Period Of Adjustment

by
BmblBee

Part Twenty-Six

Spike wasted no more time. He was a man on a mission and couldn't be bothered with the petty distractions of an irate boss. Besides, just like Willy Wonka, Spike held the golden ticket. Or, in this case, the pink ticket.

The release slip that said he was no longer mentally incompetent, dangerously psychotic, emotionally damaged, whatever the fuck they thought Elvin Masters had left him.

Nope, Spike was back. Lead Detective William Pratt was cured and hot on the trail of a killer. All he needed now was a suspect, a motive, some evidence, and Giles approval. Piece of cake.

Spike zipped down the hallway around the bend, following the green stripe on the institutionally grey walls to the offices of the Administrative Services. "Morning Harmony, Giles busy?"

The blond receptionist looked up and saw Spike breeze through the outer office door, heading directly for the inner sanctum. Her eyes lit up at the smooth cat like body of the detective. Blond hair all smoothed back just waiting to be ruffled out of shape. Expensive cut grey suit fitting his slim body all snug and sleek over his firm tight ass.

Yeah, Harmony had heard all the rumors, but it just made the possibilities more intriguing. Harmony loved a challenge. "Spiiiike! Hey, where you been keeping yourself? I haven't seen you round for a while." She purred, flipping her hair and dramatically licking her lips. "No, he's not busy and neither am I. Haven't seen you around much. Not since cracking that big case. I just love a big.........case. You working a big one right now? Maybe I could lend you a hand with that big one. Hmmmm? Think so?"

Spike paused with his hand on the cold metal of the door handle and turned to face the babbling, incoherent receptionist. "Huh? What? Yeah, sure, big one. Whatever."

With his brain focused and his resolve firmly in place, Spike disregarded the unimportant squealing and call me's that crawled up his back and rolled off his shoulders. He had often wondered how the hell Harmony got her job here. Luckily, he couldn't care less.

Spike gave two quick knocks and entered before waiting for Giles response. He closed the door behind him and dropped cheerfully down in the chair across from the stern looking Chief Inspector.

Giles leaned back in his huge leather chair and laid his folded hands in his lap. "Well, well. If it isn't Detective William, pain-in-my-ass, Pratt. Do you have any idea how much crap I have taken in the last two days over that damn drowning case I gave you? It was a simple fucking, tie up the loose ends case, Spike. What the hell are you doing? The fuckin' nephew has called twice threatening me. Magistrate Ethan Rayne called wanting to know what the hell was going on and accusing you and me both of gross incompetence. So why don't you tell me just what the fuck you are up too."

Unable to suppress the grin that played at his lips, Spike slapped the pink copy of his release form down on the desk and shoved it towards his boss.

Without taking his eyes off Spike's, Giles picked it up and propped his reading glasses on the end of his nose. Immediately a scowl spread across his face. Part of the fallout of the Rosebud case was his acknowledgement of a substance abuse problem. He had been dealt with in a major hearing by the IDC and considered himself lucky to still be employed..

After lengthy discussion it was finally decided that he would be allowed to remain on duty but be sanctioned by a temporary pay reduction and was subject to random urine tests.

Neither of those things worried him. He had some money saved and he knew his tests would be clean. No, the worst of it was the agonizing sentence of bi-weekly meetings with the obnoxious Dr. Hiney. His only consolation was that Spike had received the same sentence. Misery, did indeed, love company.

"How the hell did you get the psych to release you so fast? Every time I meet with him he just keeps asking me "Vat did your Poppa do to make you smoke dat veed?"

Spike laughed. "I guess I just said the right thing at the right time. But what's important is that he did release me. I'm back! I'm Lead Detective again."

Giles pulled a form out of the top drawer of his desk and slammed it down in front of Spike. "O.k. Good. Great, glad to have you back on the job, now sign off on this accidental drowning and report to your office. There are enough real cases to keep you busy for weeks. I'll reassign O'Connor back to his own division and notify Detective St. John that you will be joining her."

"Sorry, boss. I'm already on a case. This wasn't an accident. This old lady was murdered. I have a couple of suspects just haven't been able to work out which one did it yet."

Giles eyes got big and he sat bolt upright. "Oh, hell, please don't tell me you are accusing Mr. Jacobs of slipping in and offing the old bird. You can't be serious. This is a highly respected business man. A man with contacts."

Spike rose calmly to his feet. He grabbed the precious pink paper, folded it neatly and tucked it in his pocket. He then skipped to the doorway. "Well, gotta go. Not naming any suspects yet but when I'm ready to make an arrest I'll let you know. By the way, Giles, just to show you what a good sport I am, if I'm wrong about her death I'll wash your car everyday for a month. Right down in the garage where everyone can see."

Giles tried not to smile and failed. Despite himself, he liked Spike, and more than that, he had a great deal of faith in him and his instincts. "And if you're right? What do you want?"

Spike jotted down a short sentence on a scrap of paper and tossed it to the Chief Inspector who looked at it and rolled with laughter. "You got it!"

With a brisk nod of his head, Spike left the office, ignored the blond bimbo at the desk who had undone two more buttons on her tight blouse, and headed for the elevator, his feet floating several inches off the ground.

As soon as he spoke to Dr. Ahn he planned on driving back to the mansion and doing some serious butt kissing, if Xander would let him.

Part Twenty-Seven

Spike tucked the thin manilla folder under his arm and slapped his hand against the double swinging doors marching purposefully into the ME's basement office "Hey, Doc, you in here?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here. Wait. Don't go!"

The short, round Indian doctor came rushing from the back room, still covered in blood and wearing a messy, full body plastic apron.

Spike cringed at the gory sight and the smell that wafted in. "If you're busy, Doc, I can come back later."

Doctor Ahn waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, don't worry, he's not going anywhere. So what did you find? You say one of my photos has the evidence?"

Spike shuddered as the doctor removed his rubber gloves with a "snap" that sent blood and brain matter flying up into the air.

"Um, yeah." Spike leaned away from the gore, waiting till it had settled then dropped his file on a clean spot of counter and opened it up. "Right here."

He removed one of the pictures and handed it to the doctor, stepping next to him. "This bruise on her neck."

Doctor Ahn pulled down a large stationary magnifying glass that was attached to the stainless steel lab table and held the picture under it, focusing on the area Spike had indicated. "Yes, I remember seeing that and I think I noted it in my report. As an elderly female she had many discolorations on the surface of her skin, most of them natural occurrences caused by the thinning of the epidermis and the weakness of the blood vessels due to age. Do you think there is something significant about this one?"

Spike held the photo closer to the lighted glass. "Look at the shape, Doc. A normal bruise or discoloration tends to be round. This one has a very distinct X or cross shape."

Doctor Ahn frowned and studied the area again, finally nodding. "Yes, yes, I see what you mean. If it was caused by body contact with a foreign article, it had to have been immediately before death. Post mortem would have caused only a skin impression and no bruising, however if it had happened when she was still living for some time the bleeding under the surface of the skin would have been much more extensive, obliterating the shape of the object. Only problem is that there is no sign of garroting or strangulation. If something was put around her throat there would have been bruising or indications of it on the front of her neck where the pressure would have been greatest. Also there was no breakage in the capillaries of the eyes that always occurs in a strangulation. No, she clearly drowned. Bath water in the lungs and sinuses do not lie."

Spike shook his head. "No. I don't think she was strangled. You would have found that right off. Our killer is too smart for that. Besides, if she were choked, the first instinct is to grab at the hands or items around your neck and I know you didn't find any foreign material under her nails. No defensive wounds."

Doctor Ahn's eyes lit up with renewed respect for his partner. "Yes, excellent, excellent. Do we know what caused this?"

Spike held up both forefingers and stepped around behind the doctor. "I have a theory. Pretend you are Myrtle and bending over to fill the bathtub."

Doctor Ahn did as Spike asked, tilting at the waist and bracing his hands on the rim of his cold lab table. Spike stood behind and over him. He gripped the doctor's neck with his right hand and firmly pushed his head downward.

"Right here. Do you feel this?" Spike wiggled his thumb and the ever present silver thumb ring he always wore, pressing and releasing it against a spot on the side of Doctor Ahn's neck. "It's just where the bruise appears, right?"

Doctor Ahn concentrated, feeling Spike's hand and running his fingers over where Spike's thumb ring moved against his skin at the same time studying the picture. Spike could see the wheels spinning in his partner's brain as the scientist considered, reconsidered and verified the offered information.

"Yes, yes, that would be exactly the right spot. So you think whoever did this was wearing a ring on their hand and forced her head under the water? Yes, yes, I can see that hypothesis being viable. Being off balance she would have gripped the rim of the tub rather than attempting to dislodge the killer's hand. At this angle and considering her physical stature it wouldn't have taken much time or strength to do the job. Excellent! Excellent William! Do we have a suspect? Do we have a motive?"

Spike released his grip on the ME and stepped back crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the table. "I have an idea but no motive. I think if I can reinterview a few of the people involved it might help."

Spike scooped up all the photos and shoved them back in the envelope. He tapped the file on the table and turned to go waving it in the air.

"Thanks, Doc. I'll keep in touch." Then, just before leaving Spike stopped and turned. "Say, Doc, do you think a woman would be strong enough to do this?"

Doctor Ahn paused in his process of snapping on a new pair of rubber gloves and frowned as he considered the question. "Yes, yes I think it would probably be very easy for a person of any size or strength to do it. It was more a matter of balance than power."

Spike nodded and walked out the door heading for the elevator, his head spinning. He knew at this point in the investigation he needed to step back, take a deep breath and clear his mind of all the facts that were warring for center thought.

As the elevator door slid shut, sealing him in the temporary isolation of the tiny cage, Spike gave in to the other issue that weighed heavy on his heart. He wanted, no he needed, to see Xander.

He needed to grovel, to say he was sorry and be near the man he loved. He knew that would include apologizing to that bizarre collection of odd balls that Xander had surrounded himself with and Spike decided that, yeah, he was even willing to do that.

Within minutes he was breezing through the lobby, past a strangely silent dispatch officer who never even looked up.

Hopping into the Corvette, Spike rooted through the disarray of CD cases until he found Xander's favorite, Hamilton Loomis, and popped it in. He flipped on "Voodoo Doll", cranked up the volume and sang along.

He felt better than he had in weeks. He felt whole, complete, strong, and now he was on his way to collect his lover and get their relationship back on track. No more arguments. No more surprises.

Part Twenty-Eight

Everyone sat around the large oval table and chatted comfortably. Each of them talking over the other and all laughing easily together as only family does.

Xander had located plates and silverware and had, with some hesitation popped open the bottle of wine he had brought to
celebrate his and Spike's first night together in their new home.

Gunilla and her husband divided up the huge pot of wiener schnitzel they had brought and all the members of the circle. happily dug into their lunch. Andrew had scooted his chair as near Xander as he could and still eat without bumping elbows with the object of his affection. He tucked his napkin in to the collar of his shirt and propped his elbows up on the table.

Xander piled his plate high and was the first to start the conversation. "Well, we know it has to mean more than just the fact that a turtle is green cause, well, yeah, a turtle is green. Unless it has been in an aquarium too long then they turn sort of icky brown, but I don't think that's relevant in this case."

Willow and Tara, both chewing a mouthful of German goodness looked at each other and crinkled their noses at the thought of a scroungy, barnicle covered amphibian.

Andrew shuffled his feet apart slowly till his knee bumped Xander's under the table. He took it as great encouragement when Xander didn't pull away and his face stretched in a big grin as his confidence and the penis in his tighty whitey's both grew.

"I think till all this is sorted out that one of us should stay here with Xander. You know, protect him from that guy, that Spat or Sprig or whatever his name is and make sure he knows that we don't want him here. Now since you two have jobs and stuff, it can't be you." Andrew waved his fork in front of Gunilla and her gruff, chubby hubby.

He then turned to the girls. "And you guys need your privacy. Hee hee. And sides you go to school so it can't be you. I guess that just leaves me. I'll stay here with Xan. I'll look out for him. O.k? O.k, Xan?"

Xander had been lost in his own thoughts during the boys rambling conversation and hadn't heard a word of it. Something about a green turtle was dancing around in the back of his brain. The tid bit was hiding in a far corner that his brain's fingers couldn't quite reach to pull out and present it as a memory.

When he did come to the realization that he had been asked a question, he also noticed the bony, corduroy covered knee that was presently rubbing, bouncing and frotting against his under the table. At the same time the arousal fueled emotion that poured off the boy hit each member of the circle causing an uncomfortable spark to creep up their spines.

"What? Andrew, stop that!" Xander hop-scooted his chair away from the body and pouty faced boy that sulked beside him. Willow and Tara continued eating and did their best to show no reaction not wanting to add to Andrew's embarrassment.

Gunilla's reaction was completely the opposite. She immediately waved a tiny sausage just inches from the nose of the hormonal teenager. "You must not do dat! Our Xander is not going to fuck you! He is a grown man and you are as yet the young boy. You is not all haired over yet and you is trying to get into da pants of our Xander. You stop dat right now. Dat is not good for you and dat is not good for Xander. But most of all dat is not good for the Circle and what affects da circle affects us all."

Andrew shrank and cringed at the reprimand and hearing his intentions, hopes and dreams laid out so clearly for everyone's inspection. Gunilla had been like a grandmother to him and, in her own way, much more loving and accepting of him than anyone in his own family had ever been. But, they all knew how brutally blunt she could be as each had, at one time or another, been on the receiving end.

Andrew dropped his clasped hands into his lap and lowered his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm sorry Xander. I'll be good."

Xander put his arm around Andrew's shoulder and tugged him close. "That's o.k. I know you don't mean any harm by it. You just need to find someone your own age and you will. When you least expect it you'll find the perfect person. The one that destiny has selected just for you."

"Xander is talking right. You are the young boy and need to learn of the facts of life. Right after we are done with the lunch dat we eat you will go into the library with my husband and he will talk all the sexual facts of life that a boy needs to know. You are still the anal virgin. Yes?"

Xander felt Andrew's horrified body tense under his arm He knew, like everyone else at the table that when Gunilla made a proclamation, it was as good as stamped in stone. Willow and Tara stuffed their mouths full in an attempt to stifle their snickers.

Andrew turned a pleading face toward Xander and whimpered. Xander just shrugged. "Look at it this way, Andrew, you want to be ready don't you? When that special someone comes along. Just like when Spike did for me?"

As soon as the name rolled off his tongue, Xander's eyes lit up with recognition. "Spike! Turtle! That's where I heard the word before. The other day when I looked at some of Spike's police crime photos the name turtle came to me. "Greene turtle" has something to do with a murder case Spike is working on."

The group instantly, and Andrew hoped permanently, forgot about his scolding and schooling and focused their energy and conversation on the meaning behind Gunilla's automatic writing. Xander's certainty of where they should look felt right to the circle and they began to formulate a plan.

Before any of the ideas could take shape and direction, the group was startled by the sound of someone slamming the gargoyle shaped knocker on the heavy wooden front door.

In silence, the members of the circle all looked back and forth. No one got up. No one moved. The door knocker sounded again and Xander rose to his feet. Each of the psychics in the room already knew who stood outside on the stone threshold. Unfortunately their abilities didn't tell them if this was to be a repeat of the scene from yesterday or if the energy was good.

Xander took a deep breath and opened the door. "Spike."

"Xander."

Neither man spoke further, each waiting on the other to break the silence. One minute. Two minutes. Feet shuffled. Mouths opened, then closed.

Just as Spike was about to give up, give in, apologize..... something, a voice from within the dining room boomed out. "Villiam? Is dat you? You vill comen see here and ve vill talk now. Yes?"

Spikes's eyes bugged open comically and his chin hit the floor. He glared and pointed a finger accusingly at Xander. "You've got Hiney in there don't you? Admit it. That's Hiney! What the fuck Xander?"

Xander blinked in confusion. "Yeah, you know Gunilla's husband? Wow, small world huh?"

Part Twenty-Nine

"What the Fuck?"

Spike could feel his blood boil. He instantly had a mental picture of the old tv cartoons where steam rolled out a characters ears and the top of his head exploded. He briefly wondered if his hair gel was flammable.

Still, as prevalent as the anger was, the sense of betrayal was what cut the most. Xander had sided with the enemy!

Xander could feel the emotions flow from Spike and he wasn't sure at first where they were coming from. All he knew was that Spike remained firmly frozen on the outside of the doorway and if Xander didn't do something quickly, Spike might walk away, for good. "Wait, Spike. I'm not sure why you're so mad but can't we just talk? Please. Just come in."

Spike refused to budge. He glared at Xander and then in the direction of the vile voice. His heart screamed at him to shut up and
go to the man he loved but his brain was in control of his feet. "Why is he here Xander? Were you talking about me? Were you
checking up on me? You knew how I felt about him. You knew having to go to those sessions was hell on earth for me."

Instantly the light bulb over Xander's head switched on and he knew. He saw the whole picture and this time he had to side with Spike and against himself. It seemed like their relationship was mired in misunderstandings. "Shit. Spike. I didn't know Heinrich was the psych you were seeing. You never used his actual name. It was always Dr. Dick, Professor Prick, or The Asshole. Although to be fair, I should have guess when you called him The Brain Nazi. Anyway, we never talked about you. Heinrich is very professional, he wouldn't have broken your confidence like that. He's part of the Circle, Spike. He's Gunilla Hiney's husband.

Spike could feel himself slowly defuse as Xander spoke. It did make sense. It did sound right. He might not like it, but he had promised himself that he would be more open minded and apologize for his earlier outburst, now here he was with another one under his belt. He was beginning to think today was a mistake. Maybe he should wait, give them more time apart, "Look, Xan, maybe we just aren't................"

"That is enough! You have upset our Xander! You have upset our circle and contaminated the vibration. Well do not like dat. You will get yourself in here right now and you will make this right."

Spike jumped a foot straight into the air as the front door was jerked out of Xander's hand and the short, stocky, stern looking woman from before stood beside him. Her demeanor left no room for argument. Spike hurried to comply.

Quickly, Xander took Spike's hand and led him into the dining room full of people. Gunilla slammed the door behind him and called out as they walked away. "He is very handsome, Xander. Is he still da anal virgin?"

Spike choked. Xander snickered. Andrew's eyes lit up. The rest of the room remained silent, waiting to see which way this
would play out and hoping for the best.

"Spike, I'd like you to meet my friends. This is Tara, Willow and Andrew. I guess you already know Heinrich."

With a welcoming smile, Willow got up and approached cautiously. She took Spike by the arm and led him to the table. At the same time Gunilla marched in from the direction of the kitchen and slammed a clean plate down. Willow thanked her and encouraged Spike to sit with them. "Come on in. Sit down and have something to eat. We don't stand on formality. In fact, you can call me Bozo if you want."

Spike flinched at the reminder of his atrocious fit but the others, even the Hiney's laughed so easily that he felt himself relax. He
had resolved earlier to give them a chance, to apologize for his childish behavior, and that seemed like the perfect segue.

"Um, I think we all got off on the wrong foot. I jumped to some ugly conclusions and I said some, ah, well, I'd like to apologize to all of you."

Instantly the tension broke and everyone spoke at once. The girls cooed over him, Heinrich shoved the pot of food towards him and Andrew scooted his chair close enough that their knees bumped.

Spike was starting to feel down right encouraged. He felt like the weight of the world had lifted off his back and he stole a glance at Xander whose face beemed with pride and love.

Gunilla slapped a huge ladle full of wiener schnitzel on his platter and a small bubble of stomach acid in Spike's gut sent him a premonition of his own.

With no hesitation, he dug in. It was small penance for his earlier sins. Immediately, as if there had been no interruption, the rest of the group resumed their discussion, now centering it on Spike.

Xander shoved the yellow pad in front of Spike and tried to catch him up as quickly as possible. "So during our calming chant, Gunilla went into a trance and began writing. As you can see it says "Greene turtle" over and over again. Generally what we have found is that the importance of the message is magnified by the number of times it is written."

Spike looked around at everyone sitting staring at him. He knew if he was to spend much time with the Circle he would have
to seriously alter his perception of "normal".

Spike swallowed, feeling the sharp spices and vinegar hit bottom. It was going to be a contest to see if the food burned more going in or coming out. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and looked at the chaotic scribbling on the pad. "O.k. so, green turtle. What....um.....what?"

Xander was thrilled. Not only has Spike not left, screamed, insulted or mocked, he was actually interested and accepting.

"Two things. First, remember when I read the crime scene photo? I kept getting the word turtle so I think Gunilla's reading has something to do with your case. Usually a word or a sign is sent just as verification. It doesn't mean there are any turtles in the case, it is just something the spirits send as a way to let us know that we are on the right path. In this case the code word "turtle" just lets tells us that whatever we are given is tied to that. Second if you look at the spelling, it isn't green, like the color, it's greene like a name."

Spike dropped his fork. It hit his plate with a greasy backsplash that stained his best work shirt. He couldn't have cared less.

Tara crouched beside him and poured him a glass of wine. "Does that mean something? Does that help?"

The rest of the group waited expectantly. They could see the wheels spinning in Spike's head.

Shoving his plate aside, Spike jumped to his feet. For a minute Xander feared it was an overload and Spike would run away again. His fears were waylaid when Spike held up both palms. "Wait here! Don't move! I've got my file on the Myrtle Miller case in my car."

Spike took off running, his feet trying their best to keep up with his brain as his intestines gurgled with a premonition of their own.

Part Thirty

Faith's cell phone jangled in the pocket of her tight black dress pants and she dug for it frantically. It had been two days since she had spoken to Kennedy and she was beginning to feel genuinely depressed. She had left at least twenty messages, none returned, and had taken to circling Kennedy and Elvin's old house to look for signs of occupation. From what she could tell there was no one there.

Checking the caller ID she recognized the number and cringed. She knew it was extremely unprofessional not to answer, but the last thing she could deal with right now was another of Liam's sob stories. She let it go to voice mail then checked it to make sure it wasn't an emergency.

Of course what Liam saw as an emergency these days was that Max oogled a waitress or that Max preferred to stay up late and watch the news rather than go to bed. Anything Max related seemed to qualify as an emergency situation. Faith had vowed not to discuss her personal situation with Liam, she wished he had done the same.

She punched in her password and code and waited.

"Beep"

"Hello, Faith? This is your partner, Liam. Liam O'Connor"

Faith rolled her eyes.

"I hate to do this to you but Max is taking a big high powered, very important job in Washington D.C. Well, actually he's just going for the interview, but you know how magnificent he is so it's a done deal. Anyway, he, of course, wants me with him. We're leaving on a red eye tonight and will be gone for at least three days. I hate to stick you with all the work, but you know some things are just more important than the job. I'll call you when we get back. Bye."

Faith held the phone in her hand and stared at it as though she expected it to spew forth a little bit more of an explanation.
She knew she should be mad but, shit, this was the best news she had had all month. Now if Spike could just get cleared and return to work, at least her professional life would be back on track.

Faith dialed Kennedy's cell and left another message.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike flew out to the car parked at the curb, grabbed the small file folder that laid on the front seat and darted back to the house. He no longer entertained thoughts that this type of thing was a waste of time. He may be a cop, but he wasn't a blind one. Not any more.

Rushing in the front door he was somewhat surprised to see Dr. Hiney with Andrew by the ear, dragging him off to the study. Spike had no intention of asking what the boy had done. He was just grateful it wasn't him.

When he returned to the dining room he found that the others had cleared away the food and dishes and waited for his return. Seeing them so willing to help him made Spike doubly ashamed of the way he had spoken to them earlier.

He promised himself that when this was all over he would make it up to them. To all of them but especially to his Xander.
Maybe have that house warming party Xander had talked about. Yeah, he could do a party. If Xander would let him. If Xander
forgave him and took him back.

Clearing the depressing thoughts from his mind Spike dropped the folder on the polished antique table. "Well, here's the file. Not much there, just some crime scene photos and a few witness statements. So where do we start?"

Xander was the first to speak as he spread the items out over the table giving everyone easy access to them.

"O.k. Here's the problem. Myrtle never saw it coming. Her spirit is still in a state of confusion and unrest. Although she can't move on till this is resolved, she also isn't going to be of any help to us. She's in flux. Also, when I tried to read the emotions of the killer I drew a blank. It appears whoever killed our sweet Miss Miller had absolutely no emotional attachment to her. No love, anger, jealousy, nothing. So I think this is going to be extremely difficult, maybe next to impossible to..............."

"I got it!"

The room fell quiet and all eyes turned to Tara. The usually shy blond held one of the witness statements in her hand and waved it in the air. "Look. Right at the end of this page where Mr. Jacobs talks about his alibi he says that he was dining, and I think we all know what that means, with his receptionist, Miss Greene. GREENE! I'll bet she was involved."

Willow frowned as she considered it. "But if dinner, and yes, we know what they were probably eating, is his alibi, isn't it her's too?"

Xander ran his hands over the first crime scene picture. "Yeah, and anyway, I'm getting a man here. We need to keep her on our short list but I'm sure she isn't the one who actually did Myrtle in."

Spike sat back and listened. He had never in his career imagined an investigation like this, but amazingly it was extremely effective. This group, this Circle, was analytical, methodical, and when you threw in their psychic abilities, Spike was beginning to think he had hit pay dirt. Investigatively speaking.

Slapping her hands down on the solid oak table, Gunilla heaved her round body up out of her chair. "I have done my part. I get the wine."

As the conversation continued and the statements, notes, and pictures made the rounds of the four people remaining at the table, Spike let his focus drift back to the man he loved.

He remembered all the stupid things he had said and done. Not only yesterday but ever since they had gotten back from their trip to Vegas. He had whined, complained, bitched, and intentionally done things to try to set Xander off. He knew the wet towels had really hit the mark.

He wanted to stop, but something inside him, some inner demon, said if he was unhappy, everyone around him should be unhappy. Spike tipped his head slightly as he watched Xander's eyes as he smiled and spoke to the girls he clearly loved.

There was no doubt in Spike's mind that Xander was the most wonderful person he had ever met and he wondered if his eyes shone with the same glow when he looked at him as the other's did.

He saw Xander touch Gunilla's hand lightly when she returned and poured him a glass of wine. It was a brush of the fingertips that appeared so light, Spike was surprised she even felt it, but from the crinkles around her eyes and the flicker of change in her ever present scowl, Spike knew she had and he also knew that these women worshiped his Xander. Spike wasn't ashamed to admit that he did too.

"Ve are back."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the doorway and Dr. Hiney. Andrew was close by on his heels, his face beet red and his eyes cast downward. When he entered the room he glanced quickly back and forth between Spike and Xander. An expression of awe and horror caused his eyes to bug and his blush deepen.

"Um, I got some, um, leaves to rake. Yeah, that's it. Leaves. Lots of leaves. I'll be outside if you need me." With that stammering explanation, he was gone.

Xander and the girls burst into laughter. Even Gunilla had to chuckle. Heinrich poured himself a large glass of wine and waited to be brought up to speed on the investigation.

Spike didn't ask.

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