Disclaimer: I don't own any characters you recognize from BtVS or Angel.

The place was already swarming with uniforms, CSU and reporters when I pulled into the drive of the Giles place. I ignored the vultures shoving microphones and questions at me as I ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and approached the nearest uniformed cop. I flashed my badge. "Detective Gunn. Where is it?"

"Back of the property." He pointed in the direction of the scene and I nodded and started the long trek across pristine green lawns that went on for what seemed like miles in every direction, broken up by trees here, a pond and a horse barn there. And there was the house, of course. Mansion wasn't even big enough to describe it. The place was palatial—about the exact opposite of the place I grew up in L.A.

But, as I reminded myself almost daily, this sure as hell wasn't L.A. It was Sunnydale, home to some of the weirdest shit I'd ever seen on the job and to the ridiculously wealthy Giles family. As I was mentally cursing the rich, my phone rang.

"Gunn."

"Where are you?" It was my partner, Wright, impatient as usual.

"I'm about two minutes out."

"From the property?" She demanded. I snorted and cast a glance around at the sheer expanse of land that made up the Giles property. "Nah, from you. It's like running a damn marathon just to get to the tool shed."

"Jealous?" She asked in that cool, taunting way of hers. I hung up the phone without a reply. I could see the small crowd of my colleagues milling around a very old looking stone shed. My partner's blonde head stood out amongst them as she stood just outside the structure talking with one of the Forensics guys. It wasn't until I sidled up next to her that I realized what I was looking at wasn't a shed. "A crypt?"

"Isn't the irony delicious?"

The grin on my partner's face was just a little creepy so I looked away from her and into the dark tomb. "So what have we got?"

What we had was a dead body with a cracked skull and a puddle of blood. He was face down and wearing a suit that most likely cost more than I made in three months.

"William Donovan," Wright said, consulting her notepad. "Thirty-eight." The medical examiners finished up their photos and flipped the body over. I threw the name around in my mind. William Donovan was often in the papers, both in the business section and society pages. Lifeless blue eyes stared up at me once they'd flipped him and I frowned. No matter how beautiful a person was alive, death was always ugly.

"Cause of death?" I figured it was probably blunt force trauma, and the M.E. confirmed it as he snapped more pictures. "Time of death approximately ten-thirty last night," he added.

"Who discovered him?" There was no one at the scene that wasn't a cop and no one at the scene that I needed to talk to. Wright slipped on her sunglasses and glanced at her notebook again. "Liam D'Angelo. He's up at the house with the rest of them." She didn't need to clarify who them was. I was willing to bet that the entire Giles clan and a full team of crack lawyers would be waiting anxiously to stonewall us.

Mix high profile family, small town and murder together and what have you got?

"It's gonna be a long day." I started back the way I came, after a minute noticing I was sans-partner. "Wright, move it!" I didn't have the time or inclination to dick around. This case would have made a lot of other detectives salivate, but I had little patience for the wealthy and privileged and could already feel the headache starting.

Still no partner. I stopped and turned to see her on her cell phone and spitting mad. It didn't faze me; she often got that look on her face when speaking to the Boss. "Darla!" I yelled. "I ain't got all day here!"

Her response was to turn her back on me and continue her argument. I sent a glare her way but couldn't stop the smirk. With a shake of my head I trudged on alone into the snake pit.

I was half right. There weren't any lawyers I could see -- probably waiting in the next room, but there was what looked like much of the Giles clan spread about the cavernous living room. Every one of them looked anxious and nervous. I introduced myself and tried to gauge what the mood of the room was as I started my preliminary questioning.

"I found him this morning at around nine thirty," Liam D'Angelo said calmly. He was tall and dark and wasn't showing anything to suggest he was upset by the death. He apparently knew what I was going to ask next because he said, "I was walking the property with the dogs and they went straight to the crypt. I followed and found him."

I made a note. "Do you all live here?"

"No," said the red-head who was on the couch with her arm around the shoulders of a small blonde who'd obviously been crying. "Neither Angel," she nodded towards Mr. D'Angleo. "Or I live here."

I nearly snorted aloud but covered it with a cough. Angel? That was one of the stupidest nicknames I'd ever heard on a man, but the rich always did have odd names like Chip or Pemberton. "And you are?"

"Willow." She didn't bother with a last name and I didn't ask. The woman was wearing what I called neo-hippie and looked suitably upset by the death. I understood that the daughter might come home to support her family in the crisis, but I didn't get why D'Angelo was there and said as much.

"We had a party last night," said another man; one with an eye patch and a defensive stance. "Angel, Willow and several others stayed overnight."

"Including Mr. Donovan?"

"Yes. My father's putting together a guest list right now." He paused very briefly. "Have you got any questions for me? I have to get to work."

"Xander!" The blonde on the couch admonished furiously. "Spike's dead!"

"Yeah, Buffy, I know."

Well, now, wasn't that interesting? "One," I said. "Where were you between ten and eleven p.m. last night?" Surprisingly he didn't look offended at the question, unlike most people when they realized they were part of a murder investigation.

"With my daughter. She'd had a nightmare and I stayed with her until she fell asleep, around twenty after eleven. Then I came back to the party. Ask the Delaneys for corroboration; they were with me when Sylvia came downstairs." He pulled out his wallet and handed me a business card. "You can reach me at these numbers when you've got more questions."

I took the card, frankly surprised at the man's attitude. "Expect my call." Xander Giles would definitely be looked into. "Thanks for your cooperation." He nodded and left the room without a backward glance for anyone else. I pocketed the card and turned back to the family.

"So, Spike?"

The blonde, Buffy, stood and poured herself a drink. "His nickname." She took a healthy swallow of whatever was in her glass. "This is a nightmare! Who would want to kill Spike?"

That was what I intended to find out.