Part 6

Tuesday, August 22nd, Los Angeles

Summer in L.A. could be nice. If you were rich, didn't have to work and could spend your days at the beach. If you weren't born with a golden spoon in your mouth it could be a bitch. The air was hot, the smog thick and you had to kick yourself to get up and things done.

Buffy Summers-Finn - for another four weeks - was no exception. The idea of getting up each morning, only to spend another day in a badly aired precinct or a police car that had seen better days, wasn't all that tempting. But as she wasn't one of the filthy rich people living at Beverly Hills she had no real choice.

At least she liked her job. Most of the time. She liked being a police officer, liked getting the bad guys. What she didn't like was typing reports, interviewing witnesses or interrogating suspects, although the latter could have its appraise. Especially if your mood wasn't the best.

She hadn't been in a good mood for a long time, she mused while she tried to get the old percolator into gear. Riley had taken the new one the day he moved out of the apartment. No, her mood hadn't been good for a long time. Not for a very long time. More than four years, if she was brutally honest with herself. Yes, there had been times, right after she'd just married Riley where she thought herself happy and content, but looking back now she knew it had been nothing but fake.

Don't go there, she scolded herself and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Four weeks, she had to get through four more weeks, not even quite, and then this nightmare would be over. Riley wouldn't be her husband anymore and she would be Buffy Summers again. She could go on with her life and pretend it never happened.

Of course she didn't believe it for a second.

Nothing would be the same again. The scars the last four years had left on her were invisible but nonetheless deep and at the moment she wondered if they would ever heal. Willow had said she was 30 and still young, but she felt old, worn out and tired, oh so tired.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes and swallowed hard, her hands gripping the counter until her knuckles went white. God, she'd been such a fool. If she could just turn back time and change... But no, you couldn't do that, time moved on and so would she - maybe - eventually. She would leave all that behind her, and concentrate on her work for a while and maybe, given enough time, she would get her life back together.

With a sweep of her hand she wiped a tear away that had slipped from her lashes and determined, pushed herself off of the counter and poured some cereal into a bowl. She would get through this, she wouldn't break just because Angel had returned to L.A., looking as wonderful as she remembered him, and making her long for things she could no longer have.The milk almost slipped from her hand when the doorbell rang suddenly. A frown appeared on her forehead as she gazed at the clock. Who in the hell was coming to see her at seven o'clock in the morning? Not that she was in a hurry. She usually left for work at half past seven, but she liked to have this time to herself, because the day was still young.A second ring told her that whoever was standing in front of her door would obviously not go away. With a sigh she put the milk down and went to open the door and almost fainted at the sight of Angel Reardon.

"Angel," her voice was strangely breathless.

No smile appeared on his face when his eyes wandered over her form, not missing a detail of her night robe, the bunny slippers she usually wore at home or the tousled hair. Neither did he miss the fact that she didn't wear anything underneath her robe. "Hi, Buffy," he said, his eyes locking on hers.

She felt a blush creeping up her neck and instantly cursed herself. She was thirty years old and was blushing at the sight of an attractive male. She was pathetic. But she wasn't the kind of woman who usually entertained lovers in her apartment and was used to meeting men half-naked first thing in the morning. She almost laughed out loud at the thought. Lovers. Her sexual experience was almost non-existent.

Before Angel there had been her high school sweetheart who had persuaded her that sex after the prom was expected. And Buffy, being the idiot she'd obviously been all her life, hadn't had the heart to say no. In college there had been another - even more idiotic - sexual encounter, before she'd finally met Angel. He'd been the first lover to stay with her longer than one night. Then there had been Riley and then... nothing.

So she couldn't help the embarrassment she felt at finding Angel at her doorstep. "Well, hi," she managed, cursing herself again. **Great going Summers. Now he thinks you're a complete idiot.**

He cleared his throat, and then gestured at her outfit, "I'm sorry to disturb you this early, but... well, I thought we could... talk?"

"Talk?" she asked, raising a brow.

He had to grin at her confusion and Buffy almost fainted at the change in him when he did so. He was incredibly handsome but a smile on his face did things to it that made her heart beat faster and a familiar, but long forgotten, warmth began to settle between her legs. "Yeah, you know," he said, jamming his hands into his pockets, "Talk. Moving lips with sound coming out of your mouth. Talk."

"Yeah, I know about talking," she replied, angry with herself. **Get a grip on yourself, Summers. You're a grown up woman. Grown up women don't drool over men on their doorsteps. Not even if the man in question is Angel Reardon. *Especially* not if the man is Angel.**

"Good," he slightly inclined his head and when she did nothing, he asked, "So, can I maybe come in? It's much easier to talk in private."

"Oh. Sure, come in," she stepped aside to allow him to enter, then closed the door behind him. **Casual, Summers. Act casual.** Turning towards the kitchen she asked, "You want some coffee? I just started it, and if the machine did its work it should be ready by now. Otherwise I can only offer cereal. I forgot to buy bread yesterday."

"Just coffee, thanks," he replied and looked around. He had never seen her apartment before, but guessing at the size of it, she and Riley must have lived here. It was too big for one person, and maybe also too expensive? Angel pushed the thought aside. He hadn't come to investigate her, but - as he'd told her - to talk. Somehow they had to settle the tension that had been in the air the previous day or the coming weeks would be hell.

"Take a seat in the living room," she said from the kitchen while he heard her filling two cups, then loading a tray. "I hope you still drink your coffee black?" there was a slight question in her voice and so he took the cup with a nod.

"Old habits die hard," he told her, sipping from the dark, strong brew. Her coffee still tasted as he remembered. He'd always loved her coffee. But then he'd loved so many things about her, and was so madly in love, so blind and... "Nice apartment," he remarked.

She shrugged, "It's alright, but I'm looking for a smaller one. Too many bad memories," she said without a hint of self-pity, "and it's getting too expensive. Cops don't earn this kind of money."

So much for that, Angel thought, surprised by the relief he felt at her remark. He and Buffy were over, and he'd just come to make piece, so why was it so important to him that she wasn't involved in the case he was researching? Not that she was on Cordelia's list anyway. But Cordelia was Buffy's friend and certainly not objective where the blond was concerned.

"Don't I know it," Angel smiled and took another sip of his coffee. "My parents almost fainted when I told them that I was leaning towards law enforcement. But I was determined to become the best cop, there was nothing they could say to change my mind."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. God, this was so unreal. Here she was sitting, half-naked, in her living room talking to a man she never thought she'd see again. And now they were making small talk. "So why did you want to talk to me?"

He sighed and put his cup down. "What do you think? We didn't part on the best of terms four years ago and yesterday," he shrugged, "let's just say it was tense. So I thought, I'd come by to tell you that I'm not angry anymore. Or anything. Whatever happened between us four years ago is over. There's no sense in blaming anyone for it. It's old news. Over and done with. So maybe we can forget about it and just be... colleagues?"

If he'd stabbed her, he couldn't have hurt her more, Buffy thought. Old news. So that was how he felt about their affair, relationship, or whatever it had been. Old news. Over and done. But whom was she kidding? Of course it was over. Hadn't she told herself the very same just before. With some effort she managed to keep her expression blank, "Of course," she said and God, didn't her voice sound light and without emotion? Maybe she'd missed her calling. Maybe she should've become an actress instead. And maybe she could just lie down and die.

"Good," he smiled at her, "I'm glad you think so," he said, "It would've been awkward, to say the least, if we wouldn't manage to act like adults around each other. I'm glad you feel the same way."

**Yeah, sure. And maybe I could just try to not exist at all,** Buffy thought, surprised that she was still able to breathe. What the hell was happening to her, she wondered. She had managed to avoid thinking about him for four years and now his words were cutting her soul wide open, and hurting her the way no one else could hurt her. "Yeah, I do," she managed, "Feel the same way, I mean."

Something flickered through his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she had no time to discover what it was. With a nod Angel got up, "Alright. That was pretty much all I wanted to talk about," he said, "Thanks for the coffee." When she was about to get up as well, he shook his head, "No, just enjoy your breakfast. I'll find the way out. Thanks for your time."

And then with a last nod he was gone, leaving Buffy to her coffee and cereal that suddenly tasted like sand.

****

Angel closed the door of his car then let his forehead fall on the steering wheel and exhaled a long breath. His whole body trembled with the effort the past few minutes had been. With the effort of being so close and trying keep his cool.

It had taken his breath away to see her standing in the doorway like that. Her skin still warm from a good night's sleep, her hair tousled as if a lover's hand had roamed through it. Only that there hadn't been a lover, she'd been alone and her eyes had again looked so sad, it was all he could do not to reach out, take her into his arms and hold her until all sadness was gone and replaced by the sparkle of happiness he'd seen in them all those years ago.

His body had hardened instantly at the sight of her, because sadness or no, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to bed and make love to her for days and days. But of course that was nothing but a foolish daydream that would never come true again. Time couldn't be turned back, past mistakes were done and he had to live with them forever.

But, God, he wanted her. Still wanted her the same way he'd wanted her from the first moment he'd seen her. He would never forget the afternoon when she'd entered his office. He'd known he was lost then and obviously some things never changed. His mind might have made an effort to forget what no longer could be, his body certainly hadn't done the same.

The way she'd turned towards the kitchen, her hips slightly swinging under the morning robe, Angel had instantly wished he hadn't come at all. But it had been too late then and he had to go through with it. And boy, had he played his part well. He hadn't missed the hurt in her eyes. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Why would his words hurt her? She preferred to marry Riley, to not give him a second chance when he'd gone to her in the church and pleaded her to listen to him.

No, it had to be his imagination. She'd chosen Riley after all. She had ended all their dreams with her final decision to marry his former best friend. She had given up on them long before he had. Not to forget that he'd done his part in all this as well. She'd lost far more than he four years ago. A young, smiling face briefly flickered through his mind, but Angel quickly pushed it away.

Taking a deep breath, he started the car and his face hardened in determination. He might still want her, but he was an adult and he would be damned if he let his hormones rule his life. Wanting was one thing. It could be strong, but he had learned to control his sexual appetite. Love. Well, love was another matter. Love could be so strong, it could make a man do crazy stuff, and it could make a man lose control.

Pulling the car onto the road, Angel vowed that he would never let love rule him again.

*****

Buffy was still walking around in a daze when she entered the precinct about an hour later. She'd driven on autopilot and even her greetings to her colleagues and friends were automatic. Angel's words had hurt her more than she'd believed possible. Over and done. Old news. Her mind repeated it again and again, and by noon a severe headache was hammering behind her temples.

She was glad Willow had been busy the whole morning. The last thing Buffy wanted at the moment was to talk about Angel's early visit. All she wanted was to forget it ever happened. Of course, she never got what she wanted. With Angel only two desks away she had the constant reminder around all the time.

When a heavy file finally hit her desk she stifled a groan, only to stiffen when she looked up at the person who'd put it there. Her eyes narrowed instantly, "What's this?" she asked.

"A file," Riley replied acidly, "or does it look like something else?"

"I can see it is a file," Buffy gritted out, "What I want to know is why would you give it to me?"

"Maybe you should read it," he proposed and turned away, not bothering to explain.

"Jerk," she muttered under her breath, then reached for the file and opened it. Her breath caught in her throat when she read the first words. 'Case Mike Danicki' it said. Buffy felt her hands start to tremble and she had to force herself to breathe properly. Nervously she licked her suddenly dry lips and her eyes darted towards Riley who was smirking at her.

Attached to the file was a picture that showed a young, smiling man who was gazing up at her with the same hazel eyes Buffy used to see when she looked into the mirror each morning. Her heart clenched in pain, her stomach began to squirm and the pounding behind her temples intensified. Massaging them for a moment, she didn't see that Angel was watching her with concern.

With as much grace as her trembling legs would allow she stood and walked over to his desk, "Would you care to explain?" she demanded, her voice loud enough for the officers near by to hear. Faith stopped her typing and eyed Buffy curiously. Kate Lockley did the same and Angel didn't even bother to hide his interest in the scene. But Buffy didn't care. At the moment, she only hoped she would survive this moment.

Riley shrugged, "I had this old file in my desk. Thought I should give it to you first before turning it over to the archive," he said still smirking.

Her eyes narrowed another bit, "Maybe you didn't know it until now, but you are the lowest form of life on this planet, Riley Finn," she told him glad that her voice sounded cool and controlled although her knees were shaking badly.

He shrugged again, "I just thought it would be of interest for you. Never thought it'd get to you like this." But the expression in his eyes told another story. They were calculating, and he was obviously hoping to hurt her any way possible. God, how could she have ever thought herself in love with him?

And it had hurt her. He knew exactly how she felt about the Danicki Case, he'd been there after all, and later she'd emptied out her soul to him and he'd held her, told her he understood. Bastard. But, by God, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction to see her pain. Straightening her spine, she walked back to her desk, picked up the file, then returned to Riley's desk and placed it in front of him. "Thanks," she said, her voice carefully controlled, "How thoughtful of you. But this case is closed." With a last look she turned and went for the bathroom.

She was shaking so badly when she finally closed the door behind her that she sank to the ground, not able to stand anymore. She hated Riley so much, if she'd a gun she would be able to shoot him right now. And not care. To think she'd sent Angel away...

A sob rose in her throat, choking her, and in panic anyone might hear her, she pressed a hand to her mouth. No, she would not lose it in here. She had to keep control, keep her cool.

"Oh God." Her moan sounded like that of a wounded animal. "Oh God, oh God," she moaned again, hating her own weakness, her vulnerability. She closed her eyes, pressed her hand harder on her mouth, her whole body trembling, she was on the edge of falling apart.

And then suddenly there were arms around her, she was lifted off the ground and settled in someone's lap, a familiar hand was stroking her hair and pressing her head into a warm, hard chest. "Shhh," a once beloved voice soothed, while the hand continued stroking her hair. "It's okay, baby," the voice went on. "It's okay, I know. I'm sorry. That son of a ..."

One arm tightened around her and that drove her over the edge. The trembling increased and then sobs came from her mouth, only muffled by Angel's shirt and his chest. And he just kept holding her and continued stroking her, and speaking to her. "It's alright, baby, don't hold back. Just cry. I'm here," his voice whispered, "I'm here and I'm not going away. Just cry."

"Oh God," the words tore from here throat. "Oh God, Angel," she moaned, throwing her arms around his neck. She didn't care what had happened to make him materialize beside her this very moment, she just held onto him, to the man she'd once loved more than she thought possible, the man she'd sent away on the her wedding day. And maybe the only person who could truly understand what she was going through. "How could he?," she asked. "How could he do it?"

She didn't have to elaborate. Angel knew what she meant. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know him anymore. I thought I did once, but I was wrong. Maybe if..." he sighed. There was no point in maybes. "I would really like to beat him into a bloody pulp," he added savagely.

"Oh yeah?" she couldn't help the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Don't make me laugh, Angel. You never were the violent type. Riley was, but he hid it perfectly," the smile was suddenly very sad again. "It seems like we all thought he was someone else."

"Yeah," he replied, looking at her with concern. "Are you feeling any better now?"

Sniffling, she wiped her wet tears, and nodded, "Yeah, better." Suddenly embarrassed she became very aware of the fact that he was sitting on the tiles in the women's bathroom and she was sitting in his lap. "I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "I didn't intend to cry all over you," she tried to joke and gestured at the wet spots on his shirt.

"Oh well, I take it as a payback for my visit this morning," he gave her a half-smile that had her heart constricting painfully. God, how she used to love to kiss his mouth when he smiled. And it would soon spin out of control and they would end... She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed the images of better times away.

"Okay, then," she managed one of her own smiles and scrambled away from him, then stood. He stood as well. "Thanks for coming to my rescue."

"No need to thank me." His eyes were sad and honest. "After all it was my fault you ever got into the position that Riley could hurt you today." He smiled sadly and was already turning away when she caught his arm.

"Angel..."

"No," he shook his head, "don't. After all it was the bullet from my gun that killed your half-brother."

Part 7

//...// indicates dreams

Tuesday, August 22nd, 10.00 p.m.

"Did I ever tell you that I hate observations?" Spike asked while his hand was reaching into his pocket for cigarettes. They were standing in front of Derryl Chambers' house in Beverly Hills. He was a very rich film producer and he was also the father of the girl Mike Harmon intended to marry. Enough reason to keep an eye on the young police officer, whose engagement party was taking place tonight.

"And did I ever tell you that I despise smoking people in my car?" Angel replied casually, noticing the movement of Spike's hand from the corner of his eye. "I tend to become quite violent about it."

The blonde's hand stilled in his pocket and with a little sigh, he reached for a bag of potato chips he'd placed on the ground for emergency purposes. Spike really liked Angel. He liked working with the dark-haired man and he was glad to call him his friend, but his friend's attitude towards smoking left something to be desired. Yet, he had learned to live with it. "Even more I hate observing a colleague. This whole Internal Affairs business stinks," he said and ripped the bag open. "I have you to know that if I'm dying of a heart attack due to high cholesterol intake, it's your fault."

"At least I don't have to watch you cough to death with lung cancer," Angel replied mercilessly. "I wonder how a police officer like Mike Harmon ever got to meet someone like Simone Chambers. They hardly hang in the same circles."

"Maybe he gave her a ticket for speeding," Spike mused, munching his chips, "I'd say it's a good guess. Her nice little red sports car has a lot of power."

"Mike Harmon was already working for homicide when they met, hardly the department to give speed tickets to rich girls." With a disgusted look he watched his friend stuffing more chips into his mouth, "How on earth can you eat that stuff?"

"Better than starving to death," Spike shrugged, enjoying the spicy, fatty food. Once the bag was empty, he threw it on the ground and reached for the can of coke. "Talking about death. Who is, or rather was, Mike Danicki?"

He felt Angel instantly stiffen beside him, "Who?" the dark-haired man asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"Don't play games with me," Spike said, "The guy in the file on Buffy Summers' desk. The reason she ran into the bathroom this afternoon where you followed her only seconds later."

Angel didn't answer at first, if it hadn't been for his harsh breathing Spike would have thought he hadn't even listened. Then slowly, the dark-haired man put his hands on the wheel and gripped it tight. "Mike Danicki," he began in that same controlled manner, "was a young police officer who was killed four years ago in a crossfire. He was also Buffy's half-brother."

"Her half-brother?" Spike's eyebrow rose, but he didn't turn his head. "Younger or older?"

"Younger by six years. He was only twenty when all this happened. Buffy didn't even know he existed until he was 14. He was the result of an extra-matrimonial affair of her father. She had a hard time accepting him. But finally she did. With all her heart and when he chose to become a police officer, she was so proud," his voice cracked.

"And he died in a crossfire?"

"Yeah," the answer came out with a harsh breath, "He was shot. Straight through in heart. With my weapon."

"Son of a..." Spike bit out, his head jerking around. "You shot him?"

"No," Angel's voice was sharp, "I didn't kill him. Although she never believed me. He was killed with my weapon, but I hadn't used it the whole night. There was a... 211... two men had taken hostages in a bank. The moment the men came out they started shooting. Mike was hit by accident. But I didn't do it. I only used a riffle that night."

Angel's hands hurt from almost crushing the steering wheel and he forced himself to loosen his fierce grip. It had all happened what seemed like an eternity ago and still it hurt. He swallowed hard remembering Buffy's eyes when the ballistic report came in and said it had been Angel's weapon. The way her shoulders had stiffened, the moment she turned away and never looked back. It was imprinted in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.

"And she thought you had," Spike shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, "Oh, man."

The laugh that came in reply wasn't a happy one. "Yeah. Oh, man. The only ones who backed me up were Faith and Drusilla. They said, they'd seen the weapon lying on the ground beside me, Drusilla even swore that I had not even once put the riffle down and so I was cleared. Buffy was devastated. She refused to talk to me, refused to see me. That's the end of the story." He laughed again, "That day when the call came in about the bank robbery, Buffy and I were on our way to a date. We only went because we were so close. And I had a diamond ring in my pocket."

"Oh man," Spike said again, then nothing for a long time.

People still arrived at the huge three-story house. From time to time Mike or his future father-in-law appeared in the doorway to greet some of them. Once or twice they caught a glimpse of Simone, a fragile looking redhead in expensive clothes and high heels.

"And I suppose Riley seized the day and began holding out his hand," the blond finally broke the silence.

"Ten points," Angel replied sarcastically. "I had no idea he had the hots for her. He never once..." he shook his head. "He had been supportive all throughout our relationship, I never guessed... Then he couldn't get into her pants fast enough. Only four weeks after Mike was killed they announced their engagement and two weeks later they were married."

"And then some people say, police officers don't work fast," Spike remarked, his voice holding the same sarcasm. "What a friend."

"Oh yeah. My good friend Riley. I tried to talk to her," he said suddenly, looking at the blond, "I went to the church, tried to talk to her. But she sent me away. Told me that now she knew real love thanks to Riley. I left L.A. and never looked back. Until now."

Spike was about to reply when it suddenly hit him, "Wait a minute. You said you were cleared. But you didn't tell me who shot her brother."

"No I didn't, simply because I don't know. The case was never solved. We never found out who accidentally killed Mike Danicki."

Spike was about to reply when suddenly a large car with coloured windows came to a halt in front of the house. The door opened, revealing a voluptous blond and a rather meaty looking man. Angel whistled through his teeth, the moment he saw them, "I'll be damned," he whispered, barely able to believe his eyes.

*****

// It hurt to look at him. He was so young and carefree and he was smiling at her, the Californian sun highlighting his blond hair.

So young.

Mike was waving now. And grinning, "Hey, Buffy. Don't look so serious. Life is fun. California is full of sun, sand and pretty girls."

She laughed at that, "It must be a guy thing," she joked. "Do guys think of anything but pretty girls?"

"I only think of one extremely pretty girl," a voice whispered in her ear and a pair of arms circled her waist, while a chin was laid on her shoulder.

"You guys are so boring," Mike rolled his eyes, "I'm never going to fall in love. Just to think that I'd have to spent all my time with one girl. What a waste."

"Big Ego, huh?" Angel tightened his hold on Buffy's waist, he smiled and his eyes were looking at the sea that glittered in the sun. "Just you wait. Love's going to find you soon enough."

"Me?" Mike laughed aloud and shook his head, "Never. I'm just going to enjoy life and lust."

Now it was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes, "I can't believe you're my brother. The way you think about women is disgusting."

"Uh-huh," her brother's grin widened, "Sure it is. But they love me anyway. When are you guys going to tie the knot?" he asked out of the blue.

"Oh, that's the way it goes," Angel raised a brow, "You are allowed to enjoy women the way you like, but I'm not."

Mike's eyes narrowed a bit, "Hey, we're talking about my sister here."

Buffy giggled, snuggling back into Angel's chest, "My hero. But you don't have to worry. You'll be the first to know if we decide anything. Until then, I'm your big sister, Mike. No need to protect me." She stifled a moan when Angel bent his head and kissed a particular sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Please," Mike groaned, "not in public and not around me. It's hard enough to imagine what you're doing with my sister as soon as the doors are closed. I don't need a demonstration."

"The boy's just jealous," Angel, whispered in Buffy's ear, "should we get rid of him?"

"Get rid of him?" her body tensed and she turned her head to look at her lover. His face changed all of a sudden. It wasn't the face she loved anymore. It was different. Hateful. Evil. And now it laughed.

"Yeah, get rid of him," Angel said, pushing her away, drawing a gun without warning.

"No," Buffy screamed, knowing what was going to happen. "No, please."

"Go way," he warned, pointing his gun at Mike, who had stepped back, his both hands raised in defense."Hey, man, it was just a joke," his voice sounded frightened.

"A joke? I'll give you a joke," Angel said and pulled the trigger.//

"NOOOOOOO," the shout tore from her throat and sounded through the dark, quiet apartment. Buffy bolted upright in her bed, her whole body bathed in sweat, she was panting heavily. Oh God!

Ohgodohgodohgod.

The dream. She hadn't had that dream for years. She closed her eyes against the images that were still burning in her mind. Damn Riley. Damn him. Why had he done this to her? Of course that was a dumb question. She knew exactly why he did it. He wanted to show her that he could still get to her. And maybe he wanted to show something to Angel, too.

Angel.

She rolled out of her bed and walked to the kitchen. Opening the fridge she pulled out a bottle of milk and drank thirstily, then put it away. Leaning against the closed door she thought about the way Angel came to her aid this afternoon, the way he held her, soothed her. All she wanted was to curl up in his lap and stay there. It was so safe and secure in his arms, she'd felt so loved and treasured. Something she'd missed for a long time.

She wanted to tell him. Tell him, that she didn't blame him anymore for her brother's death. Tell him that she was wrong. Oh so wrong. Wrong and stupid and stubborn and...

With a heavy sigh she pushed herself away from the fridge and walked back to her bedroom. The bed was large, for a while she'd shared it with Riley, now it was empty. And cold. And lonely. But then, it had been lonely for even longer. Even with Riley's large body beside her she was lonely, silently longing for another, she could no longer have.

What was he doing this very moment, she wondered? Was he lonely as well? Was he lying awake thinking about her? Or would his arms hold another? Would his mouth kiss another? Would his lips whisper of love and a future, the way they'd done to her so long ago?

The sudden pang of jealousy she felt at the image made her gasp. The feeling was so violent, she felt herself shudder. She had no right to be jealous. She had given up that right four years ago when she'd sent him away, when she'd ignored the pain in his eyes and thrown him out of her life. She had been the one who married his best friend and made the break up final.

No she had no right to feel that way. Even more so she had no right to hope he would ever forgive her. Still, she found herself hoping he would..

Part 8

Wednesday, August 23rd, 11.00 a.m., Los Angeles

Cordelia tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the table and let out an exasperated sigh. Studying her hands for a moment, she frowned and looked back at the man who was sitting opposite to her in the Internal Affairs inquiry. The room was not very big, sparse furnitured with three chairs and a table and one wall was covered with mirrors. They weren't the regular kind you could buy in a store, but a one-way mirror, those that were mirrors on the one side, windows at the other.

Behind them, protected against discovery were standing Rupert Giles, Brent Harley and Timothy Philips, the District Attorney. And they were all observing the proceeding on the other side of the window.

"You know, this is getting old," Cordelia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes on the face of Riley Finn, who was scowling at her.

"Oh, so this is boring for you?" he said, rubbing his eyes. "Well, it's not boring for me. In fact, it's rather annoying. Being summoned before the Internal Affairs at the break of dawn and being interrogated for more than an hour by my wife's best friend."

"Soon to be ex-wife," she countered without blinking. "And that's not the point here. I'm here because I need answers. Answers you might have."

"And I already told you that I never had a connection with David Griffin. Of course I've heard his name. Who hasn't? He's the new big gun around. But fortunately I haven't had the pleasure to meet him."

He was cool, Cordelia decided. Cool and controlled. Too cool and controlled? Yesterday evening her boss and Brent Harley had decided to start interrogating all the officers of the 9th department. Timothy said it might be more effective to start the inquiry from two sides. And it would also help to avoid officers to become suspicious of Angel and Spike. With pleasure Cordelia agreed to start with Riley Finn. Interrogating the bastard was like receiving a Christmas present.

She cleared her throat, and then casually flipped through a file she'd opened on the table. "As I can see here, you have an interesting variation of female companions," she looked up, nodded, "Very impressing. Tell me Riley-"

"Detective Finn for you," he hissed.

She smiled; glad she was getting at him, "If you wish. So tell me, *Detective*, how do you pay for them? Some of them look rather... expensive."

"Fuck you, bitch," he spat, glaring at her, "Is that your way of getting it done?"

"Watch your tongue, officer," Brand Harmon warned from his seat beside Cordelia. Brand Harmon was working for Internal Affairs and had been advised to take part in this interrogation as well. He was used to officers acting offended, but he was old-fashioned and didn't like men to use foul language in front of women. And Brand had always had a weak spot for Cordelia.

"Thank you, Brand," the brunette gave him a particularly grateful smile, then shook her head, "But I'm used to this. Some of us aren't as well mannered as others." She sighed heavily at the end of her sentence and shook her head again, then smiled inwardly when she saw Brand nailing Riley with another hard glare.

Flipping another page, Cordelia looked back at Riley, "Now, tell me *Detective* Finn, where do you get the money to pay for all those expensive ladies?"

"I don't have to pay for female company, Miss Chase," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Usually my body is enough for them."

"Oh really?" she raised a surprised brow, "Oh well, people have different tastes," she remarked. "Okay, but you don't deny your... let's call it encounters with different women over the last two years."

"No, I don't," he hissed again. "I suppose Buffy told you all about it."

"In fact, she has," Cordelia smiled again, "but coming back to that," she pointed at the file, "Your current bank account shows more than ten thousand dollars, and you drive a new car. An expensive, European car," she raised her eyebrows, "Tell me, how you managed to pay for it?"

"My mother died," he said, controlled again, "But you should know that. Buffy's lawyer knew it instantly."

Yes, she knew, it was in the file in front of her, and still it made a grand opening for her next hit, "Well, if you'll allow a personal remark, I think Buffy earned each penny for all the time she stayed with you," she raised a hand when he was about to reply, "Sorry, I got sidetracked," she smiled sweetly, "A last question, Mr. Finn," she said almost casually, closing the file, "Have you ever heard the code 'Operation Delta'?"

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, she noticed, but he covered his reaction quickly, and when he finally looked at her his expression was completely blank, "No," he shook his head. "I've never heard of it. What about it?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she replied, busying herself with opening her briefcase and pushing the file inside. "Thank you, Mr. Finn," she said without looking up. "That's all. You can go. Thank you for your cooperation."

"F..." Riley started, then caught Brend Harmon's gaze, and his lips drew into a thin, angry line. He cursed inwardly and wished, not for the first time, that Cordelia was just some bitch and not the assistant DA. There was no way he could get to her, without endangering his own career. "Ma'am," he said instead, then turned and left the room.

As soon as the door was clicked shut Cordelia closed her briefcase, leaned back and released a long breath. She turned when she felt Brand's hand on her shoulder, "Well done, Miss Chase," he complimented.

"He's right," came her boss' voice over the speaker. "You did a good job. And I'd say your personal... er... relationship helped in this case."

Cordelia grinned at the mirror, "Thanks. And yeah. I really hate the guy."

"Who would've guessed," Timothy replied, his voice full of sarcasm. "Take a break," he said, "We'll meet in about half an hour to discuss this. Drink some coffee." With that the speaker went off.

"Drink some coffee," Cordelia muttered, standing, "If I drink any more coffee I'm going to jump up the wall."

"Then what about some home baked muffins and a nice cup of tea?" Brand offered with a fatherly smile, "My wife made them yesterday and I have no problem sharing."

The brunette looked at him with gratitude, "Brand, you're saving my life," she said and followed him to his office.

*****

"So, how do you feel, being pregnant and all?" Faith asked, plopping on Willow's desk beside the computer screen.

"And all?" the redhead raised a brow at her.

"Yeah, you know, morning sickness, cravings, that sort of stuff."

The other brow came up as well, "What do you know about morning sickness?" she inquired, suddenly curious.

"Hey," Faith looked as if insulted, "don't look at me that way. I'm not pregnant, but I wasn't raised in limbo either. And I read. Books, you know."

"Yeah, I know books," Willow said on a chuckle. "What about them?"

"Duuuh. They tell you stuff. Explain things." When Willow's expression didn't change, Faith sighed dramatically, "So much for small talk."

"So much for it," the redhead agreed. "So what was the real reason you wanted to talk to me? Do you need a day off or what? Then go to the big boss, I'm just the computer specialist."

"No, I don't need a day off. This is more a... uh... personal matter."

"Personal, huh?"

"Yeah. It's... about Buffy," Faith admitted.

"Buffy?" Willow eyed the brunette curiously. Her relationship with Buffy had been strained at the least. With Faith being Riley's former lover, the women didn't get along well. Since Buffy's breakup with her husband things started to get better, but they still weren't back to normal. So Willow couldn't quite grasp what this was all about.

"How is she?" Faith asked.

Willow turned in her chair and gestured towards the desk where the blond was sitting and reading a new file. "She's right over there. Maybe you should go and ask her."

The brunette rolled her eyes, "I know she's there, but I need to hear it from you. So how is she?"

"She's been better," the redhead admitted finally. "The divorce is getting to her and with Angel around..." she trailed off.

"Ah, Angel," Faith said, glad Willow had given her the entry. "I met him Monday night. At the Splash."

Now the redhead's eyes widened, "Angel? At the Splash? But he doesn't drink."

"So what?" Faith snorted, "They serve non-alcoholic drinks as well."

"Yes, yeah, I know. But Angel just isn't the type for bars and clubs. He never was."

"He said so much himself, but I think he was just seeking for some company."

Willow's eyes narrowed instantly, "And so you thought you'd give him what he needed? Is that what you're saying?"

"No," Faith said in sudden anger. "I'm not a slut you know. I don't just jump on men as they come." She saw Willow raise a brow, and threw her hands in the air, "Okay, think what you want. But the point is, we were talking about Buffy."

"You were talking about Buffy?"

Was Willow dense, Faith thought? "That's what I said, wasn't it? And you know, you might call me utterly romantic, but I could swear he's still got it bad for Buffy. I mean, he didn't say it exactly, but a girl with my experience just knows things. Wouldn't it be fun if they got back together?"

Willow's expression changed rapidly, suspicion and anger were gone, and replaced with excitement. "You know," the redhead said, smiling, "it's interesting to hear you say that, because I have a theory myself. Are you interested in a cup of coffee?"

At that Faith smiled as well. It would be nice seeing Buffy and Angel back together, she thought. But even more so, she could hardly wait to see the expression on Riley's face when he lost his wife to her former lover.

*****

"Oh," Drusilla's voice sounded a bit breathless when without warning a body collided with hers. But she smiled when a heavily British accented voice suddenly said.

"I would say, I'm sorry, but I'm not. Well, not really." Spike put a hand under her elbow and smiled.

"Spike," she said, shifting the files in her arms. "Aren't you a bit late?" she asked and glanced at the clock.

"Observation," he answered. "We were out half the night, so the big boss gave us the morning off."

"Ah," she nodded.

"Ah, what?" he asked.

Quickly glancing down, she laughed a bit uncertain when she looked up again, "Oh, nothing. I just thought you'd be at the Splash again last night." As soon as the words were out, a blush crept up her cheeks. Spike thought she looked incredibly sweet.

"So you... missed me?" he said, cocking a brow.

"I... uh... well, I wouldn't go that far," she stuttered, "I just... I feel comfortable in your company," she admitted.

"You do?" he liked the idea. "Only comfortable?" Comfortable was good.Comfortable was fine, but friends felt good in each other's company, and what he felt for Drusilla was already far beyond friendship. God help him.

"Not only," she replied and glanced down again. Then - almost angry – she frowned, "This is not... I'm not used to this, you know," she admitted. "The last guy... my last... you know," she gave him a look, hoping for understanding and when he nodded, she continued, "We found out he was a drug dealer. It wasn't nice."

Compassion rose in him, "I understand," he said, lying his hand on her forearm. "Would you like to go on a date? With me?"

She stared at him at first so that he almost thought she had lost her voice, but then suddenly she said, "Yes. I'd like that. Very much actually."

His answering smile was slow, but sweet, "Well then. How about tonight? No observations tonight."

"Okay," she laughed a bit breathlessly, "Is eight alright for you?"

"Eight it is," he agreed. "See you then."

She nodded, and was about to turn when his voice held her back, "Where do you live? I need your address."

This time her smile was pure female, and Spike felt his body tighten at the sight, "You're a police officer," she said, "You should be able to find out." Then she turned her hips swinging and left him breathless for a moment.

Go to Part 9