Chapters <<<< 36 37 38 39 40

Period Of Adjustment

by
BmblBee

Part Thirty-Six

Joyce Winters hung her coat back up on the hook and returned her briefcase to it's place at the side of her desk. She knew that not getting home in time to fix supper tonight was the least of her worries. Besides, she lived alone. Who would care?

The two detectives conversing quietly in the hallway were waiting on Adam Kinsey who had been summoned off the ward to report to her office and she had no intention of leaving till she knew the outcome.

Like all licensed nursing homes, Leesville survived on federal funds. Money that could be snatched back at even the slightest hint of patient abuse and no doubt the inspectors would consider murder a form of abuse. No wonder her horoscope read "Beware of outsiders bringing bad news today."

"Do you have your recorder?" Faith had leaned in and whispered to her partner who responded with a pat to his inside suit jacket pocket. Before she had the chance to ask anything else, a quiet knock interrupted.

"Mrs. Winters? The floor nurse said you wanted to see me?" Adam stuck his head in the doorway hesitantly. When he noticed Spike and Faith his demeanor switched visibly from concern to horror. Spike could see the possibilities as they flashed through his mind.

Lie? Of course. Deny? Naturally. Run? That was the one he took a moment to consider. After evaluating the physical attributes of the two waiting on him versus his nearly three hundred pounds of high blood pressure and bad ankles, he dismissed that choice as absurd.

Spike waited patiently while the hamster in the wheel of Adams brain decided on a direction to paddle. He used the time to allow his eyes to scan the orderly's body and almost squealed for joy when his eyes flashed quickly across the heavy goth thumb ring with the large deep grooved crosses. He knew whatever happened during this interview, that fuckin' ring was HIS! It would be bagged, sealed, and signed off on.

"Please, Adam, come in and have a seat. These detectives need to speak with you." She nodded to Spike. "I'll be just outside, if you need anything please feel free to ask."

Spike and Faith thanked the administrator and motioned for Adam to have a seat. Faith then closed the door behind him and shared a happy glance with her partner before they went into character.

"Mr. Kinsey, I'm sure you remember me from the other day when I was here and we talked about Myrtle Miller."

Adam twitched. "Yes....?"

Spike paced the room behind the orderly, forcing Adam to keep turning from side to side to watch him. Finally he circled the desk and sat in Mrs. Winter's chair. Like a tom cat, Spike sat quietly for a moment and watched his mouse squirm.

Timing was everything. Just as he could see his prey begin to collect himself, Spike reached inside his jacket. "Mr. Kinsey, since this is in regard to a murder investigation, I'm going to tape record this interview and read you your rights." Spike whipped the recorder out of his pocket, placing it directly in front of the startled orderly, snapped it on, and began reciting the Miranda.

Adam Kinsey sat up straight in his chair, his eyes big as platters, as he flexed his feet, testing his ankles to see just how bad they really were.  'Ouch, damn!'

Faith leaned against the desk on his other side. "Do you understand your rights, Mr. Kinsey?"

Beads of sweat glistened on Adam's upper lip. "Yeah, I guess. What the fuck is this about? You ain't got no right to
be comin' here to my job and botherin' me like this. What the fuck you people want? Who said the old bitch was murdered?"

Spike let his peripheral vision pick up the nervous habit Adam had of twisting that ever present thumb ring and he wondered if the man was going to miss it when he was stressed out and probably being ass fucked in the big house.

Faith crossed her feet at the ankles and leaned back casually. "I'm afraid concerns about your job are the least of your worries Mr. Kinsey. You see we just came from talking to your sister and she has confessed to everything. We know all about her relationship with Mark Jacobs. We know that he stood to lose a great deal of money if his Aunt lived long enough to be transferred to the extended care facility. And we know your sister thought she had a future with him. She indicated to us that the murder was your idea. Is that how it happened Mr. Kinsey? You did it to help your sister out? Did you talk her into this?"

Adam Kinsey gripped the arms of his chair tightly as all the blood drained out of his face. The ringing in his ears was so loud it was making it difficult to think. The grey matter of his brain dissolved to mush as one word repeated over and over. 'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck'.

Adam's eyes snapped over to Spike as he picked up the line of questioning and ignoring the fact that it was sprinkled freely with little white lies, Spike took it another step further. "We can understand your need to care for a sister you love, Mr. Kinsey, but murder really was not the best way to show it. Did she even know what you planned on doing or did you just tell her about it later?"

That question snapped him out of his stupor and he raged, pounding his fist on the desk, spit flying from the corners of his mouth. "What? Is that what that fuckin bitch told you? FUCK HER! There ain't no fuckin' love lost between us. It was strictly business. HER business. She came to me with the idea. Promised me $10,000. if I offed the old bird and made it look like an accident. Said the old lady had a bunch of bonds in the bank and once her and Jacobs were married she would pay me. It was her idea. All her idea. I ain't going down alone on this. You arrest me you better fuckin' arrest her too. I can't believe the fuckin' bitch dropped a dime on me."

Spike and Faith showed no emotion. That had been easier than either of them could possibly have hoped for. Still, there were just a couple more points that needed clairified.

"Did your sister plan this with Mr. Jacobs? Was he part of this?"

Adam Kinsey looked slightly confused. As the ever ready opportunist that he was, he now saw cooperation as his possible ticket to a plea bargain agreement and he smiled, showing tobacco stained teeth. "I don't think so, she never said. I think it was all her. It was all her idea. You know what? I got her cell phone number cause I called her right after. I'll bet if you check the phone records you can see if she called him right after I called her. That's what they do on TV. On CSI.
I know cause I watch all them shows."

Spike rose from his chair and pulled the handcuffs out of the back of his belt. Although thrilled at solving the case, Spike had really hoped Jacob's was up to his sleazy eyeballs. It just didn't seem right that he would walk away with everything. Money, property and his freedom, but Spike had been on the job long enough to realize that man's justice and cosmic
right had very little in common.

He smirked at his partner as he snapped steel on the pudgy wrists of his prisoner and shook his head. 'God love a snitch.'

Faith spoke briefly with Mrs. Winters, while Spike called for a black and white to come and retrieve the still babbling Adam Kinsey. They were instructed to book him on open charges with a seventy-two hour hold and the detectives would be in first thing in the morning to prepare a formal complaint.

"So you want to go collect Mindy Greene?"

Spike shook his head. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing. I think we need to take our time and consult with the prosecutor first. All we have right now is Adam's accusation and I don't want to blow our case by acting too quickly. I say we go home, get some sleep, and deal with this tomorrow."

Faith nodded. She knew he was right, she just wasn't anxious to face the empty apartment again tonight. "Yeah, ok. Xander is probably expecting you."

Spike's face lit up. "Yep, but I have one stop to make first."

He planted a peck on Faith's cheek and took off.

Part Thirty-Seven

Spike checked the time on the dash panel clock and was delighted to see it was still before midnight. Just barely.
Faith had accompanied the patrol officer back to the  station to handle Adam Kinsey's booking and file the preliminary reports, freeing Spike to take care of a more pressing obligation.

After making one stop in their old neighborhood, Spike had broken more than one traffic law in an effort to zip across
town and make it to the mansion before his promised return time.

Turning the corner, and almost without his guidance, the Corvette zipped into the driveway like an old plow horse instinctively returning  to the barn after a long day in the field.

The house was dark and from the outside appeared still unoccupied. Spike knew that was miles from the truth and without even considering knocking, he turned the door knob, comforted that it had been left open for him.

Stepping into the foyer, Spike paused to take it all in. Small table lamps had been left on in each of the rooms, offering just enough illumination to be able to see the shapes and shadows of the beauty of the rooms and the gleam of the furniture.

He was honest enough to admit that it was breath taking. It was like something straight out of an old 1940's Betty Davis movie. Although he still wasn't exactly sure how he felt about living in such an environment, he could certainly see and feel a little of what sold Xander on it.

"Did you bring it?"

Spike's attention was snapped back to reality as his eyes searched the darkness for the source of the deep, dreamy voice. Turning, he looked up and saw him standing at the top of the stairs, his smile warm, loving and welcoming him home like the beam of a light house to a ship that had been too long at sea.

Spike laughed, it was an exact repeat of the first night he had been drawn to the young psychic. A night, rather, morning, that had changed his life forever.

Holding up the bag, Spike smirked then bounded up, two stairs at a time. "Yeah, I got it. You were pretty confident weren't you? When I got to the pizza shop they said you had just called in the order a half hour earlier."

Xander took the sack from his hands and stuck his face inside, breathing deeply. "You got everything? The wings? The extra sauce?"

"I don't think they would have allowed me to skip anything even if I wanted to." Spike followed him down the hall to the closed doors of the master bedroom. When they stopped, Xander stepped back, with his hands full, indicating  Spike should go in first.

Stepping up, Spike swung the heavy doors open and gasped. The room before him was nothing short of breathtaking. The first time he had seen it, the bedroom had been rife with dust, dirt and potential. Now it was stunning. Every wood surface in the room glowed, shining and carrying the fragrance of rich lemon oil.

The high four poster bed had been freshly made with crisp clean sheets and draped with a sable brown comforter, all folded down and welcoming. A small sitting area by the stone fireplace had been set up with a leather top table and two matching chairs. It was there that Xander was busily arranging the sacks of food and drinks. "I think they shorted you on the mustard packs. We should.......nay that's o.k."

Wandering over to the fire place, Spike saw that Xander had put candles and pictures along the mantle. Picking them up one at a time, he recognized them as ones of him as a child, older, and even him in his first uniform when he graduated the academy.

"Where on earth did you find these?"

Xander reluctantly tore his attention away from the food and joined him, picking one up. "They were in one of the boxes you had in storage after your lease expired. I had the storage company send them all over here for safe keeping. I hope you don't mind."

Spike wrapped his arms around Xander and pulled him close, their lips just a breath apart. "Why would I mind? This is my home too, isn't it?"

Xander immediately closed the gap and sealed their lips in a kiss that answered all questions and left no doubt that this was exactly where Spike was expected to be. In this house. In these arms. Spike pulled back and gasped for air. "What about the pizza?"

"Fuck the pizza."

Suddenly, in a surprising move, Xander scooped Spike up and tossed him over his shoulder, fireman style. He took the few steps needed to get to the bed and tossed the laughing man down on his back. "Strip, Spike! I want to see what fate has sent me."

Like the first time, Spike scrambled to comply. This time, however his insecurity and embarrassment were replaced with love, confidence, and eager anticipation. Although only a few days, it felt like years since they had been together like this.

Xander stood by the bed and slowly pulled the t-shirt over his head. His oversized flannel sleep pants rode low on his hips and Spike couldn't take his eyes off the huge bulge that tented the front. His stomach squiggled and his hole twitched in anticipation.

Xander ran his large hand over his flat stomach, ruffling the trail of fine, black hairs. Gradually, and holding Spike in a hypnotic trance, the fingers slid fractionally lower till they had worked their way down inside the elastic waist band.

Spike watched as the outline of four fingers moved up and down the huge shaft, tugging it outward, pulling the pants open on each swipe. "Say the words, Spike. I won't fuck you till you say the words."

This time there was no doubt. Spike didn't need to see a script to know what his dialog was in this act of their play. It wasn't an apology or a declaration of sexual orientation Xander wanted to hear. It was something else. Something only Spike could give him.

"I love you, Xander. Only you. Always you."

Xander dropped his pants and stepped to the bed. Spike's legs opened faster than a hooker's at a cattleman's convention and he laid back, stroking his own hard, ready cock.

Xander straddled Spike's hips, sitting back on his legs and still massaging the thick meat that was now dribbling steadily. Leaning forward, he reached his free hand into the drawer of the night stand and retrieved a new tube of lube and a foil pack. Spike raised his eyebrows.

"I put these here the first day. Should have been all gone by now. Guess we have some catching up to do." Xander moved back till he sat on the bed between Spike's open legs. He then grabbed one of Spike's slender ankles and lifted it over his shoulder.

Spike's breath came in ragged bursts as he waited impatiently as Xander worked two then three slick fingers in and out of his grasping, ready hole. He held tensely to Xander's wrist and rocked his hips, fucking himself on the slick fingers that were only teasing and tormenting him.

"Hurry, Christ, Xan I'm so hard, I'm gonna blow the second you shove that fuckin' meat inside me. That's enough. I'm ready."

Xander really didn't think he was, but he didn't want to wait either. Squeezing a little more lube onto his hand he coated his cock and lined the head up, sliding it back and forth over the hole to wet the way.

Spike pressed his calf down on Xander's shoulder, lifting his ass higher. He held his cock in one hand and pulled his ball sac forward. He was as open and offered as he could present himself.

Xander closed his eyes. The sight alone was almost his undoing. Taking a deep relaxing breath, he held his cock just under the head and shoved it through the still too tight ring of muscle. Spike grunted from the delicious pain and burn.

After counting mentally to five, Xander fell forward and slid home. Spike blew out the oxygen he held in his lungs with a grunt. "Fuck. Ow. Fuck. Yes!"

Spike threw his arms over his head as Xander gripped his cock with huge warm fingers still coated in slick lube. Each time Xander hips snapped forward his cock slammed into Spike's prostate and his finger's wrung another dribble of pre cum from Spike's cock.

Within minutes, Spike wrapped his hand around Xander's and his hips moved in time. Their fucking took on a frantic, deep, irregular timing as Spike was first to feel the tingle.

"Deeper, Xan, harder, it's cumming. Come on, Baby I can feel it. Damn! Damn! Da.........agh! Yes!"

Spike's body went rigid as his cock pumped string after string of sticky cum over both their hands and onto his chest and stomach. Before his convulsions of pleasure had slowed, Xander joined him, filling the tip of the condom to over full.

Neither man made any attempt to move as the waves of orgasm rocked through them flushing them with warmth and satisfaction. At last, Spike was able to open his eyes as the blood seeped lazily back into his brain.

Gently, Xander eased his cock out of Spike's body and let the leg slide from his shoulder to hit the bed with a "PLOP"

Sitting back on his heels, Xander looked down at the messy shrinking cock and shook his head. "Well, that was quick. Hey! I'll bet the pizza is still hot. Come on. Get up."

Spike groaned.

Part Thirty-Eight

Buffy was walking on cloud nine. She had woken up early this morning with the feeling that something wonderful was going to happen today.

She had enjoyed a long leisurely soapy clit shower and had sat down with a cup of coffee and the morning paper before she had to dress and leave for work. She always read the horoscopes, the funnies and the fashion page. She snorted at the people who considered her ignorant.

This was one of those feelings that she couldn't explain or find reason for but she knew she was right. Her best grey pants suit was back from the cleaners, that handsome Riley Finn had called for a second date, and the adorable shoes she had her eye on down at Sears went on sale today.

There was just one more test. Quickly, Buffy dressed and brushed her hair. She cautiously stepped in front of her floor length three paneled mirror and lifted the tail of her jacket.

A delighted squeal pierced the air as she spun in circles. "YES! I'm having a good butt day AND a good hair day! I knew it! That's like the alignment of the planets. It only happens once in a fucking lifetime and it's happening today! Nothing can go wrong!"

Buffy skipped around her apartment, collecting her smiley faced name tag, pink cell phone and "Sunny Weather Girl" shoulder bag. She locked the door and sailed down steps to her car and her destiny.

~*~*~*~*~

"Ohhhh." Spike groaned and rolled over on his side. Every muscle in his back and legs ached from the various positions Xander had bent him in. By the third time they fucked, he was actually beginning to wonder if Xander knew the name of a good chiropractor, just in case.

His ass, already sore and too tender to touch would no doubt regret the extra hot sauce Spike had dipped those buffalo wings in. But that was a concern for later. Hopefully, much later.

Squinting at the bedside clock he could see that it was already after seven am and he really needed to get moving. The paperwork from last night's arrest and the case against Mindy Greene required more immediate attention.

Sitting up, Spike attempted to carefully climb over Xander's body and out of bed to take a shower. With one leg over, Xander opened an eye and looked up. "No, Spike. I will not fuck you this morning. You broke my dick and it needs time to repair itself."

Spike chuckled and leaned down for a kiss. Apparently Xander's lips were still functioning as he immediately gripped Spike's hips and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. His cock twitched between them causing them both to pull back slightly and look down at the ailing patient who was apparently not ready to be coded as DOA just yet.

Spike laughed and jumped out of bed. "Nope! You sex fiend, you. I cannot be enticed again. Some of us have work to go to." Picking up the rumpled suit and shirt he wore yesterday, Spike crinkled his nose as he sniffed them.

"In the closet."

Spike looked at the direction Xander was pointing and when he opened the door he was stunned to see all his suits, shirts, and jeans neatly hung in a row. Next to it was a dresser full of boxers, socks and undershirts. It was obvious Xander had taken great care and love to organize everything just the way Spike liked it.

Dropping the wrinkled clothes in his hands, Spike rushed back to the bed and threw himself down, rolling up in the blankets and Xander's arms as he kissed and nuzzled, whispering his heartfelt apologies. "I'm so sorry for the way I acted. I don't know why you put up with me but I'm so glad you do. I was such a jerk. I talked terribly to you and your friends. I was just feeling like shit and I guess I wanted you to feel the same. I promise I'll make it up to you and to them. I love you Xander."

Xander flopped them over till he was firmly planted on top. "Life is always going to hand us challenges and rough times, Spike, but from now on we face them all together. Understand? Individually we can be knocked down. Together we're strong as a rock."

Spike looked into the deep brown eyes above him and could feel the truth of that statement. He nodded and smiled. Just as he was beginning to consider going in late and seeing if he couldn't try a little resuscitation on the patient, Xander rolled off and burrowed back under the covers. "Good, now, go to work. I'm going back to sleep."

Spike chuckled, headed for the bathroom, and did as he was told. It promised to be an excellent day.


Buffy zipped into the first handicapped parking space she could find and hung her "Press" tag on the rear view mirror. Humming a happy tune, she jerked open the heavy glass door and breezed to the receptionist's desk. "Any messages?"

Without looking up, Monica handed the ditsy blond a yellow post it note and returned to her Harlequin Romance novel where Biff was about to sweep Charlotte away to the cliffs of Dover and ravage her virginity.

The memo read:
"Miss Summers, report to the General Manager immediately upon arrival".

Buffy's smile twitched. On any other day that could be interpreted as bad news. But not today. She was sure. She hoped. "Shit!"

tap tap tap.

"Come in." The voice boomed and left no question of authority. Buffy eased in. Smiling her best Sunny day in California smile, she sat down in the chair of doom to wait.

"Look, Boss, if this is about that little cartoon I posted on the weather map, it really wasn't meant as an insult. I mean, shit, people are so sensitive nowdays. It was only meant to be a reminder of how dark you can get if you spend too much time in the sun. Sort of a caution. A public service message."

Ham Nichols flinched. He had taken all kinds of flack over that one. Hell, even one of Al Sharpton's people had called and threatened that it was close to the line.

"No, no that's not it, although if you ever do that again I will fire your ass, but that's not why I called you in here. It seems our own Max Webster has been offered an anchor position at FSTV in Washington D.C. and of course we all wish him our best."

Ham continued, choosing to ignore the sputtering and blinking his weather girl was doing. "So, that leaves the anchor spot here open again."

Ham leaned forward, hands folded on his desk, and made sure he had  Buffy's undivided attention. "We are going to give you another chance, Buffy. A sort of trial run, but there are going to have to be some changes. First, you have to learn how to pronounce peoples names. No more calling Osama "that bad guy in the night gown". Also, we're trying to aim our broadcasts at a more family friendly audience. No cleavage. No skirts slit up the thigh, and NO hip huggers that show off the top of your thong."

Buffy nodded, wishing she had been taking notes. She just knew there was no way she would remember all these new rules. Hell, she was still trying to process the information that that rat, Max was getting the recognition and fancy job she should have had. "I promise. I can do it. Thank you Thank you. You won't be sorry. I just knew when I saw my ass in the mirror this morning that it was going to be a great day!"

Ham just shook his head. If anyone else but Buffy had said that, he would have to ask. Coming from Buffy Summers, it almost had a tone of logic to it.

"One more thing. Because we're going family friendly we thought there should be two anchors. We held open auditions over at the college campus and hired someone that we think has real potential. I'm sure you two will get along great. In fact we're going to introduce you both as the new news team on this afternoon's broadcast. We have five minutes set aside and have been running promos for it all morning. It's going to be spectacular."

Buffy frowned. They hired someone else? A news TEAM? What the fuck?

Part Thirty-Nine

To any outsider, the morning activity of the Stark County Sheriffs would have appeared to be routine if not mundane. Uniformed officers coming and going, cruisers being prepped, and a lobby full of citizens waiting to file complaints and spin their tales of woe.

Spike loved it all. It was where he knew he wanted to be for as long as he was able. There was no other occupation on earth that could compare with this mish mash of organized chaos.

With a crisp, freshly pressed clean suit hanging sharply off his trim form, and a cup of coffee in his hand, Spike marched confidently through the front doors and right past the dispatch desk.

"Morning Detective Pratt."

Spike looked up to see rookie officer Billy Temple behind the desk. The young man's uniform was pressed into sharp creases, his badge appeared to have been measured and positioned in exactly the right spot and his neck tie, like a Christmas stocking was obviously hung with great care. Spike chuckled at both the boy's enthusiasm and new position.

"Morning Officer Temple. Look at you. Less than five months on the job and you score the job of dispatch. That's great. What happened to Officer Taylor?" Spike did his best to ask the question with a straight face.

Billy just shrugged, his bright smile never faltering. "Not sure. There are a couple rumors around that he pissed someone off. The reassignment memo that was posted just says that he was being transferred to parking meter duty and I got dispatch. I really don't care what he did,  I'm gonna do the best job here I can and hope whoever is ticked off at him stays that way."

Spike chuckled. Good old Giles. The man never was one to welch on a losing bet. "Well, I'm glad to see you there. I know you're going to do a great job. Congratulations on the promotion."

In his overexuberance, rookie Temple saluted Spike as he started to walk away. Laughing, Spike returned the salute and headed for the locker room.

The hallway to the back part of the station house was bland. Institutional grey with green tile squares on the floors that sparkled, kept clean by the daily mopping and buffing of the prisoners who had earned the right to be out of their cells during the day. It smelled of Pine Sol.

Spike's shoes tapped a steady rhythm down the hallway till he came to the door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" He smacked the door with the palm of his hand and sailed on through.

The front part of the locker room was a small sitting room, furnished with mismatched chairs and a couple coffee tables. A water cooler in the corner and a cheap television hanging on the wall completed the decor. It was the type of space Spike found functional and professionally perfect.

With a regular stream of officers going in and out, Spike was not surprised to see several uniforms and a couple suits milling around. What did seem unusual was their focus. Everyone in the room had collected around the sitting area and stood in front of the television as if waiting for the announcement of a meteorite about to strike the earth.

"Hey, Oz, what's going on?"

Daniel Osborn turned and smiled when he saw Spike standing behind him.

"Hey, Spike. We're watching the afternoon news on channel 8. Angel's old girlfriend is supposed to be back on as a news caster and we all have bets on how long it will take her to fuck up. I got $5.00 on thirty seconds. You want in?"

Spike looked around the group and was unsurprised to see Angel standing in the middle of the group. He wondered how much he had bet. Spike set his briefcase down on the side table and decided he could give it a minute or two. Besides, he recognized the speaker as Max Webster and had come to know and like the man through the course of the Rosebud investigation.

Spike stepped closer. "Turn it up"

"...and so it is with a heavy heart that I leave the wonderful people here at channel 8 and all the terrific viewers out there that have made this such a wonderful learning experience for me."

Max was an on air natural. Handsome, comfortable, professional, he was the type of news man that male viewers considered a peer and women wanted to slither under and squirm as he wrapped his tongue around first a riveting world crisis then the lips of their pussy.

He had bolstered their ratings two hundred percent and as much as the management hated to lose him, they were smart enough to know that simply replacing him with a Max clone would be a strategical mistake. Thus, the drastic new direction.

Buffy waited in the wings. She had been given the general outline and was told that when introduced by Max, she was to smile, walk out and take her much deserved seat at the news desk.

Buffy couldn't stand the sight of Max. This was the man who had stolen her job, her fame, her boyfriend and her lucrative endorsements. She stood just off camera and watched him smile easily as the big words and long foreign names rolled off his lips like candy. She scowled. 'The prick probably practices them beforehand. How fuckin' anal can he be?'

She then giggled at her own joke and wondered if she couldn't somehow work that into her first night on air. Viewers liked a reporter who could be funny.

She shifted her weight from one pinched foot to the other and glanced around. She hadn't seen any new or strange faces around the station in the last day of so and wondered just who this amateur was that they had hired for her to nursemaid.

Buffy frowned. The last thing she wanted to do was share the spotlight with a newby. An inexperienced brat that she was going to have to cover for and teach the ropes. 'Damn it' she pouted. 'I work alone. Fuck this family friendly shit'

With one eye on the camera man, she watched as he held up his hand and counted his fingers down for Max to see.
Five. Four. Three. Two.  "And we'll be right back after these messages."

Commercial break always resulted in a flurry of timed activity as the make up girl hustled out to dab his shiny forehead and the manager in the director's booth spoke into the ear piece in Max's ear.

Jackie, the station intern rushed over to Buffy and clipped a microphone on her lapel. "As soon as we come off break, Max will introduce you as the returning anchor. You will smile, thank him, yadda, yadda, yadda, then he will introduce your new partner. The three of you will chat for three minutes and that's it. Show over. Got it."

Buffy shoved Jackie's hand away and secured the electronics herself. "I've done this for years, Dear. I know what I'm doing."

Ham Nichols stood in the directors booth. He really had a good feeling about this new move. He had hawked this promo all day and had even personally contacted school and church groups, hoping to get them on board to his family friendly news cast. It was just the kick he needed to boost his ratings even higher. He would feature human interest stories and people usually overlooked by the other stations.

He paced the room tossing orders to the directors and sound technicians. "Camera one stay on Max, scope to wide when he introduces Buffy. Camera two pick her up as she comes on stage right. Now, and this is the most important part, I want camera one to zoom in on her expression when her partner is called out. Got it? Everybody ready?"

All the heads in the room nodded and proceeded to prep their set up just in time for the break to end and Max Webster came back into view. ".....so I know you viewers will welcome Miss Buffy Summers back into her seat as news anchor. Buffy?"

Max smiled and held out his hand as Buffy beamed confidently and walked to her throne behind the massive wood and plastic news desk. "Max, thank you so much. It's wonderful to be back although I certainly will miss the challenging variety of weather we have here in southern California."

Luckily, due to the close up on Buffy's face, the camera missed the confused wrinkle that briefly crossed Max's brow.
"Um, yes, well, we have one more surprise for you and a special treat for our viewers. What better way to promote healthy family values than a news team like this."

Max held his hand out again and Buffy's new partner stepped on stage. Buffy leaped to her feet, her mouth fell open and a stray hair popped out of place.

"Dawn??? What the FUCK?"

The station's switchboard lit up like the Vegas sky line at midnight.

Ham Nichols dropped his head.

Max Webster fell back into his seat, finally speechless.

Oz checked the time on his watch, punched his fist in the air and shouted "YES!"

Part Forty

Spike was enormously grateful that it had been a relatively slow day and he had been able to leave the station house early. Although to be honest, he suspected that the real reason that he had been given the whole afternoon off work was because Giles himself was on the list of invitees for what had quickly turned into the housewarming party of the year.

The last two weeks had been hectic with the work he and Faith were still doing on the Miller murder as well as the other cases she had been working while he was off. They had secured an arrest warrant on Mindy Greene and were confident of a conviction.

When he had agreed to Xander's idea of the house warming party he had originally thought it would be just his circle of friends and maybe one or two from the station for a quiet evening round the sitting room. He still had trouble remembering where they went wrong.

Spike stood in the kitchen where he had gone to retrieve another bottle of scotch and a tray of shrimp and wondered how much luck he would have trying to locate his lover. Last time he had seen him he was laughing at some inane joke Heinrich Hiney was sharing by the fireplace.

"Hey, Spike, let me squeak by you, k? I need to take another tray of clean glasses out to the bar. Hey, your partner, Faith is a hoot. She's out there telling everyone about that case you guys had where you thought the bones were human and they turned out to be a monkey that escaped from the circus. Ha ha!"

Spike cringed as Willow gathered up what she needed and left the room. Still, he couldn't find it in his heart to get mad at her. She and Tara had been here every day, cleaning, scrubbing and had the entire house glowing like the day it was new.

Spike shook his head. Xander was lucky to have friends like these. Those girls worked like they were cleaning their own home.

Working his way back through to the dinning room he stopped and refilled Dr. Ahn's glass, not wanting to interrupt the deep conversation he seemed to be enjoying with Joyce Winters.

She hung on every word as he regaled her with his exploits as the undercover partner of the Lead Detective on Homicide. He had even confided in her that his code name was Turtle. Something she found most endearing and insisted on calling him, much to his delight.

As usual, the police officers had grouped up in a back library and shared limitless war stories of the cases they had worked and the suspects pursued. The cigar smoke fogged the room and the beer bottles moved in an unending rotation of empty, full, empty.

Moving fluidly from one room to the next, Spike stopped to chat with different groups and individuals, but kept rolling to assure himself that everyone had what they needed.

"I can't believe how wonderful the house looks. Xander, you have done an amazing job. And still completed all your projects." Patrick had wandered through the whole house when he first arrived then sought out his favorite employee.

Xander refilled his own glass of wine and then handed one to Patrick. "This house is incredible, Patrick. We are so grateful for the chance to live here. The energy is so positive that the vibration of the Circle has never been stronger. Willow and Tara seem to have taken a real liking to the place. They've been here almost every day getting the upstairs in order. I told them it wasn't necessary, but......." Xander shrugged.

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by another knock on the door. After excusing himself he watched as Patrick was joined by Giles who asked about the history of the mansion.

Smiling, Xander opened the door and was both shocked and pleased to see Kennedy standing sheepishly on the threshold clutching a bottle of wine. "I know I wasn't exactly invited, but can I come in?"

Xander immediately grabbed her by the arm to assure himself that she couldn't run away and he pulled her inside. "Oh, God, Kennedy. We've all been so worried about you. How are you?"

Kennedy smiled. "I'm better. I really am better. Doctor Hiney has been a saint. I don't think I could have made it without him. In fact, I hope you don't mind but he's the one who invited me tonight." Kennedy peered around Xander, looking in both directions. "Is, um, Faith here? Do you think she still wants to see me? Maybe I shouldn't have come."

Xander grabbed her hand as she took a step backward to the door. "Don't you even think about leaving. She'll be thrilled to see you. Come on, let's see if we can't find her."

Xander noticed Spike standing in the dining room with Daniel Osborn and gave Spike's surprised look a thumbs up as he steered Kennedy towards the last spot he had seen Faith as she listened to Angel brag about Max's new job.

When she glanced up and saw Kennedy, Faith turned her back on the man and conversation she had already blocked out and cautiously stepped forward. "Kennedy?"

"Hi, Faith. Hope you don't mind me coming here tonight. I thought maybe we could talk about.............."

The rest of her practiced speech was cut off by the kiss that sealed her lips to Faith's. The other guests in the crowded room paid them no attention as they continued milling about, eating, drinking, visiting and paying no interest in the two women kissing, embracing, and whispering in the center of the room.

Unfortunatly, that left Angel standing awkwardly alone. As one of the guests, though Spike couldn't imagine why Xander had invited him, Spike felt he should at least speak to Angel. "And where is the famous Max Webster tonight?"

Angel's face lit up with pride. "Max went on ahead to Washington. He started last week on the evening news show and is supposed to go to the middle east next week for a story."

Spike nodded, trying to feign interest. "So are you moving to Washington with him?"

"Oh, well, yeah, of course. He just thinks that now is not a good time. You know with him just getting settled and then being sent all over the world on assignments. He says we should wait till we see what's going to happen. I guess he's right. I'm sure he misses me. I'll be moving soon I'm sure."

Spike nodded as one word screamed in his head. 'DUMPED' "Yeah, sure, he probably doesn't have a second to spare. Say, whatever happened to Buffy Summers. Didn't you two have a thing?"

Angel wrinkled his face in embarrassed disgust as he took a big swig of jack and coke. "Yeah, well, I heard the station had her on a six week suspension and was making her do community service type shit. You know serve meals to the homeless, clean cages at the cat shelter, donate stilettos and designer, sequined jeans to the Salvation Army. She'll be back on the air. You can't keep Buffy down."

Before Xander had the chance to rescue Spike from Angel, another knock sounded and he again acted as door man.

"Hi, Xan. This is Jake." Xander stood back as Andrew stepped in, a taller boy with a distinctive jock look about him was plastered to his side.

Jake gave Xander the slow, piercing once over. "So you're Xander, huh? Well it's only fair to tell you that Andrew is with me now. Just so there's no misunderstanding."

Xander tried not to show his amusement. "Oh, I understand. I appreciate your honesty. Please, come in. Punch and food's in the kitchen. Help yourselves."

As they walked off Xander heard Jake ask "That's Xander? Hrumph, he's not so much. Don't know what you saw in him."

Xander chuckled and was glad Hiney had had the safe sex talk with Andrew. It looked like he was going to need it.

By midnight, the alcohol had taken it's toll and the house was getting rowdy. Turtle Ahn and Joyce Winters were making out like teenagers on the sofa. Faith and Kennedy had disappeared upstairs. Gunilla was heard to be loudly challenging Ham Nichols to an arm wrestling contest while half the detectives in Vice were chanting encouragement and taking bets.

Angel had completed a crying jag by falling asleep on the kitchen floor and Oz was slow dancing with Dawn Summers in the library.

Spike wandered lazily through the house, his house, till he located his better half. Xander turned to him and smiled. "There you are. What do you say we start to toss these bums all out on their ears and I give you a proper house warming gift?"

Spike kissed Xander lightly on the lips. "Sounds great. Hey, Xan, I went out back a while ago to get some air and there's a big stack of boxes on the back porch. They're marked "kitchen", "bedroom" "personals". They yours? I thought we had everything all unpacked. You know what they are?"

Xander shook his head. "Nope, but it can't be anything important. Nothing can interfere with our happiness now. It's just you and me, Babe. Just you and me."

The End

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