as he clicked off the phone and lit yet another cigarette.

Yesterday, after the fucked up phone call Buffy had received from that prick Harris, Spike had talked her down, yes, but things still weren’t right with her. No matter how hard Spike tried, Buffy was sullen and even distant with him, for whatever reason. Even after their wonderful ‘encounter’ in her office.

Yes, they had spent the night together, at Buffy’s place, but just this morning, she had made it clear that she wanted to be alone for the rest of the day. This hurt Spike, deeply because he felt as if they’d come to some understanding with each other, Buffy and him. Some point where they could share everything together, even their insecurities?

Buffy slowly walked into the Sunnydale Hospital room, the one that Amy St. Claire had been spirited to. ‘Jesus,’ Buffy snorted, ‘not even 36 hours after she’s shot, Angel O’Connor has her holed up in this place.’

The police guard at the door of the room had been unsure as to let ‘her’ in, but Buffy insisted and he relented. Only after she showed him three pieces of Id and let him check her for weapons. Buffy felt like an errant teenager after that one, beyond just humiliated.

‘Angel O’Connor,’ she now hissed under her breath, ‘you are so gonna’ pay for this. I know you’re behind all this secret agent bullshit and I’ll see to it that you get yours!”

Buffy found Amy, laying in the little bed, just staring out of the window at the view.

“Hey,” Buffy murmered unenthusiastically to the girl.

“Hey, Buffy,” Amy responded weakly, not even bothering to look at the police woman.

“I just came by to see how you’re doing and tell you that the trial’s been postponed, at least for a month or so. Good news, huh?” Buffy tried to sound somewhat positive, but there was no real lift in her tone and she knew Amy felt it.

The girl in the bed just shrugged in defeat and continued to stare out of the window.

‘Oh shit,’ Buffy groaned to herself, ‘she’s given up. Before it started, Amy’s throwing in the towel. She’s going to shut herself off completely now.’

“Amy,” Buffy finally spoke out loud again as she sat on the visitor’s chair by the bed. “I know why you fled, Wesley told us, but I can’t tell you who’s behind the threats or anything. I’m sorry,” Buffy finished weakly. She was beginning to feel pretty much defeated herself.

“Well, if you don’t know, I sure as fuck don’t,” Amy hissed at Buffy, still turned away from her.

“The threats, did they involve Harley too?” Buffy asked nervously, not liking the girl’s tone one bit. “I mean did someone threaten you by using him?”

Amy shook her head, no, but she didn’t seem very convincing, or so Buffy thought.

“I miss my baby boy, Harley,” Amy sniffed softly, still keeping her gaze on the outside view. “I’ll never see him again, have him in my arms again, will I?”

The poor girl began to cry softly, and Buffy felt completely helpless for the first time in years. ‘It’s time,’ she assured herself as she thought about the surprise visitor she’d brought to the hospital.

Buffy stood up and went to the hospital room door, but before she opened it, she turned to Amy.

“I brought a friend of mine to see you, Amy,” she said, almost shyly. “Her name’s Cassie Newton and she wanted to meet you. Would you talk to her, for a bit anyway? For me?”

The haunted looking young woman finally looked at Buffy and nodded, slightly. “Sure, I guess,” she mumbled quietly, wiping at the tears on her face.

Buffy opened the door and motioned for Cassie to come into the room. When the Psychic entered the tiny place, she immediately went over to Amy and stuck out her hand.

“Hi, Amy,” she greeted amicably, “I’m Cassie, Buffy’s friend. I wanted to meet you, maybe chat a bit. Is that okay?”

Buffy watched as Amy eyed Cassie up and down, a frown on her face. Finally, Amy relented and reached out to take Cassie’s hand in hers. Cassie held Amy’s hand for barely a moment, then let it go, her mouth in a warm smile.

“I understand you have a little boy?” Cassie asked eagerly, taking the seat that Buffy had just occupied. “So do I. Here’s his picture,” she continued happily as she held out a small wallet size picture of her son. “His name is Peter, what’s your little boy’s name again Amy?”

“Harley, his name is Harley,” Amy mumbled lowly, but seemed to brighten visibly. “After the motorcycle. His dad, Holden, he loved Harley Davidsons, so I named my kid that. I have a picture of him, in my purse there. Would you hand me the purse, please Buffy, I’ll show his picture.”

Later, after Cassie had spoken with Amy for about thirty minutes or so, she walked with Buffy down the hospital hallway. Buffy noticed that Amy seemed more animated then she had in weeks and it pleased her greatly. ‘If nothing else,’ Buffy reasoned, ‘this helped Amy buck up a bit. I knew Cassie could bring her out of her funk, especially with talk about their sons.’

“Well?” Buffy asked the Psychic, trying not to let her anxiousness show. Buffy and Cassie had reached the elevator in the hallway and it was time to talk real ‘business’ here.

“Buffy,” Cassie began softly, “there is no way in hell that Amy St. Claire shot and killed anyone. I wouldn’t suspect that girl to be able to kill a fly. I smell a rat here, and it certainly is not Amy St. Claire.” Cassie stated her case, with so much conviction, that Buffy felt a rush of complete relief through her whole body.

Buffy sighed loudly, almost tearing up, “I knew it, just wanted someone else to ‘see’ it,” she explained in a low voice. “Thank you, Cassie,” she hugged the taller woman briefly.

“I mean it, Buffy,” Cassie continued earnestly, “there’s more of a chance that ‘I’ shot those two poor people, then that Amy did it. But, you have to realize, the police, DA O’Connor, they’re not going to just accept what I say. Not unless it fits into their grand scheme of things, you know?”

“She is harboring a lot of resentment, though, that’s for sure. Amy that is,” Cassie frowned for a moment as she thought about her encounter with Amy. “Almost as if she, Amy, is glad that this Holden guy is dead and all.”

Buffy frowned, scrunching her golden brows together and groaning. “I’m sure that Amy did love Holden, Cassie,” Buffy began carefully, “but he did do a number on the girl. From day one. It was Holden that dragged Amy into all the shit that screwed up her life. Legally that is, but, Amy did get that beautiful little boy out of it. I just wish she’d have stayed in St. David, or LA, years ago and never showed up here again. Especially after Harley was born.”

“There’s something about this Holden’s girlfriend, this Katerina woman. I felt a lot of animosity towards Webster’s girlfriend, from Amy when our hands touched and later, talking to her. But….” Cassie paused, her eyes clouded in thought here. “It’s just that, it wasn’t hatred, or jealousy I felt through Amy. Not over this woman, Katerina. No, it was something else, anger, yes, but not really the kind you’d think Amy would have for the ‘other’ woman so to speak. Something different.”

Cassie Newton sighed in frustration, “I’m sorry Buffy. It’s the best I could do for now. I just hope this gets straightened out and that poor girl back there can get home to her beloved little boy.”


“It’s more then all right, Cassie,” Buffy smiled at her friend. “In fact, it’s something more then we had anyway. Now we just need to convince everyone else in town, including the police force and Attorney’s office that Amy did not kill Holden and Katerina.” Buffy thanked Cassie again, who turned to the elevator to leave.

“Oh, Buffy,” Cassie turned back to face her again, “by the way, you are positively glowing, you know that? You did tell your guy, didn’t you? I mean that you’re absolutely crazy ass in love with him?”

“Yeah, I did,” Buffy replied with a warm grin at her friend.

“Good for you,” Cassie responded with a smile and stepped into the elevator. The door closed quickly behind her.

“Well, well, well,” came a deep, unwelcome voice from behind Buffy.
“Look who has the nerve to show her face around here?”

Angel stepped around Buffy to face her and actually had the nerve to grab her arm when she attempted to walk off from him.

“Let me go,” she ordered angrily. “Don’t think I won’t scream my head off, asshole! Even in this place!”

“Go ahead,” Angel hissed smugly, “I would just love to see you kicked out of here on your ass for disturbing the peace.” But, he did let go of Buffy, reluctantly.

“I have a right to be here, Angel,” Buffy mumbled defensively. “It’s a free country and all. Besides, I’m still on this case and if I want to talk to the suspect, I can.”

“We’ll see how long you’re on this case, Buff,” Angel spat back lowly. “I think I see a real conflict of interests here and all. After all, you are fucking old Holden’s freak of a big bad cousin, aren’t you? Gotta’ be something in the rules about conflict there, right?”

“Jealous much, Ang?” Buffy quipped smugly, almost stunned when the man before her confirmed her suspicions. He said nothing, just hung his head and avoided her glare. “Oh for God’s sake Angel, get over it! Geez, talk about penis envy with you males!”

Now, when Angel gave Buffy a confused look, she smirked smugly.
“Oh, believe me, Ang,” she chuckled wickedly, “you ‘do’ have a lot to be envious of where William’s concerned and…..”

“So,” Angel blushed and changed the subject, “did you tell freak Brit boy? Like I heard ‘out in la la land’ Cassie Newton ask you? Did you tell lover boy that you ‘loooovvvee’ him?”

“My feelings for William are none of your business, Assistant District Attorney,” Buffy spat back at him. ‘Great,’ she thought with disgust, ‘can’t even keep this jerk from overhearing my private conversations. My fucking personal business might as well be front page news!’ By this time, Buffy was totally disgusted with this whole conversation.

“But, then again, since you’re so damned interested, maybe I’ll make my personal life your business,” she added with another smug grin.

“Yeah, I did tell Will that I ‘looovvvveee’ him.” She mimiced Angel’s sarcastic tone of earlier. “I told him a lot, emphasis on the ‘love’ part. Once while we were ‘shagging like crazy’ but the rest of the time it was pretty much while we were just cozied up together. Stark ass naked! You know, after we got our ‘freak’ on and such!” Buffy actually giggled at Angel’s angry expression and thought again, ‘jealous much’?

If Buffy didn’t know better, she could swear that steam was coming out of Angel’s ears. She did know that he was definitely shaking in anger.

“He’s just using you, you know?” Angel growled lowly at Buffy. His face was just inches from her own.

“Oh, great comeback, Angel,” she chuckled evilly. “No,” Buffy shot Angel a charming smile, “don’t think so. Not everyone has ‘using’ me down to an art like you do, Angel. No, Will’s not using me, he loves me too much.”

With a toss of her golden head, Buffy turned and marched off down the hallway to the stairs. She needed a good bit of exercise to vent off all of her emotions right at the moment.

“We’ll see about that, Buff,” Angel hissed from behind her.

Buffy did not bother to turn around. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone at the top of the stairwell and dialed Will’s hotel room.

When he answered, she didn’t even let him get in another word edgewise.

“Will,” she spouted quickly, “I’m sorry for being such a bitch since yesterday, really. Before you say a word otherwise, don’t bother…I’ve been a first class bitch and you haven’t deserved that. I love you, very much and I just wanted to tell you that before I go back to the office.”

Buffy finally allowed William to respond to her, which he did, with an ‘I love you’ of his own to her.

“Okay, that said,” Buffy interjected, “how about I come to your place, tonight? Is that okay? Thought it would be,” she chuckled softly. “Why don’t we order out and eat in?”

Spike chuckled himself at Buffy’s choice of words and replied happily, “oh, eat in we shall, Princess.”

He was so fucking relieved that his girl seemed so uplifted all of a sudden. His fears from earlier disapated completely and he was left with a calm, peaceful feeling inside. Spike had not felt this tranquil, or contented, or even happy in, well, forever.

“All right then,” Buffy giggled, “I’ll just come over, straight from work, if that’s cool. I know I have some clothes there so that’s not a problem for tomorrow morning, right?”


Buffy was asleep in Spike’s big, comfy bed, or make that the Sunnydale Arms bed. She was sleeping so soundly, that he, Spike, tried very hard not to wake her. He went out on the balcony of the hotel room, in his boxers and lit a cigarette. On the way, he’d stopped by the mini-fridge to grab a beer.

Spike looked out onto the view of Sunnydale below him. The hotel was close enough to the ocean to see it on the horizon and it gave him such a strong, overwhelming sense of peace.

His thoughts traveled to the key, now in Wesley’s possession and just what the damn thing might open. If old Wes was right, then this fucking key didn’t fit just any old lock. It had to be a big lock, since the key was larger then average. Spike and Wes, even with their heads together, could not come up with what the key might fit. That and the weird etchings on the key itself:

‘ECCLII4’ meant absolutely nothing to either of the two men and certainly could not be the make of the key. Wesley had exhausted the information lines to find a maker who’d claim that number as theirs.

Spike’s mind traveled, pleasantly, back to Buffy, all snuggled up in his bed. She was naked, of course, exhausted from their love making, naturally. ‘We made a little ‘number’ of our own, didn’t we, Princess?’ he chuckled to himself, warmly, as he remembered one particular session of their love making tonight.

Suddenly, Spike frowned, momentarily unhappy and yes, a little frightened. ‘We’ve got to figure out what the bloody hell that fucking key fits to,’ he reasoned. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this. If that key unlocks the holder of this list, Wes and I need to find it. I just know Buffy’s going to be affected by this list and I’m afraid for her.’

Until then, Spike had promised himself that he would not bring the list up again. Therefore, he saw no reason to discuss the bloody key now in Wesley’s possession, with Buffy or anyone else. Spike thought to call Wes to discuss the key, then changed his mind. It was late and Wes was probably snuggled up with his own girl, this Cordelia bird that Buffy knew. This brought another smile to Spike’s face. As much as he teased and yes, even abused Wes, verbally, he liked his cousin very much and wanted him to be happy.

Buffy woke up and felt the bed sheets next to her. ‘Still warm,’ she realized, ‘but empty.’ For some reason, she began to panic, so unlike her, most of the time.

“Will?” she called out. She was relieved when he strode through the bedroom door and slipped off his boxers quickly.

“Just havin’ a smoke, luv,” he purred as he snuggled back into the bed beside her, wrapping his strong arms about her.

Buffy wrapped her arms about him and buried her face into his taut chest. “I’m a ditz,” she mumbled into his chest, blushing profusely. “I don’t know why, William,” she continued, unable to look at him at the moment, “but for some reason, you bring out the girly girl in me. I just hope it’s not weak of me.” She giggled so softly, that she knew William had barely heard it. At least she hoped he hadn’t, kind of that is.

Spike began to laugh, loudly, “good,” he chortled heartily. “Because God knows Buffy Summers, you need to be a girly girl, at least once in a while. It’s nice to hear you giggle, I love it when you do. I hope that I’m the only one to bring that out in you, sweet.”

“Love you so much, baby,” he purred as he nuzzled her neck with his lips.

“I know,” Buffy answered softly.


A/N: Okay, I meant this to be longer, really, but I felt I needed to stop here. The next chapter is going to be longer, more Spuffy loving will be involved. Of course, the Spuffy ‘weekend’ getaway will be included in that chapter, and a ‘little’ twist will be included. You’ll just have to read it to find out what it is! Tee hee…

Anyway, if you believe in Cassie Newton’s powers, like Buffy does? Then you’ve realized that Amy did not kill the victims. But then again, you have to believe, huh?

Thanks for reading, please review…Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 25: ‘The Getaway!’


A/N: This is a long, long chapter…divided into two parts. I hope you readers keep with the whole chapter as there is a ‘twist’ in the second part. Thanks, luv Spuf





“Buffy! I just can’t believe you’re going to just run off and spend the weekend with Spike! At a winery no less,” Dawn yelped loudly.

“Oh pulease,” Buffy snarled softly, “I hope you havent been listening to Xander and all this ‘Spike is evil’ crap he’s been spewing out.”

Dawn and Buffy were sitting in the nursery, watching the miracle that was Connor Summers Crawford sleeping soundly. They were discussing Buffy’s ‘love life’ with Spike and drinking hot cocoa, just like their Mom, Joyce used to make them.

“I’m so not starting with any negativity, Buff,” Dawn giggled. “Frankly, I’m thrilled to death for you both! I think it’s great that you found true love, at last!”

Buffy gave her younger sister a dubious look, then glanced back at the little angel, Connor, sleeping in his Sesame Street decorated crib. ‘Why would Connor and Dawn buy my baby nephew a ‘Count’ stuffed doll for his crib,’ she wondered for the tenth time. ‘Anything of the stuffed toy kind from Sesame Street, but the ‘Count’ for God’s sake. How morbid, really.’

“I am so serious, Buff,” Dawnie squealed in delight, yet again, “this guy is the real thing this time. I feel it, know it. I do!” The dark-haired girl nodded happily. “You two, Spike and you, you are so in love with each other, I can tell!”

“Spike loves Buffy…..Buffy loves Spike,” Dawn began to sing-song in her off key voice.

“Dawn Summers Crawford, for God’s sake,” Buffy tsked, “you’re nearly twenty-six-years-old and a mother. Grow up!” Buffy shook her head in exasperation, but grinned despite herself.

‘Yeah,’ Buffy thought, rather happily herself, ‘we do love each other. This is the real deal, Dawnie, totally. Just don’t want to jinx it by admitting it to the family yet.’

Dawn stuck her tongue out at Buffy, exactly like a five-year-old would do. “Don’t care,” she whined with a goofy grin, “I still say you and Spike worship each other. That you can’t live without each other, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. So there!”



Before getting to Dawn and Connor’s, Buffy had stopped by Anya’s dress shop to buy some new clothes for the trip. That and some much needed new lingerie to take with her.

When Anya saw Buffy eyeing the more naughty underthings, Xander’s girlfriend chuckled wickedly. “Thank God,” Anya had declared as she yanked the teddies and undies from the show case and tossed them to Buffy.

. “It’s about damn time that you, Buffy Summers, got your freak on and really enjoyed a sex partner. But,” Anya smiled kindly, “I think this is more then just mutual orgasms for you and the Brit, huh? I’m seeing some real down home, hot loving between you two. Am I right?”

Buffy nodded, almost shyly and with a warm blush that ran from her neck up through her face. “Yes,” she murmered as she had held up a stunning little teddy, if you could call it that. Actually, it was more like a scrap of red lace.

“It’s just that we’re moving too fast, I’m afraid, anyway,” Buffy stammered as she eyed herself in the dressing room mirror. “I don’t know, I’m just scared, I guess. Of getting burned again.”

“Right,” Anya hummed, “like I don’t know that feeling. But, I think this guy really likes you, hon, really. Xander can’t stand the guy, so this Spike must really love you!”

Buffy chuckled amicably, “yeah, I believe he does, but…..”

“How do you feel about him?” Anya asked, almost non-chalantly.

“I’m crazy about him, okay,” Buffy sighed in response. “And yes, he does love me, I know it. I just hope we’re not moving too fast, you know? I’ve never felt this way for anyone, not this fast anyway.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to be said for long, long engagements and all,” Anya retorted, sarcastically. “But, shit, then again, look at Xander and me. He’s strung me along for years and I still keep comin’ back for more. Idiot that I am.”

Buffy’s friend sounded so sad, suddenly, that Buffy felt just awful for her. “Xander’s an ass,” she piped up, “a big one.”

“Anya,” Buffy reached out and patted the woman’s arm, “Xander loves you. He’s just confused, scared, you know? Wants to make sure he doesn’t screw up, the way his folks did with their marriage and all. He’ll come around. In fact, I think he’s really woke up lately, don’t you?”

The woman nodded and held up another red teddy, this one even skimpier then the other, if that was possible. “You have so got to take this with you, Buffy,” she ordered with a grin.

“Oh, and Buffy,” Anya continued, “about this guy of yours. If he loves you, like he apparently does? And you love him, like I can see you do? Then, hey, just go for it. Don’t screw this up, Buffy. Take a chance for once and really live. I’m betting that this guy is the one for you and you just can’t let this chance slip away from you.”





Dawn giggled wildly as Buffy held up the lingerie, she had bought earlier that day, in front of her and paraded around Connor’s room.

“Thank God your son is asleep,” Buffy suddenly halted her mock modeling, “I wouldn’t want this scary scene to traumatize the poor kid. Later in life that is.”

“Of for crap’s sake, Buff,” Dawn hissed, “my kid could care less what you do. He’s not even two months old for Pete’s sake.” The younger woman rolled her eyes, then gasped when Buffy pulled out the last red teddy she’d bought at Anya’s.

“Shit!” Dawn howled with glee. “That’s gonna’ give your guy a freaking heart attack, Buff!”

“Dawn, for God’s sake, quit swearing in front of that kid,” Buffy grumbled as she glanced over to make sure her nephew was still asleep. He was, thank God.

“All right,” Buffy checked her watch, “gotta’ go. I’m dropping by the jail to check on Amy in an hour. Then, I meet Will at my place by 3:00. After that, it’s off to Santa Barbara and all that wonderful wine! We were going to ride the Harley, but I nixed it. Hope Will’s not too mad, but I just felt like taking a real car, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded, but Buffy noticed her sister was not smiling anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, confused by her sister’s change in attitude.

“You know,” Dawn began cautiously, “I just think maybe you should kind of cut your losses, where Amy’s concerned, you know Buff?” The younger woman looked over at her son, still asleep in his crib. Buffy recognized the attempt to avoid her, on her sister’s part.

“Maybe it’s time,” Dawn stammered out, “that you give up this ‘guardianship’ role you’ve taken on for yourself. For Amy that is. Why exactly are you so concerned with Amy St. Claire, anyway?” Dawn finished with a puzzled expression, her dark brows scrunched together.

“I can’t give up on Amy, not now, Dawnie,” Buffy murmered softly as she folded up the lingerie and put it all back in her bags. “It’s something I have to do, help Amy that is. It’s not something I can explain to you, not at this time, maybe someday, but, I just couldn’t go out of town for a weekend without checking on her first. She’s stuck in that cell, away from her son and the people who truly care about her. It just tears me apart inside to think that she’s there, in jail, and the real killer is running around free.”





A/N: Part II of this chapter follows below. I wanted to put a kind of ‘warning’ in this before you start to read it. The following section of this chapter may not quite make sense, at first, but I think it will by the end of it. Yes, there’s going to be a twist, this is a mystery and all. (Although, the real mystery to me is why ME allowed Spuffy to go so off track in season 6, but hey, I didn’t write the show, right?)

Anyway, I wanted to alert readers to the fact that this next part is going to be rather, shall we say ‘sketchy’ and kind of jumps ahead. I promise, there is a reason for it and I hope you enjoy. Thanks, luv Spuf


Part II:


“This was a truly brilliant idea Will,” Buffy gushed as she snuggled into her lover’s wonderful, naked body. “You are a genious!”

Spike chuckled and nuzzled Buffy’s golden head with his lips. “I think so,” he mumbled into her soft hair, an unseen smirk on his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re a genious, I know you are, baby,” Buffy purred and kissed his neck, gently. “I can’t remember when I just went somewhere, for fun and to relax like this. Thank you so much, William,” she whispered into his neck, then gave it a little nip.

“I love you, Princess,” Spike murmered into her warm little ear, “I’d take you anywhere you want to go, if you’d let me. And, yes, I imagine you don’t do things like this enough. Get used to it, baby,” he lifted her face up, so their eyes could meet. “I intend on spoiling you rotten from now on.”

Buffy blushed bright red, for some reason by William’s sweet words to her. ‘Damn, he’s fine,’ she thought to herself, again. ‘And even better,’ she grinned at this thought, ‘he’s all mine.’

Spike and Buffy had only been in the hotel room in Santa Barbara for a few hours, as it was still just Friday night. The ‘Inn’ actually, set on a bluff that overlooked the Pacific Ocean and was just breathtaking. Their room was quite private, something that suited both of the couple just fine. After the busy day of Buffy’s, and the hour drive up the coast to SB, they decided to have room service.

Well, after dinner, naturally, they decided to ‘rest’ for the remainder of the evening. The only time they got up from bed was to wander out onto the balcony and sip wine, or just talk and hold hands.

Buffy was in heaven and Spike appeared to be right up there with her. “Mmmmmm,” Buffy hummed softly as Spike ran his fingers down her bare arm, making her tingle all over.

“I love you too,” Buffy whispered suddenly, as if she needed to make up for not repeating the words, earlier to him.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart,” Spike grinned down at her, devilishly. “Good thing you admitted it too. Wouldn’t want to have to kidnap you, carry you off to some far away land and ravish you until you finally came to your senses. Well, actually,” he paused for a moment with a smirk, “I would love to carry you off somewhere to a far away land and….”

“Oh, you’re so full of yourself, Will,” Buffy giggled like a little girl. This made Spike smile even wider, “There’s that giggle again,” he gushed. “I love your giggle, Princess. I want you to laugh and giggle all the time. I’ll see that you do, promise.”

On Saturday, Spike and Buffy spent hours at the Seaside Winery. They had made up a picnic lunch, bought bottles of wine and ate out on the rolling green hill that surround the winery itself. It had been a wonderful day, for both of them.

Buffy was sitting, naked, cross legged and silent on the bed, watching Spike intently. He was switching the channels of the TV, looking for a football match. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike could see Buffy’s luscious mouth begin to form into a pout.

Spike switched off the TV and tossed the remote to the floor beside the bed. “Okay, baby,” he sighed heavily, “what’s wrong with my girl?”

Buffy allowed him to take her in his arms, sighing the whole time herself. “I’m just sad, we have to go home tomorrow and I just love it here. Guess I’m just going to miss all this and our time together. I know,” she mumbled with a red face, “I’m being a spoiled brat and all.”

Spike laughed loudly, “Good!” he exclaimed, “I want you spoiled, and bratty for that matter. You’re incredibly hot when you’re acting bratty baby. And, by the way, we are in no way going home tomorrow,” he stated firmly. “You, my love, are going to call into work, tell them you’re still out of town until Monday morning. Then you’re going to tell them you will be late into work Monday because your man refuses to allow you out of this hotel room."

Buffy began to laugh wildly and literally leapt onto William’s naked body. They started kissing passionately, but when Buffy tried to break away and run her lips down William’s chest, and lower, he held her fast.

“I really do love you, Buffy,” he rasped, desperately, his face so serious and honest. His blue eyes were almost blue/black with desire and emotion. “It scares me, sometimes, how much I love you and need you, baby,” his voice had nearly become a whimper.

“I really love you too Will,” Buffy whispered back.. She wanted to tell him just how much, but he had already pulled her mouth back to his and started kissing her all over again, frantically.


Monday morning came much too soon and Spike and Buffy reluctantly left the hotel and Santa Barbara to return to Sunnydale. Especially after their ‘magical’ Sunday of their getaway. Buffy was already going to be late for work and Captain Wilkens, her superior had not been happy about that.

Frankly, however, the two lovebirds could not have cared less what the hell anyone back in Sunnydale thought. They were in love with each other, deeply and after their ‘getaway’ weekend, nothing would be the same for either one of them again. Both Spike and Buffy realized this, embraced it and celebrated it. In a good way, of course.

Buffy had Spike drop her off at her apartment, then head back to his hotel room. He needed to pick up some of his things for that night at Buffy’s and check in with Wesley.

After he’d left, Buffy hummed as she checked on her apartment, making sure the plants were okay. Listening to her phone messages. She had never been so content, tranquil or even happy in her life and it was all thanks to her William.

A loud knock came at her door, and for some reason Buffy just assumed it was Will. She threw the door open, without checking to see who it was.

“What? You forget something, baby?” she laughed as she looked into Angel’s dark, sullen face.

“What the fuck do you want?” Buffy gasped out loud at the offensive man in her doorway. Before she could slam the door, Angel strode into her apartment as if he owned the place.

“Need to talk to you, baby,” Angel stated evenly. “I have some information for you, thought I’d bring it myself. You’re so special to me and all.” He was almost smirking and the tone in his voice could only be described as condescending.

“I don’t want any information from you Angel. Get out,” Buffy growled and pointed at the door.

“Nope,” Angel said stubbornly as he flopped on her sofa. “Somebody needs to give you a wake up call, sweetie,” his dark eyes looked almost gleeful and Buffy suddenly felt almost queasy.

“Let’s see, I suppose that it turns out that Amy is a terrorist or something? Or maybe that she’s the head of a mafia sect? Just what the hell do you want? Or better yet, give me the ‘411’ and get the hell out of my place.” Buffy was livid by now, but a part of her was somewhat curious as to what Angel had to tell her.

“No, actually, Buff,” Angel began rather smugly, “it’s about your boy toy, Billy. Found out some interesting information on him, thought you should know. You and me being such old friends and all.”

Buffy felt her tummy sink and suddenly, her vision became blurred. ‘Don’t believe him,’ she immediately told herself, ‘this jerk would do anyting to get back at both you and Will, don’t buy it.’

“What information,” Buffy asked weakly, not even looking at Angel, or the paperwork in his huge hands. Then, without thinking, Buffy reached out and grabbed the papers from Angel, noticing he didn’t fight her too very much.

“Read it and weep, sweetheart,” Angel nodded, a little too happy to be bringing such bad news. “Seems your boy, Spikey, did a real bad thing, a while back. Killed one of your kind, he did. A cop in England. There’s a lot more on that sheet, sweetheart,” Angel chortled merrily. “Spike’s a real bad boy, when he wants to be. But hey, maybe he really did care about you and all, just started out evil. Maybe he can change, for you? Or, then again, maybe not,” Angel added smugly.

Buffy almost passed out right then, but she steadied herself and sat on the comfy chair. Without acknowledging Angel, at all, for the moment, Buffy began to read William Williamson’s rap sheet from London, England.

Before she got to the second page, Buffy looked up at Angel in shock, tears filled her green eyes. Suddenly, Buffy truly hated Angel O’Connor, really, really detested him.

‘Maybe you hate Angel so much,’ Buffy thought in sad shock, ‘because he’s been right about Will all along.’

“Where did you get this,” Buffy asked weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Doesn’t matter, but I’ll tell you this,” Angel responded firmly, in that patronizing tone of his that Buffy just hated. “There’s more to old Spike’s visit in Sunnydale then to just make sure Holden gets justice. That and to fuck you senseless.”

Angel stood up and haunched down in front of Buffy, his handsome face was twisted into a mask of sadistic glee.

“Seems, Buff,” Angel purred, “that Spike’s ‘family’ sent him over here to do more then just ‘seek justice’ for Holden. They sent your fuck buddy over here to ‘seek revenge’ on the killer. That would be Amy, apparently, so I guess, hey, I was right, huh? Got that little bit of information from the same guy I got this rap sheet on your lover boy from. He’s very reliable, this guy I know and I thought you should know the truth. How convenient for Spike Williamson to come here, meet you, huh?”

“Makes it all that much easier to kill off poor little Amy when it’s time. You and Amy being so close and all. Wow, look at the fringe benefits that old Spikey got when he took you on? He gets to fuck you and plot murder at the same time. I gotta’ admit, Spike’s pretty fucking slick, Buff. It takes a pretty good talker to get into your…..”


Buffy swallowed hard, trying to keep a sob from escaping her mouth. Her traitorous tears began to spill from her green eyes and she had to force herself to actually breathe.

“Get out,” Buffy choked out at Angel, “get the hell out of my place and never show your ugly face here again.”

Angel looked shocked by Buffy’s reaction, “but Buff,” he stuttered, suddenly quite unsure of himself, his self-satisfied expression wiped from his face. “I just wanted to help you. Make you see what you’ve gotten yourself into with this guy. I mean I actually care for you, baby.”

“Get out,” Buffy growled like a female wolf, low, gutteral and very dangerous. “Get the fuck out of my sight you bastard!”

Angel hesitated for a moment, then stood up, reluctantly and shuffled out of Buffy’s apartment. He didn’t even slam the door this time when he left.

Buffy sat frozen, in shock, for a few moments. She forced herself to take some breaths, since her chest felt like someone had kicked it, hard. Her mind was a swirl of emotions, but three stood out at the present: a sense of anger, betrayal and pain. Definitely pain.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Buffy hissed out loud, tears began to pour down her face, “stupid, stupid, stupid!” She wailed, suddenly and tore the papers Angel had given her to shreds, then threw them, angrily at nothing in particular.

“I’ll kill him,” Buffy choked out, “I’ll fucking kill you Spike,” she repeated, enraged. Grabbing the phone, she desperately dialed Spike’s hotel phone and got the voice mail.

After taking a deep, unsuccessful calming breath, Buffy began to speak into her cell:

“You fucking bastard,” she hissed, trying not to let the tears in her voice be heard. “You lying piece of shit, stupid coward! I wish I’d never met you, William, never. On that note, I never want to see your face again, you lousy murdering son-of-a-bitch. Take your lies, your sweet, wonderful, fucking poetic lies and shove them up your English ass.”

She clicked off the phone and threw it across the room, content when it hit the wall and broke into pieces on her cream colored carpet. Buffy began to sob, wail actually and fell to the couch, her body shaking from misery and pain.

“I hate you,” she sobbed loudly into the plush material, “I hate you, you fucking lying bastard!” Buffy almost began banging her head against the throw pillow beneath it, but stopped short. That would have been just to much, even for her.

After about ten minutes of this madness, Buffy sat up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She glanced about her apartment, her eyes falling on the still unpacked suitcase from her and Will’s trip. A new plan formed in her addled mind.

Fairly calmly, Buffy reached for her home telephone and dialed Giles at his office. She was greatly relieved when the older man answered his own phone.

“Giles,” Buffy whispered into the phone, not trusting her own tearful voice. “I need a big favor from you.”

Spike was in a state of desperation, mixed with shock and rage. He had done some business, come back to the hotel and stripped down to take a shower before taking a nap. Just before he got in the shower, he checked his hotel room phone messages.

By the time he’d finished listening to Buffy’s frantic message to him, he was in a state of shock. Quickly dressing, Spike nearly ran to the elevator, swearing all the way down to the first floor.

He had sped out of the hotel parking lot, headed straight for Buffy’s place, only to arrive and find her Porshe gone from it’s parking spot. Spike then called Wesley, begging him to help find Buffy, as soon as possible.

While Wes did what he was best at, detective type work, Spike called his Buffy’s work. She was not there, nor did her Captain on the force know where she was. He only knew that Buffy was gone for a few days more. In desperation, Spike even tracked down Xander Harris, Buffy’s partner, but to no avial. Buffy was no where to be found.


Somehow, Spike ended up at the Sunnydale Police department. He frantically hurried into the building, ignoring the odd looks from the people milling about there.

Once he reached this Gile’s floor, Spike was past angry, he was frantic and enraged, even he could feel the anger just radiate off of his body. Without asking Giles’ receptionist, or waiting to be invited, Spike stormed into the old man'’ office.

If Rupert Giles was surprised to see him, Spike didn’t notice, he was too fucking pissed, and worried about Buffy.

“Hello, Mr. Williamson,” Giles greeted him with a forced smile and did not bother to stand up.

“Name’s Spike,” Spike growled at the man and did not bother to sit down.

“Where is she Giles,” Spike asked the man in a low dangerous voice. “Where’s my Buffy? And where the fuck did these lies someone must have told her come from?”

Giles sighed and removed his glasses, which he began to clean on a tissue. With a shake of his graying head, Giles frowned and motioned for Spike to sit down.

“I’ll stand, thanks,” Spike growled at the man. “Now, tell me where Buffy is,” he ordered again. “If she told anyone where she was going, or why, it’d be you mate.”

“Mr. Williamson,” Giles used Spike’s formal name again, “I truly do not know who or what ‘someone’ told or showed poor Buffy about you. However,” he hesitated for moment, another quick frown, “I do know that you have hurt Buffy, terribly. She did say something about you lying to her, betraying her, and murdering a police officer. After that? I probably know less then you do.”

Spike groaned and finally sat down in the offered chair, he felt tears begin to form in his eyes.

“Where is she?” he asked Giles again, this time in a much calmer voice, closer to a whine. “I have to talk to her, get this straightened out. She could of at least heard me out, after all we….”

“Maybe you should just leave Sunnydale, Mr. Williamson,” Giles sighed again. “If you would return to England, leave Buffy to heal and move on? I think soon that dear Buffy could put this unfortunate affair of yours in her ‘mistake’ file and go on with her life. She’s a strong woman, Buffy is. However, I think you should be a bigger man, leave and go back home. Stay away from Buffy, completely. That is, if you truly love her, as you say.”

Spike just stared at this clueless, bloody moron, his blue eyes were narrowed into slits by this time and he had to take another calming breath.

“I’m not going anywhere, mate,” Spike hissed at Giles, “not without Buffy. This ‘affair’ as you called it, is no mistake. In fact, you bloody moron, it’s not even an affair. Not any more that is.”

Giles, to his credit, looked completely confused as he met Spike’s stare with his own puzzled one.

“I don’t understand, Mr. Williamson,” he began carefully. “What is your relationship with Buffy, if not a love affair?”

Spike leaned up to Gile’s huge oak desk and smiled, at the old boy, almost affectionately.

“Buffy and me,” Spike said quietly, “we didn’t just enjoy the beach in Santa Barbara, or drink high class wine, Giles old boy. We took vows, mate. We’re married good and proper, in front of God and a bona-fide preacher.”

Spike ignored the shocked expression on the older man’s face and stood up to lean his hands on the desk.

“Now,” Spike began again, calmer, a more controlled tone in his strong, deep voice, “where the bloody hell is my wife?”


A/N: Well, well, well…..seems that Buffy and Spike did do more then drink wine, walk on the beach and shag each other senseless.

I truly hope no one calls me out on this, I assure you, it’s necessary for the plot. Spike and Buffy are married, yes, I know it’s a little ‘out there’ for Buffy to do such an impulsive thing but, hey, this is Spuffy, right? I hope readers will be happy with this turn of events and please review??? Writers love reviews, good, bad or indifferent! Thanks, luv Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 26: ‘Giving You The Best…’


A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this. Thank you to all of my reviewers. Luv, Spuf


Buffy Summers-Williamson lay in the cozy king sized bed and stared at the ceiling above her. She was, as they say, ‘absolutelyfucking’ miserable in that big, comfy bed. Especially alone as she was, without her husband beside her.

“Bastard!” Buffy hissed up at the ceiling, for the umpteenth time that day. “He lied to me, betrayed me and used me. Just like all of them,” she reminded herself once again.

“Oh, God Will,” Buffy groaned in pain, “if you’re like all the rest of them, why does it hurt so damn much more?”


Spike leaned over Rupert Giles desk, his dark blue eyes bore like lazers into the older man’s pale blue hued ones.

“Where is my wife, Giles?” he asked in a low, dangerously controlled voice.

“I…” Giles began, almost timidly, “I had no idea that you and Buffy were,” the man gulped, visibly, then continued, “married?”

Again, Rupert Giles took off his wire-rimmed glasses and began to clean them, vigorously.

Spike realized that this was a nervous habit of the man’s, like his own cigarette smoking. This, Spike could appreciate, truly.

Giles replaced his glasses to their rightful position, then scrunched up his brows in thought. With a sigh, he reached for his police force anniversary pen and quickly jotted down some directions on a piece of paper.

“I am giving you this information,” the older man began in a cautionary tone, “because I feel you deserve to see and talk to your wife. I had no idea that Buffy and you took vows, as she felt it unneccessary to tell me. However, Mr. Williamson, okay,” Giles blushed slightly, “Spike. I have come to the conclusion, a while back actually, that our Buffy needs to stop running from her problems and face up to certain facts in her life.”

Spike sighed, silently, in relief. ‘He’s a good, solid bloke,’ the blond admitted in admiration. ‘I think he sees that I love my Buffy, immensely. Would never hurt her, not purposely anyway.’

“Yes,” Giles continued, his tone was stern, but yet affectionate, “I love Buffy Summers. Well, Buffy Summers-Williamson, very much. Like a father I dare say. However, the girl has to come to grips with her actions and the consequences of those actions. She’s always been a bit too skittish and all. Needs to settle herself down and take responsibility for the things she says and does.”

“She is rather a brat, at times,” Spike interjected, lovingly.

“Yes,” Giles smiled at Spike with a sense of comraderie, “our Buffy can be a bit of a brat when she so chooses. I guess that’s what makes her so, well, interesting?”

Spike took the directions of his destination from Rupert Giles and smiled warmly. “Thanks, mate,” he said evenly.

“The house, that Buffy’s staying in,” Rupert pointed at the piece of paper, now in Spike’s possession. “It’s my wife’s and my summer cottage, in Pismo Beach. About two and a half or so hours north of here. Buffy asked me to borrow it for a few days, to think. Suss things out, so to speak. Of course I could never refuse her, and Jennifer, my dear wife? She’d rather die then refuse Buffy Summers, uhm, ur, Williamson that is.”


Buffy got up from the bed she had occupied for the last two hours. She needed to walk about, think and suss things out. Just like Giles had advised her to do. Of course, she had not told her mentor that she was now a married woman, again.

‘What the heck would old Rupes say to that?’ she wondered to herself. Buffy grabbed the cottage house keys and shuffled out to the front walkway, then the beach just a few yards from the front door.

As she walked along the shoreline, Buffy thought about the last few hours, and days, and weeks. Her thoughts wandered to the first night she and William spent together, in bed that is. Then she fast-forwarded to the next day, when he nearly broke her door down and demanded to talk to her.

Buffy tried to remember just when it was that she had an inkling of the ‘secrets’ that William had been hiding. There was the time she mentioned being a cop, her stealth movements and all. He’d flinched, Will had, at the mention of stealthness and being a cop, like herself.

While she thought of those ‘hints’ that she had been afforded, Buffy remembered some other things.

‘He never once lied,’ she thought to herself, sorrowfully. ‘Not once, did he lie to me. I just never asked the right questions, that’s all.’ Her heart felt like it was breaking and Buffy decided to return to the lonely, borrowed cottage.

‘Always alone,’ she sighed in self pity. ‘I am truly, utterly alone in this world.’ A tiny, annoying voice deep down inside of her whispered, ‘only because you choose to be, Summers. You weren’t alone, remember? Just a day ago, you had the freaking world by the tail. You gave it up, didn’t you? Because a worthless piece of shit like Angel O’Connor ‘said’ that your husband was using you? That he lied and betrayed you? Come on Summers,’ the voice continued, relentlessly, ‘face facts. You could have, no, make that should have stayed in Sunnydale and faced your husband. Asked him straight up if all these accusations were true.’

Buffy walked back to the cottage and entered it, almost looking for her husband to be about. She sighed, sadly, and flopped down on the comfortable sofa that Jennifer Giles had so lovingly placed there. With a switch of the remote, Buffy flicked on the Oprah Show and tried to concentrate on the latest guest.

“Oh, how amusing,” Buffy spouted, sardonically, “Anita Baker, the singer.”

If Buffy didn’t admire Anita Baker so, or Oprah for that matter, she would have switched the channels or even turned off the telly (oh shit, Will’s words ‘telly’ and all!) completely. However, Buffy did just love Anita Baker and Oprah, so she was totally tuned into the show.

Baker was prattling on about how she’d been out of the business for almost ten years and such, due to personal issues.

“Personal issues,” Buffy mimiced, but with a purely sarcastic tone, “I get that, Anita.”

Oprah was encouraging her guest to get up and sing one of her older songs. Of course, Anita Baker couldn’t turn down Oprah…..who the hell could?

‘Switch the channel, or at least turn the TV off,’ Buffy’s intuition cautioned her. But no…..Buffy just had to listen to Anita Baker warble one of her classic hits.


‘Giving You The Best That I Got’
(Anita Baker from the CD of
the same title)


‘Ain’t there something I can give you
in exchange for everything you give to me
Read my mind make me feel just fine
When I think my peace of mind is out
Of reach.’

“Oh God,” Buffy muttered defensively, “let’s just rub Buffy’s nose in it, why don’t you?”

‘The scales are sometimes unbalanced
And you bear the weight of all that has to be
I hope you see that you can lean on me
And together we can calm a stormy sea’

“Yeah, that’s me, all right,” Buffy whispered to the empty room about her. “Unbalanced, certainly not a lean on kind of gal here.”


‘We love so strong and so unselfishly
And I tell you now that I made a vow
I’m giving you the best that I got, baby
Yes I tell you now, that I made a vow
I’m giving you the best that I got, honey’


“Vows, Buffy,” she reminded herself, a tinge of sorrow in her voice, “you and William, you took vows.”


‘Everybody’s got opinions’

“Oh shit, yeah,” Buffy chuckled softly, “just don’t they though?”

‘Bout the way they think our story’s gonna’ end
Some folks feel it’s just a superficial thrill
Everybody’s gonna’ have to think again…..

‘We love so strong and so unselfishly
They don’t bother me, so I’m gonna’ keep on
Giving you the best that I got, baby
They don’t bother me, said I’m gonna keep on
Giving you the best that I got, listen baby….


‘Somebody understands me
Somebody gave his heart to me
I stumbled my whole life long
Always on my own, now I’m home….’

“I’m home,” Buffy whispered in awe, the meaning of the words being sung finally really hit her. “With William, I am truly home.”


‘My weary mind is rested
And I feel as if my home is in your arms
Fears are all gone, I like the sound of your song
And I think I want to sing it forever’


“Never gave him a chance to explain,” Buffy murmered to herself, guiltily. “I never once said, to him ‘tell me the truth, I’ll listen, try and accept it.”


‘We love so strong and so unselfishly
And I made a vow so I tell you now
I’m giving you the best that I got, baby
I bet everything on my wedding ring
I’m giving you the best that I got,
Givin’ it to you baby.’


“Well, Anita,” Buffy whispered as she fiddled with the new, unfamiliar gold band on her left ring finger, “you sure as hell can sing lady.” Then Buffy promptly burst into tears.


When she finally got herself back together, calmed down more, Buffy finally turned off the TV. She tossed the remote on the couch, almost indifferently, beside her. She glanced at the clock on the mantel piece and noted that it said nearly 4:00 PM.

“Oprah’s almost over anyway,” she sniffed sadly. “I wonder what Will’s doing right now?”




Spike, or, rather Will as it were, was at that very moment speeding up PCH (okay, Pacific Coast Highway) in his rented Mercedes Benz. The moment Rupert Giles had fessed up as to where his wife, Buffy, was, William Williamson was off. A man on a mission to woo his own wife and win her back.

“Bless you Rupert Giles,” Spike sang out as he hit the gas pedal and sped even faster up the highway to his heavenly destination. Of course, if his wife, Buffy, so chose, it could turn out to be a hellish destination instead. It was, ironically enough, all up to Buffy Summers-Williamson.

Precisely at 6:30 PM, Buffy decided to call up information and find a pizza place that delivered. Frankly, she was just too damned tired to go anywhere to eat, and she knew she had to have something to sustain herself. Will would want it that way. Buffy to eat that is.

“I really hate California,” Buffy sighed as she paid and then tipped the pizza delivery guy. “No one, I mean no one should be alone in California. Especially near the beach.” With a heavy heart, Buffy began to pick at her ham and pineapple pizza. “Why the heck would I order ham and pineapple pizza?” Buffy wondered out loud. “I hate ham, detest pineapple and only mildly like pizza?”

Buffy sat at the breakfast bar of Rupert and Jenny Giles’ cottage home. She picked at her pizza, half-heartedly, and sipped the red wine, quite enthusiastically. Anita Baker’s ‘Giving You The Best’ CD was playing on the Giles’ stereo system.

“This is disgusting,” Buffy sighed as she tossed the cold pizza slice onto the paper plate in front of her. “I’m disgusting,” she whispered sadly.

She stood up and began to pace about the front living room, the expensive crystal wine goblet still in her tiny hand. Glancing out the open bay window of the cottage, the one that faced the Pacific Ocean, Buffy took a long, hard swig from the wine.

“Tomorrow,” Buffy murmered as she stared out the window and downed the wine in one gulp, “tomorrow I’m going home. “I ‘am’ going to face William, like a real adult, married woman would and talk this out. I owe him that, William that is, and myself.”

“I only hope that Will still wants to ‘talk’ to me,” she surmised, another lone tear slipped down her warm cheek.


Spike pulled up in front of the unobvious, but cozy looking little cottage that belonged to Rupert Giles. ‘There’s that God awful Porshe,’ he whispered in total relief. ‘She’s still here,’ he reassured himself, nearly in tears.

Reaching behind him, to the back seat, he picked up the huge, bouquette of roses that he’d chosen for his Buffy. With a deep, calming breath, Spike got out of the Mercedes and headed up the walkway to the cottage’s front door.

‘Please talk to me, baby,’ he begged silently, ‘let me explain, please.’

Buffy heard the light tap at the front door, it broke her out of her sad little reverie. ‘Who the hell is that?’ she wondered, a little fearfully.

Quickly, she strode to the front door and looked out of the peep hole. The man she saw in the doorway literally took her breath away, again.

Spike knocked lightly on the door, again, noticing the peep hole and hoping that Buffy would still let him in. Even after she saw it was him. ‘Christ,’ he hissed, sarcastically, ‘I mean, I am only her fucking husband for God’s sake!’


He, Spike, was almost stunned when Buffy actually opened the door and faced him. His girl, just stood there, momentarily, staring at him in disbelief.

“Hi,” she finally whispered softly, never breaking their gaze.

“Hi,” he responded, just as softly, following her lead and keeping their eyes connected.

Buffy motioned William into the cottage and closed the door behind them. She pointed to the sofa, nervously, her green eyes flitting about the room, everywhere but on him.

“You left me,” Spike whispered hoarsely, his tone was a study in controlled accusation. “You left me, after our wedding day and never gave me the chance to explain. Whatever the fuck it is I’m supposed to be explaining that is.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his blue eyes were narrowed into slits.

His wife, who had finally sat down on the couch next to him, actually took his hand in her tiny one. ‘She’s taking the initiative for once, the first move,’ Spike realized, happily.

“I,” Buffy began weakly, then found her stronger inner voice, “I left because I’m a coward, Will.” She hung her head, her eyes began to fill with tears.

Spike reached up with his left hand and pulled her chin up, gently, to force their eyes to meet.

“You are the most brave woman I’ve known, Princess,” he murmered softly. His indigo eyes were filled with sincerity and honesty, and love. Always love for her, Buffy.

“Will,” Buffy began again, her voice low and serious, “I need to know. About your past, all of it. Someone,” she flinched when she saw him cringe, “okay, Angel showed me some papers on you. Some kind of rap sheet of your past and…..”

Spike fought the urge to scream at his wife, angrily. ‘Angel, no big fucking surprise there,’ he thought, nearly enraged. ‘Bet the fuckface planned the whole thing, to split Buffy and me up,’ he was getting angrier by the second. ‘Well, too bad, Forehead Boy,’ this sudden ‘O’Connor’ moniker brought a smile to his face, ‘I’m not letting my wife go, especially over some bullshit you put a spin on and tried to use against us.’

“I’ll tell you everything, baby,” Spike whispered as he ran his left hand, tenderly, down her right cheek. “I love you so much and I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but I want you realize something, sweet.”

Buffy looked up into her husband’s blue eyes, trying to hide the roller coaster emotions within her. He was smiling down at her, his ‘I love you more then life’ expression on his face.

“What’s that?” she asked, a little unsure of his answer.

“Well,” Spike murmered softly, pulling her to his body, “no matter what you ask. No matter what I tell you, baby,” he sighed deeply, “I’m not going to let you leave me again. Ever.”


A/N: This chapter was supposed to be like twice as long and have Spike explaining everything to Buffy. But…..I changed my mind and decided to begin the Spuffy reconcilliation scene, then end the chapter! I’m a brat, huh? Don’t fear, we know that our duo will ‘suss’ things out. In the next chapter, Spike ‘will’ explain the accusations in Angel’s papers and maybe open Buffy’s eyes even more. Yes, the next chapter is going to ease the angst of our Spuffy couple! (not to say that there will not be problems ahead for our couple in future chapters!)

Anyway, please read and review. I am intending on updating on a daily, or every other day basis from now on. Thanks. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 27: ‘Never Going to Let You Leave’


“I am never going to let you leave me again,” Spike repeated firmly, his arms wrapped tight about Buffy’s slim body.

Without pulling away, Buffy whispered into his taut chest, “well then I guess you better have a damn good explaination for the crap on the paper Angel had me read.”

“I do,” Spike finally released his tight hold on his wife, somewhat, and pulled her chin up, gently. Making sure their eyes met and held each other, while he spoke. “I’m not sure,” he began slowly, “if it’s a good enough explaination for you or not. But, it is the truth. At least I can explain the cop killing part, although it’s not an excuse for what I did, or had a part in anyway.”

Buffy flinched and searched Will’s eyes, anxiously, worrying her bottom lip with her top, blunt teeth. Finally, she nodded, “I’ll listen, Will,” she whispered softly, “I’ll try and accept your past mistakes. Try that is,” she assured him, “but there’s more that I found out from Angel, at least more that he told me about you. About your family and your reasons for coming to Sunnydale. I need to know the absolute truth about all of it.”

Spike nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette, then thought better of it. He was sure that the Giles would not appreciate smoking in their cottage and he was forever indebted to the old man. If Rupert Giles had not trusted him, Spike, then he would not have found Buffy so soon.

Instead of taking out a smoke, Spike merely lifted his lighter from his pocket and flipped it on and off a couple of times. He noticed that his wife was eyeing him, curiously, but then spotted a slight smirk forming on her luscious lips.

“Well?” she murmered, never breaking her eye contact with him.

“I’ll start with the cop thing,” Spike mumbled, trying to find the courage to keep his and Buffy’s gaze connected. “It’s a rather long story, but I’ll shorten it, for you. I won’t leave out the important parts, but I won’t bore you with the piddling crap.” He snorted with a self-derisive chuckle. Although, the whole story from his teenage years was nothing to laugh about.

“Will you let me just tell the story, no interruptions until the end, Princess?” he asked, almost like a child would ask a parent for a toy or treat.

Buffy nodded silently and leaned back into the couch. She still watched her husband’s blue eyes, searching them for all signs of the truth.

“I was sixteen-years-old when my Dad and Mum decided to send me to a rather posh Prep school. I hated it, of course, but hey, had to do it.” Spike shrugged, another chuckle emitted from his mouth, “yeah,” he grinned at Buffy who was looking at him, rather stunned by his first admission. “Believe it or not, I went to school, luv. And, it was a good school, too, but that’s not important.”

“At school,” he continued, “I was kind of a bad ass.” Here he had to smirk in fond rememberance of that time. “The other blokes at the school, they kind of looked up to me. Suppose that had a lot to do with my old man, his ‘status’ and all. My dad was already pretty ‘known’ in London and all. Not in a real good way, of course, but people, upper class that is, respected Dad, and Mum. That or they were afraid of the old boy, and with good reason.”

He finally took a deep breath and continued, almost reluctantly, but relieved to finally discuss this part of his life. Especially with the woman he loved more then his life.

“There was a bloke, same age as me, from Ireland,” Spike sighed unhappily. “His name was Jesse, we’ll just leave it at that, a first name basis. Never belonged at that posh school, don’t even know how his poor folks scraped together enough cash to send him. Anyway, Jesse was a good guy, smart, too, most of the time. But poor guy just didn’t fit in at school, least not at first.”

“I felt bad for him, Jesse, that is, took him under my wing and forced the other blokes to accept him in. We were best mates, Jesse and me, kind of two of a kind, I guess. Even took him home for visits to my folks’ place and they liked him too. Even though Jesse was a bit rough, like me, really.” Spike grinned at Buffy, who he noticed, happily, was now grinning back at him.

“Anyway, so we’ll fast forward to Summer break after our next to the last year of school. I went home, for Summer to my folks mansion, Jesse headed back to his folks’ place, in Ireland.”

“We talked, of course, Jesse and me, on the phone, but not about anything serious. Just what hell we were raising, the birds we were shagging, you know, that kind of shit.”

Buffy frowned and Spike grinned at her, “jealous, about the birds I mean?”

“Kind of,” Buffy mumbled with a blush.

“Good,” Spike chuckled, “makes me feel better, since you took off on me and tried to hide out.” He reached out and ran his fingers down Buffy’s cheek, lovingly. “Of course,” he murmered, “I don’t even remember any of the birds anyway. You’re the only one for me, Princess,” he whispered.

“Anyway, Summer ended and it was back to school for our last year. All the regular blokes came back, of course, including Jesse, but he’d changed.” Spike frowned, the expression in his eyes became hard and somewhat sad.

“Seems old Jesse had gotten himself mixed up in the IRA while he was back in Ireland that Summer. Talked to me about it all the time, those first weeks of school. He was into the whole thing, totally indoctrinated. After a while, he began to convince me that I should get involved too, no matter that I was Brittish and all. Of course,” Spike quickly shook his head, “I would never be able to actually ‘join’ the group, but I could be of help. Which I finally ended up doing, being of help that is.” He shook his head sadly and sighed.

“I ate up everything Jesse spouted on about, truly believed in the whole doctrine and all. Still kind of do, actually, but back then, I was young, hot-headed and all. Acted without thinking, I guess, too fucking idealistic and all. Like I said, I embraced Jesse’s new beliefs and figured out a way to ‘help’ him and his cause.”

Buffy raised her right brow at him, but kept her promise not to say anything until the time was right.

“My Dad,” Spike mumbled, looking completely ashamed and embarrassed, “he’s involved in the gun trade. The illegal part that is. The black market part.” He noticed Buffy cringed, physically and shook his head, “that’s my Dad, Buffy. My family, but it’s not me. Not anymore, I swear.”

“I got ahold of guns, lots of guns,” Spike continued, “and, I turned them over to Jesse. Never even gave it a second thought, just handed everything over, after I got my hands on them. Like a stupid fuck,” he rasped, “I didn’t even consider what Jesse and his ‘friends’ were going to do with them.”

“Well, they used them all right. In the name of the ‘cause’ they, about six of them, robbed a London bank. A cop, ‘the cop’ on that rap sheet, he was shot and killed during the robbery. So was Jesse and some others,” Spike finished sadly.

Buffy could read the pain in her husband’s blue eyes and reached out to take his hand in hers. “They traced the guns to you, right?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” he responded simply with a nod of his blond head. “I would have gone to prison, forever, Buffy. But my Dad, he ‘knew’ people on the London Police Department, had certain connections, you know? Apparently, there’s some corrupt cops all over the world. Anyway, Dad got me out of it, barely, that is. I was only seventeen, had no idea what I was doing, yada, yada, yada.”

“Sounds like your Dad loves you very much, baby,” Buffy whispered, bringing his hand up to her lips. She kissed Will’s beautiful hand, tenderly.

“He does, Buffy,” Spike sighed, “and I love him. I love my whole family, but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that it ‘was’ me that put those guns in Jesse’s possession. I was at fault, just didn’t pull the trigger that killed the cop.”

“You know,” Spike paused suddenly, “I don’t even know a fucking thing about that dead cop. Even now. Have no idea what his full name was, if he was married, had a family? I did help kill him, Buffy,” he sighed sadly, “even if I didn’t shoot him. I had a part in it and it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

William buried his head in hid hands and began to sob, softly. Buffy threw her arms about her husband’s strong body and clung to him, desperately trying to comfort him.

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed tenderly, “it’s done, in the past and there’s nothing you can do to change it. Just like me, and my baby, the one I lost when I was shot. I knew, honey,” she continued as she hugged him, his arms held her so tightly. “I knew that I shouldn’t have gone on that call that day, with my partner, Ford. Knew I should have stayed behind a desk, just like Riley told me. My losing that child was as much my own fault as the guy that tried to shoot Ford and hit me.”

“I love you, Buffy,” Spike cried out, frantically pulling her even closer to him. “God, I love you so very much. Can’t lose you, ever, so please,” he pulled back a bit and stared into her damp green eyes. “Please don’t leave me, ever again. Forgive me, please and stay with me. I love you.”

“I know,” she whispered, her forehead pressed against his. “I love you, Will, so very much. And,” she paused, then nodded, “I do want to forgive you, stay with you. But we need to talk of so many things, baby,” she kissed his cheek.

“Why did you come to Sunnydale?” she asked him calmly. “I know what you told me, at first, what I want to believe. But Angel claims you came for a more sinister purpose and just happened to hook up with me? Tell me, Will, please. Tell the absolute truth, now.”

Spike looked at Buffy confused, “I did tell you the truth, baby,” he assured her. “My family sent me to make sure Hold got justice, nothing more. Just met you, fell crazy in love with you and got my foot caught in the door.”

He actually really smiled, warmly, for the first time in hours. “Why? What did that fuck Angel tell you?”

“He said,” Buffy stammered, trying to calm down a bit before she told him. “He said that your family sent you for revenge, on the murderer, Amy to more exact. That’s what Angel said. I didn’t want to believe him, about any of it, but when I saw the rap sheet, saw the cop killing on it, I…..”

“Believed him,” Spike finished for her, sadly. He began to shake his head, slowly. “Buffy,” he sighed again, more sternly now, “I didn’t come to Sunnydale to ‘kill’ anyone. I came for the reason I told you from the start and so did Wesley. I will say this, however,” he paused and sussed out just exactly what to say.

“I’m not surprised that Angel thinks someone came to Sunnydale to get revenge, or hurt my cousin’s murderer. In fact, luv,” Spike frowned, “I wouldn’t be surprised that this someone O’Connor thinks is around, really is around.”

Buffy began to get really nervous, “so you mean, your family could have sent ‘someone’ to do these things?”

“That or the someone is already in Sunnydale, maybe all along. Which,” he continued thoughtfully, “brings us right back to this ‘list’ my cousin stashed someplace. After all, the St. Claire chit ran again because of the threats to her and her son. Maybe this person who is sending them is out for more then revenge? Maybe he wants Amy St. Claire gone, one way or another. But why?”

“Because,” Buffy’s detective mode was kicked in, full force now. “Because, if Amy St. Claire is out of the picture, in jail, dead, whatever? Then, Amy can’t make a claim on Harley’s inheritance, from his Father, that is. Then that means Harley is no longer Holden Webster’s main heir and that means,” she scowled again in frustration. “That there’s no clear threat, or heir to Holden Webster’s empire. Anyone, anyone in Holden’s world can just ‘take over’ where he left off.”

“Bingo,” Spike hissed, his expression was one of complete awe.

“You are amazing, baby,” he purred in admiration, clasping her close to him. “Beautiful, smart, good and all mine,” he added gently.

“But,” Buffy frowned again, “if it’s not you, which I believe you, baby,” she suddenly smiled.

“Good,” he interjected with a laugh, “because I am really nothing more then a pub owner, for the last few years anyway. Of course, I have to tell you, luv, there is some illegal betting going on in that pub. But that’s really more of a harmless vice, right?” He grinned at his love, happy that she believed him, which she should after all.

“Hmmmm,” Buffy hummed at him, her right brow raised up again.

“Still,” she began, “that leaves us with the question of ‘who’ is the someone that is in Sunnydale to hurt Amy. And,” she sighed, “is it for revenge, or power, or both?”

“That list probably is the key, Princess,” Spike stated the obvious, “but until we find it? I can’t even think of a name to throw out there. Not one I can prove anything on that is. Yet.”

A/N: Long chapter, had to get our duo back on track. Hope the reasons behind Spike’s past murder were at least somewhat acceptable. And, I’m going to give you all a heads up, or hint or spoiler, whatever it is you want to call it:

Spike is telling the truth. Neither he or Wesley is involved with the threat against Amy St. Claire or her son. The ‘list’ does hold the key to who ‘might’ be involved.

In the next chapter, Buffy will find out about the mystery key and finally put two and two together, to get four.

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 28: ‘The Key Revealed?’


“Enough of the mystery ‘list’ baby,” Spike pulled Buffy closer to him and nuzzled her forehead with his lips. “Mystery later, make-up time now,” he smirked.

“Well, I guess,” Buffy gave Will a real cute pout. She hoped he couldn’t resist her little ‘subtle’ move.

“Just look at my baby’s bottom lip,” Spike cooed, “gonna’ get it, gonna’ get that plump little soft lip.” He leaned into Buffy and nipped at her lip, greedily.

“So how about it?” he grinned at her, his eyes bright with merriment, “make-up?”

“Oh, all right,” Buffy purred silkily, standing up just to take Will by his hand. “Make-up room is right through here.” She led him into the guest bedroom of the cottage, a giddy smile on her face.

“That’s my sweet baby,” Spike murmered into Buffy’s ear, even as he began to pull her top up over her head. “Mmmm,” he hummed, excited by his wife’s warm touch on his now bare chest. “My Goddess, my Princess, you make me feel like a fucking God!”

Before either Spike or Buffy realized, they were both stark naked and writhing together on the bed. Spike wasted no time with foreplay, not this time anyway, he plunged into his love, forcefully.

“Oh God, Buffy,” he moaned into her neck, her jaw, her mouth. “If I’d lost you, I’d bloody die inside.”

“Me too,” Buffy whispered softly, “I don’t want to leave you, darling, ever again. I never will leave you again.”

“I’ll never leave you, Buffy, sweet,” Spike gasped as he trust into her wet center, “never leave you.”

As they rocked themselves into their mutual release, Buffy realized that she meant exactly what she had said. She would never leave this man again, never. Not by choice, anyway.

Spike was in heaven, again. Actually, he was finally getting rather cozy with the upper ‘ethereal realm. Ever since he’d met his wife, Buffy, especially since they’d made love the first time, then the second, oh and the tenth, and so on, and so on and….

Anyway, Spike, who had never really been to ‘heaven’ before, was certainly moving in and taking up residence now. With this woman, his Princess, his Goddess Buffy.

A/N:
(okay, forgive the hokey hokey stuff, I’m worn out from overtime at work and need to get to the mystery stuff!)


Later, after the ‘make-up’ sex, the kind that Xander Harris always told Buffy was the best sex, she and William were laying together. Buffy was humming softly to herself, possibly ‘Giving You The Best I’ve Got’ and snuggling into Will. He was rubbing her naked back, his hands gently running in circular motions, starting from her shoulders, to her hips.

Suddenly, Buffy jolted up from the bed, nearly throwing Spike from it. “I’m starved!” she exclaimed, “wanna’ eat cold pizza?”

Spike burst out into laughter and pulled her back down to his body. “I really dislike cold pizza, luv,” he informed her with a kiss on her bare shoulder. “But, for you? I”ll heat it and feast away.”

Buffy skirted out of the bed and ran for the pizza box, a woman with a mission. She turned on the oven and took out another wine glass for Will. While the oven pre-heated, she poured them both a glass of wine and plopped down on Will’s, now boxer clad, lap. He’d joined her in the kitchen, taking a bar stool for a seat.

Sighing in contentment, Buffy lay her head back on Will’s shoulders. “So,” she began, her voice soft and feminine, “how do you think we should ‘announce’ our nuptials and all?” She giggled, happily, at the thought of the sending out of letters of announcement to just everyone she could think of. For some reason, the name Angel O’Connor topped her and Will’s list of recipients.


“For starters,” Spike kissed the back of Buffy’s warm neck, lovingly, “I think you should ‘call’ your Mum and Dad, immediately, and tell them. Then your little sis and her hubby. After that,” he chuckled, “I suppose you should give old Giles a ring and let him know we’ve reconciled and all. Poor bloke was white as a ghost when he wrote out the directions for me, up here I mean.”

Buffy grinned, “I don’t think old Giles, as you put it, will be all that unhappy about us reconciling, sweetie,” she giggled again. “Truth is,” she sighed, “Rupert’s only interested in my happines, so, if you make me happy? He’ll be fine with it.”

“Knew he was a good bloke,” Spike nodded as he ran his fingers down Buffy’s bare arm. “But,” he turned her about to face him, “I do think we need to tell everyone we can, fast as we can, that we are hitched, good and proper. Can’t wait to see the whelp’s face,” Spike began to laugh with glee.

“Whelp?” Buffy asked, puzzled.

“Your partner, Harris,” Spike grinned at her, a wicked gleam in his eye. “This way, the poor ponce’ll know for sure he’s got no chance with you.”

“You’re incorrigible, Will,” Buffy sighed, slapping his chest, playfully. “Xander is so not interested in me, not really, but I really can’t wait to see how Angel reacts, the dickhead!” She smirked at her husband, with her own wicked gleam in her green eyes.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” Spike muttered. “Especially for when I rip the fuck a new one for upsetting my girl and trying to split us apart.”

“Honey,” Buffy murmered, rubbing her bare breasts against his bare chest, “Angel is no worry for us. Not now, not ever.”

The ding of the oven timer broke their conversation and Buffy leapt up to pull the pizza out of the oven. She grabbed the wine bottle and re-filled their glasses.

While he waited, Spike began to doodle on a piece of paper he’d found on the breakfast bar, where they sat. He scrunched up his brows, concentrating on the scratchings he’d just written down.

“What’s that?” Buffy asked, innocently, placing their plates of pizza on the breakfast bar. She pulled another bar stool up to the bar and scanned Will’s doodling.

The scratchings consisted of some letters and what appeared to be some kind of ‘mutant’ numbers.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spike sighed in frustration. “It seems to be nothing at all. Wesley and me, we’ve racked our brains as to what these could mean, but…nothing pans out.”

Something in Buffy’s brain began to ‘niggle’ her in the back of her mind. ‘Seems to mean nothing?’ she repeated her husband’s words, ‘but something, still. I’ve seen those letters, those numbers,’ she realized.

“Thought they might be a lock and key manufacturer’s logo, or a locksmith’s number,” Spike snorted and shook his blond head. “But Wes and me, we’ve exausted the information sources, no maker of keys seems to own up to this file number.”

Buffy looked at her husband, her head tilted to one side, in question. “Key maker? Logo?” she asked with a puzzled expression.

“Old Holden, he left me and Wesley, both of us, really, this mystery key. The wanker neglected to leave us directions to what exactly the key opens. We thought, Wes and me, that maybe the key fit a lock to something special. Maybe the thing that held this ‘list’ everyone from England to Sunnydale, down to Los Angeles is so fucking interested in.

“Will,” Buffy whispered slowly, “I’ve seen those markings before. Somewhere and I’m pretty sure they are not a locksmith’s number or logo.”

Spike looked at his wife, stunned, while she leapt up from the bar stool and hurried into the bedroom. Seconds later, she emerged, a silky little kimono covering her once naked body.

He watched, mesmerized, as Buffy scanned about the Giles front room, apparently looking for something. Frantically searching for something she felt might be very important. All the while, Buffy talked, never stopping to even take a breath.

“When I was about fourteen,” she stated, her voice more of an excited breath, “Dawnie was nine. My folks, Dad and Mom, they suddenly got a spell of that ‘old time religion’ in their lives. Insisted that Dawnie and me, that we ‘go back’ to the Church. Mom was raised Catholic, Dad was just ‘raised’ so they went with the Catholic doctrine.”

Spike watched, stunned, as Buffy scurried about the front room of the cottage, looking in every nook and cranny for something.

“Of course, that meant Catechism for both of us, me and Dawn. We started the classes, made it through them, somehow.” Buffy leaned over a chaise lounge and checked behind it, affording Spike a lovely view of her bare bottom.

“I’m not getting the whole ‘religious’ thing here, Princess,” Spike gasped, eager to reach out and touch his wife’s bare bum. He was getting painfully hard again, down in his cock and wanted nothing more then to grab Buffy from behind and plow into her.

“In Catechism,” Buffy continued, now straightened up and busy scanning the room again, “we had to learn some things. From the Bible, you know?” She paused, her head tilted to one side, eyes wide with excitement. “The King James’ Version of the Bible. Our Priest, Father Corrigan, he was kind of ‘old school’ and insisted we learn from the King Jame’s Bible. Anyway,” Buffy shook her head in impatience, “one of our lessons, it was to memorize the Books of the Bible. Especially the New Testament.”

“There it is!” Buffy exclaimed in victory as she nearly ran to the China cabinet in the corner of the front room. She opened the glass doors and pulled out a huge, antique Bible from inside.

“Rupert and Jenny,” Buffy explained breathlessly, joining Will at the breakfast bar, once more. “Well, Jenny, she’s a Catholic by upbringing. I knew she’d have a King James’ Bible around.”

Buffy anxiously paged threw the huge Bible, barely taking a breath as she did.

“What’s the Bible have to do with the key, the list, baby?” Spike asked, totally confused now.

“When I was in Catechism,” Buffy mumbled quickly, “I couldn’t remember the Books, of the Bible I mean, their full titles. Had to come up with a trick to memorize them by. I used abbreviations and trick phrases for the Books. That’s why I recognized ECCL, Will,” she grinned at him, delighted to have possibly figured this mystery out. “I don’t think that ECCL stands for a manufacturer’s logo or name; it’s the abbreviation for Ecclesiastes, a Book of the New Testament!”

Spike glanced over his love’s shoulder and spied the Book she mentioned ‘Ecclesiastes’ and realized that it did make some kind of sense, after all.

“What about the numbers,” he mumbled, still somewhat confused. “How about the II4.”

“Chapter and verse,” Buffy responded quickly, using her slim finger to skim down the page to find the ‘first chapter/fourteenth verse’ of Ecclesiastes.

“Here it is!” she cried with excitement and began to read the writings to her Will:

Ecclesiastes I: 14:

‘I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.’


Spike scrunched up his brows, again and sighed, “Christ,” he groaned, more puzzles from Holden?”

But Buffy couldn’t respond, she just sat, her green eyes wide in shock. Finally, she spoke, cupping her right hand on her husband’s chiseled cheek.

“Will,” she whispered in wonder, “the vanity. Your Grandmother’s vanity, at Holden’s apartment. I saw it, touched it and tried to open it. Baby,” she gasped, “it’s locked up tighter then Fort Knox!”


A/N: Dum, dah, dum dah! Yes, folks, it’s ECCLII4, the very passage that the old adage ‘All is Vanity’ came from. Hope this wasn’t to darn far-fetched. Please read and review! Thanks, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 29: ‘Already Knew’


“Dawn, It’s me,” Buffy greeted her younger sister from her cell phone. “I, uhm, need to tell you something.”

Spike and Buffy were driving down PCH, going South, headed back to Sunnydale. Since the Mercedes that Spike had driven up to Pismo Beach, to win back his wife, had been rented, he dropped it at the nearest rental office there. At the present time, he was speeding down the highway in Buffy’s atrocious hued Porshe, playing the loudest bunch of ‘noise’ as his wife called it, on the CD player.

“Pull over! And for God’s sake, please turn that crap down! Who the hell is this?” Buffy screamed above the loud guitar of the music. Like a good husband, Spike reluctantly did what he was told.

“That’s the bloody Sex Pistols, luv, best punk band ever and….” Spike responded, defensively. He couldn’t understand how anyone, especially his own wife, could call the Sex Pistols’ prose ‘crap.’

“There,” Buffy sighed evenly, “yeah, I’m still here Dawnie,” she stated, giving her husband the evil eye, but grinning all the same “Yes, Dawn I’m with William and yes we’re on our way home.”

“Good thing,” Dawn giggled on the other end of the line, “Dad talked to Giles, and I don’t know what was said? But whatever it was, Dad’s called me 10 times, wondering what the hell is going on with you and William?”

“We’re married,” Buffy blurted out, suddenly. “Will and me, we’re married, Dawn.”


“Oh, My God!” screamed Dawn in delight, “Connor!” she cried happily, “get your ass in here. Buffy married the Brit! Isn’t that the greatest?”

“Are you pregnant, Buff? Are you pregnant?” Dawn yipped, apparently just thrilled with Buffy’s news.

“No,” Buffy responded, firmly, “I am not pregnant, I assure you.”

Spike smirked at Buffy and said loudly, “not for bloody lack of trying, I assure you, little sis.”

“All right that’s enough gushing,” Buffy slapped jokingly at Will, a mock frown on her mouth.

“I wanted to tell you first, Dawnie, kind of practice, you know, for Mom and Dad?”

“Oh for crap’s sake, Buff,” Dawnie groaned, “you’re thirty-years-old. You don’t have to please Mom and Dad all the damn time! In fact, isn’t this supposed to be the ‘Buffy’s a big girl now’ phase for you?”

Buffy blushed and glanced over at Will who was watching her, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. She shrugged and admitted that she had to agree with Dawn. After all, she was a grown woman, free to do her own will, no one else’s.

After Buffy hung up from the call with Dawn, she slipped the cell back into her purse and stared out the window. She was deep in thought.

“She’s right, you know?” she finally whispered. “I spend so much damn time trying to please everyone else, I forget that I’m an adult and I get to make my own decisions.

“I think you’re learning, Princess,” Spike leaned over and placed a kiss on her soft lips. “Why don’t you wait to call your Mum and Dad until we get home. Might feel more right at home, where you can really talk to them, especially your Mum.”

“What about you?” Buffy asked shyly, “when are you going to call your family back in England. Let them know that you’re married?”

“Already have, sweetheart,” he grinned at her warmly. “Called my parents first thing when we got home that last time. And before you ask,” he smirked proudly, “they think it’s grand that I’ve settled down, with the right woman that is. Apparently Wesley thinks quite highly of you too, told my family not to be too surprised by you and me getting hitched.”

Buffy sighed, suddenly quite relieved and contented. “My folks will be happy for me too,” she murmered with a nod of reassurance, “that’s all they want, for me to be happy.”

“Well, I intend on seeing that you are, baby,” he reached over and pulled Buffy to him, kissing her tenderly.

She pulled away from him, briefly, “we should get home, Will,” she adivised quickly. “I am so wanting to get to the murder scene and open that vanity and I know you’re itching to do the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right there, luv,” he sighed. “Just hope it won’t be a hassle to get into Holden’s apartment. “I guess you probably have carte blanche, but me?” He scrunched up his dark brows and thought for a moment.

“I’ll get you in,” Buffy assured him as she wrapped her arms about him and kissed his mouth, softly. “I’ll figure out a way to get you in, even if I have to tell a little white lie, or a big white lie. You are so going to be there to open that lock.”

“Besides,” Buffy reasoned out loud, “you’re my husband now. I can certainly take my husband with me to find something personal that I left at the scene. Right?” she grinned mischieviously at him, leaned into him and kissed his mouth.

“You keep kissin’ me like that, baby,” Spike growled lowly, “and we’ll never make it back to Sunnydale, much less to the vanity.” He started the car again and headed out on the highway, home to Sunnydale.

Once they arrived back in Sunnydale, Spike drove them straight to Buffy’s apartment.

“What about your hotel room, honey,” Buffy asked, puzzled. “Your things, they’re still…..”

“Already out of there,” Spike chuckled and winked at Buffy. “Thought I’d move in with my wife, if that’s okay? Or, if you’d rather sub-let your place, you can, we’ll check back into the hotel and live like movie stars. It’s up to you.”

Buffy began to giggle loudly, “you had it all planned, huh? Already knew, before you ambushed me in Pismo that I’d take you back?”

“No,” Spike answered honestly, “just hoped for the best and acted accordingly.” He smirked and kissed her funny little nose before he jumped out of the Porshe and hurried to her side of the car.

When she got out, she scurried to open the trunk and grab their stuff, but Spike stopped her. “Forget that, for now, Princess,” he purred into her ear. “We’ll get them later, better things to do with my wife then haul luggage upstairs.” He grinned at her and raised his brows, quite suggestively.

“Okay,” Buffy whispered, a little awed when reminded that she was truly a married woman. “But I do need to call my Mom and Dad. Giles insisted I be the one to tell them, he hasn’t told anyone at all about us being married,” she finished.

Before she could turn and head upstairs, Spike swept her into his arms and carried her all the way up. Opening the door to ‘their’ place himself.

“Buffy?” came a soft, concerned female voice from behind them.

“Oh, hello Mrs. Wiggins,” Buffy grinned at her nosy neighbor, but blushed at the same time.

“This is my husband, Spike, I mean William Williamson. Just got married,” Buffy explained to the inquisitive old woman.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wiggins,” Spike nodded at the old dear, with a wide smile.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wiggins finally smiled back at the couple, “congratulations,” she gushed, sincerely. “But, I believe I know you, Mr. Williamson. Aren’t you the one that works with that nice, handsome young man, Mr. Wesley? Isn’t it your ‘gift’ that Mr. Wesley has sent…..”

“Gotta’ go inside Mrs. Wiggins,” Spike spat out quickly as he dissapeared with his wife into their place.

“Will?” Buffy sighed slightly as he sat her back down on her feet.

“Yes, luv?” he asked sheepishly, knowing full well that Buffy was going to ask about the ‘gift’ and how Mrs. Wiggins knew him.

“Explain, please,” Buffy ordered gently, her arms crossed over her ample chest. A very ‘stern’ expression on her face. “About Mrs. Wiggins and how she knows Wes?”

“Well, baby,” Spike began, carefully, “you see it’s like this. I met you, fell head-over-heals in love at first sight with you. Had to find out some data on you so I had Wesley, you know, Wes is the best at getting information and I.….”


A/N: Just a little fluffy Spuffy before we get back into the mystery of the vanity/list. I’ve been so down lately that I wanted to write some schmaltzy stuff. Oh, of course we know that Buffy will ‘overlook’ Spike’s nosing about in her business before they were an item! Thanks for reading and please review.

Oh, and for those reading ‘Na Grach Croi’ I have writer’s block with this one. I want to be careful just how I write the next chapter because it’s the one where Spike finds out about Buffy’s past. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 30: ‘Vanity’


‘Adorable!’ Buffy exclaimed to herself, all warm and tingly inside. This, even though she just knew she should be pissed beyond pissed at what her William had pulled only weeks earlier.

But, how could she be? Her Will was all red with embarrassment, sheepishly hanging his handsome head and darn near kicking the sofa, gently, in an almost ‘aw shucks’ way.

“Well,” Buffy had asked again, “what is this about my elderly, rather ‘sousy’ neighbor Mrs. Wiggins? About what she said?”

Spike had tried to explain to Buffy, everything, truly. How he’d first seen her. Had to know all about her and sent Wesley around Sunnydale to collect data on his future wife. Of course, one of the best sources had been his Princess’s neighbor, Mrs. Wiggins, who provided old Wes with the most interesting ‘neighborly’ info.

“I couldn’t help it, baby,” Spike muttered, his hand nervously searching his pockets for a smoke. “I had to know more about you, fast. Old Wesley, he just offered the old lady some ‘incentive’ to spill your secrets. Well, what she knew of them anyway.” He gave her a pout, hoping it would distract her from the present situation and make her warm up to him again.

‘Yes, definitely adorable,’ Buffy re-thought her earlier stance. ‘How the heck can I be mad at him, he’s so, so…..mine! That’s it, he’s mine and I’m his and hell, who gives a fuck if he checked up on me. It’s kind of romantic and…..”

Before she ‘thought’ out the latest development too much longer, Buffy reached out, unzipped Will’s jeans, pulled them down about his knees and shoved him, tenderly of course, to the sofa. She pulled her skirt up, her thong off and almost leapt onto his lap, lowering herself down onto his very hard erection.

“Forget it,” she ordered huskily, “doesn’t matter anyway. We got each other and that’s all that matters.” She allowed him to grasp her slim hips, rather roughly, actually and began to rock on his very wonderful shaft.

“That we did, Princess,” Spike rasped back placed his left hand behind her golden head and brought their mouths together in a marvelous, hot kiss. “Thank God, Buffy,” he murmered, his mouth suddenly found it’s way to her silky neck. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Of course,” Buffy gasped as she rocked side to side, up and down her her husband’s delectable dick, “probably could have saved a lot of trouble. I’d have come around sooner or later you know? But, it’s okay,” she actually giggled as he began to cum inside of her, “the bribing of my neighbor was really quite, adorable.”

Spike began to groan, his voice was raspy, gutteral and nearly a growl in his wife’s ear.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned as he finished his release in his wife’s hot, little cunny. “Just imagine how you would have reacted if I’d have ‘tapped’ your phone lines, like I wanted to?”


Later, they bathed together, taking their time to ‘really soak’ in the tub. Buffy rested between Spike’s taut, spred legs and the two let the warm water just wash over their entwined bodies.

Buffy’s folks hadn’t been ‘that’ adverse to her marrying the formidable William ‘Spike’ Williamson, apparently that is. Hank Summers had even insisted that Buffy bring the groom down, to LA, soon as possible to meet them. She, Buffy, would find out later, that both Hank and Joyce Summers had hoped for Buffy to marry and find some happiness, eventually. If it was with a British, ex-bad boy, then so be it. As long as he was good to their Buffy, no worries.



“Hungry?” Buffy asked coyly, not even turning to face her sopping wet man, whose legs she lay between. She tried not to smirk, hoping that her man would catch her little innuendo.

“Of course,” Spike chuckled, letting streams of water fall on her shoulders and breasts from his hands. “I could skip supper, head right for dessert, but I’m thinking you’re really hungry and I can’t have that, can I?”

Buffy giggled and finally turned her body around to face William. “No, can’t have that,” she chuckled along with him. “Wanna’ order pizza? And those hot wingys you love?”

Spike felt his heart skip three beats in his chest and he nearly began to cry. ‘Can’t do that, mate,’ he cautioned himself, ‘you don’t want your wife to know what a real ponce you are, do you? Especially where she’s concerned? She already knows you’ve written poetry to her, painted that pretty lousy portrait of her, allowed her to steal your heart and soul and…..’

But he was so in love with his Buffy, so head over heels crazy arse in love with her. The little ways she had; how she got excited to order pizza and hot wings, just because he, undeserving as he was of her, loved the chicken wings so.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice a little raspy and cracked with adoration for her, “I’d love pizza and hot wings, baby.”


Later, after they ate their simple supper, Buffy and Spike snuggled on the couch to watch some late night TV. They had decided to hit the precinct, early in the morning and see about Buffy getting authorization to get into Holden’s apartment.

While they watched Jay Leno, Buffy and Spike plotted their actions for the next day. Buffy had come up with a plan to get into Holden’s apartment and even plotted a way for Spike to go with her. She thought to tell the Captain that she’d left some personal item in the apartment, the last time they were there, investigating. Of course, this would be the perfect time to ‘announce’ her marriage to Spike, so there would be no question as his going with her. To retrieve the personal items that is.

Spike and Buffy strolled into the Sunnydale Police Precinct at precisely 8:00 AM the next morning. He wanted to hold Buffy’s hand, while they strode through the hallways, but she thought better of it. ‘Not very professional,’ she had reasoned and he supposed she was right.

They got odd looks, the Williamsons, as they walked through the hallways, in and out of the elevator and into Buffy’s superior’s office. Spike supposed that the onlookers, all of them, remembered days earlier when he had dashed, solo, like a mad man into Giles’ office. Now, however, the onlookers just nodded and smiled at the couple, oddly, yes, but friendly, still.

“Captain Wilkens,” Buffy greeted her superior, “uhm, I’m back and well, I’ve got a favor to ask but first…..” She turned and grinned at William, warmly, “I’m married now, to William Williamson and I just wanted you to be one of the first ones to know.”

The Captain looked momentarily stunned, but then stood up to shake both Buffy’s and Spike’s hands. “Well,” Captain Wilkens smiled, genuinely, “that’s just great, congratulations, Summers, I mean, Elizabeth. Or should I call you Williamson now?”

“Buffy’s fine,” she smiled at her boss, “it was always fine. Summers is so, uhm, well, it lacks a sense of personal, you know?” The Captain smiled, sheepishly, “yeah, I know. Buffy it is then.”

Xander Harris took that precise moment to burst into the office, his face was a mix of stunned, sick and angry. “What the fuck is ‘he’ doing here, Buff!” Xander glared at Spike angrily, “I thought Angel made it clear that this guy is bad news Buffy? Are you fuckin’ nuts?”

Spike didn’t hesitate, he grasped Xander Harris by this shirt collar and shoved the larger man up against the nearest wall. His blue eyes radiated heated rage.

“Don’t ever talk to my wife like that, whelp,” Spike hissed, trying to keep his voice level down, somewhat. “I’ll rip you a new one, you ever even raise your voice to my girl, got it?”

Xander stood, back pinned against the wall, his gaze switching from Spike, to Buffy, to the Captain, then back to Spike again. Buffy’s dark-haired partner looked encapable of speech, well, at least for a moment or two. His dark eyes were wide in shock and his mouth was open wide, like a hooked, wide-mouthed fish.

“Married?” Xander finally gasped, or choked as the case may be since Spike’s grip was choking off some of his necessary air.

“Married,” Buffy responded gleefully, pointing to her left ring finger and the slim gold band there.

“Yeah,” Spike concurred with a smart smirk and a menacing growl, “married. And I’ll be glad to show you my wedding band, indented onto your bloody jaw, mate. I’m left-handed and if you ever talk to my Buffy like that again, you’ll be wearin’ my wedding band’s imprint on your stupid face.” With that, Spike let Xander loose and joined his wife again, by her side.

“Harris,” Captain Wilkens sighed with exasperation, “isn’t there some errant sandwich, a lost bagel, something that you can go scrounge about for?” He gave the still shocked police detective a ‘get the fuck out of here’ glare.

“Uhm, yeah,” Xander stammered, staring over at the newly married Williamsons, “I’ve got business elsewhere. See ya’ around,” he muttered and escaped through the office door.

“He’s a good guy, really,” Captain Williams mumbled, “a bit dense, true, but honest and he tries, I guess.”

“Captain?” Buffy interjectected, “there’s a little matter of something I ‘lost’ at the Webster murder scene? I need to get a key, from someone and get my stuff?”

As Spike and Buffy walked out of the precinct building, Spike clasped Buffy’s arm in his. “Brilliant,” he chuckled to his beautiful wife, “absolutely amazing you are. You side-stepped every move, baby. You are an exquisite woman; wife, future mother to my babies, oh yeah, and detective extraordinary.”

“Thanks, honey,” Buffy giggled, “but one question? You do have the ‘key’ right?”

“Right,” Spike responded firmly.

They got to Holden’s apartment complex and were immediately met by Warren Meers. He didn’t seem really concerned, nervous, or, interested for that matter.

“Hello, Miss Summers, Mr. Williamson,” Meers greeted with a respectful nod. “I received a call from your Captain Wilkens, he told me to let you into the Webster unit, with the complex master key.”

The man, Meers, shuddered momentarily, “so gruesome,” this door man muttered. “Poor Miss McClay. Never understood her connection to Mr. Holden Webster, scumbag that he was.”

Buffy felt William flinch and she jumped to his family’s defense. “My ‘husband’s’ cousin was not a nice man, Mr. Meers,” Buffy said evenly, “however, I’d appreciate it if you’d be more sensitive to Mr. Williamson’s feelings?”

“I am so sorry, Miss Summers, I mean Mrs. Williamson,” Warren Meers stammered, “I didn’t mean to offend. And, congratulations on your marriage. It’s a wonderful thing, truly.” The curly haired, stocky man gave the newly weds a ‘benevolent’ smile.

“It’s okay, mate,” Spike chimed in, “Holden was very capable of being a scumbag. On numerous occasions.” He nodded at the door man, who appeared to be truly sorry for his hasty words.

“Here we are,” Meers sighed, seemingly happy to be able to change the subject. He opened the door of the crime scene and shuddered in near fear.

“Awful thing,” Meers muttered, “just awful. The landlord lost two more tenants, on the next floor below, because of this horrid situation.”

“We won’t be long,” Buffy broke into Warren’s ramble, “just a few minutes or so. Thank you, Mr. Meers,” she gave him a kind smile.

After the intrusive door man departed, Buffy led William right to the vanity in the corner of the front room. She sat at the little velvet covered chair that matched the color of the vanity and watched her husband pace about for a moment or two.

“Let’s do this,” Spike muttered, almost apprehensively, “get it over with.” He handed his wife the ‘key’ and nodded at the vantiy.

“Me?” Buffy asked in awe.

“Yes,” Spike assured her, “it has to be you. I’ll just stand here and be anxiously sick.” He did smirk at her and this seemed to give Buffy courage.

She placed the key into the lock of the vanity and both she and Will sighed in relief when there was a clicking noise from it. The key indeed opened the vanity and once unlocked? Buffy reached out and almost reverently opened the panels that held the mirrors to the antique piece of furniture.

What they found did not really surprise them, but it did ‘awe’ them, just a tad.

Of course, being an antique vanity, there were various empty holders, or built in nooks and crannies in the interior of the piece. Small drawers, bobby pin and perfume holders were abundant, at least ten of them on the base of the table. Shelves, six in all decorated the sides of the mirrors, which were in marvelous shape, for something so old.

However, it was not the holders, shelves or appliques on the vanity that mesmerized Buffy and Spike. It was the neatly rolled documents that inhabited three of those shelves that caught the couple’s attention.

Buffy quickly clasped the ‘first’ rolled document and unfurled it, never even taking a breath. She glanced at her handsome husband, who nodded his encouragement to her.

“I’m scared,” Buffy whispered, suddenly, gazing back up at William. “I’m really afraid for some reason,” she added nervously.

“So am I,” Spike admitted reluctantly. “Here, let me read this one first,” he ordered gently. “I’ll read it out loud.”

Buffy nodded and handed her husband the first document, appropriately enough numbered #1 on the outside of it.

Spike anxiously opened the paper and began to peruse it, reading the words as he scanned them.

(Holden’s written words will be in apostrophes during this part. Hope it isn’t too confusing)



‘Hey Spike:

If you’re reading this? I’m deader then a door nail, right? Okay, I’ll accept that. Pretty clever, huh? For me to stash this ‘tell all crap’ in Gran’s old vanity? You’re pretty smart, you and old Wes to figure out the clue, eh?

Anyway, I’m dead, I get that. I can’t figure out who finally nailed me, but hey, so be it. Maybe I’m an old man by now and died of natural causes? Okay, maybe not.

Listen, Cousin, I’ve got a lot to put down on this paper shit, so please, stick with me. It’s important. To me, to our family, to a lot of people that matter to me.

First off, believe me when I tell you, I always looked up to you, thought you were an all right dude. Or, bloke, as you, your Pops and my Dad would say. I can trust you with this ‘list’ even if I can’t trust anyone else.

Let’s get down to business here:

On this List #1, I will write down a few names that are of the utmost importance to me.

1) Harley Holden Webster:

My only child, my son with Amy St. Claire, who I want,
No, make that, I need protected by the ‘family’ at all
Costs. I want everything I have, everything, liquidated
And invested, somewhere, for my boy.

But, above everything, I want my son protected, to the
End. Along with his mother, Amy.

2) Amy St. Claire:

I cannot explain my ‘connection’ to Amy St. Claire, other then the fact she is the mother of my son. There’s more,
Much more, but it’s not important, right now anyway. Suffice to say, I ruined Amy’s life, and I do owe her, so, I’m asking the
‘family’ to honor my wishes and make sure that Amy and
our son together are protected and safe.

Like I said, Amy is the connection with my son and that’s
Enough information for now.

3) Now, before I go into anymore about my ‘ex’ and our son,
Need to mention another person I need the ‘family’ to make sure is protected and secure.

Her name is Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers and she is a police officer at the Sunnydale Police Department.
I know, it’s weird, but I need this woman protected, for
Many reasons and I’ll put a few down here.

Buffy Summers is Amy’s biggest ally. She would
Protect my son’s mother at all costs and therefore,
Can be counted on to protect Harley, too.

Also, to be honest, Buffy Summers is ‘hot’ with a
Capitol ‘H’ and you know me, Cousin, I can’t resist a
‘hot’ woman. Especially when that woman is beautiful
and sexy and, well, tough in all the right ways!

Truth is, as much as Summers thinks I hate her? I think
She’s a delectable little piece of ass that would have
Made me a bundle if she was just not in the ‘wrong’
Line of work. Enough of this.

There’s more, about Summers I mean. You must
Know, since I’m dead and you’ve read my other will,
That I left a pretty nice amount of cash to Miss
Summers. There’s a reason for this and I hate to admit
It, but, it’s not a real noble reason. Mainly, it’s me,
Holden Webster, trying to get my last shot at some kind
Of redemption in this world, before I uhm, ‘rise’ to the
Next world? (Hopefully that is)

Buffy Summers is a solid person. A good, honest
(fucking shame, really) woman that I’ve injured in a
number of ways.

I won’t go into all of that crap, but I will say this;

If I had not interfered in Officer Summers’ life, she
Would probably still be married, happily (or maybe
Not) and have, at least a healthy, happy child by
Now.

It was me, Spike, that sent that banger after Thomas
Ford, Summers’ partner, to kill ‘him’ not injure her.
Buffy Summers was supposed to be behind a desk
And safe, not out in the line of fire.

Officers Summers-Finn would never have been hurt
Or lost her baby if she was at her desk job, like she
Was supposed to be, but something went really
Fucking haywire.

I’ll finish this ‘document’ on this note, but I’m
Directing you to the next ‘two’ documents in
The holders of this vanity. Please, bro, read them
And give them to Wesley, for safe keeping and all.

Old Wes will know what to do with them. The
‘list’ is a compilation of names and ‘monikers’
even activities of these people, that have been
connected to me from the start.

If you have been in Sunnydale, CA for any
Length of time, then you might recognize some
Of these names and all. There are quite a few
‘celebs’ mentioned here, so be prepared.

Spike, I can’t tell you enough; the names on this
List, they are dangerous. Some of these people
Might pose a threat to the ‘family’ but more then
That? They ‘will’ pose a threat to my son and his
Mother.

Because of that, they’ll pose a threat to Buffy
Summers, herself. Like I said, Summers might
Be my last shot at redemption. My ace up my
Sleeve in the ‘Hereafter’, so to speak.

On that note, before you open letter #2, may I make
A suggestion?

Go check out the delectable Buffy Summers, if you
Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her already.

She’s a pain in the ‘arse’ as you’d call it, but
Fuck it all! What a woman!’


A/N: This chapter is all disjointed, I know, but it was fun to write and I needed fun this time! Thanks for reading, please review.
Luv, spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 31: ‘More Questions Then Answers?’


A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this. Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I feel like readers have gotten into the ‘fun’ of the mystery game, and I’m very happy about that.

Hint: In the last chapter, Buffy realized ‘something’ from what Holden had written. However, it has caused more questions then answered anything. In this Chapter 31, Buffy and Spike will find out about some ‘untrustworthy’ acquaintances. Some of their questions may be answered, but they have a lot to read, believe me.

Thanks, luv, Spuf


Spike watched Buffy intently. Took in her stunned, wide green eyes, her skin tone that had suddenly become deathly pale.

“What is it love? Holden’s less then civilized description of his feelings for you? My cousin was not a man known for, uhm, well ‘tact’ I guess you’d say.” Spike was trying to keep his voice even, but he truly was pissed at Holden, jealous, really, that his cousin had those feelings for his own wife. Even if poor Hold never stood a chance in hell, not with Spike’s Buffy.

Buffy shook her golden head, silently, and sat back down on the little vanity chair. She began to stare into the main mirror of the vanity and realized just how ‘shocked’ she looked.

“It’s not Holden’s crude words, Will,” Buffy finally whispered, her voice strained and cracked. She felt like she might throw up from the uneasy, sinking feeling in her tummy that had began the minute she heard William read that ‘particular’ paragraph.

Normally, Buffy would have been into a full blown tirade, rambling on about what a ‘dickhead’ Holden was. Especially to have written such crap about her! However, at the moment, she was more ‘concerned’ with the other reasons that her own name was on this list of his.

“What is it, Princess?” Spike stood behind his wife and placed his hands, gently on her slim shoulders. He gazed into the mirror, hoping she would look at him, and herself, in the reflection there.

“Oh God, Will,” Buffy began to shake, visibly, “it’s, it’s what Holden wrote, about the guy that shot me, the gang banger.”

“You’re scaring me, baby,” Spike murmrered tenderly, gently running his hands up and down Buffy’s neck, shoulders and arms.
“I know it’s a shock, that my prick of a cousin hired that kid to take out Ford, but…..”

Buffy began to shake her head, violently, tiny tears fell from her green eyes. She felt like she just might pass out at any moment.

“No,” she rasped, her body suddenly still, frozen still in disbelief. “Not that Holden hired the punk, though it’s bad enough. It’s the other part, the part where he explains that ‘I’ was supposed to be behind a desk, a desk job, he said. Not out on the street, with Ford, but….” Her voice trailed off weakly and she glanced up at William, her eyes held pain, shock and a look of betrayal.”

“Buffy,” Spike haunched down beside his wife and wrapped his left arm about her, tenderly. “Please, what is it?” he asked, his expression was beginning to match Buffy’s own frightened one.

“Only two people, Will,” Buffy whispered, her voice shakey, “Only two people tried to talk me out of going on that call with Ford. Just two, Will. How the hell could Holden ‘know’ about that, unless one of those two people told him. I mean that I was supposed to be behind a desk?”

Spike gazed at Buffy, now, instead of her reflection in the mirror. She was still as pale as the undead, but now her brows were scrunched together in thought, and her eyes were narrowed into fiery, opal colored slits.

“Who?” Spike asked simply, keeping his tone neutral. He didn’t want to frighten Buffy even more then she was.

“Rupert Giles, and,” Buffy swallowed hard, took a deep breath and added, “my ex-husband, Riley Finn.”

“Oh Jesus,” Spike hissed, now in shock himself. ‘We know what that means, don’t we?” he asked himself. ‘One of the two good old boys, or both, were in my cousin’s pocket.’ He wrapped both of his arms about Buffy and pulled her to him, tightly.

She was weeping softly, something his wife had perfected into an art. Buffy could be miserable, broken-hearted, or, just plain pissed, and she could cry, silently that is. Spike had figured this out about his love, even only after a few weeks of knowing and loving her. For, love her, he did and always would.

Buffy buried her head into her husband’s strong chest and wept, silently. She only hoped that not only was she wrong about her assumptions, but that she was ‘really’ wrong about them. Dead wrong.

Suddenly, Buffy reached out and attempted to pluck the second document from the shelf, but William stopped her. With a raised brow, Buffy silently asked her husband why?

“I think we better get the hell out of here, now, baby. Spike explained, reading her thoughts. I’m interested in reading everything on those papers myself, but I think we’d better get home first. We’ve been here longer then a few minutes and that smarmy little whelp of a door man is probably on his way up here by now. Won’t do any good to have him catch us reading paperwork with shocked expressions on our faces.”

Buffy swallowed hard, again and nodded. “You’re right,” she answered simply, allowing Will to help her stand up. “I’ve still got two more days of ‘official vacation’ from the precinct. We can go home read everything there.”

Spike grabbed all three of the documents, checked all of the vanity drawers and such, then locked the damn thing back up, securely. He handed the papers to Buffy, who stuck them in her purse, then wiped her eyes with some tissue.

To change the subject, at least temporarily, Spike asked Buffy if she was hungry.

“Starved,” she sighed, somewhat sarcastically, “but if I try to eat anything, now, I’ll just barf. I’m really frightened, Will,” her green eyes pleaded with his. “I am totally scared shitless as to who or what is listed on those other papers.”

“I’m with you, baby,” Spike kissed Buffy on her plush lips, tenderly. “I’m here, not going anywhere, but home with you.”

Once they arrived home, Buffy immediately flopped down on the couch and looked up at William, expectantly. Her eyes were filled with trepidation, but they were demanding also.

“Shall we?” she asked her husband, almost whispering and eyeing her own purse. It held the destructive, terrifying papers, the last ‘real’ will and testament, kind of, of one Holden Webster.

Spike frowned, momentarily, ‘still destroying lives, aren’t you Holden?’ he was asking his dead cousin’s spirit, but answering himself at the same time. ‘Still holding the last card of the deal, like always.’

By now, not only was Spike quite hungry, for food that is, he was really pissed at his murdered relative. ‘If this breaks my Buffy,’ he hissed silently, ‘I’ll….’ Just what the fuck would he do?

“Let’s eat something, baby,” Spike offered gently, “at least a sandwich, something. You need to eat, and frankly, so do I.”

“I was thinking of drinking my lunch, Will,” Buffy responded, with a bitter little laugh. “Maybe ‘Cosmo’ ala carte?”

Without another word, Spike headed into the kitchen and began to take out stuff for sandwiches. He tried to ignore, unsuccessfully, his wife’s sudden presence in the room.

“So, that’s how it is,” she murmered as she joined him at the counter, wrapping her long, soft arms about his waist. “I’m eating whether I want to or not?”

“Yup,” Spike grinned, not looking at her. He slapped some turkey on white bread and placed them on the fanciest small plates he could find. “We both are,” he confirmed, firmly. “Then we’re going to open the best bottle of wine we have. And, I know there’s gotta’ be a great bottle around here, right?”

Buffy nodded, “right,” she answered softly. She headed to the wine rack in the corner of the dining area and pulled out the best Cab in the place.

Spike brought the sandwiches and two wine glasses to the coffee table and set them down. “Sit,” he ordered his wife, sternly, “eat, drink and be merry. Might be the last chance you get before the walls come crashing in on us.”

He grinned at her again, but the truth was, he was sick himself. It was apparent that two of the most important men in Buffy’s life, past or present, well, at least perhaps one of them? They had betrayed her, totally.

Both Buffy and Spike practically wolfed down their sandwiches, then finished off their first glasses of wine together. Spike poured them each another glass and placed the goblets on the coasters that protected the coffee table.

“Well?” Buffy finally murmered, again eyeing the terrifying little purse that sat at the end of the couch. “Shall we?” She asked Will, her eyes wide with fearful anticipation.

“We shall,” Spike answered, his strong voice was firm.

After opening up the purse and pulling out the three documents, Buffy handed them all to her husband. “You read them, please, honey,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”

Spike nodded and opened the second document, also appropriately marked #2 on the outside. He gave his wife a dubious glance, then unrolled the paper.

(Again, Holden’s written words will be in apostrophes. Our Spuffy couples’ words and thoughts will be separate).


‘Spike:

I gather, since you’re reading this, that you’ve read the first document and are now ready to read this one, then the next. I wonder, is our nerd of a cousin, Wesley, with you? If not, then that’s cool. Just make sure he gets these documents when you’re finished reading them. He’ll know what to do, I trust him the most, next to you that is.

Do you remember and old saying, Cousin, the one that states:

“Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts, absolutely”

It’s true, you know. I finally realized this, first hand. I can’t remember who quoted this wise old bullshit first. I’m betting Shakespeare, but maybe not. You and old Wes, you two were always the smart ones, book wise that is.

I was the smart one, power wise, and money wise. Maybe not so smart in the ‘human-like’ way though. Look who died first, huh?
Look who never found the peace he might have?

Anyway, I am going to list some ‘facts’ here, or more importantly, some ‘names’ of the fair citizens of Sunnydale. Or, not so fair ones. Maybe even some distant ‘corrupt’ citizens, some that are past corrupt and headed right into damned.


For ‘expediency’ purposes, I will list some of Sunnydale’s finest, first. The fine, oh so ‘elite’ of the local Police Department who have served me, their Master, for so long. (And, some for not so long, but they served me, believe it).


The following names may or may not surprise you (seeing as how you are not from around these parts, but, again, just keep up with me and connect the ‘dots’ that lead to the whole, surprising complete picture). Believe me, it is interesting, to say the least.’

Spike looked at Buffy, rolled his eyes and sighed, “never knew Hold to be so fucking dramatic as this.” He scanned the next few paragraphs and grimmaced.

“You have no idea what your beloved Cousin was ‘capable’ of, baby,” Buffy mumbled, taking another drink of her wine. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Holden’s ghost pops in here and starts reciting from Anne Rice’s ‘Interview With A Vampire’ or some such shit.”

“Hmmm,” Spike grunted. “You better prepare yourself, Princess,” he warned, anxiously, “if Holden is being honest, this is going to be a real bumpy ride for you.”

Buffy squeezed Will’s hand in hers, “I can handle it, honest. With you here? I believe I could take on Caligula, Dracula and Hitler, all in one round.” She was rewarded with an adoring smile from Will, just before he began to read the next paragraphs.

‘I am going to list a few names here, simpletons, actually, but fairly important. I will also list a couple of interesting facts on each of them. What you and Wesley decide to do with this information is up to you two.

But remember this: My son, Harley Holden Webster and his Mother, Amy St. Claire, must be protected at all costs. Seek out Buffy Summers, convince her that you are a stand up guy, like you are. She will help you, I swear.


Now, onto the naming of names in the Sunnydale Police Force:

1) Scott Hope:

This fuck is a real piece of work. He was on my payroll before he ever even ‘thought’ about becoming a cop. Hope is a real idiot, but he served his purpose, more then once…..


“Oh God,” Buffy gasped, “not Scott!” She stood up and began to pace around in front of William. “He’s not a friend of mine, not at all, but Will,” she whined at her husband, “he’s the one that went and dragged Amy back from Arizona. He was Ford’s partner, when I was out on my leave, after the baby,” she finished sadly.


‘I needed Scott Hope, from the start, for a lot of reasons. Number one reason:

Scott was instrumental in my gettng Amy back in the fold, back under my control. If this had not have happened, Harley would not have been born.

Thomas Ford was a thorn in my side, the fly in my soup, the gristle in my meat. He was in the way, of Amy and me, that is. Scott made it possible for me to get Amy back under my wing, under my protection and okay, frankly, back in my bed. But, that is another story.’

“Scott,” Buffy gasped again, “he was the one, with Tom Ford on the night he died. He, Scott, he said he was too drunk to drive, so he passed out in his truck. Let poor Tom drive his Mustang, right into that God damned reinforcement wall.”

“Buffy,” Spike reached out and pulled his wife back onto his lap. “I don’t know what this Scott Hope did or didn’t do, but if Holden wrote this? There’s a reason, I assure you.” He gazed at Buffy, the sympathy was evident in his blue eyes.

“Oh God, Will,” Buffy whimpered, “what if Tom didn’t have to die? What if he was ‘helped’ to die? By Scott, or someone else. It all makes sense now. For Amy to go back to Holden, at all, Tom had to be out of the picture. What better way to cover a murder then to make it look like Tom had driven drunk. Here’s the thing,” Buffy felt like she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“The thing is,” she finally could continue, “is that Tom Ford was never much of a drinker. A beer? Two? That was his limit. He was a cop, first and foremost, never really broke the rules. Except where Amy was concerned that is. I knew that, Will,” she groaned, miserably. I knew that Tom didn’t drink himself into a stupor, never did. But I let them all convince me, it was easier after all.”

Buffy looked so sad and confused that Spike pulled her even tighter to him. She buried her head into his neck and sighed, deeply.

“So?” she began, with hesitation. “Do you think that Holden could have had Scott Hope ‘help’ Thomas Ford into that Mustang, to meet his death? And, did he put something more into Tom’s drinks? To kind of push him along?”

“God, baby, I don’t know,” Spike answered sincerely. “But,” he paused, then continued, “we can’t rule it out. Did anyone ever talk to the bartender at the bar Ford and Hope were at that night? Ask how much this partner of yours had to drink? Or, for that matter, have an autopsy done on this Ford bloke?”


“No,” Buffy shook her head, sadly, “no one even thought about doing that. Why would they? It’s a fraternity, a kind of family, remember? The Police Force that is. We stick together and I suppose the brass thought that Tom just drank too much, drove when he shouldn’t have and was killed. No one would ever think to question it, not with Scott Hope there, to relay the ‘real’ story. Besides,” she continued in her misery voice, “Tom was cremated, immediately. Everyone thought it best, for his folks and all. His body, after the wreak. It was mangled and….” She finished with a whimper and swiped at the fresh tears from her eyes.

“Christ,” Spike hissed in exasperation. “Of course, why would they? The Sunnydale Police brass that is. Another, miserable cop, unhappy, guilt ridden, mixed up with an underage girl like Amy? Perfect scenario for a drunken, remorseful cop to drink and drive. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if this Hope fuck had a hand in ‘upping’ the ante of Ford’s death. May have even slipped something in his drink, you know?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Buffy muttered, suddenly feeling woozy again. “But not before I tell you this.” She gazed at Will, her eyes, once again frightened. He looked terrified for her and she felt like a real whimp. ‘Toughen up,’ she ordered herself.

“A few years ago, after I lost the baby and Riley left me,” Buffy whispered, suddenly ashamed of the whole thing. “Scott, he was in the Narcotics Division. There was a big raid. Well, at least for Sunnydale, it was big. Lots of drugs, massive amounts for up here, and can you guess who was probably behind the little Sunnydale Cocaine caper?”

“My cousin,” Spike mumbled, shame faced.

“Yeah, good old Holden, but nothing was ever proved. Anyway, before the contraband got to the station, some of it, okay, a lot of it went missing. At least that’s what some reliable sources said.”

Buffy scrunched up her face, her expression was thoughtful, but slightly angry. She continued her story.

“There was a lot of finger pointing, a lot of ‘gossip’ around the water coolers in the Precinct. Some people felt that Scott Hope was behind the disappearance of the missing drugs. He was the ‘man’ as far as the raid went, after all.”

“What happened?” Spike asked, not really surprised at all.

“Before there was any major investigation, before any charges were brought against Scott, everything was dropped. Like an iron anvil. On the word of a very trusted man in the DA’s office. Scott was ‘exhonerated’ even before a charge was uttered from Internal Affairs or the DA’s office. Nothing ever came of it, nothing was said about it, officially, again.”

Buffy gazed at William, her heart was racing, she felt light-headed. This was becoming way too much, for her even to digest.

“Want to guess who the DA’s little helper was? The one that had the ‘inquiries’ about Scott dropped?” she asked her husband, her brow raised.

“Angel O’Connor,” Spike responded evenly. “He made sure that Scott Hope was off the hook and cleared of anything. Even from finger pointing and name calling, right?”

“Right,” Buffy sighed. “Not only that, but earlier, when Angel was a Public Defender? He was the one that represented the so called gang member that shot me, instead of Tom Ford. He got the kid off, with a few months in Juvy and a slap on the wrist. At the time, I thought it was just Angel’s job, to defend to the end and all that crap. Thought old Angel was a real good lawyer and all. But now?”

“Maybe,” Spike clasped Buffy to him, “maybe not, but we need to read more of this. Find out some answers. If Angel O’Connor was in Holden’s pocket? His name has to be on this list somewhere.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy sighed, sorrowfully. “Guess who else’s name might be on that list?” she added. The pain she felt was overwhelming, but she tried to put on a brave front for William.

“Buffy,” Spike muttered, gazing into his wife’s beautiful green eyes. “We don’t have to do this, tonight that is. We can wait and…..”

“No,” Buffy responded with a stubborn tone and a shake of her head. “Let’s do this. Read it, Will. Please,” she pleaded softly.

(Holden’s)

‘I have to to tell you, Cousin, that you would be amazed how corrupt certain cops and so called ‘uncorruptable’ big shots are easily swayed to the dark side. Scott Hope was just one cop on my payroll; there were more, a lot more.

2) Riley Finn:

This guy was a real mystery, even to me. He was not only Buffy Summers precious husband, but a real pretend boy scout. His cover was perfect; so was his cover for his other life. I doubt that Miss Summers would have stayed with hubby any longer then necessary if she had known exactly what ‘he’ did for me. Suffice to say, Finn was a puppet and a follower, that is until his wife was shot. After that, and the loss of his and Buffy’s child, old Riley grew some kind of a conscious and took off for Los Angeles with his new wife.

By the way, Samantha, Riley Finn’s present wife (at least, I guess she still is) is an old friend of mine. Let’s just say that sweet Sammy didn’t pursue Finn just because of his ‘country boy’ demeanor or wholesome looks. You know what I mean?’


Spike held Buffy to him, tightly, as it felt like she was about to bolt from his arms and head off to God knows where.

“Don’t baby,” he pleaded, “don’t take off from my arms. I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you, betray or deceive you. Don’t run from me, please.”

Buffy began to cry, not so softly this time. She clung to her husband like a vice and sobbed into his chest.

“I can’t believe it,” she wept, her voice was strained and cracked by her tears. “How could Riley do it? Be a part of that monster? He said he loved me, wanted ‘me’ for me. He was a good cop, or so I was led to believe. All the time, he was involved with Holden and this mess. Even after the baby?”

Spike rocked Buffy in his arms and tried to soothe her. “He was weak, Buffy,” Spike sighed, his tone was comforting and gentle. “People are weak Buffy, for many reasons. Some are weaker then others. If Riley was that way, then so be it. Not your fault.”

“I know,” she sniffed, wiping her tears, “I guess I should be happy that it was Riley, not my Giles that was involved with Holden. After I caught Riley, with Samantha? I lost all faith and trust in him, anyway. About Giles, though, you don’t think he’s a part of all this, too. Do you?”

“Probabaly not,” Spike shook his head. “Giles is an up front guy. I’ve got a certain intuition about people, even strangers. Your Rupert is a real solid bloke, not a corrupt bone in the old guy’s body. I’m sure of it.”

Buffy sighed in relief and finished wiping her fresh tears from her hot face. “Oh, God, Will,” she nuzzled her mouth into his neck, “I’m so lucky to have you here with me.”

“Maybe,” Spike grinned and rubbed his wife’s soft head, affectionately, “but I think I’m the lucky one, sweet. I love you so much.”


A/N: A little teaser of a chapter while I finish the next chapter of ‘Na Grach Croi’ and all. I hope this wasn’t too unrealistic and all. Do not fear, there are more names and they will be named, (some of them that is). I had to get the two more obvious names out in this chapter and I’ll give you another clue here: Neither Scott Hope, nor Riley Finn are the murderers…..Please read and review. Thank you all, luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 32: ‘More Names, Named’


Buffy Summers-Williamson realized, of course, that in the grand scheme of things, Sunnydale, California was probably not so ‘grand’ at all. The things that happened there, the day-to-day happenings, were not only pretty common, but probably pretty mundane, for the West Coast that is. Compared to say, Los Angeles, Frisco, or even San Diego? Sunnydale, CA was probably a 1.5 on the Richter Scale of eventful shakeups.

However, at the moment, Buffy could not help but feel that the ‘little drama’ playing out in the Summers-Williamson apartment may just turn out to be ‘big’ as in really of the ‘big’ time. Apparently, her new husband, William, might just agree with her. His face was pale as hers, she was sure and he seemed reluctant to continue reading the almighty lists that his errant cousin Holden had left for him.

“Baby,” Spike whispered softly as he tucked a golden strand of her soft hair behind her right ear, “like I said. Maybe we better finish this up tomorrow morning. Kind of mull the stuff around we’ve read?”

Buffy shook her head, stubbornly, “no,” she hissed, firmly. “I want to know everything, right now. No waiting, no mulling, no kicking things around in our heads. I’ve been in the dark for too fucking long. It’s time for the ‘light’ to come on and all the dirty little secrets to be exposed. Like the cock roaches they are, at least, most of the dirty little secrets that is.”

“Go on,” Buffy ordered harshly, but she ran her fingers down Will’s chiseled cheek, lovingly, despite her uneasiness.

“Okay,” he sighed deeply, “I’ll read on then.”


(More reminders: Holden’s writings are in apostrophes, to separate them from the other text. Spike and Buffy’s ramblings will be in normal punctuation)


‘Spike, believe me when I tell you that you have always been my ‘mentor’ my ‘Yoda’ so to speak. I love you, man, but not in a girly way, okay? (A little humor here to break up the drama)’

Spike couldn’t help himself, he rolled his eyes at Buffy, illiciting a half-smile from her. ‘At least she can still smile,’ he surmised, in some awe of his wife. ‘Damn, what a woman,’ he reminded himself.


‘Spike, the following name(s) are necessary to list, although, they are not so very important in the big picture. Cops, at least in Sunnydale, CA, are like lottery tickets. Most can be bought for a song (or an extra few grand a month) and the following of Sunnydale’s finest were no exception:

3) Francis Doyle:

Not a real big player, no, but a handy little rat to have around, believe that. He’s got the face of an angel and the soul of a demon. This guy would sell his Grandmother for a dime and then ask for change.


“Altar Boy?” Spike inquired of his wife, his left brow raised up in question. “Thought he seemed too ‘angelic’ to be real. Knew me on sight, he did.”


“No surprise there,” Buffy commented, almost indifferently, “like you said, baby,” she nodded at William. “Doyle pegged you the minute he saw you. There just had to be a reason for that.”

4) Owen Parkinson:

This idiot is not a real ‘worry’ to anyone. But, he is a wiz at computers. His expertise at pharensics is outstanding and has come in handy for me, and others.

I paid off his student loans a few years back and he’s been a loyal lap dog since. Owen looks stupid, but he’s not. He’s a God at numbers, a lot like Wes, but not adverse to cheating at anything. Unlike Wes.






‘There are more, faceless morons who’d follow Satan into Hell if they thought it would get them an extra buck in their Christmas stocking, or, their name in print in the Sunnydale Times. On the side of the good that is. However, their names are catalogued and listed by ‘service dates’ and their different services, on the third document.


I thought, Spikey, that I would list just a few of the ‘elite’ members of the Holden Webster School of Higher Enlightenment. The names are probably pretty unknown to you, but believe me, they are ‘stars’ in the Universe that is Sunnydale.


1) Robin Wood:

This guy, well, he was at one time a real stand-up business man in the community. Owned and managed a real estate company, donated to the right community charities. All that shit, you know. Pillar of society and all.

His own Mother, Lisa Wood, was a solid, strong woman who happened to be a cop. Back in the 70’s. Unfortunately, when old Robin was about 4 or so, Lisa was killed, on duty and he went to live with his father, who was divorced from Mom. Robert Wood was a good man, by most standards. Fortunately, Robin did not follow suit of the folks. Fortunately for me, that is.

I bought Robin Wood off with a promise to donate a $100,000.00 to the local Youth Center and a shot, for him, at one of my more ‘interesting’ female friends. Of course, he took me up on it.

At the present, Wood is a City Councilman and the loving husband of Kendra Wood, and a doting father to two lovely children. He would be pretty inconvenienced by any allegations of his ‘connections’ with me.


‘I would never lie to ‘you’ Spike. Never, not even if it served my purposes in the long run.

I want you to read on and learn a little something, or maybe not. You’ve experienced the more corrupt aspects of the legal system, especially in Merry Olde London and all that shit. The problem is, this is not England; Uncle Walter, your Dad, is not in charge here and if I’m dead? Then I have no real power anymore, well, maybe I do, right? These lists of mine might prove to be some kind of ‘legacy’ after all and I need you and Wesley to protect the papers, with your lives, if need be.’

“Will,” Buffy whispered in a soft, almost strangled voice, “don’t stop. Please. I need to know, we both do.”


Spike pulled his Buffy to him, her little, tight body was so warm and willing. So his, she was, after all.

“Okay, baby,” he murmered, “I’ll read it, but I need you to be strong. I need you to believe me, know that this is my family. Not me.” (This is a real big, hint; anvil; dropping stone from the sky of Spuffy fiction here. This is a ‘peek’ by proxy of omen, to the next fiction I am writing. Hehehehehe. Sorry, I’m a little dickens, can’t help myself).

“Read it,” Buffy ordered again, her hand clasped in Will’s.


‘Spike,’ Holden began again, ‘remember when we were kids? Well, okay, at least pre-teens, you and me? You were always the big man in the heirachy. I was the little fish, so to speak. When you went off to school, I was lost, like a fuckin’ lamb, misplaced in the field. But then, miraculously, you came back to the fold, after your 17th birthday. I never asked, no one ever explained, but I didn’t give a fuck. You were back. With the family, with me, my best friend and all that shit.’


“Wow, he really did look up to you, huh?” Buffy mumbled, her head now buried into Will’s shoulder.

“I guess,” Spike responded, “whether he should have or not. Old Holden was kind of a hero-worshiper. Even if I was his hero.”

“Will?” Buffy’s muffled plea echoed through the living room. “Please, read on.”


‘Although I’m not the fair-haired boy that you are, Spike, old man. I am more of a Webster/Williamson then you’ll ever be. I can’t fault you, really, for wanting to get the fuck out of our family's’ grips. Their strangle-hold. I have to admire you, for breaking away from the shit that is our ‘family’ and making your own way in the world.

So, on that note, I’m going to list a few names, more, that might give you the ‘ace’ up your sleeve that you’ll need to protect yourself, our family and yes, my son and his mother.

Oh, by the way, if you haven’t checked out the sweetness that is Buffy Summers? Give it a go, man. She’s a hot little number, the kind of woman a man wants and has to have. But, again, I never stood a chance in fucking hell with her. You, however? Might have a sporting shot.’


“Are you sure you didn’t read this before we, uhm, you know?” Buffy asked seriously, but not necessarily too seriously.

“No,” Spike, grinned wickedly, “but I have to say, my cousin was a pretty astute bloke. I guess he knew I’d fall head over heels in love with you. Bless him, for that, that is.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy purred, kissing her husband on his soft, pouty lips. “Thank God for astuteness, huh?”

He grinned again, then began to read the next paragraph of the text.


‘Ever wonder why I never got ‘pinched’ dear Cousin?’ Holden asked in his writings. ‘I’m a God at chaos, deceit and corruptness, yes, but the truth is……I could not have done it without my wonderful ‘brothers’ in sin.

There’s this person, in the DA’s office. He didn’t start there, of course, but with a few strings pulled, the right connections and oh yeah, a beautiful woman? Angel O’Connor fell from grace like Lucifer on a good day.

Our Angel, as he’s called, was an apple just ripe for the picking. He even dated sweet, angelic Buffy Summers. I, of course, couldn’t have that. She was necessary for ‘other’ things and Angel wasn’t a real stand up guy. Especially not for her.

I persuaded Angel to ‘take up’ with Darla Walsh, the District Attorney’s only child. Don’t get me wrong, old man Walsh was never a part of the plan, but his daughter? She was always a little on the devious side. A real whore at heart and a great ally, for me.

Once Angel was seduced to the dark side of Sunnydale, it was just a matter of time before he fell completely. I wheedled him away from Buffy. Not an easy task, but a necessary one. Had him in Darla’s bed before a wink of the eye and married off to the little slut, post haste.

Angel always had a yen for power and money. He was not a saint, that’s for sure, but then again, who needs saints? I always preferred sinners.

It served us all well. Darla got a rising ‘star’ of a husband; Angel got his meal ticket and Buffy got rid of the fucking ape man that is Angel O’Connor. Believe me, Buffy is and will always be better off without Angel O’ Connor.’

Spike watched the reaction from his wife. She sat, quietly, for a moment, her brows scrunched up in thought, or sadness, or confusion. He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed to be almost relieved.

“Read more,” she hissed, her voice was cracked and unsure, kind of. “Do it, Will,” she commanded again.

“Buffy, please,” he pleaded again, “I can stop now. We’ll…..”

“No!” Buffy growled, “read more. I don’t care anymore. I just want the truth, no matter how much it hurts. Who it hurts.”


‘I am a bad, rude man, Spike,’ Holden continued. ‘I have seduced, twisted and manipulated more girls, boys, women and men then anyone could think possible. Fuck, I’d sell our own sweet Granny for a buck, and I’m not lying here.

I have to warn you, Cousin of mine, that you have to be very, very careful with Angel O’Connor. He’s all class and upright, uptight propriety on the outside. On the inside? He’s a monster at heart. Lacking a true soul, no conscious whatsoever. If anyone is a danger, to you, Wesley, our family? More importantly, to my son and his mother? It’s Angel O’Connor. This fuck wants to be King of the Universe. Okay, maybe Emperor of Sunnydale.


Watch Riley Finn, too. He’s off in the ‘City of the Angels’ for the moment, but he’s not all that forgiving. I know he never forgave me, for fucking up in that Tom Ford mess. No matter how much Finn is to blame, himself, he’ll never accept that. He’ll never accept the fact that he allowed his wife to expose herself and their child to danger. Too much of a fucking boy scout for that.’


“I’m sorry, baby,” Spike murmered sadly. “Sorry for everything Holden did to you, to your ex and friends.”

Buffy pulled Will’s head to her chest and stroked his blond hair, “doesn’t matter anymore,” she offered, honestly, “it’s you, me and whatever children are in our future together. I won’t look back, Will,” she sighed, “I can’t. I want to move on, with you, with our future together.”

Spike nipped at his wife’s covered, ample breasts, gently, “what say we stop all this past secrets revealed shit? Have another glass of wine, flop into bed and shag each other into oblivion?”

“Normally,” Buffy giggled in near exhaustion, “I’d take you up on that. But we need to finish this, tonight Will. I don’t think I can sleep, not at all, knowing there’s more on these lists and that there’s more damning evidence against the so-called pillars of Sunnydale society.”

He, Spike, grinned up at his amazing wife. His wonderful sexy, beautiful and overwhelming wife of just a few days.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” he asked with a smirk.

“You,” she began with a smirk of her own, “are incorrigible and just naughty. But, I’m crazy in love with you, Will,” she admitted with a blush.

“Good thing,” Spike grinned again, “cos’ I’m crazy in love with you, baby.”

“Okay!” they exclaimed in unison, their eyes locked in a loving gaze.

“We’ll ‘rest’ tonight and get up, first thing. I’ll make a great breakfast and….” Buffy was on a roll here, she ticked off the wifely duties she’d perform in the AM.

“Fuck breakfast,” Spike growled as he stood up from the couch, his wife securely enscounced in his arms. “We’ll make love, all night,” he purred, carrying Buffy to the bedroom. “We’ll make love, all night. Get up in the morning, and okay……we’ll eat something!”

His smirk revealed exactly what Spike intended on eating in the morning. Buffy began to giggle, uncontrollably.


“Okay,” Spike relented, “I’ll make ‘you’ breakfast,” Spike stated, quite firmly, “and then we’ll read more of the ‘Chronicles of Holden Webster’ and all that nonsense.”

“Will,” Buffy sighed against her husband’s chest, as he carried her into ‘their’ bedroom. “You are a God, do you know that?”


“Maybe,” Spike chuckled heartily, “but I should be. My wife’s a Goddess and anything less then a God for her husband? That’d be bloody ridiculous.”


A/N: In the next chapter, Spike is going to ‘surprise’ Buffy with a wonderful gift and this will bring in a new furry non-human character to the plot line. Hint: The new character will be somewhat spotted and have a ‘cold’ nose and have big, lumbering paws! Okay, it’s a puppy, all right! Can’t help myself, had to throw that in there! We need a little ‘silly’ distraction for our couple and all. Thanks, and please read and review! Luv, Spuf

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

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 34: ‘Meet The Parents’


Spike was frustrated beyond frustration. The puppy he had given his bride was beginning to wear just a tad thin right about now. Winston, as the Mastiff was named, was playing a game of tug-o-war with the bed covers and the dog was definitely winning.

“Baby,” Spike sighed heavily, “I think Winston should go into the kitchen for the night.” He threw in a little pout, just to push his case. Sadly, his wife, Buffy, appeared to be immuned to his own sad sack expressions, at least at the moment. She was totally enamored of the little pooch who was now nibbling at her toes beneath the bed covers.

“He’ll be cold and lonely in there,” Buffy stated with pursed lips as she snuggled her puppy to her. “He doesn’t understand that his brothers and sisters are gone and won’t be back,” she pouted herself.

“He’ll be fine,” Spike said gruffly, “he’s a damn dog, for God’s sake. The kitchen is fine for him. We’ll put a ton of blankets in there, some food and water. Frankly, Princess,” he continued in exasperation, “I don’t care if he’s lonely or not. Don’t fancy a canine watching me make love to my wife.”

Spike crossed his arms, stubbornly, over his bare chest and gave the so called puppy an evil eye of his own. This was getting ridiculous. It was well past midnight and the little mutt had not gone to sleep yet. Winston the wonder dog was keeping Spike from making love to Buffy and he was derailing their sleep, completely.

“You bought the poor little thing,” Buffy pouted again, rubbing Winston’s massive head. “How can you turn him out, into the cold, soulless kitchen? He’ll be miserable in there and…”

Spike leapt up from the bed and grabbed Winston. “He’ll be fine here,” he informed Buffy, sternly, as he laid out some newspapers and set Winston’s food and water bowl on them. “He’s in the room with us, on the floor,” Spike continued as he laid out a nice cozy blankie for the puppy.

“He wants us,” Buffy sighed, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “He’ll miss us up here and…” Before she could utter another word, Winston looked up at his master and mistress, yawned loudly and snuggled down into the blanket on the floor.

Before either William or Buffy could say another word, Winston the Mastiff was sound asleep on the soft material of the blanket. Buffy looked at the little pooch, skeptically, then at her husband. He was looking all smug and such, his smirk was wider then usual.

“He’ll be fine, baby,” Spike murmered to Buffy as he carefully lay down beside her. “Now it’s time to thank me for your gift. Right?”

Buffy giggled, softly, trying not to wake the darling little pup. She allowed Will to pull her up close to his naked body and wrap his arms about her.

“Right,” she whispered into his neck, just before she nipped at his pulse point there. “Time for your thanks!”

“That’s my baby,” Spike moaned in pleasure as Buffy sucked on his cock, eagerly. “Just like that, sweet,” he encouraged her, not that she needed it. Buffy was quite adept at this act of carnel love and…..

‘Holy shit,’ Spike suddenly wanted to bolt up and ask questions. ‘How the fuck did Buffy get so damned good at blow jobs?’

He eventually decided to let the matter drop, especially when Buffy elegantly finished off the oral ministrations to his cock and seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

‘Bloody hell,’ Spike purred silently as he let go, completely. ‘Next time we do this, my cock just might sit up and sing the Star Spangled Banner as it salutes my girl’s talented mouth.’

“Come ‘ere, sweet,” Spike growled at Buffy, pulling her up into his embrace. “Time to ride the Big Bad,” he chuckled as he stationed her over his penis and thrust up into her, even as she slid down on him.

Buffy rode her man for all it was worth and man, it was worth plenty. Will groaned and moaned in pleasure while she danced on his wonderful, huge shaft.

“Like that baby?” she asked in her most sultry voice. “Does that feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” Spike gasped in response, “better then good. It feels fucking amazing!” His eyes rolled back into his head and he was now panting in short, heavy gasps.

They fell asleep, aftwards, wrapped in each other’s loving embrace. Fortunately, Winston stayed put, right on the warm blankie next to the bed.

“Thank God I’m off today,” Buffy sighed as she sipped her second cup of coffee and watched Will read the paper. She had that Saturday off, as per schedule, and Buffy was relieved to be home with her husband and Winston all day. For one thing, Will and her had some things to discuss, starting with their living arrangements once this case was over and everything was settled?

Winston was stumbling around, over his huge paws, about their feet at the kitchen table. Occasionally, the pooch would pause and nip at either Buffy’s or Spike’s ankles, gently gnawing at their bare flesh.

“He’s so cute,” Buffy cooed down at Winston, glancing coyly at her husband from time-to-time. “My puppy loves us,” she purred, reaching down to pet the beautiful ball of fur.

“Yeah, cute,” Spike grumbled, but with a smile. “As long as he sleeps in the kitchen tonight, or at least on the floor, he’s bloody adorable.”

Buffy pouted, big time, her bottom lip stuck out and her green eyes scolded Spike.

“What?” he asked, innocently enough, as he took a bite of his bagel. “I wanted the dog, no question, baby,” he explained, chewing his food thoughtfully, “but not in our bed. And not when we’re fuc…..”

“William!” Buffy gasped, “not in front of the baby!”

“Okay Buffy, that’s it,” Spike growled, “he’s a dog, not a human child and I’m not going to quit saying things like fuck, shag, blow jobs or…..”

Their conversation was interrupted by the ring of the phone. Buffy jumped up to grab it, grinning at Will, saucily, “fuck?” she mouthed at him happily.

“Hello,” Buffy answered the phone, happy when her father, Hank, greeted her.

“Listen honey,” Hank began quickly, “I thought I’d drive Mom and me up there, today, to meet William and all. I have some information, already, on those names you gave me and maybe a little input on this Webster/McClay murder case. Something struck me, just last night, about the case. Thought you might be interested?”

“Of course, Dad,” Buffy responded eagerly, “we need all the help we cant get on this. Besides, you need to see your Grandson again and I do want you to meet Will. He wants to meet you two, also.”

She glanced at William and mouthed, ‘right?’

“Right,” Spike grinned back at her. Actually, he did want to meet Buffy’s folks. Ever since he found out that the Summers were not adverse to his marrying their daughter, Spike wasn’t a bit intimidated by either Hank or Joyce.

“Come for dinner?” Buffy offered, “I’ll make some pasta and we’ll have wine. Please, Dad?”

Spike watched Buffy’s face go from happy to glowing in a matter of seconds. His heart skipped a beat, ‘I love her so,’ he said to himself. ‘She’s my Princess, my Goddess and I’m one lucky bloke to have found her.’

Buffy rushed about the apartment, making sure everything was in place and ready for her parents’ arrival. Between Will and herself, they had cooked up a wonderful dinner menu and Buffy found herself looking forward to the meeting.

The doorbell rang, and Will hurried out of the bedroom. He wore a nice pair of Dockers pants, a blue button down shirt and some nice shoes. Not the Doc Martens he preferred, she noticed. This somewhat saddened her, Buffy loved her William, loved his quirks and everything about him. The ‘boots’ he preferred to wear, were part of him and she wanted to be sure that her husband realized that.

“Here goes,” Buffy sighed as she answered the door.

“Honey!” Joyce Summers exclaimed loudly, clutching her oldest daughter to her body. “You must be Will,” the elder Summers woman gushed, looking over at her new son-in-law.

“Buffy, honey, he’s adorable,” Joyce whispered to Buffy with a warm wink.

Buffy blushed, Spike blushed and Hank Summers rolled his blue eyes. “Hello, son,” Buffy’s father greeted Spike with a firm handshake. He eyed his daughter’s husband, carefully, almost sizing the man up by the feel of his handshake.

“Hello, sir,” Spike responded all manly like, making sure to shake Buffy’s dad’s hand just as firmly as the old man did his.

“Mrs. Summers,” Spike nodded at Buffy’s mum, politely.

“Call me Joyce, please. And call old Hank here, well, call him Hank,” Joyce chuckled. “This is ridiculous, let’s not stand on pretenses, you’re married to our daughter. We’re family and that’s that. Let’s stop this overly polite nonsense and have a glass of wine to toast your marriage.”

Buffy broke out into loud laughter and took her mother’s arm in hers, “thanks Mom,” she chuckled. “You’ve always been the practical one.”

Hank Summers slapped Spike on the back, good-naturedly, “they’re really something, eh?” he asked the younger man. “Our wives, I mean. There’s something about the Summers women,” he continued, “something tough, but loving. A blessing,” Hank said softly, “our girls are a blessing to us all.”

“Too true,” Spike whispered, watching his little wife in awe, “Buffy’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He allowed his new father-in-law to lead him to the living room couch and plopped down next to him.

Later, after a wonderful supper, the four people sat and discussed all kinds of things. Buffy gushed over Winston and made sure that all of the other people present got to hold and cuddle the puppy, at least once. Hank gave the pup a wary eye, but Joyce seemed to fall in love with Winston, instantly, just like her daughter had.

Hank finally sat his wine glass on the coffee table coaster that was provided and stood up. He headed over to his briefcase that he’d sat on the little front door end table and opened it. When he joined his wife, daughter and son-in-law on again, he carried with him a huge envelope.

“I’ve got some papers in here,” Hank muttered, his brows in a scowl, “and a CD with some information you wanted. On old Riley and some of his cohorts in LA. I’m sorry, Bunny Rabbit,” Hank mumbled, seemingly a bit ashamed, “but Riley has been less then honest, with any of us, for a long time now.”

“Bunny Rabbit?” Spike choked out, his left brow raised in surprise.

“Bunny Rabbit,” Buffy pouted, “Daddy’s called me Bunny Rabbit since day one. It’s his pet name for me,” she said somewhat defensively.

“It’s downright precious, baby,” Spike smirked at his wife, “I love it. Think I’ll call you that from now on and…..”

Buffy shot Spike a murderous look, “only Daddy calls me Bunny Rabbit. Princess is just fine from you, Mister,” she reassured Will.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Buffy placed her right hand on Hank’s arm, comfortingly, “I’ve finally come to grips with my past and Riley. He can’t hurt me anymore.” She gazed at Will, affectionately.

Spike smiled at Buffy, lovingly, “let him try and hurt my girl,” he murmered to her. He caught the relieved looks that Hank and Joyce gave each other.

“We can go over the CD and paperwork later,” Hank continued evenly, “I think you both need to hear something, from me. Right now that is, about this murder of William’s cousin and Miss McClay.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged anxious glances and then returned their attention to Hank Summers. Mr. Summers seemed thoughtful and distracted for a moment, then leaned forward and motioned his son-in-law and daugher to listen.

“Some years ago,” Hank began, “when I was still a rookie cop, new to the force here in Sunnydale…” he paused, deep in thought and rememberance, then went on.

“There was a case that perplexed us, for quite a while. At first we, the department and all, thought that it was a simple open and shut suicide case. A young local woman by the name of Faith Evans was found with her head blown off, in the bedroom of her apartment.

Joyce cringed, visibly, “I remember that case,” she said, her voice shakey. “Dad was upset for weeks, couldn’t get that sight of poor Faith Evans out of his mind. She came from a pretty affluent family, had been a fairly attractive young woman. There was a suicide note, right honey?” Joyce asked Hank.

“Yes,” the oldest Summers nodded, “there was a note, left, presumably by Miss Evans. My partner, Rupert Giles and I, were the first policeman on the scene. Seemed like an open and shut case, at first that is.”

Hank stood up and began to pace about the living room. “This was the early 70’s,” he added with a shrug, “Buffy was only about two-years-old then. Dawn wasn’t even thought of and I was young and inexperienced as far as police work went. Rupert was a little more savy, but not much.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand in his, just a little tighter, “was there a question, about the suicide Hank?” he asked.

“Not at first,” Hank shook his head, “but then a female homicide detective showed up on the case. A few days after the discovery. Her name was Lisa Wood, this Robin’s mother, she was. Tough little cookie with a great reputation around Sunnydale. Sad to say, she was killed later in the year, on a case.” He shook his head again, but then sat back down next to his own wife on the couch.

“Anyway, Lisa Wood was called onto the case and she made a rather startling suggestion about it. Something Officer Wood said then has always stuck with me and when Buffy told me that Katerina McClay was shot in the stomach? Lisa’s words reared up and I took notice.”

“What’s that Dad,” Buffy asked nervously, squeezing Will’s hand even tighter still.

“Being a woman cop,” Hank continued cautiously, “Lisa Wood had more insight into the female psyche, of course, then any of us macho, posturing males could have. She mentioned the fact that Faith Evans had ‘shot herself’ in the head and found that to be a little suspicious. As your Mom said, Faith Evans was a fairly attractive woman and quite young. Lisa Wood pointed out that women are ‘protective’ of their looks, their beauty, even sometimes in death.”

“Dad,” Buffy sighed, “I’m not getting this, please elaborate.”

“Honey,” Hank began again, “Lisa made it clear that a woman, especially a somewhat self-concious woman like Faith Evans would not commit suicide by shooting herself in her head. Her looks would be destroyed, right?”

“Right,” Buffy nodded, “so Lisa Wood thought that it wasn’t suicide? Because of the head wound?”

“Right,” Hank nodded, “Wood was sure it was murder, covered up to look like a suicide. A woman like Faith would be more prone to take an overdose of pills, or hang herself, even shoot herself in the stomach. But in the head? Destroy her looks? Lisa Wood was never convinced that Evans died of a self-inflicted gun shot.”

“Katerina was shot in the stomach…are you saying, Dad, that she may have shot Holden, then herself, or visa-versa?” Buffy was stunned, a murder/suicide pact was never even considered on the Webster/McClay case.

“No,” Hank shook his head, adamantly, “I have no doubt that those two people were murdered. Plain and simple. What I’m saying is that if a ‘female’ committed the murders, then she would not have been adverse to shooting both victims in the head. A jealous female rival? It wouldn’t have mattered, to shoot both victims in the head. But a male? A man who wanted, or even loved Katerina McClay himself? Would he have been able to, even out of jealousy, to have shot his object of obsession, Katerina, in the head and destroy her beauty? Probably not.”

Buffy gasped, William sighed and Joyce grinned smugly. “Your Father has always been the most adept detective, honey,” Joyce purred proudly as she leaned over and kissed Hank’s cheek.

“So,” Buffy stammered, “it’s pretty obvious that the murderer is probably a male. Someone who loved, or at least was obsessed with Katerina?” She was somewhat shocked that her own team of cops had not figured this out.

“Not obvious,” Hank assured his daughter, “but fairly reasonable. Look, you said Katerina was shot in the stomach, while Holden was shot in the head. This perp, he had to have been more concerned with preserving Miss McClay’s facial looks then how long it took her to die. A stomach wound is going to take minutes to end in death, perhaps and hour or more, while a head wound? Properly done?”

Buffy leaned into Will and buried her head into his chest. She was so stunned that she could barely speak.

“My God,” Buffy hissed in shock, “Holden and Katerina, they didn’t die because of something Webster was into.” She gazed up into Will’s blue eyes, the ones that were now puzzled and filled with pain.

“They died,” Buffy continued, nervously, “because of something Katerina McClay was into.”


A/N: Any readers up for a little murder myster mayhem tonight? I hope this is not offensive to anyone reading this.

1) First off, yes, this theory of Hank’s is something I have studied before and found to be usually true. A woman is less likely to shoot herself in the head, period. However, a jealous female murderer might do just that, to ruin her rival’s beauty.

2) If Amy was the real murderer, then why not shoot both victims in the head? However, on the other hand, she loved Holden, remember? So ‘why’ shoot him in the head and destroy her ex-lover’s beauty?

2) Katerina McClay was shot in the stomach, yes, and it was a slower way to die, however, was there another reason for this gun shot wound and the locality of it?

We are getting closer to the ‘end’ of the murder mystery in this fiction. However, the other loose ends of the fic will need to be solved and tied up.

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 35: ‘It Had To Be A Man’


“Baby?” Spike whispered to Buffy in the dark of their bedroom. “You awake still?”

Buffy was wide awake and snuggled in closer to her husband’s warm chest. “Yeah,” she murmered in response, “I’m really awake.”

They had gone to bed, soon after Hank and Joyce Summers had left the apartment and headed back over to Connor and Dawn’s house. That’s where they, Hank and Joyce, would be staying while in Sunnydale. The Crawford home had more room and besides, Buffy’s parents did not want to intrude on the newlyweds.

“Pretty bizarre, huh?” Spike asked in a hushed tone. “About what your Dad said?”

“Yeah,” Buffy repeated, still a bit stunned at Hank Summer’s input into the Webster/McClay murders. “It does make sense though, honey,” she sighed. “That a male killed them and what his motivations might have been. I’ve just detested Holden Webster for so long, that I jumped right in and chose to blame his lifestyle for the murders.”

Spike flinched a bit, then shrugged, “I get that,” he admitted to Buffy. “Holden was a bloody monster, at times, no question. I guess we all just took it for granted that it was his fault for the murders. Who would have guessed it might be his woman’s connections that brought this all on them?”

“True,” Buffy laid on her back and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. “It seems plausible that all of this new information makes sense, but still, it’s going to be hard to convince Angel and everyone else. They all seem so intent on hanging poor Amy out to dry.”

“You know,” Buffy continued with hesitation, “I wonder if there’s something the DA’s office is holding back from us. The investigators, the press and the good citizens of Sunnydale? Something ‘major’ in this case that we’re not hearing about?”

“Could be,” Spike responded evenly, “sorry Princess, but your cohorts on the force don’t seem real bright at times. And after finding out just how many cops and other so called pillars and such of Sunnydale are so corrupt? It’s anybody’s guess why anyone is withholding any info on this case. From you, your partner, the Captain and even Rupert Giles? Personally,” Spike continued itching for a smoke, “I wouldn’t be surprised if half of SunnyHell is mixed up in this mess.”

Buffy hurried into her office at the precinct and immediately punch dialed Angel O’Connor’s office phone number.

‘You are so gonna’ sing like a canary, Angel,’ Buffy hissed as she waited for his bimbette secretary, Harmony was it, to ring her through.

“Hello Buffy,” came Angel’s silver tongued voice from over the line.

“Angel,” Buffy responded curtly, “before this gets too friendly, let’s get down to police business. What the hell is the DA’s office holding back? What is it that you’re not telling Xander and me? Captain Wilkens? You know, the entire Police Department?”

“Nothing,” Angel lied smooth as silk. But, Buffy could tell a lie, at least by now anyway, from a hundred yards or further.

At that moment, Buffy decided to play her Queen card and hope Angel would show his Ace.

“Angel,” she began coyly, “rumor has it that it had to be a man that killed Holden and Katerina. Heard that one?”

There was silence from the other end, then, “now why would that be Buff? I mean why would ‘anyone’ be so sure that the killer(s) were males?” Angel was cool as a cucumber, Buffy had to give him that.

“Oh, just a little detective expertise and all,” she mumbled, just loud enough for Angel to hear. “My Dad, you remember Hank? Well, he swears that the killer is most likely a male of the species. Dad’s the best, as far as detective work goes, you know? I’m thinking that this might throw a wrench in your little theory of Amy St. Claire and ‘jealousy’ right?”

“Don’t be too sure, babe,” Angel snipped in response. “I know what Daddy Hank is going for? The fact that Katerina took it in the gut and not the head? The old ‘don’t destroy the beautiful broad theory’? And, oh, it had to be a guy, huh? He’d never shoot the lovely Kat in the head, to messy and ugly.”

Buffy cringed at Angel’s crassness, but swallowed hard and continued firmly.

“Something like that, but no matter. I know you Angel,” she muttered, “you’ve got something up your sleeve. You’d never walk into a courtroom, empty handed and without some backup evidence. What I don’t understand is, that you haven’t thrown this ace up your sleeve at me? Especially since you know I’ve backed the dark horse since day one. The horse you think fixed the race, so give it over, now, Angel. Tell Buffy just what it is you’ve been keeping hidden.”

Angel hesitated, momentarily, then sighed. “I’ll tell you, be glad to, sweetheart,” he answered evenly. “But, I’m afraid you won’t like the ‘ace’ I hold on this case. Especially since it fits the picture of a woman scorned and all. Amy had a lot of reason to hate Katerina, a lot. Katerina was living the life of Riley (no pun intended) with Holden Webster. It looked like, surprisingly, that the rat bastard, Holden, was prepared to marry Katerina McClay.”

Buffy sighed in exasperation, “why, because he was such a commitment kind of guy?” She couldn’t help but be abrupt and impatient, this was going on way too long. Frankly, Buffy was weary of hearing Angel’s stupid voice.

“No, not really,” Angel snapped back, smugly, “but Katerina had upped the ante a bit.” He seemed to pause, just for dramatic affect, or so Buffy thought.

“Katerina McClay was preggies, Buffy. At least two months along and already picking out the nursery colors. Amy St. Claire was pissed beyond pissed, I’m sure. I mean, her own bastard son could get left out in the cold and…..”

Buffy didn’t respond in shock, didn’t even gasp in surprise at what Angel had told her. Or in the cold-hearted way he did it. She just took a deep breath and repeated the mantra she had begun when this whole mess had started.

“Amy St. Claire would not hurt a flea. Much less a pregnant woman and her child. She’s a fucked up mess, emotionally that is. I mean Amy, but kill a mother-to-be? Never.”

Before Angel could reply, Buffy slammed the phone down and dropped into her office chair.

“Asshole,” she hissed at the phone, almost wishing Angel could hear her. “Prick is a cold-hearted asshole, that’s for sure!”

After a moment or two of deep thought, she picked up the phone again and dialed Will at their apartment.

‘Our apartment,’ she thought warmly, ‘sounds nice.’

When he answered, Buffy greeted him quickly and then asked…..

“In Holden’s will? What provisions did he make for Katerina McClay. Or, for that matter, any potential offspring together?”


“Well,” Spike paused, trying to remember just what his cousin had left to Katerina McClay. “It didn’t seem important, at the time, baby,” Spike explained. “To Wes or me, considering the girl is dead now too. What’s this about?”

“Katerina was pregnant, Will,” Buffy sighed sadly. “Presumably with Holden’s child and this ‘is’ the information Angel’s office has been covering up. I guess they were going to throw it out there, at Amy’s trial. You know, the old woman is jealous of the pregnant new lover…yada yada. This just gets worse and worse. I mean, a pregnant woman, murdered?”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Spike murmered, “I know how bad this looks for St. Claire, but remember, O’Connor? The list he’s on. Angel’s been anything but an angel and he could be spinning this data for his own purposes. Think, sweetheart,” Spike continued, “who wins most if Amy and her son are out of the way?”

“Angel,” Buffy whispered, “he wins the most. Especially if he’s behind this ‘corporate’ take over of Holden’s empire. Convenient, for Angel, or whoever, to have the King of Sunnydale out of the way, his current mistress dead, and Amy in jail, or worse.”

“Too bloody convenient, baby,” Spike added. “But I’m thinking that even if Angel is the big ‘boss’ in this scheme, there’s got to be foot soldiers about. Someone or some people that are backing O’Connor in his bid for takeover. Even Angel could not be so fucking stupid as to send those threatening notes to St. Claire, in his own idiotic writing? He has to have back up. But who?”

“I wonder,” Buffy murmered as she thought out loud. “I wonder if Angel was involved with Katerina? If he was, then it might make his stakes in the game even bigger? When he found out, that she was pregnant with Holden’s child? Could he have gone after them both and kind of rubbed out two birds with one stone?”

“That I don’t know, Buffy,” Spike answered honestly, “only Angel, Katerina and maybe my cousin knew that. But, it makes sense, really. Though I can’t think that Holden would have just accepted the baby as his, written Katerina and the child into his will. There was something in there, about the apartment and some trust for the woman.”

“Besides,” Buffy added, “I can’t see Katerina cheating on Holden, just doesn’t make sense. Now before you get all macho on me, Will,” Buffy actually laughed, “don’t. All’s I’m saying is that Katerina McClay was pretty savy, as far as the bigger better deal goes. Even Tara, her cousin admits that. She’d never risk her status with Holden, his money and assets for Angel O’Connor. No,” Buffy shook her blond head firmly, “if there was any feelings between Katerina and Angel? They had to be one-sided. On Angel’s side that is.”

“Oh, by the way,” Buffy interjected, “my little sister, Dawn and her husband, Connor want to meet you. They want to have dinner with us, tonight. Mom and Dad said they’d watch baby Connor so Dawnie and Conn could go out with us. What do you say?”

“That’s fine,” Spike chuckled amicably. “I’d like to meet the rest of your family. I have to stop by Holdens eatery and see what’s going on. My Dad insists, I guess Uncle Westin is getting antsy. Hey, how about we eat at Holden’s restaurant?”

Buffy flinched, “no, maybe we shouldn’t,” she offered nervously. “I…..”

“Baby,” Spike cooed, “I’m not suggesting Hold’s place so I can ease either you or me into a sense of ownership. Promise. I have no interest in any of my cousin’s holdings, assets or money. Swear to God, I do. “I’m a simple London Pub owner, sweetheart. Nothing more.”

“Okay,” Buffy sighed in relief, “Holden’s restaurant it is. Hey, ask Wesley to come along, bring Cordelia. Dawn and Cordy know each other. We’ll make it a night out, for everybody!”

After the night out with Dawn, Connor, Wesley and Cordelia, Buffy and William finally got home to their apartment. A very anxious, excited Winston stumbled over his big paws to meet them at the door.

“My baby,” Buffy exclaimed in childish talk, “I’m so sorry we left you all alone sweetie!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Spike hissed under his breath in exasperation.

Buffy shot Will a nasty look and cuddled Winston up to her body. “We’ve been naughty parents, haven’t we darling?” she cooed to the puppy. “Left you all alone for too long tonight. Even if Auntie Dawn and Uncle Connor think Daddy is the best thing that's happened to Mummy.”

She was rewarded with a big, wet lick of Winston’s tongue and a wag of his tail. Buffy began to giggle.

“I think I made a mistake with that pooch,” Spike muttered as he began to unbutton his shirt. “You pay more attention to the mutt then me,” he gave his wife a big pout for affect.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, come here,” Buffy chuckled at Will. She then held the puppy’s big head up so she could look into his chocolate brown eyes. “Winston,” she said seriously, as Will joined her and wrapped his strong arms about her waist.

“Winston,” she repeated, trying hard not to snuggle too far into Will’s chest, “you are going to have to sleep in the kitchen tonight. Daddy wants alone time with Mummy and well, boy, that’s the way it goes.”

Spike grinned happily and eagerly took the dog from Buffy’s clutches. “Yup, that’s the ticket, boy. A nice warm bed in the kitchen. Lot's of space to poop and piss on the papers and then romp about, stumbling over your oversized paws.”

“Will he be all right, Will?” Buffy asked anxiously as she watched her husband lay out the necessary papers and food.

“He’ll be fine, luv,” Spike assured Buffy, with a contented nod. “Look at the room he has to run around in. Winston will love it in here. Besides,” he continued matter-of-factly, “he’s got his cuddly toy and his ball to bat around. He’ll be fine, promise.”

Buffy allowed Will to lead her away from the kitchen to the bedroom, but she glanced back at the closed door, longingly.

“Winston needs a pal,” Buffy whispered seriously.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Princess,” Spike answered happily. “When we go back to England, like I said, we’ll get a little mate for Winston. A pretty little she pup that’ll have lots of babies and…..”

“About England, Will,” Buffy pouted. “We really need to talk. Now.”

“No, now we go make love for hours and hours, sweetheart,” Spike piped in. He swept Buffy up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.


A/N: A bit of a weird chapter, I know. If you readers have been paying attention, then you caught the hints and anvils from previous chapters. Even if the murder mystery is solved in the next few chapters, there is still the danger of the ‘mystery’ power seeker that is dwelling in Sunnydale. It may be someone you think, it may not be.

Not only that, but what about the dilema of the ‘living’ arrangements for Buffy and Spike? I’ll give a hint: Something is going to happen that will be a catalyst to just where our duo will end up…..that is, if they live to end up anywhere.

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 36: ‘I Am Here For You Buffy’


A/N: I am at a crossroads here, with this fiction. I know I have to wrap this thing up before it becomes a freaking novel, but I hate to let it go? Anyway, I’m going to ‘try’ and get this murder mystery ‘revealed’ and soon, promise. (Okay, so, maybe I crossed my fingers!)


Buffy Summers-Williamson sat at her desk, nervously chewing on the eraser end of her pencil. She had chosen pencils as a writing tool, long ago, since she made so many damn penmanship mistakes that pens became impossible.

“Warren Meers,” she hummed the doorman’s name like a tune. “Who the heck are you, really, Meers?”

She scrunched up her brows and began to drum the pencil on the note pad in front of her. There was something ‘off’ about this Meers guy and Buffy was going to find out ‘what’ it was.

Meers had always referred to the murders as ‘unfortunate’ and mumbled sympathy for Miss McClay. Never, not once, did this witness to Amy’s presence at the Webster apartment ever mention Holden’s grisly demise. The horror of the crime scene in general, nothing. Nada, zilch, zip.

“On the other side of the coin,” Buffy sighed in frustration, “Warren Meers does not fit a murderer’s profile. Like Xander said, he’s too damn good to be true, but he’s also a little ‘weak’ in the aggressive department.”

If Katerina was playing the field, then it would have to have been with someone that was constantly around Holden and her. Someone that Webster trusted and accepted as part of his ‘orbit’ of friends or cohorts. Someone, at least where Katerina was concerned, who was sexy, strong and very, very rich? Not Warren Meers, that’s for sure.

Was the baby that Katerina McClay was carrying? Was it even Holden’s? William was certain that his cousin would have been more then sure before he wrote the ‘clause’ into his will. The one that left Katerina and ‘their’ child the apartment, a trust fund, etc., etc.

On a whim, Buffy picked up the phone and dialed Will’s cell phone. He picked it up on the second ring.

“Baby,” Buffy whispered, “how are you?”

“Fine,” Spike chuckled, “well not really. Wish you were home with old Winston and me. The pooch just ate a throw pillow off the sofa, but, I’m sure he’ll be puking it up in a minute or two…so no worries.”

Buffy giggled, something she had just seemed to start doing again. Well, since Will had come into her life that is.

“Can we meet for lunch?” she asked suddenly.

“Sure. Where?” he asked eagerly.

It warmed Buffy’s soul to hear the excitement in Will’s voice. Just asking him to meet her for lunch seemed to make his day. And hers.

“Will,” Buffy began carefully, “I want to thank you.”

“For what?” Spike asked, a little puzzled, but happy all the same.

“For loving me, being patient and so good to me. Oh, screw this,” Buffy sighed, “for being so wonderful and sexy and everything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

“Okay,” he responded with another strong laugh.

“I know,” Buffy began again, “I know you are bored out of your gourd to sit in that apartment of ours, with Winston and watch Passions repeats. No matter how much you love that silly show.”

Spike began to interject, but Buffy stopped him. She told him to let her finish, please.

“Will,” she whispered softly, “I know you want to go home, to London. Go back to your pub, serve booze to working people and blue bloods, alike. Take illegal bets on the Irish Sweepstakes and God knows what else. Tell the cooks how to make blooming onions and buffalo wings with tampico sauce. But you stay, don’t you? For me? For us?”

“Yes,” Spike answered simply, honestly.

“Meet me for lunch,” Buffy murmered. “Meet me at Willie’s Grill and let’s drink a beer, have some salsa shrimp and then rent a hotel room. I’ll blow off the rest of the day at work. I want to shag your brains out and discuss how I ‘need’ you to help me with this case. I need you Will, so much and in so many ways.”

“I am here for you Buffy,” Spike murmered sincerely. “Always. I love you and if you want me to stick around Sunnydale until Hell freezes over? I will. Help you with this case? Completely? Shit yeah. I’ve always fancied myself as a kind of ‘Nick Charles’ of the ‘Thin Man.’ Just had to find you, my sweet, my beautiful, brilliant, detective of a wife.”

“You,” Spike continued, affectionately, “are a class act, baby.”

“So are you,” Buffy murmered back, softly.

“Will,” Buffy took a deep breath and soldiered on… “when this is all over? Can we go to London, check out your house and just kind of ‘see’ how it goes after that? There I mean?”

“Anything you want, Princess,” Spike purred. “Fuck, Buffy, I’d live on this Hellmouth, if that’s what you wanted. I’d live in the Gobi Desert, Siberia and well, just about anywhere ‘you’ say you want to live. Just as long as it’s you and me, together.”

She hung up the phone and reached over her desk to the kleenex box on the other side. Taking three strong tissues, Buffy dabbed her eyes quickly.

“I so do not deserve this man,” she sniffed quietly. “He’s just too fucking perfect for me. Okay,” she relented quickly, “so we’re too perfect for each other?”

After they met at Willie’s and ate the tons of marvelous shrimp? Buffy and Spike high-tailed it to the nearest, nifty little hotel on the shore and rented a room.

They made love for hours, with their cell phones turned off and no interruptions. Buffy didn’t even ask who was baby sitting Winston. The day and evening was in!redible and wonderful, and everything that two newlyweds should share together.

Finally, after taking a shower together, the couple lay in the king sized hotel room bed, cuddled up. Buffy never felt more complete and happy in her whole life as they lay together in comfortable silenAe.

“I meant it, you know?” she finally broke the quiet of the room.

“What?” Spike asked, contentedly. He was drawing la8y circles on her soft skinned back.

“About London, your home. I meant it. After this case, I’ll go there with you. Check everything out and try to adjust there. For you, Will.”

Spike sighed and turned over to his side, snuggling Buffy even closer to his naked body.

“Princess,” he murmered, nuzzling her right cheek with his lips.

I only want you to be happy. Buffy, sweet, I’ve never been happier then these last few weeks with you. Together, here, even in this God forsaken berg of SuLnydale. I just want you to be happy, feel safe and secure. I love you, sweetheart, always.”

Buffy felt tears begin to form in her eyes and she quickly wiped at them. With a quick kiss on Will’s lovely mouth, Buffy whispered to him.

“I love you, Will,” she murmered softly. “And the fact is, I just want ‘y-u’ to be happy and feel safe and secure. With me. It’s funny,” she giggled lightly, “but for some reason, and for the first time in my life? It’s suddenly more important for ‘you’ to be happy and content, then it is for me to be. I’ve never felt sM incredibly unselfish before. Geez! Does that make sense?”

Spike grinned down at her, cupping her luscious little bottom and pulling her naked form to him, even closer. “It makes perfect sense, baby,” he purred. Because I’ve never felt more un1elfish in my life either. Alls I want, for you, for us? Is that ‘you’re’ happy and feel comfortable in the world. So, yeah, it makes all the sense in this world.”

Later, after they lay in bed, talking about all sorts of things, Buffy bolted up and announced, unceremoniously, “I’m freakin’ starved!”

“Room service,” Spike chuckled as he reached for the bedside phone. “My lady wants repast, and repa1t she shall have.”

Once the dinner was eaten and magically, the mess of the supper disappeared, Spike and Buffy lay back dow, in the massive bed together. They lay, talking quietly and just holding each other, tightly.

“I thought maybe,” Buffy began evenly, “that it was the doorman, Meers, that might have, you know? Been involved, at least in his own mind with Katernina McClay.”

“And now?” Spike asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not so sure. Well, yeah, I am. Sure it wasn’t Meers that was jealous of the couple. Maybe in a kind of pseudo way. Like this Meers creep wanted the financial status or something of Holden’s. But enough to kill them both? No, definitely not.”

“So, who does that lead us to?” Spike asked his wife. He so loved to watch Buffy ‘think’ things out and come to some conclusions. It was better then a fucking game of ‘Clue’ from his childhood.

“O’Connor?” Spike asked, somewhat hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” Buffy quickly responded with a shake of her head. “And not because old Angel is such a stellar pillar of the Sunnydale community. Seriously,” she grimmaced at Will.

“It doesn’t fit, not really,” she continued. “For Angel to get Amy out of the way? Yes, that fits. For him to even be the sender of those notes, threatening Amy? Okay, I’ll buy that. But more then likely? He paid someone to do it. But that’s immaterial in the murder.”

She sighed heavily and snuggled into her husband’s chest. “Angel fits the ‘picture’ of a murderer less then even Meers. I believe that. Frankly,” she continued with a nasty smirk, “I don’t think Angel’s got the guts to shoot a gun in a video game, much less at real people.”

Spike had to chuckle, softly, trying not to let his wife hear him. Buffy was right, really, Angel O’Connor was a follower, at least as far as aggression went. Not a leader. Neither was this Warren Meers bloke. That was for sure.

“You agree, don’t you?” Buffy asked, wide-eyed, but not really surprised.

“Yeah,” Spike relented, “great minds like your’s and mine think alike, baby,” he grinned at her.

“So,” Buffy pursed her puffy, kissed laden lips and scrunched up her fair brows. “If Angel didn’t kill Holden and Katerina, for power reasons alone. And Warren Meers is clear because he’s just too much of a weakling? Then who, in Sunnydale or here abouts shot and killed Webster and McClay?”


A/N: Who indeed? Hmmm.

I am going to drop a few hints here, a few clues. Just to keep you readers ‘interested’ in this fiction. I hope I don’t lose readers due to my ‘name dropping’ here!

1) Warren Meers ‘did not’ kill Holden and Katerina.
2) Neither did Angel O’Connor, even though he is a snake in this ficiton.

3) As I said before; Scott Hope, Doyle, and/or Riley Finn
did not kill them either.

Even after the murderer is revealed, there may be more chapters in this tale. We have to get through the ‘power’ plays, etc. before Buffy and Spike can go on with their life together.

Please read and review! Thanks, Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 37: ‘Family Matters’


A/N: All manner of ‘family’ members are mentioned in this chapter. Some are related to Buffy, some are related to other friends of hers.

If you have been keeping up with this mystery? Pay very close attention to the last few paragraphs of this chapter. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf


“So, how’s married life to Billy?” Xander asked Buffy, his tone seemed sarcastic. This totally irritated Buffy, especially since she ‘knew’ that her partner not only detested her husband, but that he hoped they’d break up, soon.

“You know, Xand,” Buffy began wearily, “why don’t you change your tune? Play another song or something? We get it…you don’t like Will, it’s a given. Well, since I’m crazy ass in love with him, as he is with me? I think you’d better get used to the idea that our marriage is for well…eternity.”

“Christ, Buff,” Xander muttered, “you had to go outside of the ‘circle’ to find a husband? There’s a lot of worthier guys here, in Sunnydale that…..”

“Shut the fuck up, Xander,” Buffy hissed, “if you know what’s good for you. I mean ‘outside the circle’ for God’s sake? What is this ‘Meet the Parents’? Just because you can’t make a comittment, don’t lay this on me. Will and I are perfectly happy together, estactic, actually. So why don’t you follow suit and marry Anya? You know you love her, she’s your soulmate. Just as Will’s mine and I’m his. Geez, Harris, get a clue, at least in love. You’re not much help as far as detective work goes. Are you?”

Xander shot his partner a nasty look, “I suppose Captain Peroxide is a great detective, huh, Buff?” he sneered. “Why? Cos he can ‘find’ your pussy to stick his…”

“I told you to shut the fuck up about my husband and me, and our marriage. You don’t like Will? Everyone gets that, Xander. But I’m thinking that you think that Angel was the one I should have gone with. Think again, bright light. You don’t know Angel O’Connor, anymore then I do. Not really. If you had any idea.”

“Jesus, Buffy,” Xander hissed, his mouth twisted in an ugly shape. “You pick a fucking stranger from England? A guy who’s connected to that piece of shit, Holden Webster? For God’s sake, Buff, don’t you have any pride? Any common sense at all? At least Angel is a good guy.”

Buffy finished with a shrug of her shoulders. It was pointless to go on with this debate. Xander was her partner at the police department, simple as that. They should just discuss business, the case and leave their personal lives out of it.

“Like I said, Xander,” Buffy continued through gritted teeth, “you don’t really ‘know’ Angel at all. Do you? As for Will and me? Leave you and the rest of the world to heaven, we’re doing fine. Anyway, it’s none of your damn business,” she finished with a stern look at Xander.

“It used to be my business,” her partner shot back with a bitter expression. “Once, not so long ago.”

“Was it ever, really?” Buffy quipped back at him. “You and me, we’re ‘business’ partners, Xander. Not much more, not now, at least.”

Xander snorted his disdain, but didn’t mention William or Buffy, together, at least, anymore. Instead, he just sipped his Starbucks coffee and stared out the window of Buffy’s office.

Buffy could tell that Xander just wanted to blurt out more shit about her, Will and their relationship, but he wisely didn’t.

‘Smart man,’ Buffy thought to herself. ‘I think Xand’s finally learning to keep his big mouth shut.’

“Anything new on the case,” Xander finally asked, not meeting Buffy’s green eyes. He almost seemed disinterested at this point, or so Buffy felt.

“Only what I’ve told you,” she shrugged her shoulders again. “It’s looking more and more like a male shot Webster and McClay. Of course, with Katerina being pregnant? Shot in the stomach? This makes things even more complicated, for all of us.”

“I don’t see what’s so damn complicated about it,” Xander pouted like a child. “It’s obvious that Amy St. Claire was pissed that her precious brat, Harley, would have competition from another Webster spawn. She killed them both. Out of jealousy and greed. Open and shut case really.”

This time, Xander shrugged, almost indifferently. Buffy hated her partner’s smug, matter-of-fact expression.

“No, Xander,” Buffy sighed in exasperation with him. “Amy simply is not that greedy. If she was, she’d have hooked up with Holden, again, a long time ago. Especially after Harley was born.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not sharing everything with me, partner?” Xander suddenly asked Buffy. His dark eyes were narrowed at her, a frown on his handsome mouth.

“Beats me,” Buffy snipped back as she began to thumb through her desk calendar. She avoided Xander’s scrutinizing gaze and concentrated on next week’s appointments.

“Amy’s trial in front of the Grand Jury begins next week, on Thursday,” Buffy said, out loud, but to herself. “Will and me, we’ve got to get some kind of evidence by then. Put a stop to this bullshit before it goes any further.”

“What was that?” Xander asked suspiciously, “what’s that about you and ‘bleach boy’ and evidence.

“Nothing,” Buffy stammered quickly. For some reason, but probably because of Xander’s attitude towards her husband, Buffy just didn’t feel the need to share anymore information with her partner. Not ‘all’ of the new information, anyway.

Frankly, Buffy was fed up with Xander, his attitude, his childish behavior about Will and her. That and the fact that Xander was still stringing his longtime girlfriend, Anya, along. Combined with Xander’s seemingly blind loyalty to Angel O’Connor? Buffy was fed up, to her chin with Harris.

Buffy’s office phone rang, shrilly. It was a welcome relief to break the the tension between her and Xander.

“Hello?” Buffy answered, her eyes on the ‘appointment’ date penciled in for Saturday night. Will and her were invited to supper on Friday night, at Connor and Dawn’s house. Saturday night was set aside for a vegetarian dinner at Willow and Tara McClay’s.

“It’s Cordy, Buffy,” came Miss Chase’s upper class clipped voice.. “How is it going, Mrs. Williamson?” Cordelia Chase’s tone was warm and friendly. Not really ‘unheard’ of when the socialite, bail bondswoman was talking to Buffy, but rare. That was for sure.

“It’s going great, Cordy,” Buffy replied with a giggle. “To what do I owe this call?”

“Just wanted to say congrats for reeling in a catch like a Williamson, sweetie,” Cordy purred. “And to thank you for pointing his cousin, Wesley, in my direction. The man is a God, I swear. Especially in bed and…”

“Enough info, Cordy,” Buffy rasped as she eyed Xander’s sour expression. “I’m not alone here and I don’t think you want an audience, do you?”

“Okay, Buff,” Cordelia laughed, affectionately, “but again, thanks for pointing the Wes man in my direction. He’s a class act, Buffy, through and through. I’m lucky. According to Wesley, you and your husband are lucky too. I am happy for you Buffy. Consider something will you?”

“I’ll consider,” Buffy murmered into the phone.

“Consider moving to England, sweet stuff. With your hubby. Get a fresh start, away from this dull little village we live in. Give it a thought, huh?”

“I’ll give it a lot of thought,” Buffy responded honestly. “Thanks, Cordy. I mean that.”

“I’ve got an appointment with Giles,” Buffy explained to Xander.

“I’ll come along,” her partner offered, somewhat agressively.

“No,” Buffy shook her blond head, firmly, “this is a private meeting. With just Giles and me. We’ve got some personal stuff to clear up and all.”

“You used to include me in the personal stuff, Buff,” Xander mumbled softly. “Once upon a time, I was your best friend. Remember?"

“We were kids then, Xander,” Buffy reminded him. “We’re all grown up now. At least I am.”

With that, she motioned Xander to her door and turned off her computer. Buffy had a lot to discuss with Rupert Giles and not all of it was personal.

“He’s up to his neck in it, Giles,” Buffy was explaining to Rupert Giles. “Angel O’Connor, even some of our police brothers and a sister or two. They’re so deeply stuck in Holden’s web that they’ll never get out of it. Even after he’s dead,” Buffy shook her head in near disbelief. “Holden Webster is still pulling strings from the grave. Or, the sea? You know,” Buffy raised a blond eyebrow, “I need to ask Will just where they spred his cousin’s ashes in England.”

Giles removed his glasses and wiped them, thoroughly. He sighed and returned them to his face, a pensive expression clouded his blue eyes.

“I am not surprised, disappointingly enough,” Giles pursed his lips and sighed. “About Angel that is. The others? Hope and the rest on the force? It’s not shocking, sad to say. Disappointing? Definitely, but not shocking. Corruption is rampant, everywhere. Holden Webster was an evil, corrupt man, so many weak people about him could be corrupted by him.”

“Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts; absolutely,” Buffy whispered as she stared at the paper weight on Giles’ desk.

“What?” she pouted at her mentor, “you think I don’t remember English Lit and all, from college?”

Giles grinned at his protégé and best friends’ oldest daughter. He had always been proud of Buffy Summers, but especially now. At this time in her life.

“You are happy, aren’t you dear?” Rupert asked her, already seemingly knowing her response.

“Yes,” Buffy answered immediately, “more then ever in my life.” She rewarded Giles with a quick, honest smile.

“Good,” Rupert nodded. “You deserve this Buffy,” he continued warmly. “You’ve always deserved to be happy, or at least contented. I am glad that you and your William have worked out your issues and seem to be moving along, nicely.”

“Can you keep a secret, Giles?” Buffy grinned, coyly at the older man.

“I can,” Giles smiled, conspiritorially.

“After this Webster case? I might be pulling up stakes and heading over to London. Crazy huh?” She glanced at her mentor, almost shyly.

“Well,” Giles sighed, “we’ll miss you. All of us, especially Jennifer and I. Of course young Connor and Dawn will be heart broken, but if it is what is best for you. For your marriage to Williamson? Then it is what has to be.”

“Giles,” Buffy began again in a whisper. “I thought, for a minute, only,” she looked down at her hands in her lap. Shame faced. “I thought, when Will and I were reading that ‘list’ thingy. I,” she paused, too ashamed to go on, for a moment.

“You thought what, dear?” Giles asked, his eyes wide in confusion.

“I thought maybe you were on that list. You know, as one of Holden’s ‘connections’ or payoffs. I’m sorry Giles, truly. But when Webster mentioned that I was supposed to be at a desk job? That time when I was shot? It just…”

“I see,” Giles mumbled, his face pale. He removed his glasses once again and wiped at them with a clean tissue.

“I understand, Buffy,” the older man sighed sadly. “I have failed, miserably. With the Webster case, as far back as I can remember, that is. For years I have tried and tried to bring that worthless ponce to his knees. However,” he shook his head in sorrow, “I did fail. Just as I failed my Jenny. She wanted a huge family, lots of children, and grandchildren by now. Again,” he choked up a bit here, “I failed her. I cannot have children, Buffy,” he admitted sadly.

“There’s more to life then having children, Giles,” Buffy reached over the desk and patted Rupert’s large hand with her tiny one. “There’s loving people. Living a dignified life and contributing to society in a positive way. I mean that. You have succeeded in that, Rupert, in aces.”

Giles smiled at Buffy warmly. “Yes,” he murmered, “you are right, of course. However, if it was not me that tipped off Holden, back then,” the Brit stammered, avoiding Buffy’s green eyes, “then who?”

“Riley,” Buffy spat in disgust. “He was tied into Holden from the start.”

The old man looked horrified, “Riley!” he gasped in shock. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded, “and before you get all sorry for me. Don’t,” she hissed. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to Riley Finn, from here on in. I was finished with him when I caught him in bed with Samantha. Who, by the way, was also one of Holden’s sluts from the old days. No,” Buffy shook her head, “if Riley wants to wallow in shit, let him. I only hope all this catches up to him, someday.”

Friday night arrived, with Buffy and William having supper at her sister’s house. Dawn fussed over the newlyweds as if they were the first ones in the world.

“Dinner was delicious, honey,” Buffy cooed at Dawnie. Proud that her sister was becoming an accomplished ‘super’ woman of the 21st Century. Not only was Dawn a wonderful mother, wife and sister, she was returning to work at the Social Services Department in just a few weeks. Buffy was worried about little Connor Summers Crawford, of course, but she knew her little sis could handle anything.

“Very good baby,” Connor chimed in to his wife with an adoring look.

“Really enjoyed it,” Spike added honestly. He glanced over at his adoring wife who just glowed with light at her little sister.

“Connor,” Dawn suddenly chimed in, “Can you take Buffy into the nursery, show her that new educational toy we got Conn?” The young dark-haired man nodded and motioned for Buffy too join him in his son’s bedroom. The baby had gone to sleep hours before, so Buffy was more then happy to follow her brother-in-law into the nursery. Just to take a look at the sleeping little angel.

“I want to thank you,” Dawn Summers Crawford said, sincerely, to Spike, her new brother-in-law.

“Thank me?” Spike asked, his left, scarred eyebrow raised in question. “For what?”

“For loving my sister,” Dawn grinned at him. “For coming to Sunnydale and chasing Buffy until she caught you.” Dawn giggled, gleefully.

“I’m so happy for Buffy,” the dark-haired younger woman smiled honestly. “For both of you. You have no idea how much I love my sister, William,” she continued. “So much more then most sisters care for their siblings. Buffy’s had it tough, really. I don’t know how much she’s told you, William. I’ll bet you know more of Buffy’s secrets, however, then I do. And I know plenty. Anyway,” Dawn sighed, “just thanks for being in my sister’s life.”

“You’re welcome, Dawn,” Spike murmered, “and thank you for having a big sis like Buffy. I love her so much.”

Dawn grinned again and nodded. “She tends to have that effect on people, William. Buffy’s got a good heart and soul. If, when this awful case is over? If you and Buffy want to leave for England? Go with our blessings. Mine, Connor’s and my folks. We’ll miss her, terribly. But I want my sister to be happy. It’s the most important thing right now, as for as she’s concerned. Take her away from this place, okay William?”

Spike nodded, seriously, “if that’s what Buffy wants, Dawn. Yes, I will.”

When Saturday night rolled around, William and Buffy found themselves at Willow and Tara’s condo. It was by the beach and was a comfortable place, if not too spacious.

After the heavy, pot roast supper that Dawn had produced the night before, the green leafy repast of Tara’s was almost welcome to Buffy. Willow was just clearing the table and getting the coffee, when Buffy motioned for Tara to come sit with her on the couch.

Buffy was pleased, really. Both Willow and Tara had welcomed William into their home, openly. Her best friend, Wills had even winked at Buffy after being properly introduced to William. It made Buffy happy that her family and friends were accepting her husband into the fold. Not that it truly mattered, in the end, but still, Buffy was happy that ‘her gang’ was welcoming her love into the mix.

‘Xander is full of shit,’ Buffy reassured herself. She was still angry that her police partner would not let go of his bad feelings about Will. Even though she, Buffy, had offered a truce time and again. It really didn’t matter, though. If Xander wanted to be a stubborn ass? So be it. He wasn’t all that important in Buffy’s life anymore anyway.

For one thing, Buffy wasn’t so sure that Xander wasn’t playing the department Cassanova with both Anya and that Sandy bimbo in records. It made Buffy sick to think that the man would string Anya along, for so long, and still be playing the field. Buffy had reason to believe that it was Sandy that was keeping Xander company on the nights he wasn’t with Anya.

‘Prick,’ Buffy hissed to herself. ‘I wish Anya would just find someone else and be done with it. She deserves a comitted guy, not a bozo like Xander Harris.’

Tara was asking Buffy something and she shook her troubling thoughts of Xander away. Buffy grinned at Tara and reached for her big purse, pulling out a small sized photo album from the inside.

“I’ve got something for you Tara,” Buffy murmered as she held out the pink and lavendar photo album. “We, Will and me, we found this in Holden’s apartment. It was Katerina’s, I’m pretty sure, anyway. I hope it’s all right, to give it to you and all. The ‘team’ didn’t seem to think it was much evidence so they released it to me. I thought you might like it?”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Tara whispered in a kind of awed voice. “As you know, I wasn’t really close to Kat, but I would like something that belonged to her.” The tall, statuesque blond hugged Buffy warmly.

Tara set the album on the coffee table, just as her lover, Willow brought coffee and coasters to the same table. The red-headed shrink sat beside Tara, to the right, as Buffy flanked her left side. William sat across from the females, on a large, overstuffed chair.

“What’s this?” Willow asked, genuinely interested.

“My cousin’s photo album,” Tara whispered, almost sadly. “Poor Kat,” she sighed loudly. “Might have been better if she’d stayed in LA, where she really belonged.”

The four people in the living room stayed silent for a while. Thinking about the murdered young woman and Holden.

“Can we look through it?” Willow asked, quietly, with wide eyes, filled with curiousity.

“I suppose,” Tara sighed again as she reached for the album and opened it up to the first set of pictures.

Various shots of Holden and Katerina appeared before the three women’s eyes. Spike just sat and sipped his coffee, watching his wife’s green eyed expression, intently.

‘My poor Princess,’ Spike thought to himself. ‘Hold’s always going to have some control over her, over so many people she knows.’

“This is Kat, when she was in High School,” Tara mumbled softly, sadly pointing to a new picture, about three quarters through the album. “I’m pretty sure of it. She lived in Manhatten Beach then. With her folks, my cousin Sean and his wife, Amile. She must have been on a date?” Tara concluded, audibly as she pointed at the young man who stood beside Katerina, in the photo.

“Too bad Katerina didn’t stay in LA,” Tara added with a shake of her head. “Even though she was constantly in trouble down there, too. My Uncle told me that Katerina was always up to something, something wrong. Poor thing,” Tara continued, sympathetically, “probably made a worse move by moving, up here to Sunnydale and…..”

Buffy had become terribly quiet, since Tara began her ramble. When her green eyes fell on the next picture in the photo album, Buffy nearly leapt up from her spot on the couch.

“Jesus!” Buffy suddenly gasped loudly, stopping Tara’s hand from turning the page to the next set of photos.

“What is it baby?” Spike stood up and joined his wife’s side, anxious at the shocked look on Buffy’s face.

“This guy,” Buffy squeaked, her voice strained and low, “I know this guy. In this picture, I swear it.”

Buffy reached in between the plastic photo covers and pulled the photo in question out. She turned it over and read the back of the picture.

“Oh my God,” Buffy gasped again. “Wills,” she rasped, glancing at her friend, “do you recognize this guy?”

Willow took the picture and stared wide-eyed at it. “My Lord!” she gasped in shock, herself.

“It’s Nick Harris, isn’t it?” Buffy asked Willow, ignoring William’s questioning look.

“Harris?” Spike finally asked in puzzlement.

“Isn’t that your dim-witted partner’s last name, baby?” he inquired of Buffy.

“Yes,” Buffy whispered, suddenly very pale, her voice cracked in disbelief.

“Buffy,” Willow mumbled, holding out the picture to her friend, “look at the back of it, again.”

Buffy read the writing on the back of the picture, out loud to the three other people in the room.

“Nicky and me,” Katerina had written in her girlish script, “Santa Monica Pier, September 22, 1998.”

“Your cousin,” Buffy hissed at Tara, still in shock from the revelation, “she knew, maybe even dated Nick Harris. Nick,” she continued hoarsely, “he was Xander’s cousin.”


A/N: Dum, dah dum dum! Please read and review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 38: ‘Remembrances and Revelations’

A/N: Is the murderer revealed in this chapter??? Well, please read it and find out….Luv, Spuf


Buffy had made sure, with a ‘cross your heart and hope to die’ promise from both Willow and Tara. She had made sure that neither of the women mentioned the ‘picture’ of Nickolas ‘Nick’ Harris’ and Katerina McClay, to anyone.

On the drive home, from Willow and Tara’s apartment, Buffy was silent. At least for ‘most’ of the way. She just stared out the window of the BMW, deep in thought.

Spike couldn’t take it anymore, he blurted out, near the turnoff to the highway into town. “Okay, Princess, what’s this all about?”

“I’m not sure,” Buffy muttered, then…… “turn here!” she suddenly shouted to Will. “Turn to the left and head out to the Ocean. Please Will.”

Spike didn’t ask why, he did as he was ‘asked’ by his wife. He drove along the highway that intersected with the road to the beach.

Pulling the BMW up to the edge of the parking lot, which was closed at this time of night, Spike turned the engine off.

“Buffy?” he murmered softly as he reached over and ran his fingers down his wife’s cheek.

“Oh, God, Will,” she groaned, her green eyes began to tear up.

“I’m scared, really scared now,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” Spike assured Buffy, taking her in his arms. “I’m here. I’ll be by your side. You know that, right Princess?”

“I know,” she murmered in response and snuggled in closer to her husband.

“Can we go for a walk? On the beach?” Buffy asked softly.

“Of course, baby,” Spike answered as he disentangled his arms from Buffy and got out of the car. He went around to the passenger side and opened the car door for his wife.

Once she was out of the BMW, Spike took Buffy by the arm and led her down to the empty beach. He could tell that his wife was worried and confused. Spike knew it was best just to let whatever was troubling Buffy come out, on her own terms. In her own time.

“Will,” Buffy murmered as she lay her head on his shoulder. They had found a spot, on a huge rock by the water’s edge. The whole beach was deserted, not surprisingly, at this time of night. After all, it was against the law, now anyway, for bond fires or lover’s trysts on this shore. At this time of night that is.

“This Nick Harris, your partner’s cousin?” Spike asked carefully. “Do you think he’s got something to do with Holden and Katerina’s death?”

Buffy gave a short, derisive snort. “That, darling,” she almost chuckled, sarcastically, “would be a little difficult.”

“Difficult?” Spike asked, confused as bloody hell by now.

“Nickolas Harris has been dead, for nearly four years now, honey,” Buffy mumbled.

“I don’t get it,” Spike finally admitted. “Why the drama? What happened with this Nick Harris? How does your partner fit in?”

Buffy gazed into her husband’s deep, blue eyes and shook her head. “Maybe no one fits in, but, I’m not so sure,” she sighed in frustration.

“I’ll try to explain, from the beginning, or at least what ‘I’ think is the beginning,” Buffy sighed heavily. Her brows were scrunched up in puzzlement and frankly, she was just as lost as everyone else by now.

“Just listen,” Buffy ordered Will, firmly, “then give me your input. I don’t know, baby,” she continued, “but this whole case is just fucked up, completely.”

“Alexander ‘Xander’ Harris was born and raised here, in Sunnydale,” Buffy began. “Into a real dysfunctional family. I mean the Sunnydale Harris’s definitely did not put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional. Xander’s dad is a mean drunk, from way back. His mother has one of the worst reps in town, as far as morals go. At least in her prime, you know?”

Spike shrugged, “okay, I get this. Xander’s from a weird family. What’s this got to do with the murders?”

Buffy groaned miserably, “Xander’s dad and mom, they weren’t just verbally abusive to him. They were physically and mentally abusive. No one in Xander’s family was safe from the wrath of the Harris parents. Not Xander, not his younger brother Frank. Xander’s dad, he had a younger brother, who also lived in Sunnydale. This uncle of Xand’s, he was as mean and abusive as his own father. There was an only child, a son, Xander’s cousin, Nickolas, or Nick as everyone called him.”

“They were close, like brothers, Xander and Nick that is. Even though Nick was quite a bit younger then Xander,” Buffy tried to remember, every detail about that time.

“We were friends, then,” Buffy frowned, “most of us anyway. Poor Xander, he never seemed to really ‘fit’ anywhere. But Nick, he adored his older cousin and looked up to him. I guess you could say that Xander and Nick were each other’s safety nets?”

“They kind of protected each other from the horror that were the Harris family.” Buffy almost felt numb, as she relayed this to Will. It made her so sad to have to rehash her police partner’s past pain. The whole thing was beginning to make Buffy real uneasy, scared actually.

“Go on,” Spike whispered gently, snuggling his wife closer to him. He tried to watch Buffy’s face, intently, while she told the story, worried by the sick look on her face.

“Well,” Buffy sighed, “Nick’s parents seperated, legally and his mother moved them to Los Angeles, some years ago. I think Xander would have been about seventeen then, so,” she paused in thought, “Nick was maybe twelve? Anyway, with his little cousin gone, Xander was left to ‘deal’ with his family all on his own. That and I suppose he always felt like he now couldn’t protect Nick from his own miserable excuse for a family life.”

“Sometime, after Nick moved with his mom to LA, Xander started hearing things about his cousin. Hearing some pretty bad things and all. Poor Nick, he wasn’t doing too well. He’d gotten mixed up with a pretty tough crowd and spiraled into drugs, etc., etc. You know, everything that goes along with that crap.” Buffy shook her head, sadly.

“Heck, Nick even changed his last name, took his mother’s maiden name of let me think,” she scrunched up her brows. “Branson, that was it. Nick started going by Branson as a last name.”
“Of course,” she continued, “what could Xander do about that? His cousin was underage and under the guardianship of his mother, who, by the way, was no prize herself. As I remember. Anyway, life went on and around the time we were all getting settled in our careers and such. Nick suddenly re-emerged up here in Sunnydale. Xander was thrilled, especially when it seemed that Nicky had returned to get away from the fast life of LA and keep himself straightened out. Let’s see, I think Nick was about twenty or twenty-one then.”

“For months, according to Xander, everything seemed to be going fine for Nick. He and Xander re-connected and became close again. Xander even got his cousin a job, at a construction company in town. Then, about six or seven months after Nick got back to Sunnydale, something happened. Xander noticed a change in his cousin. He, Xander, would come to work, unhappy, grouchy and pissed off, always mumbling something about Nick and lowlife sleazes.”

“What happened?” Spike asked quietly, beginning to feel pretty unsettled by now.

“Apparently,” Buffy began again, slowly, “Nick’s past from LA caught up with him. Up here in Sunnydale. Xander mentioned, a couple of times, some old flame of Nick’s, from Los Angeles. She’d finally caught up to Nick, up here in Sunnydale and Xander always felt that the girl was no good. Blamed this mystery ex of Nick’s for what happened next.”

“What happened?” Spike asked evenly.

“Evidently, Nick began to get into drugs again. Got mixed up in the wrong crowd, but this time here in Sunnydale. Like I said, Xander always blamed this girl for Nick’s descent back into Hell. Although, I don’t recall Xander ever actually knowing this girl’s name. If he did, he certainly never told any of us, his friends. In no time at all, Nick had fallen back into the bad life, lost his job at the construction company and was constantly calling Xander to bail him out of some trouble.”

“How,” Spike asked, carefully, “how’d the boy die?”

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember every detail of that forty-eight hour period in Xander and Nick’s life.

“It was a Friday,” Buffy began, her voice in a whisper. “I remember because there was a party, for a female officer. She was getting married in a couple of weeks. Marcie and me, we had planned a little impromtu shower for her. Anyway, Xander got a call, from Nick. When Harris got off the phone, he was white as a ghost.”

“Xander took off, out of the break room, where the shower was, and bolted like a bat out of hell. I followed, we were pretty good friends then, although, not partners yet. I caught up to Xander, near the men’s bathroom. Poor guy, looked like he was going to be sick.”

‘Flashback Buffy’s POV’


“Xander!” Buffy cried out to her friend, “what is it?”

The tall, dark-haired man turned to face Buffy, his mouth twisted in pain and his eyes full of torment.

“Nick,” Xander rasped, “he’s in trouble. That bitch girlfriend of his. She’s gotten him mixed up in drugs again. I knew it. Knew the bitch was nothing but trouble since she hit town. Nick says the little whore went and got knocked up by him, I guess. Then she comes in, to Nick’s apartment, just an hour or so ago. Tells my cousin that she’s had an abortion and needs him to repay her for it. Just like that? Like it was nothing Buffy. No big deal. But, Nicky, he’s devestated.”

“I’m sorry Xand,” Buffy whispered, truthfully, “but Nick needs to cut this girl loose. She does sound like trouble and all. Who is this girl, anyway? Especially if she’s giving Nick drugs?”

“No idea,” Xander shook his head sadly. “Nick won’t give me a name. I suppose he thinks I’ll send half of the force after the skank. Which I might, if I knew who the fuck she is.”


‘End Flashback’

“So, that was on a Friday. On Saturday,” Buffy continued, “I went to work and ran right into Xander. He seemed pretty shaken up, still, about Nick and all, but he was at work anyway. The day went on, nothing unusual around Sunnydale, then about 2:00 PM or so, Xander gets another call. This time from the Sunnydale Hospital. Nick ‘Harris’ or Branson as he was going by now, had overdosed on a speedball and was dying, in the ER of the hospital.”

Spike shook his head and sighed, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered to her. Snuggling her closer.

“I was never that close to Nick, but Xander? Oh, God, Will, he was devestated. Especially when his cousin didn’t make it. It scarred Xand for life, I know it. But what was especially hard to swallow, for all of us? The heroin in that speedball? Where do you think that came from?”

“Holden,” Spike mumbled, ashamed to be related to the man, by now. He could barely face his wife at the moment, his fuck of a cousin had screwed up so many lives.

“Yes,” Buffy sighed heavily, “or at least more then likely. Your cousin, even then, ran the whole drug base here in Sunnydale. Like I said before, Sunnydale is small potatoes, worldwide. But to us? Holden Webster was Tony ‘Scarface’ Montanna, locally anyway.”

“I’ve a feeling, luv,” Spike said quietly, “that you’re going to let me in on just ‘who’ you think this girlfriend of Nick’s was?”

“Well,” Buffy began, softly, “I can’t swear to it. Like I said, Xander always ‘acted’ like he had no idea who the girl was. But, I can tell you this much. Nick began to falter and fall again, about four to five years ago. And if I checked things out, totally? I’d be willing to bet that Katerina McClay hit Sunnydale at the same time as Nick’s descent.

“Jesus,” Spike hissed. “Are you saying that Xander does know who this girl was, the one that he blames for his cousin’s downfall? His death?”

“I can’t be sure,” Buffy responded, sadly, “but if you put two and two together? You get four. That picture, of Katerina’s? She definitely knew Nick Harris, or Branson, as the case was. In Los Angeles, she, Kat, must have known Nick as Branson. When he came up here to Sunnydale, he still used that as a last name. After his return, anyone who didn’t know Nick from the old days would think that Branson was his real name. That’s how Katerina must have always known him. Her, and everyone else in Sunnydale. Including Holden. If your cousin was even in Katerina’s orbit by that time, that is.”

“I guess, what I’m getting at?” Buffy whispered, her face white as a ghost. “If Nick Branson was involved with Katerina McClay, up here in Sunnydale, then anyone who knew her, wouldn’t connect him to a Harris. Once Nick was dead, Katerina was a free agent in Sunnydale. How long would it take before a girl like that, a big time party girl, got mixed up with a guy like Holden?”

“Not long, I suppose,” Spike grimmaced as he said the words.

“So, Katerina goes along her merry way, gets involved with Holden, in some capacity. Xander, who’s been aware of Holden Webster for years, connects all the dots and realizes some harsh facts. Holden provided the drugs that killed Nick, period. Everyone knows that Webster was the go to guy for heroin in Sunnydale. In some capacity anyway.”

Spike looked sick with horror and Buffy snuggled even closer to him. “That’s your cousin, baby,” she cooed as she ran her hand down his arms. “Not you. I get that now.”

“Thanks baby,” Spike purred as he nuzzled his wife’s blond head with his mouth. ‘God, I wish I could take all this pain away from my Buffy,’ he thought sadly.

“Anyway,” Buffy continued, “Katerina gets to Sunnydale, for whatever reason, and hooks back up with Nick. They start their party time again and before long, Nick is doing drugs like a rock star and his girlfriend, Kat, gets careless. Of course, she’s doing some designer drug too, that’s a given. But, unfortunately, Katerina gets pregnant, with an already doomed baby. A drug addict can’t make Mom of the Year, anywhere, right? So, Katerina does the best thing, for her, she can and has an abortion.
Nick, in his drug addled mind, can’t cope with it. He shoots up a combo cocktail and goes bye bye in Sunnydale Hospital.


“Xander Harris,” Spike continued for his wife, “who, by-the-way, knows more then he’s saying, is devestated and…..”

“And?” Buffy asked weakly, her green eyes were wide with fear and disbelief.

“Xander Harris,” Spike continued in a whisper, “he flies off the handle, publicly. Mourns, publicy and goes on with his life. Publicy.”

“But privately?” Buffy asked, her right brow raised up in question.

“Privately, my sweet,” Spike sighed heavily, “your present partner sits back and plots the ultimate revenge.”


A/N: I am so not happy with this chapter. Actually I wanted to make it longer. Explain a little more and have more angst in it. Next chapter, I will definitely do that. Spike and Buffy have no real proof as to Xander’s involvement in the murder, do they? What will they do to prove their theory and how hard is that going to be for Buffy? After all, Xander is everyone’s friend.

Oh, next chapter? There will be Spuffy sex on the beach!

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

(PS…who guessed it was Xander, right from the start?)

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 39: ‘In A Way’




A/N: Actually I was going to entitle this chapter; ‘A Fu**ing Mess’ but changed my mind. Thought it might turn off some readers.

Summary: Buffy and Spike go over their suspicions. Spike comforts his wife on the beach. (giving a new meaning to that alcoholic drink!)

Buffy snuggled up, into Will’s strong, comforting arms and tried to stop the tears that had started a few moments ago. This was one of the most difficult things in the world for Buffy to mull over. The fact that an old friend and collegue may have murdered two, albeit not quite innocent, people.

“What I don’t understand,” Buffy sighed sadly to Will, “is why Xander would shoot Holden in the head, and Katerina in the stomach. If it was revenge I mean. Cassie Newton, my psychic friend? She claimed that it was jealous rage that propelled these murders, mostly anyway. Remember what my Dad said? A man in love, or obsessed, anyway, would shoot a woman in another part of her body, not her head. So her beauty would not be destroyed. If this was revenge on Xander’s part? Then why not shoot both Holden and Katerina in the head?”

“Do you think that maybe your partner, Harris, got a little too caught up in his own game of revenge? Fell for this Katerina chit?” Spike asked, his brows furrowed. The whole thing was turning out to be more bizarre then they first thought. At this time? Any scenario of the murders might be possible.

“Well,” Buffy hesitated, biting her lower lip, gently, “like I said. Xander and Anya were on break at the time, just before the murders. If Xander’s little scheme back fired and he kind of fell for Katerina McClay? And, if your cousin, Holden, was so damn sure that Katerina’s baby was his? Then maybe Xander did go all jealous male on them and killed them both, out of anger? God,” Buffy groaned, “what if the baby was Xander’s? Oh, God, Will,” Buffy began to cry again, “then my partner murdered his own child?”

“No, baby,” Spike tried to comfort his wife as best he could, “I’m sure the baby was Holden’s. My cousin was pretty astute and very calculating. I have no doubt that he’d make sure that child was his, before he ever stipulated any inheritance to the poor baby, or Katerina McClay.” He watched his wife, who by this time had disentangled herself from his arms. Although he felt the need to capture her and hold her tightly, he allowed her her space to pace back and forth in front of him.

“This is such a fucking mess!” Buffy cried in desperation. “It’s impossible, Will,” she continued, “and yet? In a way, it makes perfect sense.”

“How?” Spike asked, truly puzzled how any of this made sense, especially without any solid proof of Harris’s guilt.

“Xander Harris was born and raised into a very fucked up family, full of violence, both verbally and physically. It almost makes sense that he’d resort to some horrible act of violence, to seek revenge. Revenge is one of the strongest emotions, Will, you and I both know that.” She stopped pacing and gazed at her husband, noting how the moonlight reflected off of his platinum blond head.

“My partner loved his cousin, Nickolas. If he thought that Holden and Katerina were instrumental in Nick’s death? It may have pushed Xander over the edge and driven him to some horrible act. Xander is not exactly Einstein and he may have resorted to his baser, gut reactions, in dealing with his pain of Nick’s loss. What really kills me,” Buffy sighed sadly, “is how Anya is going to take this. I mean, if we can even prove that Xander is the killer, ‘if’ he is the killer. My God, Will,” Buffy groaned, “Xander’s been stringing Anya along, for years. If he’s the one, seduced and killed Katerina? It’ll kill Anya, I know it.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Spike sighed, honestly sympathetic for his wife’s pain. “But you, your friends, the Shrink and her girl, Xander’s girl, even our Captain Wilkens? You’ll all have to come to grips with this, if it turns out Harris has played you all for fools. What I’m not sure about is how ‘we’re’ going to trap the man. In his guilt, I mean.”

“First off,” Buffy smiled, finally, with affection, “I like the sound of that ‘we’re’ you just said. Makes me feel, I don’t know, all detective couple or something! Like Nick and Nora Charles from the ‘Thin Man’ series!” (okay, I had to throw that in there!)

Spike grinned at his wife, lovingly, “we are a pair, ain’t we though, my Princess?”

“That we are, baby,” Buffy giggled softly. Then she frowned again and began another tirade of theories.

“Say that Xander plotted all this, after he realized who Nick’s lover was? Or, even better, say he always knew and just didn’t let on? How do you get to a man, a proud man, a careful man like Holden Webster? You infilitrate his life, in some way. I’m sure that Xander was in Holden’s pocket, money wise that is. Although why Holden’s list neglected to mention his name?” Buffy folded her arms and stared at William, more perplexed then ever.

Spike shook his head and sighed heavily, “Holden wouldn’t necessarily name every name he could, baby. In fact, my cousin would definitely keep an ace, or two, up his sleeve. Xander Harris may well have been that ‘ace’ he kept there. It would explain some things. Like how Harris got close to Holden and Katerina, had a way in and out of their lives. Although why Holden would protect the whelp is beyond me.”

“It would also explain why Xander hates your guts, worships Angel O’Connor and has been bad mouthing Amy St. Claire. It’s almost as if Xander has been a mouth piece for Angel, you know? If they were both involved with Holden, then they were simpatico with each other.” Buffy picked up the conversation and ran with it.

“But, and I really believe this Will,” Buffy plopped back down into her husband’s lap. “I don’t think it’s Xander that’s been sending those threats to Amy. I think that is someone else. Maybe Angel? Maybe not, but someone else. Xander needs Amy to take the fall, yes. But whoever is after Holden’s empire? They need Amy, her son and your family out of the way, one way or another.”

“True,” Spike nodded as he held Buffy in a loving embrace. “If Harris is the murderer, then he must have been to Hold’s place, dozens of times, and, if my guess is right? That wanker, Meers, is in this up to his neck. Had to have known your partner before the murders and recognized him as ‘safe’ to protect.”

“The doorman?” Buffy asked quizically. “How?” she asked, rather confused.

“Think about it,” Spike offered, “how many times did you say this Meers bloke went on about horrible Holden and lovely Miss McClay? Almost an old-fashioned romantic, he is. The doorman may have been a pawn in Hold’s world, but he still admired Katerina. If he thought that Xander Harris was a secret lover of McClay’s, a dutiful, loving suitor? Then he’d disregard any sign that pointed to Harris as a possible murderer. Not everyone thinks like a cop, baby,” Spike smiled despite the seriousness of this situation. “That’s why there’s smart, savy, beautiful, wonderful wives like you. To deduct and solve these mysteries.”

Buffy smiled, despite her own pain at what may have happened with Xander. She nuzzled her forehead into her husband’s and actually laughed, for the first time in hours.

“What do you say,” she murmered, huskily, “that you and your cop wife head down to the water? I’m tired of thinking like a cop, for the moment, anyway. Let’s go down to the Pacific and roll around in the sand for a while, shall we?”

Spike smirked and stood up, still holding his wife in his arms. “Now, you see,” he chuckled as he strode to the water’s edge. “This is one of the things I love about you, sweet. You’re so bloody spontaneous!”

A half hour later, after ‘rolling’ about in the wet sand, Spike and Buffy lay, sated and completely oblivious to their wet, grainy naked bottoms. Buffy decided to overlook the fact that not only was her hair saturated in salt, sand and sea, but that her various body openings were, well, they weren’t sparkling clean. That much was for certain.

“Can we go again?” Spike finally wheezed out as he clutched her close to his body.

“Might as well,” Buffy chuckled lustily, “why waste a perfectly good moonlit, empty beach?”

“God,” Spike rasped, huskily, “I’m so fucking lucky.” He rolled himself over onto Buffy and wasted no time in thrusting up inside of her. Placing salty kisses all over her face and mouth, Spike whispered lovingly, “it’s okay, baby. I’m here, always. Like I told you, when I first met you. I’ve got your back, my sweet. I always will. I love you so much.”


They made love, for hours, it seemed, until Buffy realized that it was getting close to sunrise. All this sex on the beach with her husband had ‘addled’ her common sense and Buffy was nothing, if not common ‘sensical’ that is.

When she ‘came to’ she had Will’s head, settled on her bare breast and was stroking his blond curls.

‘Is that ‘me’ purring!’ she asked herself in shock. ‘Oh, no, it’s both Will and me,’ she reassured herself. Then she remembered something; Beach, no admittance after 10:00 PM; tresspassers will be arrested, yada, yada, yada.

“We should get home,” she sighed, reluctantly. “Park rangers will be patroling, at least I should hope they’d be,” she frowned in thought, “any moment. I’m not sure I can explain this one away at the station.”

Spike chuckled, low and deep in his chest. “No, spose you couldn’t,” he agreed, also reluctant to move. “Best get home, I guess,” he sighed, with a pout.

“Besides,” Buffy reached for her discarded clothing, “our little pooch is probably worried sick about us. He’s probably whining like a baby and keeping poor Mrs. Wiggins awake, even from next door.” Buffy giggled madly and pulled on her jeans from the night before.

“Yeah, probably,” Spike sighed. “Sometimes I’m sorry I adopted Winston the pooch,” he shook his head as he pulled on his own jeans.

“You’ll see,” Buffy giggled again as she zipped up her left boot, “Winston will turn out to be a good choice for us. He’ll do something, really big, really important, I can feel it.”


A/N: Short chapter, to keep it going. A couple of hints and anvils here:

1) Xander may or may not be the murderer, but he is not the one that threatened Amy St. Claire.

2) Yes, Katerina’s baby was Holden’s, definitely and this may be why the murderer was so angry.

3) The sentences, about Winston are an anvil. The pooch will do something really big, in a future chapter.

In the next chapter, our dynamic Spuffy duo will plot a way to get Xander to confess. Now, whether their plan works out or not is left to be seen...

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 40: ‘We Need To Talk To Giles’


“I don’t like it one bloody bit!” Spike grumbled as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “Don’t like you facing off with that ponce all by yourself.” He was in a mood all right. His wife had decided that it was best for her to go alone, to her job and try to wheedle some info out of Xander Harris.

“I should go,” Spike nodded, determined to state his case any way he could. “I’ll use some excuse for being there, you know? Hey, I have it!” His blue eyes lit up like fireworks, “I’ll say that we need to fill out paperwork. Medical stuff and all, like two old marrieds that is!”

Buffy rolled her green eyes and sipped her own coffee, momentarily at a loss as to how and rein her guy in, calm him down. Obviously, Will could not accompany her to the precinct, and that was that. His being there, would only agitate Xander Harris and make him suspicious.

‘Geez,’ Buffy sighed to herself in disbelief, ‘medical papers!’

“Baby,” Buffy purred as she sat her coffee cup down and positioned herself on Will’s strong lap. “Don’t you see? It’s better for me to go by myself…I’ll waltz in there, like everything is dandy. Lull old Xander into a sense of complacency and start asking all kinds of subtle questions. Do you honestly think that with you there,” she smiled, sweetly at her husband, “that he’ll open up about anything? He can’t stand you.”

“Thanks,” Spike grumbled again, a slight pout on his lips. “I just don’t trust the whelp, he might catch on and hurt you, sweet.” It was true, Spike was really worried that Xander may have fooled everyone, that he was smarter then he looked or acted and might catch on to Buffy’s subtle interrogation.

“Tell you what,” Buffy snuggled up to Will, her warm mouth just millimeters from his left ear. “I’ll call you, every few minutes, really play the newlywed stuff up. That way,” she continued, gently licking Will’s earlobe, “I can check in with you, let you know all is well. No one will be the wiser and Xander will just get sick with envy at my affectionate display, so,” she suddenly changed her tone. “Just let me be a detective, it’s what I get the big bucks for, honest baby,” she gave a little sarcastic snort.

“Oh, I guess,” Spike mumbled, still a little put out that he wasn’t going to be able to go along. There were many reasons he needed to be there, with Buffy. Most of all, he really was worried that Xander might catch on and hurt Buffy, if the dark haired fool really was the murderer.

Winston stumbled up to the couple and began to chew on Spike’s left ankle, causing him to wince in mock pain. “Tell her, Winston,” Spike ordered the pooch, “tell your Mum that Daddy should go with and protect her.”

The huge puppy just sat on his haunches and looked up, wide-eyed, at his master and mistress. Buffy began to giggle and leaned back into Will’s chest, her hand over her mouth.

“Mum and Daddy?” she choked out in glee, “you actually think that Winston thinks we’re his parents? Oh, Will,” she continued with joy, “that’s rich. The big bad from London, the pub owner, cousin to the most notorious guy in Sunnydale, Ca, thinks that he’s a puppy’s Daddy? I should call Wesley and let him know. Might kind of make up for the way you talk about poor Wes, he…”

Buffy found herself smooshed up, even closer to Will, their mouths suddenly connected in a bruising kiss. Winston was shooed off, quickly and he bounded, happily out into the front room.

“Come ‘ere,” Spike growled lustily as his wife as he slipped the silky robe down off of her satiny shoulders.

“I am here,” Buffy giggled, but then sighed deeply when Will ran his tongue and lips down her neck to her right breast. He sucked on the nipple, hungrily, then moved over, with his mouth to her left breast.

Before Buffy could protest (as if she would) William had maneuvered her robe completely off and laid it on the kitchen table, neatly. (okay, not so neatly, all right!)

He slipped his hardened shaft out of his boxers and in one quick jerk, pulled Buffy’s wet core down onto it. They began to rock together, her legs wrapped around his slim hips and the back of the chair.

“Love you,” Spike rasped as he thrust up into his Buffy’s sweet cunny. “Love you so much, baby,” he repeated continually, between kisses and licks.

“I love you, too, baby,” Buffy purred, huskily into Will’s nearest ear.



Later on, Buffy strode up to Xander’s office door, which was closed, and burst in. She normally didn’t do this, this was Xand’s forte, to burst into her office, unannouced that is. But, today, Buffy was feeling ‘peckish’ and impatient, so she decided to turn the tables around and break in on her partner. Frankly, Buffy was rather sorry she had.

Xander was sitting in his desk chair, the record’s clerk, Sandy, was on his lap, basically giving him a lap dance, or so it looked to Buffy. The two were so engrossed in their make-out session, that they didn’t even hear Buffy enter the office.

“Uhm, hum,” Buffy cleared her throat, loudly, to alert the amourous couple of her presence. “Shit!” Xander yelped, nearly pushing poor Sandy off of his lap and onto the floor.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Something to file?” Buffy growled lowly at the bimbo as she rushed past her, out of the door.

Once Sandy had left the room, Buffy slammed the door and glared at Xander. He looked, appropriately embarrassed and ashamed, but Buffy was so pissed at the moment, thinking of poor Anya, that she could have cared less what Xander felt.

“Anya and you,” Buffy began, with an exasperated hiss, “you two on break again? Or is this little ‘romance’ with Sandy a hold over from the last break?”

“Buffy,” Xander stammered, red faced, “it’s harmless, honest. She likes me, Sandy that is. Sweet little thing, really. I like spending time with her, she ‘takes care’ of me, not like Anya. All’s Anya wants is a commitment, strings and all. I want my freedom, sometimes anyway,” he hesitated, checking to see if Buffy was buying any of his bullshit. She was not.

“Fuck you,” Buffy hissed and turned to leave the office. “I really hate you right now, Xander Harris,” she shot back over her shoulder.

“Wait, Buffy,” Xander pleaded as he headed around his desk and hurried to her. “Don’t tell Anya, please Buff. She’ll leave me for good and I really don’t want that, honest. Sandy’s just a diversion, thinks I’m really something, you know? Fuck it all, Buff,” Xander hissed, his face contorted into a frown, “we all can’t have the perfect love,like you and Billy do.”

Buffy stared at her partner, stunned that she really didn’t recognize him at all. “You could,” she whispered sadly, “you and Anya, you could have something great. You just…” She did not finish her sentence.

“Why the hell are you in here, now?” Xander asked, gruffly as he turned and strode back to his chair. “Do you actually have any police business in here or are you just snooping around, checking up on my love life?”

‘He sounds so bitter,’ Buffy thought sadly, ‘so fucking bitter and harsh. Where did the old Xander Harris go?’ She was so caught up in her musings that she didn’t see her partner slouch down in his chair and turn a deathly shade of ghost white. Not at first, anyway.

“Xander,” Buffy began, carefully as she took the chair across from him, “there’s really reason to believe that it was a guy that shot Holden and Katerina, not a woman.” She finally picked up on Xander’s ‘fearful’ look, decided to add a little more of a fear factor to the equation.

“We’ve been over this Buffy,” Xander quipped back harshly, “just because Amy didn’t blow Kat’s head off, doesn’t mean that she didn’t kill either of them.”

‘He called her ‘Kat’ instead of Katerina McClay, used her nickname,’ Buffy thought. ‘That’s not of the good, that’s for sure.’ Up until that moment, Buffy didn’t remember anyone, especially Xander using Katerina’s nickname when speaking of the murders. ‘Almost as if he knew her, personally,’ she reasoned.

“Look,” Buffy sighed in frustration, “we can go all about this,” she continued as she casually glanced out of Xander’s office window. “But the fact is, it’s looking like Amy was not the murderer. Angel O’Connor just has to get over it. He’s not going to make his political career on this case, not if Amy is innocent!”

Buffy noticed that Xander flinched, ever so slightly, when Buffy mentioned Angel O’Connor. ‘You really are his butt monkey, eh Xand?’ she thought smugly. ‘That or you are protecting a cohort, aren’t you?’

“Buffy,” Xander said softly, “if Amy is innocent, then so be it, okay? It’s just that the evidence is so strong against her. There’s Warren Meers, his testimony and all. Amy had motive, especially if Katerina was pregnant by Holden. Which, knowing what an egotistical prick Webster was, she’d had to have been, right? I mean,” and Buffy thought Xander’s voice seemed pretty shaky here, “he gave her the apartment, yada yada, right?”

‘Oh God, Xander,’ Buffy wanted to scream right then, ‘how did you know about what Holden put in his Will?’ Buffy tried to search her brain, tried to remember just how ‘public’ the Will of Holden Webster had been made. She didn’t believe that anyone but the immediate family knew the entire contents of his last Will and Testament. So how did Xander know that Holden left Katerina property, money, a trust for the unborn child?’

“We need to talk to Giles,” Buffy blurted out, suddenly. “He’s waiting for us, to talk about new evidence.” She noticed that Xander’s face looked almost ‘apprehensive’ for a moment. As if he suspected something. As well he should, since Buffy had filled Rupert Giles in on everything she and William suspected about Xander Harris. Giles was truly waiting in his office, waiting there to face off with Xander Harris and clock his reactions to what Buffy said to them both.

If Xander Harris had ‘anything’ to really hide, Rupert Giles could detect it in a heartbeat. Buffy was counting on it.

“Okay,” Xander shrugged, almost indifferently. “Let’s go see Rupes, huh? Haven’t had a bout with the old man for ages, really.”

Buffy felt a strong, hard tug at her heart. It was so sad, everything, really. Xander was so messed up, it was obvious to Buffy, and William now. He’d gotten lost somewhere, along the way in his life and may never be able to get on the path, again.

Even if he was not the murderer, and Buffy, along with her husband ‘highly’ suspected he was. Even if they were wrong? What about Xander’s relationships with women? Would he ever work things out, get it right and settle into a happy, productive home life? It seemed that it was unlikely, the relationship stuff that is. Xander’s parents had done a major fuck job on their oldest son and he may never have a normal, loving relationship, ever.

“It seems quite possible,” Buffy heard Giles telling Xander. They, Xander and her, had been ‘talking’ to the old man for close to an hour. About the Webster case and all. Buffy had tried to look ‘casually’ indifferent, nearly uninterested, as Giles did all the leg work and was to watch Xander, intently.

Once they had talked the case, again, to death, Buffy and Xander got up to leave. Halfway down the hallway, Buffy pretended like she’d forgotten something. She excused herself from Xander, saying she’d catch up with him in a bit.

“Sandy and me,” Xander mumbled, his head hung down, “we just started, Buff,” he added. “When Anya and me were on break, it wasn’t Sandy I was seeing. Okay?”

“Okay, Xander,” Buffy murmered. Although just ‘how’ it would ever be ‘okay’ was beyond her. She just needed to get back and talk to Giles as soon as possible.

When she got back into Giles’ office, she eyed the older man carefully. He was sitting in his desk, his glasses in his hands. Rupert was cleaning the lenses, thoroughly, although they probably didn’t need it. Buffy realized her mentor’s nervous habit right away and it frightened her.

“Well,” she asked quietly, her eyes never leaving the older man’s face.

“Buffy,” Giles began then paused, “I’m not sure, but Xander seemed most ‘upset’ about something. When you mentioned that you felt this Meers fellow might be hiding something? Xander became pale as a ghost. He actually flinched and glanced at you, anxiously. Then, when you repeated that there was a thought that a man had to have committed the crimes? The man began to shake, truly, shake like a leaf. He’s hiding something, dear, I’d swear to it.”

“I thought so,” Buffy whispered, under her breath. “Oh, Giles,” Buffy began to weep softly.

The tall man stood up from his desk chair and hurried to her side. Taking Buffy in his strong, comforting arms, Giles patted her back, tenderly.

“There, there, now dear,” he cooed softly. “If Xander is the murderer? Then it’s as your William told you…we’ll all have to deal with it. The important thing now is to make sure we have got the evidence we need to find the true murderer, whether it be Xander Harris or not. Amy St. Claire, I agree, did not kill those two people If what you say is true, Xander had even more motive then Amy for the murders.”


“Then there’s the little matter of just ‘who’s’ trying to take over the Webster Empire, huh, Giles?” Buffy sniffed, unladylike into her mentor’s shirt.

“It’s certainly not Xander, I’ll bet on that. Frankly, he hasn’t got the moxie or brains for it. So that leaves Angel O’Connor and oh yeah,” she added sarcastically, “about half of Sunnydale’s population!”

“True,” Giles sighed in frustration. “I agree, here, also. Xander’s motives for the murders would be pure revenge, or perhaps jealousy, but not a longing for power. Not the financial kind that is, anyway.”

Buffy reached over and picked up the receiver of Giles’ desk phone. She hit the right buttons and Captain Wilkens’ deep voice came on.

“Captain,” Buffy sighed deeply, a little sad by what had to be done. “I think we need to have our little buddy, Warren Meers come in to the precinct, immediately. There’s something the guy is hiding, something big. Yes, I am sure of it, Captain Wilkens. Absolutely sure of it. He knows, or make that, ‘doesn’t really know’ something that he’s covering up. Yeah, he’s covering for someone, maybe even himself.”

Warren Meers sat, nervously, in the small, uncomfortable chair, provided by the Sunnydale PD. He looked like he was about to wet his pants in terror when Captain Wilkens, Buffy and Giles stared back at him from across the large table.

Buffy had made sure that the Captain had sent Xander, earlier, on some red herring errand. Just to get him away from the precinct and now, it was just the three police persons and Warren, in the small room together.

“Let’s have it,” Wilkens ordered Warren, in his deep, authorative voice. “You’ve been handing us a line of bullshit from day one, Meers,” he continued. “So, let’s hear the truth, here and now. It’ll go better for you to fess up now, then try and get away with perjury in the courtroom.”

Meers began to shake, visibly, and Buffy leaned over the table, scrutinizing the man’s pale face. She could swear that he was breaking out in a profuse sweat and hey, it was so not pretty.

“It’s true,” Meers whispered, his voice raspy and weak, “I wasn’t at my post. Just before the murders that is. I was…”

“Where,” Wilkens demanded with a scowl.

“I had an errand to run, for Mr. Webster,” Warren mumbled. “He sent me on an errand, just after Miss St. Claire came to the apartment. I had to take some ‘bets’ to Webster’s man in the business. A Charles Gunn, a bookie on the West side.”

Buffy kind of felt sorry for Meers, he was actually wriggling in his seat and looked like he was about to cry.

“I owed Holden Webster,” Meers continued in a timid voice, “a lot of money. I, I have a gambling problem and Mr. Webster, he fronted me money to make bets on the horses. I lost. A lot of money and couldn’t pay Webster back. My running the bets to Gunn, it was my pay off, to work off the debt. Shit!,” Meers wailed, “my wife. She’s gonna’ leave me for sure now.”

“She might,” Buffy offered, somberly to the man, “but if you got up in a courtroom and lied to the Judge and jury? Your wife would definitely leave you for that. And you, Warren,” Buffy added, put out by this weakling, “would spend some time in prison. For perjury, that is.”

“It was when I got back, from Gunn’s,” Warren stammered, his expression was twisted in ugly remembrance. “I went to tell Mr. Webster that the errand was completed. That’s when I found them, Mr. Webster, Miss McClay. Oh God,” Meers began to sob loudly, “it was horrible.”

Giles glanced over at Buffy, his face was stoic and pale, even for him. She shook her head in disbelief that this man, who had told them time and again that he definitely knew Amy was the last person to see Holden and Katerina alive? He had been lying, all along. If Warren Meers was gone from his post as doorman, for over and hour after Amy had arrived at the apartments? How could he say she was the last to be there?

“She’ll leave me, divorce me and take my kids,” Warren was babbling on about April Meers, his wife.

“No,” Buffy said, strongly, “but she might if you lie on a stand and go to prison for it. I think your wife worships you, Meers,” Buffy sighed, “whether she should or not. Have you ever just thought of being honest with her?”

Warren looked into Buffy’s eyes and shook his head. “I can’t lose her,” he whispered desperately.

“Then,” Giles piped in, “do something to make her proud, Meers. Start by talking and being honest with us. You know things, recognize peoples’ faces and all. Even some faces in this very precinct. Don’t you?”

Meers was as white as a ghost by now. “I couldn’t,” he hissed, shaking even more with fright. “If ‘they’ found out, me, my family? Our lives wouldn’t be worth shit.”

“We’ll see to it that you are protected, Meers,” Giles added, seriously. “You and your family. In fact, right now we can arrange for your wife and children to be located in a ‘safe house’ out of town. No one will know about it. No one will find you.”

The frightened man stared at Rupert, then at Buffy with a questioning look.

“Officer Summers?” Meers asked Buffy, tears streaming down his plump cheeks.

“It’s Officer Williamson,” Buffy responded quietly, “but if you’re asking me if you should trust Rupert Giles? I say yes, you should. I would trust this man with my life and the lives of my husband and family.”


Buffy left the interrogation room and headed out to the third floor balcony. She needed air, and, she needed to talk to Will.

“Baby,” she greeted her husband on her cell phone, “I need to see you. Soon as possible.”

“I’ll be there, in ten minutes, sweet,” he responded sincerely.

“No,” Buffy sighed, “I’ve got to make a stop at Anya’s Dress Shop. I need to ask questions that she might have some answers for. I was thinking of using the excuse to buy some sexy new undies for you as a reason for being there today. As a surprise that is.”

“Sounds interesting,” Spike chuckled, still nervous about everything that was going on at Buffy’s work. “So? Meet me later, then?”

“Yes,” Buffy murmered, nearly exhausted with the day’s events. “At Willie’s, in about an hour and a half? Meers is in with Giles, Wilkens and Ethan Rayne from Internal Affairs. The guy, Warren Meers? He’s singing like a canary. God Will, so many people are going to fry for this!”

“ Frankly, honey,” Buffy sighed again, “I could use a drink and some of your William loving.”

“Done,” Spike laughed warmly. “I’ll see you at Willie’s in about ninety minutes. Don’t be late, baby,” he purred.


A/N: Well, I didn’t mean for this chapter to go on so long, however, I needed to get some plot line going. I’m leaving town, Friday for the CA coast (yeah!) and won’t be updating this fic, anyway, until next week.

A lot of weirdness is going on in Sunnydale. In the next chapter, Buffy will go to the Dress Shop, but she may not find the answers she’s looking for. At least not from ‘who’ she thinks she will…

Yes, a lot of folks are eventually going to fry for being in cahoots with Holden Webster. But, it still doesn’t answer the burning question: Who is after Webster’s empire. It is not Xander, even though he’s the number one suspect, now, of the murders. It may or may not be Angel, Gunn, Scott Hope, the ‘Choir Boy’ (remember who that is?) or is it someone else?

I am going to try (try being the key word here!) to wrap this fic up in three chapters or so. Thank you for sticking with it!

Thank you for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE



Chapter 41: ‘Everything’s Fine’


Buffy got to Anya’s Dress Shop at about noon that day. She parked her monstrosity of a lime green Porshe and hurried up to the front door of the shop. Surprised to find the glass door locked, a ‘closed’ sign turned to show out to the street.

‘Shit,’ Buffy sighed internally, ‘it’s lunch time, one of the peak times for Anya’s business. Why the hell would she have the shop closed?’

Buffy actually ‘knocked’ loudly on the glass door, hoping to stir Anya into unlocking it and letting her in. She was rewarded when Anya showed up and smiled, albeit a bit ‘nervously’ at her.

“Hey,” Buffy smiled, amicably, “let me in, huh?”

Anya shook her head, smiled weakly and mumbled through the glass, “can’t, I have, uhm, inventory,” she responded.

The woman in the shop seemed nervous, anxious to Buffy, as if something wasn’t quite right. Buffy reached for the door handle and turned it, defiantly, “let me in, Anya,” she mumbled as she watched the woman’s dark eyes dart over to the back room, then back to her again.

“Buffy,” Anya hissed, “go away, please. Everything’s fine, swear it. Just go on, I’m begging you.”

When Anya jumped, a second later, and spun her head about to look behind her, Buffy realized that her friend was listening to ‘someone’ behind her.

Anya, reluctantly, unlocked the shop door and motioned for Buffy to come inside. After Buffy entered, she carefully looked about the shop and raised her right brow at her friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Anya, softly.

“Nothing, silly, really,” Anya replied, her voice shaky and her words kind of muddled.

“Anya,” Buffy began, cautiously, “something is wrong here. What is it?” She watched as Anya reached over and locked the front door of her shop, quickly.

“What could possibly be wrong, Buff?” came Xander Harris’s deep voice from the back room door. Buffy saw Anya cringe, fear was written all over the young woman’s face, as her boyfriend neared the two women.

“What are you doing here, Xander?” Buffy asked, a little nervous herself now.

“I could ask you the same thing, Buff,” Xander countered, an odd smirk on his mouth.

“I came to buy…” Buffy hesitated, she was a little embarrassed to mention the new lingerie she had intended on using as a ruse to question Anya.

“Xander,” Anya stammered, her dark eyes darting back and forth between her boyfriend and Buffy. “Please, Xander,” Anya whimpered.

“Please what, Anya,” Xander asked evenly, his brown eyes were almost black in color now. Buffy noticed a hateful gleam in them.

“Please, baby,” Anya continued quietly, “please let this go. Send Buffy away now, please Xander.”

“Fuck you,” Xander growled as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small revolver.

“Xander!” Buffy cried in dismay, “what the hell is going on here?”

“As if you didn’t know, bitch!” he hissed at his partner. “You came here to tell on me, didn’t you, Buff? Tell Anya what a fucking piece of shit I really am?”


“Xander…” Anya looked as if she was going to be physically sick.

“Shut the fuck up, Anya,” Xander ordered harshly. “This bitch,” he pointed the gun at Buffy and frowned, “this bitch is here to ruin us. Once and for all, sweetheart. She’s Buffy Summers, the fucking energizer bunny of screwed up relationships. Isn’t that right Buff?”

Buffy felt her stomach churn at Xander’s cruel words and ugly look in his usually kind eyes. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard, trying to find some way to difuse this awful situation.

“My name,” Buffy began evenly, “is Buffy Williamson, Xander. And, yes, I’ve fucked up, big time in the past. But now? I’ve got a wonderful husband, who loves me.”

‘Oh, God,’ Buffy thought with fear, ‘he’s losing it. Xander’s gone completely around the bend now. I have to get this back on track, make it right.’

“Fucking whore,” Xander hissed as he glanced at Buffy, then his girl, Anya. “Both of you. Whores. Just like all women. Can’t keep your legs together long enough to…”

“Xander,” Anya whined, reaching out to her boyfriend, “please, put the gun away. We can talk this out, whatever it is and make it right. I love you, Xander, so please.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up, whore,” Xander spat at the frightened Anya. “You know what?” the man hissed at his lover, “you’re as bad as she is.” He pointed the gun, again at Buffy.

“You talk all love and sweetness, virtue and kindness. But in the end? You’re whores together. It’s like some big, inclusive club that bitches like you get to join. You’d spread your legs for anyone who’s the bigger, better deal, wouldn’t you?”

Both Buffy and Anya shook their heads, simotaneously, at the hulking man.

“Oh, yeah, you would,” Xander insisted with a shake of his own dark head. “Buffy here,” he chuckled, “she fucked Billy boy almost the minute he hit town. Didn’t you Buff?”

Buffy didn’t answer, just shot Xander her patent look of death. She glanced over at Anya, who was as pale as a ghost by now.

Finally, Buffy took Anya’s hand in hers and looked, soulfully, into her friend’s brown eyes. “He killed them, Anya,” Buffy whispered sadly, “Holden Webster, Katerina McClay. Xander murdered them.” She glared at Xander Harris and tilted her head, to the left, slightly, “didn’t you, Xand?”

“Did everyone in this town a favor,” Xander spat out angrily. “Killed that vermin, Webster, then his whore along with him. The way I see it,” Xander continued smugly, “I’m a fucking white night hero.”

“Oh, God, Xander,” Anya cried out, her hand over her mouth in shock. “How could you?”

Buffy allowed Xander to herd both her and Anya into the back room of the shop. They ended up behind Anya’s desk, standing side-by-side as Xander began to pace back and forth in front of it.

“Whores!” Xander exclaimed angrily as he spun about and faced off with Buffy and Anya. “You’re all whores,” he added, a little less harshly this time.

“We are not,” Buffy hissed, all full of pride and false bravado. “Anya and me, we’re not whores. We’re good women, strong and decent women, Xander. If you can’t see that? Then fuck you.”

She was so pissed by now, to think that her once trusted partner had betrayed her, his girlfriend, Anya, everyone around him? Buffy wanted to strangle Xander Harris, with her bare hands.

“Now, there’s the rub, isn’t it Buff?” Xander purred as he leaned over Anya’s desk and stared Buffy down. “You fucking me? Not in this lifetime, right?”

Anya gasped, apparently shocked, finally, to hear the obvious confessions of her lover of four years. Buffy felt sick when she heard Anya begin to weep, softly.

“You spread your long, lithe little legs for everyone, don’t you Buffy?” Xander asked, his tone was venomous and harsh. “But me? You don’t give me the time of day, do you?”

“You’re not worth my time Harris,” Buffy responded, her own tone was ugly and cruel. “I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the…”

“Shut up!” Anya shouted in a high-pitched voice. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

“That’s my girl,” Xander purred, gazing benevolently at Anya, “choose your side, baby,” he ordered gently. “Me, your one and only, or this lying, deceitful whore.” He grinned, evilly at Buffy and winked at Anya.

Buffy glared, desperately, at Anya, then back at Xander.

“Ask him,” Buffy mumbled, her voice cracked with emotion, “ask your Xander about Holden and Katerina. Ask him just why he shot and killed them both?”

“Why?” Anya asked, evenly, as she coolly stared down her lover.

“They murdered Nicky,” Xander quickly replied, another smug grin on his handsome face. “Holden and Kat murdered my cousin.”

“They murdered Nicky,” Anya repeated, almost robot-like to Buffy. “Holden and Kat, they murdered my Xander’s cousin.”

“So,” Buffy sighed heavily, “that makes it okay for Xander to get into bed with the devil? Sleep with the enemy? For God’s sake, Anya,” Buffy grumbled in disgust, “Xander befriended both Holden and Katerina. And I don’t mean he became blood brothers with them. He fucked Katerina, Anya,” Buffy spat in exasperation. He fucked her and then shot her. After he found out that the baby she was carrying wasn’t his. Isn’t that right, Xand?”

Buffy watched her friend’s expression change from doubt, to anger, to sadness. Anya’s dark eyes half closed, then closed completely as the woman lost all sense of hope and trust in her lover, Xander Harris.

“Who you going to believe, baby?” Xander asked, again smugly and arrogant. “Me? Who can give you everything you ever wanted? Or this whore here,” he pointed at Buffy, “who spreads her legs for anyone and everyone?”

“I,” Anya began then paused, unsure for a moment, “I think I…”

“We were on break,” Xander suddenly piped up, “you and me, baby,” he whined to Anya. “We were on break. Katerina, she seduced me, baby,” he began to ramble on, “she was lonely. Holden was fucking every female for miles and Kat needed company. You and me, we were on break, Anya.

His voice was a mere whisper now, and it was pathetic to Buffy. “Holden’s whore? She betrayed Nick, led him down the path to hell. What was I supposed to do? I took the opportunity, made their lives an utter torment.”

“How do you know,” Buffy murmered, nearly inaudibly, “how do you know the baby wasn’t yours?” She hissed in contempt at her ‘former’ partner and friend.

“Three years ago,” Xander responded, “three years ago, I got fixed. Made sure no Harris spawn would ever be conceived.”

Anya gasped and Buffy took her hand in hers. “You can’t father children,” Anya choked out.

“I couldn’t father a fucking dog,” Xander hissed at his girlfriend. Not even with that whore, Kat McClay, or any of you female bitches in heat!”

“So you began an affair with Katerina?” Anya asked, tears streaming down her face.

“We were on break,” Xander responded coldly, “who gives a fuck what we do on break!”

“I do,” Anya whispered. It nearly broke Buffy’s heart.

“Choose,” Xander hissed as he pointed his gun at Buffy, yet again. “Choose between us, baby,” he ordered gruffly. “Me? Your savior, or this whore here? Who’s it gonna’ be?”

“He’s cheating again,” Buffy mumbled quickly to Anya. “With Sandy from the precinct.”

“Sandy!” Anya hissed, her eyes were narrow slits now. “That little ‘ho’ from records!”

“It’s not like that, baby,” Xander began, his voice unsure, unstable and weak.

“You know,” Xander sighed in defeat, “maybe I should just fucking shoot you both.” He laughed, softly, maniacally, “just make this look like a robbery gone wrong?”


Buffy began to say something when she glanced up and noticed the ‘video cam’ that faced her and Anya. Xander had his back to the camera, so he didn’t see the front of the shop. The camera displayed the front of the store, the sidewalk and the front door of the shop.

William Williamson was seen, in front of the store, his face pressed up against the glass of the door. He looked ‘worried’ to say the least and Buffy hoped that the man would realize that something was terribly wrong in the place.

‘Check the door,’ Buffy ordered her husband, silently, trying not to let on that Will was here, near her. Xander kept rambling on about whores, women in general, revenge.

‘Call my cell phone, sweetheart,’ Buffy silently prayed as she watched her husband frown, on camera and look back at the parking lot.

‘He sees the Porshe,’ she sighed in relief, ‘my baby sees my ugly car!’

Buffy watched asWill tried the door, once again, looked behind himself and spied the lime green Porshe that belonged to Buffy. It appeared that he called Buffy’s cell and couldn’t get through. Thanks to Xander, who had made Buffy turn it off.

‘That’s it, baby,’ Buffy thought, gleefully, ‘call 911 and get the boys in blue here!’ She just knew that’s what Will was doing, calling the emergency number.

‘Smart boy,’ Buffy beamed proudly. ‘My smart, wonderful husband!’

Buffy looked over at Anya who was staring in disbelief at her soon to be ex, Xander. She accessed the situation, seeing that Anya was in no mental condition to be of too much help.

For a moment, Buffy wondered if Anya had told Xander about the little, secret button, under her desk that could open the locked front or back doors of the shop. She pondered the options, Buffy did, then acted, quickly. Reaching under the desk, Buffy found the plastic knob that could release the latch of the front door lock. She pushed the button and began to pray to God and her husband, William, that he would hear, figure out or surmise that the lock to the front door was now open.

As she watched Will reach for the door, yet again, Buffy was relieved to realize that he was going to figure it out. Get into the shop, hopefully undetected by the crazed Xander.

It was a cold, brutal and harsh realization, when Buffy saw her husband reach into his leather jacket pocket and pull out a small gun of his own. Buffy watched in horror, now, as Will opened the front door, stealthly, and entered the shop as silently as he could.


A/N: Okay, a little chapter. I have another chapter of my PWP to write for another site.

I have to tell you readers, this is like the third to the last chapter of this fiction. And, be prepared, even after this murder is solved (which it pretty much is) there is more angst in store for our couple. Hehehehehe.

You’ll just have to read to find out! Thank you, and please review. Luv, spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 42: ‘I Will Never Leave You’


A/N: Warning, character death (?) in this chapter.


Buffy watched her husband, via video cam, as he quietly moved through the shop and closer to the office area. However, she kept her stare on Xander, who seemed to be pondering his options, at the moment anyway.

A part of Buffy was thrilled that her William was here, with a gun no less. But another part of her was worried sick that Xander might realize her husband’s presence and hurt him.

‘I can’t lose him,’ Buffy thought to herself, desperately. ‘I can’t lose my Will.’

Xander began to babble something again, something about what a whore Katerina was, just like his own mother. He continued on and on about women in general.

“My old man,” Xander babbled on, “he married my whore of a mother. Gave her a decent name, a roof over her head. She treated him like shit, like all women treat men. No wonder that idiot father of mine beat the hell out of my mom every chance he got.”

Buffy looked over at Anya, momentarily, noting that the woman was completely lost in some kind of daze. The shop keeper would be of no use from here on in, Buffy was sure of it.

“You’re all whores, you know?” Xander smirked at both Buffy and Anya with contempt. “Every last one of you. You’d all spread your legs for anything you consider the bigger, better deal, wouldn’t you?”

“Xander,” Anya murmered in a sad, lost tone, “I do love you.”

“No,” Xander shook his dark head, firmly, “you don’t love me, Anya,” he hissed back at the frightened woman.

“You only want me for my name, the respectibility I can give you. You’re a whore, just like Buffy here. Only she hooked up with a stupid fuck that married her, despite what a real slut she is. I almost feel sorry for old Spike, you know that Buff?” Xander grinned wildly at his partner, only convincing Buffy that her old friend was truly insane now.

“You really reeled the Billy Idol wannabe in, fast? Didn’t you? Damn, I think it took longer to fool old Riley Finn, didn’t it? You hooked the Brit faster then it took to open those long legs of yours and let him…”

“ And you’re one to talk?” Buffy snorted at Xander, hoping to gain some time for Will. “Who else are you screwing, Xander?” Her mouth had formed a contemptuous frown and she tried ‘not’ to stare at the opened office door.

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy could see Will’s shadow as he neared the door. She only prayed that he didn’t make his presence known until it was time. Buffy could tell that Anya would be of no help, at all. She was completely in a daze by all the drama playing out in the office of her own shop. The poor woman was utterly devestated, Buffy could tell.

“Who else are you screwing, Xander?” Anya repeated in a robot like tone to her boyfriend. She looked so sad and childlike that Buffy felt tears threaten to fall from her own eyes.
“Tell her,” Buffy ordered Xander gruffly, “tell the woman who loves you just what a real fuckhead you truly are.”

“Just you, and Sandy,” Xander chuckled and winked at his girlfriend. “God knows Sandy’s enough for any man. That girl’s a virtual vacuum cleaner with her mouth. Kat was pretty impressive, of course, but Sandy? She could suck a…”

“Shut up!” Anya screamed at Xander, her dark eyes wild with pain. “Shut up, shut up!” she cried again desperately. “I hate you, Xander,” she began to sob, cutting Buffy to the bone, breaking her heart.

“Proud of yourself, Xand?” Buffy asked quietly, never taking her gaze from his. “Look what you’ve done to the woman you truly love?”

“What the fuck do you know about love, Buffy?” Xander rasped harshly. He began to wave the gun around in front of both of the women as he grinned insanely at them.

“She knows a lot about love, fuckhead,” Spike growled from behind the man. “Drop that piece you asshole or I’ll blow your worthless head off!”

Buffy watched in horror as Xander spun around and now pointed his gun at her William. Before anyone in the room could make a move, William cocked his own gun and aimed it at Xander.

Two shots rung out as both Buffy and Anya screamed in terror. The women watched in horror as both men fell to the ground.

Buffy literally ran to Will’s side and kneeled next to him. She could see the blood from his gunshot wound, seeping out onto the white tile of the office floor.

“Will,” she gasped, like a drowning person, gasping for air. “Please baby,” she cried desperately, “stay with me.”

She wrapped her arms about her husband’s body and pulled him closer to her own. Will smiled at her, despite his obvious pain from the wound and tried to hug her close with his own arm.

“Love you,” he whispered, so low that Buffy could barely hear him. “I love you,” he repeated, a little louder now.

“I love you,” Buffy began to weep, softly, trying not to let Will see her fear, or her tears. “I love you baby,” she added, burying her head into Will’s neck.

“Buffy,” came Anya’s frightened, confused voice, “Xander,” she continued, almost in an indifferent tone. “I think he’s dead, Buffy,” Anya finished, quietly. Buffy noticed that Anya’s tears had suddenly stopped. Now, poor Anya just looked terribly sad and defeated. “He’s not breathing, Buffy,” Anya whispered in quiet horror. “He ‘is’ dead, I know it.”

Buffy stared over at Anya and Xander’s still form, watching the blood just oozing from his chest, onto the floor. She shook her head in sorrow, for just a second, then returned to keep watch over her husband. Her William.

‘But my Will is breathing,’ Buffy sighed in relief. ‘And it’s all that matters to me now.’

“Please, baby,” she murmered to him, looking into those indigo blue eyes of his, “Never leave me, Will. Please stay with me. Please.”

“I will never leave you,” Spike gasped out, weakly, feeling his gut burn like fire. The gunshot must have hit him, right in the middle of his stomach. It felt like a hot, burning coal had been thrust into his gut, tearing him apart inside.

“I’ll never leave you,” Spike repeated to his horrified wife. “Love you too much and you are so stuck with me, baby,” he added with a shadow of his old smirk.

From somewhere, far away, but getting closer, Buffy heard the sirens. They sounded like both police and paramedic sirens and she breathed a long sigh of relief. Deep inside of her, deep down, somewhere in her very soul? Buffy Williamson just knew that her William was going to be all right.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she whispered as she kissed Will’s handsome mouth, with her lips. “I’ll make sure of it,” she murmered as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.


Buffy sat in the waiting room, just out side of the main operating room of the Sunnydale Hospital. It had been hours since the ambulance brought her husband there, to the hospital, and Buffy had been waiting ‘impatiently’ in this bright, sterile room.

Wesley and Cordelia had gotten to the hospital, just a couple of hours after Buffy called them on her cell phone. William’s cousin, Wesley had made the calls to his family back in England. Buffy was grateful to Wesley for that, and for bringing his girlfriend, Cordy, to help comfort Buffy.

“He’s got to make it, Wes,” Buffy murmered, for the hundredth time in an hour. “My Will, he’s got to live. I love him and I can’t live without him. Not now.”

“He will make it,” Wesley responded, firmly, “Spike is a very resilient man. He’s had to be, but then, you know that, don’t you?”

Buffy nodded her head, slightly, then burst out into tears again. “I can’t lose him, I can’t,” she kept repeating.

Wesley put his arm around Buffy and patted her shoulder, while Cordelia took her free hand. “It’s going to okay, Buff,” Cordy cooed into the blond woman’s ear. “Your guy is going to be okay, I know it.”

“He is,” Buffy sniffed back more sobs and suddenly smiled, slightly at the dark haired couple. “My baby is going to be fine. You’re right Wesley, Will is a resilient man.”

Connor and Dawn Summers took that opportunity to enter the waiting room and rush up to Buffy.

“Oh, honey,” Dawn cried, throwing her arms about her older sister. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. I called mom and dad, they’re on their way up from LA. Is there any news yet?”

“No,” Buffy whispered, depressed again, “it’s been hours and no one has even come out to…”

“In fact,” Buffy stood up abrubtly, kind of throwing all of the comforting hands from her, “I’m going in there and find out just what the bloody hell is going on!”

Dawn smirked at Buffy, “that’s my sis,” she actually chuckled lightly. “I’ll go with you and…”

“No,” Wesley chimed in, “neither of you can go in there. You know that Buffy,” he tilted his dark head (reminding Buffy of William) and scowled.

“When the Doctor has news, Buffy dear,” Wesley began, “he will come out and tell you. Until then, please just sit down and try to…”

“Mrs. Williamson?” came the soothing, but businesslike voice of Dr. Benjamen Noxen (sorry), Will’s surgeon.

“Yes?” Buffy asked nervously, closing the gap between herself and the weary looking physician.

“Your husband, William is it? Well, he’s quite a fighter, maam. He’s going to be okay, after a while that is. The bullet must have ricocheted off ‘something’ in the room. A desk? A chair perhaps, before it hit Mr. Williamson. I had to go in, take the bullet out of the stomach area where it did do some damage. However,” the tired man continued, smiling now, “the bullet did not hit any vital organs, so we’re lucky here.”

Buffy felt like throwing her arms around this Dr. Noxen (again, sorry) and hugging him to death. She settled for a simple ‘thank you’ and instead threw her arms around her sister, Dawnie.

Wesley hugged Cordy and Connor just kind of stood there, smiling sheepishly as Dr. Noxen watched the relieved group. He seemed to be waiting for the inevitable. Which, Buffy rewarded him with.

“Thank God,” Buffy burst into tears of relief. “Can I see him Doctor?”

“Of course, Mrs. Williamson,” the man grinned at the pretty woman. “In fact, tell you what,” he continued, seemingly quite proud of himself for his ‘effort’ in bringing about all this happiness.

“I’ll have an orderly place a guest cot, in your husband’s room. You can spend the night with him, if you like. Just try not to get him, too, you know, excited?”

“Yes!” Buffy squealed like an excited child. “I want to be with Will! I’ll be good, won’t talk too much or anything,” she added, seriously.

“Okay, then,” Dr. Noxen grinned happily, “I’ll have our guy do that. Move a cot in there. I do ask, however, that it just be you that visits with your husband tonight. Tomorrow, you others can stop in and say hello. Right then?”

Everyone nodded and Buffy hugged each of them, seperately, of course.

“Buffy,” Wesley cleared his throat and began to speak softly to his cousin’s relieved wife.

“Give William our best and tell him,” Wes paused for a moment, his dark brows scrunched together in thought. “Tell him that his parents, that they are flying to Sunnydale, tomorrow morning?”

Buffy froze, momentarily stunned. “Will’s parents are coming to Sunnydale?” she gasped.

‘Of course, you moron,’ she answered herself with disgust. ‘Why shouldn’t they? He’s their son!’

“Oh,” Buffy tried to cover her trepidation, to Wesley anyway. “That’s uhm, very nice and…”

“They aren’t monsters, Buffy,” Wesley smiled warmly at her. “Promise, they’ll love you. Their son does and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Especially now?”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded, “you’re right. Call me, tomorrow, as soon as they arrive and I’ll receive them. Possibly at our apartment?” She tried to make her offer sound upbeat, cheerful, even, but Buffy couldn’t help but feel more sense of foreboding about this new turn of events.


A/N: Okay. I have several reasons for ending this chapter here. One of which will be answered in the next (possibly the second to last chapter of this fic).

In the next chapter we’ll find out about Xander’s fate, Anya’s statement, Amy St. Claire’s whereabouts. Also…what happened to Warren’s confessions and where is Angel?

If you have been reading this fic, or any of my fics, you know I like to drop hints and anvils for future storylines. Please, pay careful attention to the fact that Johnathan and Anne Williamson (Spike’s parents) are coming to Sunnydale. In fact, over to our Spuffy apartment to meet their daughter-in-law and Winston! This is important…

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

(PS…hope this wasn’t too farfetched!)

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 43: ‘Healing’


A/N: I’m submitting this ‘quickie’ chapter tonight because I want to get this fiction wrapped up. Next, I’m writing a ‘High School’ fic, with a kind of twist.


Spike woke up, slowly, in a hospital room, or so it seemed. Yup, definitely a hospital room. Which would make sense, really, as the last thing he remembered was being put under by a doctor in an operating room.

“Buffy!” he gasped suddenly, desperately looking about the sterile white room. He immediately relaxed when he saw his blond little wife, sleeping soundly next to his bed, in a simple cot of her own.

“Buffy,” he rasped, his voice cracked and dry from medication and pain. “Wake up, baby,” he pleaded softly.

“Will?” Buffy mumbled as she came awake, pretty quickly.

“Oh, baby,” she cried, leaping up from the makeshift bed and tenderly wrapping her arms about William’s chest and shoulders.

Spike’s Buffy began to pepper little, soft kisses on his face, mouth and chin as she babbled on about being sorry for not being awake when he woke up.

“It’s okay,” Spike assured her. “I’ve been out, what? All night?”

Buffy nodded, her beautiful green eyes filled with tiny tears.

“All night,” she echoed to her husband. “I was here, the doctor let me sleep here. Didn’t want to wake you,” she rambled on, “didn’t want to ‘excite’ you. Doctor’s orders and…”

“It’s all right, baby,” Spike whispered weakly, “you’re here. That’s all that matters.”

He watched, in awe, of course, as his beloved wife climbed, very carefully, into the bed with him. She was being quite cautious of the wires, tubes and the IV that were attached to his arms.

Snuggling up close to his sore body, with her tiny, but powerful warm body, Buffy began to cry softly into Spike’s neck.

“I love you,” she whispered into Will’s muscled neck, desperately. “I thought I lost you, baby.”

“I told you,” he grinned down at her. “You’re stuck with me. I love you too damn much to leave you, baby. Never going to lose me.”


“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, quietly, “for ever going to the dress shop. I put you, myself, even Anya in danger. I was stupid, stupid, stupid,” Buffy groaned, her face still buried into Spike’s neck.



“No,” Spike replied, gruffly, “you were being you. A cop. A good one and I can’t fault you for that baby.” He reached his left hand up to coax her chin up so their eyes could meet.

“I don’t want to be a cop anymore, Will,” Buffy whispered, truthfully. “I want to be a pub owners wife. In England and…”

Spike beamed at his Buffy, his wife, his partner. “Take your time,” he whispered gently, “we’ll do what you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” Buffy replied softly. However, she had already made up her mind. Nearly losing her William made Buffy realize that there were other things in life besides police work and Sunnydale, California. There was family, a home and children. A pub that belonged to her husband, and now, to her. Why not give it a go? See how that life might work out for them both?

“Harris,” Spike asked, softly, “is he?”

“He’s dead,” Buffy responded evenly. She showed little emotion over her dead partner.

“I’m sorry baby,” Spike shook his head, truly sorry that he had killed his wife’s partner.

“No,” Buffy shook her own blond head, “Xander brought this on himself. What I don’t understand,” she scrunched her brows together, “is how any of us missed just how screwed up Xander was? I mean, me? Willow and Giles? Even Captain Wilkens? How did any of us miss out on the crazy train that was Xander Harris?”

“I don’t know,” Spike answered honestly. “He must have fooled an awful lot of people though, huh?”

“Yes,” Buffy sighed sadly. “A lot of people.”

“I’m not supposed to be doing this,” Buffy exclaimed suddenly, taking her exploring fingers from her husband’s hospital gown clad chest. She placed them by her own side, carefully trying to not touch her husband, per the doctor.

“Not supposed to be doing what?” William smirked at her, trying his best to clasp onto her waist with his weakened hands.

“Exciting you,” Buffy murmered shyly. “I’m not supposed to be exciting or arousing you. Doctor’s orders,” she pouted and tried to rise from Will’s bed.

“Screw the doctors,” Spike chuckled, his belly burned in pain from the surgery. “Anyway,” he continued, “you ‘excite and arouse’ me, sweet, just by being within a mile of me so…”

Buffy leaned in and kissed her Will’s lovely mouth. “You’re just fine,” she hissed, happily as she ran her hand down her man’s right arm.

“Yup, that I am,” Will replied with another naughty grin. “Can’t wait to get you home. Make you…”

“Good morning Mr. Williamson,” Dr. Ben Noxen greeted warmly. “Mrs. Williamson. I see our patient is quite ‘awake and aware’ this morning?”

Buffy blushed profusely and scurried off Will’s hospital bed, a little embarrassed at being caught out.

“Thank you again, Doctor,” she stammered at the young physician, “for Will and me.”

“Yeah, thanks Doc,” Spike repeated his wife’s words, gratefully. “I’d be deader then shit if…”

“Will,” Buffy hissed at her husband. She raised her brow and shook her head at him.

“Sorry,” Spike offered, a little embarrassed himself. “I get a little crude from time to time and don’t know when to shut the fuck up.

“Ohhh,” Buffy groaned softly.

Dr. Noxen chuckled heartily, “it’s okay, Mrs. Williamson,” he grinned at Buffy. “Let’s just be happy that your husband is going to be all right. In fact, he’s so strong? He’ll be out of this place in a few days, tops.”

Buffy sighed in relief; Spike sighed in relief and hell, even Dr. Noxen sighed in relief.

“There’s a man, an Englishman, outside in the waiting room. He was here, with Mrs. Williamson last night,” Dr. Noxen added quickly. “Say’s he’s your cousin Mr. Williamson, a Mr. Wesley Rhys-Smythe?”

“Yes,” Buffy heaved a sigh, “he is Will’s cousin. Has he been here all night?”

“I believe so,” Dr. Noxen replied. “The night staff assured him that he’d be able to see his cousin,” the doctor nodded at Will, “this morning.”

“Good old Wes,” Spike mumbled softly, a look of pure adoration on his handsome face.

“There’s a police Captain, also, Mrs. Williamson,” Dr. Noxen added. “A Captain Wilkens? He’s here with another gentleman, a Mr. Rupert Giles. They’re out in the waiting room. I told them that only one visitor at a time can speak with your husband?”

“Of course,” Buffy nodded eagerly. “I’ll go out and speak to my boss, and Mr. Giles. Wesley can come in now, see his cousin?”

She turned and looked at Will for approval.

“Yeah,” Spike nodded good naturedly, “old Wes can come pay his respects. But don’t go anywhere, baby,” he ordered Buffy gently. “I’ve got plans for you for later and…”

“I told your wife to be ‘cautious’ with you, Mr. Williamson,” Dr. Noxen scowled at Spike. “For a while anyway?” The good doctor blushed bright red, something quite amazing for an educated physician.

“Oh, all right,” Spike growled in exasperation. “But I still want my Buffy here, every night with me. While I’m in this fucking place.”

“That can be arranged,” Dr. Noxen smirked and left the room. Leaving the couple together, alone, again.

“He really is trying to help you know?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side.

“Yeah,” Spike grumbled, “but he’s too damn good looking and I don’t like the fact that he was checking out your arse. I saw it, Buffy, I did!”

“Oh, Will,” Buffy giggled, “it doesn’t matter who checks out my arse, or anything. You’re the one that I belong with! Always will.” She leaned over the bed and kissed her husband, full on his wonderful mouth.

“I am going to have Wes come in and see you,” Buffy winked at William. “Behave,” she ordered gently and headed towards the door. Before she opened it and went outside, she turned and blew Will a kiss with her hand.

“I’ll be right outside,” she said, grinning like a loon at her mate.


“Hey Captain, Giles,” Buffy greeted the two men, wearily. Wesley had already hightailed it into William’s room and Buffy decided to ‘chat’ with her superior and her mentor for a while. Give the two cousins a chance to talk between themselves.

“Buffy, dear,” Giles began, taking her hand in his. “I’m so glad your husband is all right. Sorry about Harris,” he added, curtly, “had no idea what a mess the poor man was.”

Captain Wilkens interjected quickly, “Harris was always a loose canon, Giles. He fooled us all, though. Made us believe he was an idiot without a purpose. Apparently? We were wrong. He had a purpose all right.”


Buffy flinched, unintentionally, but covered it, quickly. It would do no good to show either of these men how sad she truly was over her old friend’s death.

“Amy?” Buffy changed the subject quickly as she could.

“She was freed, last night,” Wilkens grunted as he sat on the chair to the right of Buffy. “Miss Jenkins’ statement made everything clear. Miss St. Claire was framed from the start. By Harris, that worm Meers and even maybe O’Connor. Who, by the way,” the Captain frowned here, “disappeared hours after we brought Meers in.”

“Too bad,” Buffy sighed, “he’s probably the one that was threatening Amy and her son. Making things…”

“No,” Giles shook his head firmly. “Angel was caught, just hours ago. Up in Frisco. He’s up to his neck in the muck, of course, Webster’s mess. However, we have every reason to believe that it was not Angel O’Connor who was going after the Webster brass ring.”

“Miss St. Claire is on her way to St. David, Arizona,” Giles added quickly. “To collect her son. She gave this to me,” Giles handed a folded letter over to Buffy. “Said she wanted you to read this, after she was gone.”

“Meers? His family,” Wilkens interjected, “they’re safe.”

“Stashed away,” Wilkens continued for Giles. “Meers started giving out all kinds of sweet info on a lot of folks. Scott Hope and Marcie Ross? Warrants were sent out, immediately on them and they’ve been picked up. Along with O’Connor, of course and that saintly looking rookie, Doyle. He, Angel? He’s crying like a virgin bridesmaid at her younger sister’s wedding,” Captain Wilkens began to laugh, heartily.

“Nice analogy, Wilkens,” Rupert Giles tsked in disapproval.

“Oh, Angel,” Buffy sighed again, a little saddened that such a great mind would go to such a waste. “The others?” She asked, a little more then curious.

“Oh,” Wilkens added, smugly, “a lot of Sunnydale’s finest are going to fry for this. Including that pompous Robin Wood and some of his constituents. This is only the tip of the iceberg, Buffy,” the Captain continued. “There’s so many names on this list that Wesley Rhys-Smythe handed us, plus with Meers’ statements? We’ll be handing out sentences forever!” Captain Wilkens looked a little to ‘excited’ by all this intrigue.

“Never could stand that prick,” Wilkens replied, matter-of-factly, with a shrug. “Besides,” the police captain added, “Meers ‘saw’ someone else. Plenty of times at Webster’s apartment and recently, too. Old Warren? He couldn’t match a face, anywhere to the mystery man. But he described him all right. Tall, built like a heavyweight boxer. Fair hair, dark eyes. A real all American kind of guy.”

“Buffy,” Giles whispered quietly, “we think it just might be Riley. If it is?” The older man left the sentence unfinished.

“Oh,” Buffy murmered, a little less surprised then she should have been. “I see,” she finished abruptly. She decided to change the subject, quickly.

“Where’s Anya?” Buffy asked suddenly, afraid that the poor woman was just wondering around Sunnydale, lost and confused.

“I had Rosenberg and her gal pal come and take her home. To their place,” Wilkens offered, shyly. “Thought maybe they could help the poor thing. It was her tesitimony, after all, that clinched Harris as the murderer.”

Buffy smiled at her boss, Captain Wilkens. “You know, Captain,” she giggled softly, “you may just turn out to be a real human being after all.”

“Well,” Wilkens stuttered, “maybe.”

“Rhys-Smythe,” Giles began carefully, “he claims that William’s parents, Johnathan and Anne Williamson are going to be here? In Sunnydale?”

Buffy glanced at Giles, warily. Her mentor looked as if he’d found out that the Easter Bunny was real and was going to hop by for lunch.

“Forget it, Giles,” Buffy mumbled, giving the older man a ‘look’ to warn him. “They’re here to see to their son, nothing more. We’re not going to play ‘Clue’ and all while they’re around. Let the British legal system take care of my husband’s father, please, Rupert?”

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them, thorougly, then returned them to his face. “Yes, Buffy,” he sighed with disappointment. “I suppose you’re right. The British should handle their own mess, but…”

“Giles,” Buffy hissed softly, “I said to forget it. Please.”

“Your folks are on their way, dear,” Giles quickly turned the subject to a more pleasant one. “They should be here, soon.”



Buffy had returned to Will’s side, after Wesley talked to him. She stayed with him for hours until she realized that it was time to get home to their apartment. Take a shower, check on Winston (who had been watched over by Mrs. Wiggins until then) and get some fresh clothing. Buffy was to spend the night, every night with Will until he was out of hospital.

Of course, there was also the little matter of William’s parents. They were due in Sunnydale in mere minutes and Buffy had to prepare everything for them. At her and Will’s apartment that is.

Wesley was going to bring Will’s folks to the apartment, as soon as they arrived in Sunnydale Airport. Buffy, Wes and the Williamsons would go from there to the hospital to see Will.

“It’s going to be fine,” Buffy sing-songed as she tidied up the apartment, quickly. She was just packing some fresh clothing, to go to the hospital for the night. Winston was bounding about the bedroom, his huge feet getting in his way as he stumbled about the place, apparently thrilled to see at least one of his ‘parents’ at home.


“Chill, Winston,” Buffy giggled at the puppy. “Daddy’ll be home, soon. Then we can think about getting things straightened out here in California. After that? Well…”

Buffy’s convo with Winston was interrupted by the front door bell of the apartment. Without thinking, Buffy closed the bedroom door, halfway that is, and hurried to the front door. She assumed that it was Wesley and Will’s parents as she took a deep, calming breath and opened the oaken door.

Imagine her great surprise, when she found none other then Riley Finn standing in the doorway. His ‘aw shucks’ patent farm boy smile plastered all over his handsome face.


A/N: Told you…this fic is getting waaayyy too long! Anyway, I hope this chapter explained some things to readers.

Oh, I’ve been told I tend to make Buffy a little too weak in my stories. I promise, in the next chapter? Our Slayer is going to kick ass and take names!!!

Hold onto your seats guys! The next chapter is going to be a ‘bumpy’ ride! Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf.

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 44: ‘Williamson and Winston’


“Hey, Buff,” Riley Finn grinned, charmingly, at his ex-wife. Before Buffy could ask him what the hell he wanted, or slam the door in his face? Riley strode into the apartment as if he had leased it himself.

“Why don’t you just come in, then,” Buffy offered sarcastically. Riley flopped down on the couch and threw his right leg over his left one.

“Uhm, Riley,” Buffy began, carefully, “can I ask what the hell you’re doing here, in Sunnydale? Or in my husband’s and my apartment for that matter?”

“Came to pay my last respects to Xander Harris, Buff,” Riley replied, coolly. “Oh,” he added quickly, “congrats on the marriage by the way. Can’t imagine ‘you’ married again, especially to a Brit. Or a Williamson for that matter, but…”

“Cut to the chase, Riley,” Buffy sighed as she planted herself in front of her ex. She chose to remain standing, at the moment, and nervously watched Riley peruse her body up and down.

“You were never ‘that’ close to Xander Harris, Finn,” she said evenly, “and I don’t think that your wife, Samantha, would appreciate you being in your ex-wife’s apartment, so, just get to the point. Why are you really here?”

Buffy noticed a tinge of sorrow pass over Riley’s dark eyes, briefly, then he grinned again. She saw a shadow of his old bravado appear on his mouth, in his eyes. Somehow, however, this did not comfort her.

“Sammy left me,” Riley said simply. “About a week ago. She up and left me. Left me a note, though,” he chuckled. “I guess I should be grateful for that much, huh?”

“Oh,” Buffy stammered, a little embarrassed by her faux pas. She soon snapped out of it and said, “okay, Samantha left you. I’d ask you why, but it’s none of my business and frankly, I don’t really care. So,” she continued harshly, “why don’t you just tell me the real reason you’re here. I’m expecting…”

Buffy stopped suddenly from explaining the fact that she was expecting Will’s parents and Wesley at any time now. Something in her ex’s eyes alerted that it might not be too wise to give out any more information then necessary. He was watching Buffy, Riley was, intently, and it disturbed her, terribly.

“You’re expecting?” Riley asked quietly, his eyes never left hers.

“I meant,” she quickly covered her earlier words, “that I’m expected at the hospital. Soon. My husband’s been shot, by Xander, that is. He, Will, he was shot trying to save me and…”

“How noble of him,” Riley chuckled with a half smile.

‘His eyes,’ Buffy thought to herself in sudden realization, ‘they’re as cold as ice. His mouth is in a smile, but his eyes are narrowed and calculating.’ She remembered what Giles had said, earlier, at the hospital.

‘It sounds like Riley,’ Buffy’s mentor had told her. ‘The one that Meers had seen many times at Webster’s apartment. Just recently, too. If it is Riley, Buffy dear, then that could mean…’

“So,” Buffy began carefully, “this sudden ‘affection’ for Xander Harris? Is this some retro feeling, like the one you had for Thomas Ford? My old partner?” She watched Riley’s eyes grow narrower, into near slits.

Buffy nervously glanced around her apartment, her eyes finally resting on her new leather jacket. The one Will just bought her. In the front, right-hand side of that jacket was her police revolver. Too bad the jacket and gun were nearly fifteen feet away from her, on the bay window seat.

“Let me ask you something Buffy,” Riley broke into her anxious reverie. “Why would someone have ‘me’ of all people investigated? I mean, down in LA? I got wind of some private dick, running around the City, asking all kinds of questions and shit. Can you guess who the dick was?”

“No idea,” Buffy shrugged, hoping against hope that her demeanor was convincing this moron.

“I’ll help you,” Riley replied smoothly, standing up and closing the gap between Buffy and himself. “Let’s jog Buffy’s memory, shall we?” Riley was babbling on about something as he neared Buffy.

“It was your dear old dad, Hank Summers,” he hissed as he reached Buffy. When he got to her, Riley grabbed Buffy by her arm and yanked her close up to his body.

“You bitch!” he rasped as he wrapped his free arm about her body. “You sicked your old man on me. To echo your own words? I’d ask ‘why’ but you’d only lie to me, even though ‘this’ is my business.”

“Let go of me, you asshole,” Buffy hissed as she struggled to pull away from Riley. “Get your hands off of me, you…”

“You what?” Riley asked smugly. He grinned down at Buffy and she suddenly felt like a two-year-old looking up at some giant from a fairy tale.

“You’ve no right to be here,” Buffy whispered, still trying to pull away from Riley. “Get out!” she hissed firmly.

“I think I’ll stay,” Riley countered smoothly. “I’ve got a feeling you know more then you’re playing at Slayer.”

Buffy flinched at the use of Riley’s old pet name for her. No one had called her ‘Slayer’ in years, especially this man. She didn’t even want to recall the reason behind the nickname, not now, not ever.

“My name’s not Slayer,” she hissed back at Riley. “You’re the only one ever called me that. I remarried Finn, my Will wouldn’t ever call me that!”

“Maybe ‘your Will’ doesn’t know you like I do, eh Slayer,” Riley chuckled. He was truly baiting Buffy now and it was working. It had to be, or she would never have blurted out the next sentences so freely.

“It was you,” Buffy growled at her ex-husband. “You’re the one that sent Amy St. Claire the threats. You threatened her, her son, anyone that stood in the way of you and Holden’s empire. Your move to LA? It was a ruse, wasn’t it Riley? When I read your name in Holden’s list, I should have known you’d never cut your ties to him. You’re just too much of a God damned follower to ever do that, right?”

“Holden should have kept his fucking mouth shut!” Riley screamed loudly. “Should have known the prick couldn’t ever shut the fuck up and leave ‘us’ out of it. Me, O’Connor, Harris, all the others that ‘helped’ him out all of those years. Webster just had to be the big man in Sunnydale, didn’t he? He just had to play God and write everything down, didn’t he. The ten commandments of Holden Webster law, right?. Law number 1: Screw your cohorts and keep a record of their crimes. What a prick that worthless shit turned out to be. What a fucking coward! Bless Harris for blowing both of them away, Holden and his little whore!”

Riley had a murderous look on his face and Buffy was beginning to get really scared now. She had no idea, at the moment, just how to difuse this situation, so she decided to go with ‘stalling’ her ex.

“So,” she swallowed her fear and asked, evenly, “it was you that was trying to take over? Webster’s business that is?”

“So to speak,” Riley responded through gritted teeth. “I could have, too, if you bunch of fucks hadn’t butted in. You know, Buff,” Riley added, smugly, “your husband, this Billy Idol freak? You might be interested to know that he’s a real contender, in the game I mean? What’re you going to do when he decides to make a play for Web’s empire? Gonna’ stand by your man then? Be the little ‘mafia Princess’?”

“Will and me, we’re going to go back to England to live. Make a new life for ourselves, together, Riley. My husband has no interest in Webster’s world, or his businesses. He’s a good man, Will is. Not interested in your fucked up idea of a life and…”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Riley countered gruffly. “But Amy St. Claire is another story, isn’t she? Her and that little bastard of hers. They are a real threat to me, aren’t they?”

“Leave them alone,” Buffy whispered, her voice strained with emotion. “You can’t hurt them anymore, or me and Will. You’ve got no power, Riley,” she snorted, “none whatsoever. It’s over. All of the Sunnydale legal system knows what you’re about now. You’ve lost and I’m going to give you some advice.”

Buffy grinned, wickedly at her stupid ex’s face. “Get out of Sunnydale, now,” she ordered firmly. “In fact,” she continued smugly, “I’d head for the nearest border, state or country that is and keep running. Samantha left you, probably because she found out what a real jerk you are and all. Maybe you better brush up on your Spanish, Rile, you think?”

“Samantha left me because she found out I was being investigated, Buff,” Riley hissed harsly at her. “She was pissed that I was caught out at my little coup. What?” he asked innocently when Buffy gave him her stunned look.

“My wife is almost as ambitious as I am, sweetheart,” Riley continued with a chuckle. “She had to be. You don’t rise from whore to girlfriend, to wife then to head honcho’s wife by being a shrinking violet exactly, now, do you?”

Buffy tried to pull out of Riley’s grasp, but he just tightened his hold on her. She noticed he was giving her the ‘once over’ again and it made her more afraid then anything.

‘What now?’ she asked silently, a sense of terror rising up to her throat. ‘Riley the rapist?’

“You look good, baby,” Riley purred as he ran his meaty right hand down her arm. “Good enough to eat,” he murmered, pulling her head forward so that he could crash his lips onto hers.

“Let me go,” she gasped, struggling again to get away from this revolting man she once thought she loved. “I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Riley sneered as he yanked her forward again, shaking her roughly. His right hand was now tangled up in her long, blond hair and he was using it to keep a strong hold on her head.

Before either of them knew what was happening, Winston came hurtling out of the bedroom and literally leapt onto Riley. The mastiff clamped his puppy mouth, with his still pretty powerful locking jaws, around Riley’s ankle and began to tear at it. He growled like a large and in charge big dog as he shook his head and bit, hard, causing blood to flow from Riley’s leg.

“You fucking little prick,” Riley screamed as he shook his leg, trying to throw off the little doggie dynamo. Finally, he managed to shake the puppy from his ankle, flinging the poor little thing up against the nearest wall.

Buffy watched in horror as her precious Winston hit the wall and slid down to the floor. The pooch began to whimper and howl in pain when it hit the ground, then lay still.

Taking this opportunity to make her move, Buffy searched the area to find something to ‘harm’ Riley with. ‘Thank God for Winston,’ Buffy thought as she scanned the nearby area.

“You fucking bastard!” Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs. Without a second thought, Buffy grabbed the nearest, blunt object she could get her hands on. The heavy combination telephone and answering matching. She didn’t even bother to disconnect the device, just brought her right arm and hand back, then swung them, phone first into Riley’s big, stupid head. Buffy hit the man with such force, that he fell like a rock and landed on his back on the floor.

For one moment, Buffy was sure she’d killed her ex-husband with the blow. However, she realized he was very much alive when Riley groaned in agony from his position on the carpet.

Before she knew what she was really doing, Buffy took another swing with the telephone and bashed Riley’s head again. This time, it knocked the huge man out, cold. Just to be sure, Buffy smashed the phone/answering machine down again on Riley’s bleeding skull.

Buffy scurried to Winston fast as she could and picked up his warm little body. She felt tears begin to fall from her eyes as she clutched the tiny trembling body to hers.

“Be all right, Winston, please, sweetie,” she whispered as she buried her face into his soft fur. “Please be okay, honey,” she pleaded as she tried to check the puppy for injuries.

Winston kind of shook a little, then began to lick Buffy’s face with his cool tongue. Buffy felt his tail wag and his heart beating, steadily. She burst out into tears and hugged the pooch to her, thankful that he seemed to be okay.

Carrying the puppy with her, Buffy hurried over to her jacket on the window seat and pulled out her gun. She then clicked on her cell phone and dialed 911 to have the police come. After that, she dialed Captain Wilkens and told him to get his ass over to her apartment, that ‘he’d want to be there to see this’!

Still toting her hero, Winston, with her, Buffy gingerly neared Riley and checked to see if he was still breathing properly. He was she discovered, almost disappointed by this.

“Mummy will get you to a vet, Winston. Get you all checked out proper,” Buffy promised as she snuggled the once again lively puppy to her. “Just as soon as I take care of this piece of shit here,” she added smugly, glaring at Riley’s still body.

“This is for harrassing all of us,” Buffy hissed as she forcefully kicked Riley in the ribs. “Oh,” she added harshly, “this is for hurting my dog, asshole!” She then kicked the man again, as hard as she could with her boot covered foot.

“Daddy will be so proud, of both of us Winston,” Buffy cooed into the puppy’s ear. “I’m so glad you’re all right, sweetie,” she nuzzled Winston’s warm, huge head with her cheek.

There was a sudden knock at her front door and Buffy’s anger was broken, momentarily. She realized that it was probably Wesley and the Williamsons.

“How the hell am I going to explain this?” she wondered out loud as she pointed the gun at Riley. “Well,” she sighed, “I’ll just have to somehow.”

Buffy strode to the front door of the apartment, took a deep, calming breath and asked ‘who was there?’

“It’s Wesley, Buffy,” came the clipped accent of her husband’s cousin. “I’m here with Uncle Johnathan and Aunt Anne. Is everything all right then?”

Glancing over at Riley’s still form, Buffy shook off her anxiety and opened the front door. She found Wesley and a good looking, older couple standing in the hallway, rather odd looks on all of their faces.

“Hey, Wes,” Buffy greeted, amicably. “Hello,” she smiled warmly at Will’s parents. “Come on in.”

She waved her gun around, carefully, and motioned for the trio to enter the apartment. They did, somewhat apprehensively.

“This is Buffy,” Wesley pointed at the little blond, holding the gun. “This is William’s parents, Buffy. Johnathan and Anne Williamson. They…”

Just then, Anne Williamson, Buffy’s new mother-in-law gasped in shock and glared down at Riley Finn’s still body.

“Buffy,” Wes stammered, “just, who exactly is that?” he asked with wide eyes. The serious Brit stared down at Riley, his dark eyes filled with stunned confusion.

“That,” Buffy scowled, “is Riley Finn. My ex-husband.”

Johnathan Williamson slowly maneuvered his way around his nephew and looked over the prone, large man on the floor. The taller version of Spike eyed the blulky man and then looked at his daughter-in-law, his left brow raised in wonder.

“Your ex-husband, you say?” Buffy’s father-in-law inquired in an educated, clipped accent. Buffy found both of her in-laws quite interesting, already.

“Yes,” Buffy nodded as she pointed her gun at Riley’s body. She just knew she appeared quite proud at getting the drop on her prick of an ex.

“I see,” Johnathan Williamson responded simply. The older man then broke out into the most lovely smirk and turned to his wife, Anne.

“Well, Annie,” he began with a chuckle, “seems our William ‘has’ truly met his match in a wife. Suppose our son better not brass off our Buffy here, eh? Wouldn’t want her to ‘divorce’ him, huh my love?”


Anne Williamson leaned over, slightly, and looked down on Riley Finn, somberly. She finally stood back up and nodded, “no, I suppose not, dear,” she grinned affectionately at her spouse.


A/N: I hope you readers got the title ‘Williamson and Winston’ and find the humor in Spike’s parents’ reactions? Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Chapter 45: ‘Buffy’s Biggest Fans!’


A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fiction. It’s very close to the end now.


“So,” Spike Williamson began, beaming with pride at his Mum and Dad, “what do you think of my Buffy?” He didn’t need to really hear their reply, of course, he knew his folks adored his wife on first sight. Especially since they’d witnessed the aftermath of his Buffy’s kicking the shit out of her ex, Riley Finn. And right in the middle of their apartment, no less.

“I think that she’s adorable, darling,” Anne Williamson gushed as she arranged her son’s pillow, for the tenth time that day. “Your Dad and I are pretty much your Buffy’s biggest fans. She is perfect for you, really,” Spike’s mother smiled warmly at her boy.

“Yes, I have to agree with your Mum,” Johnathan Williamson chimed in. “You know my feelings towards the police, of course,” the old man scowled momentarily, “so when we found out that your little wife, your Buffy kicked the crap out of this Finn fellow? Well,” the older Williamson chortled, “our Buffy is all right in our book, eh Annie?” He grinned at his still lovely wife of almost forty years.

“Like I said,” Anne Williamson nodded, even as she shot a warning look at her husband, “Buffy is perfect for our William. But then,” she added quickly, “our son knew that, didn’t you dear?” The blond haired woman looked at her only son, her oldest and smiled with great affection.

“Knew it the first time I laid eyes on my Princess,” Spike grinned at his mother, then his father. “She’s my salvation, Buffy is,” Spike continued with a sigh of contentment. “It was fate that brought me to Sunnydale and…”

“And here I thought it was family pride,” Buffy interjected as she entered her husband’s hospital room. The blond police woman wore her Will’s leather duster and it just hung on her. Overwhelmed her actually.

“Hi baby,” Spike gushed, as he held out his arms to his wife. Buffy hurried over to her husband’s bed and snuggled down into his arms. She seemed to be ‘carrying’ something hidden in the duster, but Spike decided to wait it out and see what it was.

“Hello dear,” Anne, Buffy’s mother-in-law greeted the woman warmly. The older woman took Buffy’s free hand in hers and held it tightly. “We’ve just been telling William how we’re just thrilled with your marriage. You’re perfect for our son.”

“Well, thank you, Anne,” Buffy began, sincerely grateful for her mother-in-law’s kind words. Her father-in-law quickly interjected.

“So,” Johnathan Williamson began, his dark brows scrunched up together, a habit his son must have picked up from him. Buffy had noticed that her husband and his father had a lot of similar traits.

“What’s going on? With this whole mess down at your office?” the older man asked, all businesslike. His criminal curiosity getting the better of him, apparently.

“Not much more then a couple of days ago,” Buffy shrugged at the older, quite intimidating man before her. “The cops involved with Holden Webster are all in jail, of course. Angel O’Connor is out on bail, but supposedly, he’s laying low for now. Riley?” Buffy grinned at her in-laws and husband, “he’s still in the hospital room, just down the hall. When he’s ready to be released? Well,” Buffy giggled girlishly, “he’ll be sent right to the county jail. Pity,” Buffy snorted.

“How’s that baby?” Spike asked, a little jealous that his wife might harbor some compassion for her ex. No matter how much Buffy beat the bloody hell out of Riley, Spike didn’t like this ‘pity’ crap she was spouting.

“Well,” Buffy sighed, a little too neatly, “cops, ex or otherwise? Corrupt or otherwise? They’re not too popular with inmates in any prison facility. Poor Riley will probably get the crap kicked out of him in less then twenty-four hours!” Buffy finished with a little sigh that barely masked the sarcasm in her tone.

The three other people in the room, Buffy noticed, were just a little too happy about this turn of events. However, it was hard for her, Buffy Williamson, to give a rat’s ass. Riley had betrayed them all, especially her. He had allowed Buffy to give him her heart and plan a future with him. Who was the now ‘ex-cop’ to mislead his wife so and then help plan another cop’s murder? It was just a little too fucked up for anyone, especially for Buffy, now or ever.

Buffy couldn’t help herself, she began to laugh, a little too loudly. “Poor Riley,” Buffy snorted, ignoring her husband’s jealous glare, “he’s such loser, really,” she finished with a warm smile at William. This last statement seemed to placate Will and Buffy was glad for that.

Spike smirked, happily, matching his father’s expression. All was well, at least for the moment. His beautiful wife knew who the real winners were. Them!

It was at that moment that the other three people in the room noticed the movement beneath Spike’s leather duster that now adorned Buffy’s petite body. They eyed the in motion leather as Buffy blushed profusely.

“What’s this?” Johnathan asked, confused at the sight of the movement and the sound of the yips coming from under the duster.

“It’s Winston,” Buffy whispered as she shushed her father-in-law. “I snuck him in to see Will,” she explained as she glanced about the room and through the door.

“Coast is clear, Winston,” Buffy giggled as she reached inside the duster and pulled a tail wagging puppy out. “Here’s Daddy,” Buffy cooed, handing the furball to her husband.

“Hey Winston,” Spike greeted the little furry, hero, affectionately. “Thanks, boy,” he added as he snuggled the puppy, “for helping my Buffy out. With the great ponce, Riley Finn that is.”

While William played, enthusiastically with the pooch, Buffy went on to explain some things to her in-laws. She noticed that her father-in-law appeared to be quite interested in her words.

“Amy St. Claire is still in Arizona,” she told the Williamsons. “She and her son are going to stay there, for a while. I’ve set up a CPA, a real solid guy, to help her, when she comes back to Sunnydale. I thought it was the least I could do, for your nephew’s child? Help her liquidate the Webster Sunnydale assets?”

“I hope that was okay?” Buffy asked, almost shyly of the Williamson Family patriach. “I mean, since none of the family seems interested in taking over Holden’s…”

“It’s fine, Buffy dear,” Johnathan Williamson broke in with a charming smile. “I’m sure Holden would have approved and I know my brother would want nothing but the best for his son’s child, or his mother. And,” the older man sighed, “as I’ve told you and William, it’s time to let this go. I myself am more interested in ‘our’ business dealings in Europe so…”

Buffy nervously changed the subject quickly. Having resigned herself to the fact that this was her Will’s family’s problem, all this intrigue and illegal business.

‘As long as Will never gets caught back up in the ‘Family’ nonsense, I’ll deal,’ Buffy assured herself.





“Who’s the number cruncher?” Will asked, suspiciously, with a little frown on his handsome face.

“His name’s Parker Abrams,” Buffy quipped quickly. “Best damn accountant in Sunnydale,” she added. Buffy gave William a warning look and the man apparently decided to let the subject drop. For the moment, anyway.

“Well, that put aside,” Anne Williamson began, carefully, “what I want to know is just what your plans are?” She glanced at Spike and Buffy, hopefully.

“We,” Spike began, then hesitated, glancing at his wife, petting the puppy, Winston. “Tell them baby,” he urged his wife.

“We thought we’d give London a go,” Buffy finished for her husband. “Frankly,” she continued, “I’m a little burned out on the cop thing. Thought I’d try being a pub owner’s wife for a while?”

The look of pure joy in her in-laws faces nearly caused Buffy to break out in tears of relief.. She glanced at Will, who was just beaming with adoration for her.

“Are you sure,” Spike asked in a hushed, quiet voice.

“Positive,” Buffy assured her husband.

“Well, you know,” Spike began with a smirk, “you are ‘half owner/partner’ in Spike’s Pub. Kind of got the title, with the marriage and all,” he finished with a genuine smile.

“True,” Buffy murmered, her thoughts suddenly fell to the ‘pub’ and all of the renovations she could make. Once she got over to London, England and…

“Princess?” Spike tried to break Buffy from her inner thoughts. “What are you thinking baby?” he asked, a little warily.

“Oh,” Buffy sighed dreamily, “just about London. The pub, our pub that is and all the ‘things’ we can do to it. To make it better I mean,” she added with a smile.

“Now, wait a minute, Buffy,” Spike began, anxiously, “the pub is just fine as is. We don’t need to ‘do’ a thing to it.” He started to say something, again, when he was interrupted by the door, opening quickly and Dawn Summers Crawford bursting through it. Behind her, followed Joyce and Hank Summers, along with Connor, Dawn’s husband following up behind them.

“You must be Johnathan Williamson,” Hank Summers greeted his counter part (in illegal that is) from across the Pond. “I’m Buffy’s dad, Hank Summers.”

While the two older men eyed each other, warily, at first,
Buffy was more then pleased when her father reached out his right hand and offered it in handshake to Will’s dad.

‘Thank God,’ Buffy sighed to herself. ‘That’s it Dad,’ she continued silently, ‘just make nice with the so called bad guy and make your oldest child happy?’



‘Thank you, again,’ Buffy sighed in relief to her higher Power as she watched the two men shake hands and begin to talk together, amicably. Joyce Summers hurried up to Anne Williamson and hugged her, gleefully.

‘Thank God for sensible females!’ Buffy thought with appreciation. The two matriachs had hit it off, right away, and this made Buffy very, very happy.

“Aren’t they just the cutest together?” Joyce asked Anne, warmly. “Our two bleached blond babies? They are truly soulmates, don’t you think? I truly believe that!” Joyce grinned at Spike and Buffy.

“Me too,” Anne gushed happily. “Can you just imagine what our grandchildren are going to look like? They’ll be gorgeous, huh?”

“Shoot me,” Buffy whispered to her husband in a low, hushed tone. “Just shoot me now and…” She was so embarrassed by this whole family display of mutual admiration.

“Too pretty to shoot and besides, I love you too much,” Spike countered as he took Buffy’s hand in his. “Here,” Spike grunted as he handed Winston to Connor Crawford and pulled his wife into his arms.

“Love you,” Spike said quietly, out loud to his wife, Buffy. He placed a nice kiss on his wife’s luscious lip.

“Love you,” Buffy replied as she allowed her husband to spoon her up against his wonderful body.


‘Two Months Later’


Spike Williamson stood on the ocean cliff, overlooking the mighty Atlantic. His wife, Buffy, was right next to him. The couple gazed out at the Atlantic, from the Cliffs of Dover, England that is.

He, Spike, held a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left hand and a snapshot picture in his right. Spike stared, somewhat somberly, out over the gray water.

“Go ahead,” Buffy urged her husband, gently. “You should just do this, baby,” she advised him.

“You’re right,” Spike nodded and sighed deeply.

“Holden,” Spike began, quietly, “we’re here to give you a real proper ‘send off’ mate. Make sure that everything’s up front and final, finally.”

Buffy patted Will’s arm and looked out over the stormy sea as her husband continued his eulogy.

“You were a good cousin, Hold,” Spike continued seriously, “a pretty screwed up human being, but a…”

“Will,” Buffy hissed, a little miffed at the disrespect of the dead. Even if it was Holden Webster they were eulogizing.

“Well, he was a pretty messed up bloke, baby,” Spike explained softly, “but a good cousin, so…”

Spike opened the Jack Daniels bottle and slowly poured the contents over the cliff into the Atlantic’s waters below. This was his own way of saying goodbye, finally, to his childhood friend and relative.

“Here’s to you, mate,” Spike murmered, then he tossed the snapshot of his cousin’s son, Harley, into the water below.

“Hope you got your redemption, Hold,” Spike whispered sincerely, glancing up to the Heavens above them.

“Really hope you made it, mate,” the blond man added, glancing downward to the depths of the earth below. Spike looked downwards, just to be certain that Holden would hear his hopeful words.

“Will,” Buffy gasped as she saw what her husband was doing. She was a little shocked that her William might even ponder the thought that his cousin had gone ‘below’ instead of ‘above’ even it was Holden Webster they were talking about here.

“Just to be sure Princess,” Spike explained with a raised left brow. “Never know ‘which way’ old Holden headed in the end, right?”


A/N: Short chapter, for me. The next chapter is the end (except for maybe a short, itsy bitsy epilogue after that), or maybe just a real long epilogue? Please read and review this. I’ve tried really hard to make this an interesting and thank you, to everyone who has read it.

Luv, Spuf

A MURDER IN SUNNYDALE


Epilogue:


A/N: All things must come to an end…or a new beginning?


Buffy Summers-Williamson watched her husband, Will, as he ran about their huge back yard. Will wasn’t actually running, more like walking fast, holding onto the hand of his and Buffy’s three-year-old son, Sean. Behind Buffy’s two ‘boys’ followed five Mastiff puppies, the three month old most recent litter of Winston and his mate, Winnefred.

Sean squealed with delight as the puppies tried their best to catch up to him and his father, their little yips echoing over the green lawn. Buffy laughed in delight when Ralston, the largest male pup caught up with Will and nipped his ankle, gently. She had to smile at old Winston and his Winnie, they seemed content to lay in the shade, by Buffy, and watch the goings on from there.

“At least ‘I’ have an excuse,” Buffy chuckled down at Winston, who looked up at her in adoration. “I’m pregnant, why aren’t you two out there romping about with them?”

Winston yawned and laid his huge head on his paws, nuzzling his massive body into Winnie’s slightly smaller one. Buffy shook her head and gazed at Will, lovingly, as he swept Sean up in his arms and headed over to the patio to join her.

“I thought Mastiffs loved to play?” Buffy asked with a raised brow at her husband. “Winnie and Winston seem content to just sleep all day. How come?”

Spike shrugged and reached for his beer that sat next to Buffy on the patio table. “Beats me, Princess,” he responded, then flopped down on the chair next to Buffy, still holding Sean in his strong arms.

“How’s baby today?” Spike asked, tenderly touching Buffy’s swollen tummy.

“Calm, surprisingly enough,” Buffy giggled and placed her hand over her Will’s. “She’s going to be the tranquil one, I’m sure of it.”

Buffy’s wonderful British doctor, actually a patron of Spike’s Pub, had already told the them that the baby was definitely a girl. William was estactic when he found out there'd be a little Buffy clone running about their house, located just outside of London.

“Still gonna’ call her Joyce?” Spike grinned at his beautiful wife as he sipped his beer.

“I think so,” Buffy nodded, “Joyce Anne. Yes,” she grinned back at him, “Joyce Anne it is.”

“Okay,” Will took Buffy’s hand with his free one. “Our mum’s will just love that. Oh,” he frowned for a moment, “got a letter from Mum and Dad today, from Brazil.”

Buffy flinched, just a bit and she noticed that her husband did also. She knew that Will hated the fact that his parents had to move about the planet so much. But, that was the price you paid when you walked on the wrong side of the law, so to speak.

Johnathan Williamson’s past illegal activities had finally caught up with him. Since that day, just after Sean was born, Will’s Mother and Father had fled England and were now ‘living’ abroad. Going from place to place, always ahead of the law, somehow.

“Poor Anne,” Buffy sighed sadly as she patted Will’s huge hand with her tiny one.

“Yeah,” Spike scowled briefly, “I hate my Mum having to run about the world like a gypsy, but that’s the choice ‘she’ made, baby.” Spike really hated the whole situation, but on the bright side; his father was still technically a free man and his wife, Spike’s mum was with him.

“Thought maybe we’d meet up with Dad and Mum, maybe in Canada, sweetheart? Next year, after our little angel is born? What do you think?”

“I think yes, Will,” Buffy nodded, leaning her head back against the chair. “I miss them, both of them,” she smirked, “even your Dad. He is rather charming you know?”

Spike chuckled deeply, “yeah, that he is. Like I said, at least he is a free man, still. Not like the losers we left back in Sunnydale five years ago, eh, baby?”

“No, not like them,” Buffy snorted.

Angel O’Connor, the ex-Assistant District Attorney, was still doing time in prison. He’d likely be stuck in there for years to come.

Riley Finn, Buffy’s ex-husband, would still have been in prison, now, probably longer then Angel. However, and Buffy did feel ‘sad’ about this, Riley had killed himself, only months after being convicted of various crimes against the State.

The others, Scott Hope, Marcie Ross, Doyle? They were all doing various sentences for their nefarious crimes.

“God, what a mess,” Buffy sighed sadly as she remembered the people that ‘used’ to be her friends, kind of. “Thank God we got out of that place,” Buffy added with a small smile.

“I agree,” Spike nodded, bringing Buffy’s tiny hand up and kissing it. “Sean!” Spike called to his boy, “don’t tease that pup!”

Sean was making Rupert, the smallest male pup chase his tail. The crazy antics of the puppy were causing little Sean to giggle hysterically.

“Okay Daddy,” Sean called back and left the puppy to run after a duck that was waddling about the little pond.

‘Daddy,’ Spike thought warmly, ‘always sounds so good,’ he thought. ‘Never thought I’d hear that title, at least addressed to me.’

The still bleached blond man gazed at his wife, lovingly. “You saved me,” he said quietly to Buffy.

“Huh?” Buffy asked, a little puzzled.

“You saved me, five years ago when I went to Sunnydale. You came down from Heaven and rescued me, Buffy,” Spike finished with a slight blush.

“Is this William the Poet, making a sudden appearance, darling?” Buffy giggled softly.

“Maybe,” Spike growled just a tad and pouted. He was always a little embarrassed when his poetic side showed up.

“Good, I like William the Poet,” Buffy giggled again, allowing her husband to pull her puffed body onto his.

“I like you,” Spike responded, kissing Buffy’s forehead tenderly. “Love you in fact.”

“Good thing,” Buffy chuckled, “with 1.5 kids and a mortgage on that place,” she paused and pointed at the huge house behind them. “It’s a damn good thing we love each other, don’t you think?”

“I know,” Spike laughed and hugged his pregnant wife to him.

“When does your Mum and Dad get to Heathrow?” Spike asked Buffy.

“Sunday, about noon,” Buffy sighed again. “I can’t wait to see them, but being seven months preggies wears me out. Dawn and Connor are bringing the kids and oh, brother, I’m worn out already!” Buffy sighed tiredly.

“We’ll be fine, baby,” Spike grinned at her. “You can do anything, luv. You have Sean, me, this little sprog,” he rubbed her tummy, affectionately. “You help me with our business, keep things running smoothly at the house? Buffy, you’re fucking amazing!”

“Will!” Buffy exclaimed, “I thought you weren’t going to curse anymore. We have kids now, honey and…”

“Sean’s yards away, sweetheart,” Spike chuckled, “he can’t hear us. Good thing too, cos’ I wanted to tell you how hot last night was and how much…”

“Okay,” Buffy shushed him, “I get it. Our love-making hasn’t suffered from the pregnancy. Thank God,” she giggled in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, too right,” Spike nodded in agreement.

“Will,” Buffy began carefully, “there’s something I need to tell you.” She began to chew on her bottom lip, nervously.

“What?” William asked, his blue eyes wide with sudden concern.

“About the ‘baby’ that’s coming,” she continued, hesitantly.

“Buffy, God, what is it? Is the baby all right?” Spike froze in fear, suddenly terrified that there was something wrong with Buffy’s pregnancy.

“Yes, yes,” Buffy assured him quickly, “it’s just that, well, you didn’t go with me, the last time? To the check-up I mean. Dr. Hastings, he found something out.”

“Buffy,” Spike murmered, his voice thick with fear, “tell me. What is it?”

“Twins,” Buffy whispered, averting her eyes from Will’s. She was worried that her husband might be a little concerned over ‘two’ babies at once.

“Twins!” Spike gasped, as he almost bolted up from the chair.

“Twins!” he repeated, stunned. Then, suddenly, his whole expression changed from shock, to joy.

“Twins,” William whispered, softly. “We’re going to have twins.” His tone was one of hushed awe. And happiness, very much of the happiness.

“Are you happy about it, Will?” Buffy asked cautiously.

“Of course, baby,” Spike hugged her even tighter to him. “I’m estatic! Honest!” He smothered his Buffy’s face with his own kisses.

“One’s a girl, the other’s a boy, honey. Hope that’s okay,” Buffy added, snuggling into her husband.

“It’s wonderful, baby,” Will replied in his tender ‘poet’s’ voice.

“Good, cos’ I’m not sending either one of them back,” Buffy giggled again, her voice muffled into Will’s neck.

“No, you’re not,” Spike chuckled.

‘Twins,’ he thought happily. ‘Another boy and a girl! Damn, life doesn’t get in better then this!’

Sean took that moment to join his parents on the patio. “Is Auntie Dawn bringing Connor and Callie with her, Mummy?” the little boy asked, his wide blue eyes filled with hope.

“Yes, she is, baby,” Buffy reached down and touseled Sean’s fair hair.

“Hurray!” Sean yelped and plopped down next to his parents on their lawn chair.

“Which reminds me,” Spike interjected, “Wesley called me, just yesterday at work. I forgot to tell you this, don’t shoot me, baby,” he pouted down at Buffy, when she gave her exasperated look.

“Seems that he and Cordelia are adopting another baby, from Cambodia this time. Wanted to know if it’s a girl, if you’d mind if they called her Buffy?”

“That’s great!” Buffy grinned, “but why would Wes and Cordy want to stick that baby with a name like Buffy?”

“They admire you, sweetheart,” Spike smiled at her. “Like everybody does.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy purred. “Oh, I got a letter from Amy and Andrew, just yesterday, too. There’s a picture of Harley in it. They’re all standing next to the Grand Canyon and looking like the picture of the All-American family.” She smiled, thinking about how things had finally turned around for sad, lost little Amy St. Claire.

“I don’t know why that Andrew bloke doesn’t just marry Amy and adopt Harley,” Spike shook his head. “The family certainly would understand if Harley wanted Andrew’s last name. Wouldn’t matter to me, that’s for sure. Holden never deserved the boy in the first place.”

“Well,” Buffy sighed, “I can’t speak for Amy, or Andrew, Will,” she continued. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

“My sister, Dawnie, E-mailed me, last night. Guess who got married last month?”

“Who?” William asked.

“Parker Abrams and Anya Jenkins. I guess that when Anya needed some financial advice, it was fate that brought Parker to her. I’m glad for them, both of them. Anya deserved some happiness and Parker’s so quiet, so ‘safe’ that he’ll be perfect for her.”

Spike became very, very quiet and his mind deep in thought. Finally, he asked softly, “are you ever sorry, Princess? I mean that you gave up a safe bloke like Parker Abrams, for a guy like me?”

“Sorry?” Buffy laughed out loud as she looked into Will’s blue eyes. “Why? Honey,” she cooed as she peppered her husband’s handsome face with kisses, “I wouldn’t give up all this excitement,” she looked from Will, to Sean, then around the landscape. “I wouldn’t give ‘this’ up for anything in the world, much less safe, ever. I love you guys, love my life and love England.”


Spike grinned, happily, at his wife and son. Life really was just too damn good. Especially for a big bad bloke like him.

‘Big Bad,’ Spike snorted to himself, ‘that’s right. I haven’t been a big bad in years. Thank God,’ he added in relief.


FINIS



A/N: Thank you for everyone who read this and all of you who reviewed it. I hope I ended it okay. I’ll miss this fiction, but it was time to finish it.

Thanks to Ashlee for encouraging me, months ago, to keep at this fic.

I love you guys and hope you’ll take a look at my other fictions.

Luv, Spuf