The Burbank Team

Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or any of the characters in the series. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters in the series.

Author's Notes: This story is set in an Alternate Universe. A number of canon events didn't happen or happened differently in the series.

Chapter 1: The Spy

California, Burbank, Buy More, March 17th, 2008

John Casey hated Mondays. It was a recent development - in his line of work, one didn't have a nine to five, five days a week job. No, for a spy, a mission could start anytime, anywhere, and one was never off duty. At most, one was merely resting and recuperating while waiting for the next mission.

At least that was how it should be. How it had been for years. Ever since Lt. Alexander Coburn had died in the jungle of Honduras, leaving his fiancée and family, and John Casey had started working for the NSA. His country had needed him, and John, still Alex at the time, had answered the call. Had chosen to abandon his family. Abandon Kathleen. All to serve the USA.

And served he had. For almost twenty years, he had fought and killed for the NSA. He had made the world and his country a safer place. He had made a difference - something few men could claim. The sacrifices he had made had been worth it.

But he hadn't sacrificed everything so he could work in a goddamn mall as a goddamn clerk, dealing with goddamn braindead customers who tended to come in on a Monday morning while everyone else on the staff was hiding in the restroom or the breakroom, bitching about work!

"Where are your TVs?"

He rolled his eyes as he heard the whining voice before he turned around, baring his teeth in what no sane man would consider a smile. "Over in the home electronics section, ma'am," he told the old woman. She wasn't carrying; the scanner they had hidden in the entrance would have picked up a gun. And she didn't seem to be a spy in disguise - but you never knew.

"I mean the TVs, not the computer thingies."

"Yes, ma'am. The TVs are just behind the computer section." How could she have missed them? They covered the entire back wall. She didn't seem to be blind, and if she were, she wouldn't need a TV in the first place. A spy wouldn't act like that - unless they counted on that reaction, of course.

"No, they aren't there. I looked everywhere."

One of those. It was too damn early for that. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Please follow me, ma'am, I'll show you."

"I better hope so, yes," the old woman replied. "This store isn't really organised, is it? You shouldn't need help to find what you are looking for, should you?"

"No, ma'am," he agreed as they walked into the electronics section. No one else from the pathetic bunch of losers that passed for the staff here was around. The only one present was Bartowski, manning the Nerd Herd booth. No customers, either - which was a good thing. Any customer could be a threat; The Chameleon was still at large. Still out there, waiting for a chance to kill them.

"Morning, Casey!" Bartowski waved at him, smiling. "How are you doing?"

John grunted in response.

"I see you're busy. We can talk later. Bye!"

John rolled his eyes again. Chuck - Bartowski - still didn't get it. The guy was too naive. He shouldn't be - he had a body count in the double-digits, even if you didn't count demons and vampires - but Bartowski still didn't understand spies. Not really.

Bloody rookie.

But they had reached the home entertainment section, at last. "Here are the TVs, ma'am," John said, pointing the biggest in the middle.

"No."

What?

"I said the TVs, not the computer thingies," the old woman told him.

John blinked. Did she...? "Do you want to buy a CRT TV?" he asked.

"I want a normal TV, like the one I had before. Not a computer thingie."

"Sorry, ma'am, but we only sell those modern TVs. Did you try a thrift shop?"

"You don't sell TVs?" The old woman looked as if he had told her that they performed satanic rituals in the basement on Sundays. Which wouldn't have been entirely incorrect, as Brown-Smythe would word it.

"We don't sell the TVs you want, ma'am." Now she understood and would, hopefully, leave.

"But your ad said that you sold the best TVs at the lowest prices! That's false advertising! I want to see the manager!"

Shooting customers would break cover, John reminded himself. And the Agency had ordered them to keep their cover - even though Fulcrum knew about them thanks to the traitor. They were playing bait - something John hated. He much preferred to hunt. Although… he grinned. "The manager isn't here, yet," he told the woman. "But I can refer you to the assistant manager."

Bartowski could deal with the old woman. He was good at that.

"...and it's false advertising! I'm going to sue! You don't have the best TVs in the shop!"

"Please, ma'am, we do have the best and newest TVs in stock."

John ignored Bartowski's grimace and walked away. The nerd could handle an old woman. And if he couldn't… well, she wasn't a threat. A little customer service frustration wouldn't kill him. Probably.

Not that John would let the nerd get killed. Not on his watch. Someone had to keep their wits, anyway, what with everyone else in this sorry excuse for a team acting in a very unprofessional manner by getting involved with their teammates or coworkers. Of course, Bane might actually be acting professionally and seducing Grimes as part of her secret orders. Not that that was a good thing, anyway. Just another kind of threat. Another threat he couldn't deal with as he liked.

"Excuse me… never mind!"

Watching the man all but run away from him, John slowly unclenched his teeth. What a wimp. He shook his head and moved past the camping section to the sports section. That was a critical spot. The scanners would alert them if anyone tried to smuggle weapons into the store, but here, any assassin could grab whatever weapon they needed: Knives. Machetes. Axes. Entrenching tools. Even crossbows. The only weapons the store didn't offer were firearms.

It was probably some weird Californian policy that demonised guns! John shook his head. He couldn't dwell on that - he had a mission to accomplish. And he would accomplish it, no matter what obstacles the general, his coworkers or anyone else threw at him.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!"

That seemed to be aimed at him. John slowly turned. Another customer. Male, middle-aged, fat. And that t-shirt showed that it wasn't a fat suit. "Yes?" John growled. Sometimes, that frightened off annoyances.

Not this time, though. "I am looking for a tent. A comfortable tent. We're going camping, you know. In Sequoia."

John hadn't known and didn't care. "The camping section is right here, sir," he said.

"Yes, but I need some help picking the right tent."

John narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. "What do you need?"

"Uh… we're going camping, as I said. In Sequoia."

He rolled his eyes. Some people… "How many are you? How long will you be camping? Are you going to be armed?"

"Uh, my wife and the kids, so four, and about… armed?"

"There are bears in the Sequoia National Park," John informed the moron. "Mountain lions as well. And wolverines."

"Uh… but they're not really dangerous, are they? There are rangers, right?"

"Any of those animals can kill you, then hunt down your family before a ranger will be notified, much less intervene." John sneered at the man's naivety. You couldn't trust your life to anyone you didn't know.

The customer was shaking. "It's a National Park!"

"Full of dangerous animals." And morons underestimating the danger. "Why do you think you have to store everything that smells in metal boxes? That's so the bears won't rip your car open while they search for food."

"Uh… perhaps I should rethink our vacation plans…"

"Yes."

The man moved away as if he expected a bear to jump him inside the store. John shook his head again. Morons.

"That wasn't nice."

He didn't jerk. He slowly turned around and glared at the girl - the young woman - grinning at him. She had managed to sneak up on him. Again.

"Funny, but not nice," Caridad said, walking up to him. She was wearing the Wienerlicious uniform, he noticed - it wasn't as if you could miss it. Not when it showed more leg than most bathing suit competitions. More cleavage, too. And Caridad both knew it and showed it off.

"I wasn't aware that the store was already open again," he said.

Her grin widened. "Oh, the repairs are going to take a few more days. But until then, we're opening a stall in the food court. Like for Game Night."

"Ah." It was a smart idea - it would allow Walker, Bane and Caridad to be inside the store without endangering their cover. "Walker's idea?"

"Yes." She frowned for a moment. "Anyway, we'll be here for at least this week. Free food for you!"

He grunted a reply. It was fast food, and not good fast food, but better than what he had eaten in the army, and on a number of missions. And it would allow him to connect with Walker and the others without drawing attention. Of course, Fulcrum wouldn't be fooled, but that didn't mean they had to act unprofessionally. And it meant they could support each other better.

"And we can eat together!"

Unprofessionally, like getting involved with a coworker. John wasn't like Waker or Bane. And Caridad was a little too young for him, anyway.

And a little too inhuman.

He nodded. It would be a decent cover for intel exchanges outside The Castle. Not as safe - but then, the base had been compromised by Shaw, and the team doing the repair work might contain a plant as well - unlikely as it was, it wasn't impossible. Especially with the brainwashing gear Fulcrum had.

"Good!" Caridad beamed at him. "See you there." She sniffed the air. "Looks like we're clear."

John grunted in return as the Slayer left. She was swaying her hips, he noticed. And knew she noticed him noticing. But she was also moving just too damn smoothly. Inhuman. Not even Sensei could move like that after decades of training - and she hadn't had more than a few years of that.

He turned back to check the camping section. Slayers. Supernatural predators. Imbued with the essence of some demon or spirit - neither of the nerds had been very specific when they had briefed John. Probably a demon, then. And that granted them superhuman strength, toughness, speed - and grace - and senses. And they got fighting skills on top of it.

He drew a slow breath. Life wasn't fair. He knew that very well. Only numbskulls and idiots refused to accept it. And ranting about something you couldn't change was pointless. He still didn't like it. He had worked hard. He had earned his skills and experience. He hadn't one day woken up as a killing machine.

John passed the home improvement section, glaring at the kid who was eyeing the power tool section - shoplifter; Casey knew the look by now. The kid flinched, which confirmed his guess, and hastily moved away.

Bartowski was still dealing with the old woman. If you could call getting ranted at by a delusional moron 'dealing'. But there were no actual threats around that John could see - and while he might not have the nose of a bloodhound, unlike a Slayer, he was good at spotting spies.

Still no sign of the usual bunch of morons. There was Grimes, trying to talk a young couple into buying a home entertainment set far beyond their means. Anna was at the customer service desk, looking both bored and annoyed - normal for her. But the slime demon and his creep friend were probably still in the break room. John glared at Bartowski. As assistant manager, it was his job to supervise and chastise them. It was just a cover, but that didn't mean you got to skimp on it.

Bartowski, for a chance, seemed to have noticed his glare. He looked confused and mouthed 'what?' back at John.

John pointedly looked around the store still bereft of staff, then tapped his watch.

Bartowski checked his watch, then shook his head. He must have thought John wanted a break. Typical. You could implant a set of spy skills into someone, but you couldn't make them spies. Being a spy was more than just having the skills. It was the experience that made you a spy. Bartowski might be almost as good at fighting as John, if the Intersect decided to work, but he didn't have the instincts that came with experience.

Unlike Slayers.

Damn. He was thinking about them again. He should be focusing on his mission. Or on the store. Not on superpowered chicks.

And now he was thinking of Lehane. Faith. One-night stands were supposed to be easy. Just a man and a woman, having some fun for a night. No consequences, unless you were a moron and didn't use protection. Just the thing to unwind after a bloody mission. No ties, no regrets. No messy relationships.

Well, he didn't have the ties or the regrets. And no messy relationship. But he was still dealing with the consequences. And the memories. It was one thing to see a Slayer move and fight with supernatural grace. It was another to sleep with one. And then wonder if that was Faith, or any Slayer. And question whether Caridad pursuing him was just 'a Slayer thing', as Faith had called it. John was sure it was like that for Vi. Pretty sure.

Damn.

Perhaps things would make more sense if he hadn't failed Seduction School. Twice. If he could just…

He narrowed his eyes. The shoplifter was now in the electronics section, going through the video games bin. John kept his eyes on the teenager as he slowly approached him. As he had been taught: Don't go straight towards your target - use an oblique approach if you haven't been exposed yet.

Then the kid slipped a game under his jacket. Hah!

He tackled the thief as soon as he had left the store and completed the theft. No one robbed a store under John's watch!

"Great work, Casey! That's the fifth shoplifter you caught this year! Everyone, give Casey here a big applause!" Big Mike announced.

John didn't mind the cheering, half-hearted as it was, but he could've done without the meaty hand on his shoulder. The manager meant well, but personal boundaries were there for a reason. There was a very limited number of people John wouldn't mind being so close to him, and none of them were here - or even in the city.

"You made ace!"

He gritted his teeth upin hearing that. Damned civilians, making a mockery of the military. John had learned the names of every ace in the corps, once. Catching a few scumbag criminals wasn't the same as shooting down enemy planes! He was about to shrug the man's hand off, but Big Mike released him anyway.

"Now, I didn't just call you all here to celebrate Casey bagging shoplifters, but to present a new employee. Everyone, this is Federica Hernàndez. She's starting today, so give her a warm welcome."

The young woman - early twenties in his estimate - who entered the already full break room looked more like a model than a sales clerk. A face fit for a billboard, John's mother would have described her, and the Buy More uniform couldn't hide the fact that she had a body to match.

"Hi!" she said, blushing slightly as the horndogs among the staff - which were the vast majority - cheered her. "I'm happy to be here!"

Slight accent, John noted. Spanish or Mexican - but it was too faint to tell. Or it was faked.

"She'll be starting in your section, Chuck, so keep the rest of you from scaring her away, will you?" Big Mike was joking, but that was entirely possible given the likes of Jeff and Lester.

Or would, in this case. John was almost certain that Hernàndez was a spy.

"...and this is the Ned Herd desk. If any customer has trouble with their computer, mobile phone or other electronic device, you can refer them to us," Bartowski said. "One of us will be present here at all times. Or at least in the vicinity."

"Ah, I see." Hernàndez nodded eagerly. "I will. Thank you."

"You can come ask us, too," Lester added with a smile that would get him convicted by any decent jury, in John's opinion. Jeff, standing next to the creep, nodded so eagerly, John expected slime droplets to hit the floor.

The woman's smile grew forced and she glanced at Bartowski as she replied: "Ah… thank you?"

She was good - Bartowski was eating it up.

"Jeff! Lester! Back off! You've got appointments to keep, so get going! Shoo!" The nerd turned to Hernàndez as soon as the two creeps scurried off. "I'm sorry - they're a little, uh, special. If they give you any trouble, call me, OK?"

"Ok!" And the friendly smile was back. "Thank you." She leaned towards Bartowski, and John would have missed her next words, if he hadn't bugged the desk long ago. "And what about the scary man behind the aisle there?"

She had made him, John realised. That confirmed his suspicion.

"Who? Casey?" Bartowski asked. John met his eyes and glanced pointedly at the spy. "Uh, he's just looking for more shoplifters. He does that as a hobby, don't worry."

What a moron! John glared at him, but Bartowski didn't seem to understand what he was doing.

Goddamn it.

"A spy?" Bartowski asked, apparently surprised.

"Yes." Taking a big bite out of his free hot dog, John refrained from adding 'you moron'. He glared at a customer who approached their table in the food court until the idiot veered off. This was a private discussion.

"I didn't flash on her. Of course, that doesn't mean anything, but… a spy? Are you sure?"

Of course he wasn't. Not at this point. He grumbled: "Shy, friendly, pretty girl gets hired, latches on to you, acting as if she has a crush? Spy."

Bartowski frowned at him. "Hey! Just because she is friendly and seems to like me doesn't mean that she's a spy."

"Yeah," Grimes chimed in. "Chuck's pretty popular with girls. Like Sarah."

John rolled his eyes at the inane comment while Bartowski frowned at his friend. "Sarah is a spy, Morgan."

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, we can' just assume that she's a spy," Bartowski went on.

Of course they could. And they should - spies who weren't properly suspicious didn't live long. Something the moron hadn't learned yet - and something Walker should've taught him.

"He means no killing her," Grimes added.

"What? Yes, no killing new hires on the off-chance that they might be spies, Casey!"

"Of course not," he said between finishing his meal.

"Uh, good."

John snorted. You didn't kill a spy you spotted - you used them to feed your enemy fake intel.

Of course, deciding what kind of disinformation you'd fed to an enemy spy was usually the task of mission command - John would inform the general and wait for instructions. But in this case, it was possible that 'Hernàndez' had been sent by the general, which meant that he couldn't follow standard operating procedure.

And with Bartowski too naive to handle this, Walker compromised by her relationship to the nerd, and Bane being a possible traitor as well, that left John to make the call. He didn't like that, but if he had issues with doing something he didn't like, he would never have become a spy.

And there came the spy, to make her move. John watched as Hernàndez approached their table. She was carrying a tray with a sandwich on it and a soda. No cutlery that could serve as improvised weapons, but she could be hiding a few blades under her uniform - like John. Though an assassin would probably take a different tack. Isolate a target to strike, or poison the food and drink - there was a reason John was the one stocking up the snacks and drinks in the break room.

"H-Hi," the woman said. "Do you mind if I eat with you?"

John had to give her props - she sold the shy new guy looking to make friends act perfectly. Even with his own warning, Bartowski was falling for it.

"Of course not! Sit down!"

"Yes, yes," Grimes added with a smile almost as stupid as Bartowski's.

John grunted, not taking his eyes off the spy.

"Please excuse Casey; he's not the most sociable before… well, actually, that's him being him," Bartowski said.

"Oh."

John didn't contest the description, of course - he didn't want to be social with the staff here. And certainly not with the customers.

The woman sat down. "Thank you. Oh - are the hot dogs good? I didn't look around much - I worked up an appetite on your tour, Chuck." She beamed at the nerd, who ate it up. Pathetic. Bartowski should now better than to fall for the cute girl act. Especially after John had warned him.

"Oh, yes, they are good," Grimes replied. "Our girlfriends make them," he added.

"Oh?" Hernàndez's smile faded a little at the information. And a little more as she looked at the Wienerlicious stall, where Walker, Bane and Caridad were busy. Just as a girl with a growing crush on the assistant manager would react to hearing that he was taken. "Ah."

She was evaluating the competition, John knew. Trying to decide if she had a shot at seducing the nerd. She would have been briefed in advance, of course, but nothing beat a first-hand impression - files never gave you the complete picture.

"So… who's who? I mean, who's with whom?" she asked, wagging her finger while pointing at the stall.

"Sarah's Chuck's girlfriend," Grimes obliged her, pointing at Walker. "Kirsten is my girlfriend," he added, smiling at Bane.

"And she's with Casey?" Hernàndez asked, pointing at Caridad.

John saw the Slayer perk up with a grin and almost groaned. Of course, she would be listening in!

"Uh…" Grimes trailed off, and John glared at him.

"It's complicated," Bartowski said. "Very complicated."

"Oh."

Caridad was now frowning at them, John noticed. And Hernàndez was eyeing him. Damn - had he just become her primary target? He had failed Seduction School twice, tangling with a spy like her would be a challenge. Especially with Caridad already glaring at her.

He clenched his teeth and frowned at Bartowski until the nerd cringed. This was all his fault!

California, Burbank, The Castle, March 17th, 2008

"She's a spy," John said, crossing his arms as he leaned against an undamaged part of the wall in the main room of the base.

"We don't know that!" Bartowski retorted, frowning at him. The nerd started to cross his arms as well, then realised how stupid that would have made him look, sitting with his leg propped up.

"That means we'll have to treat her as an enemy spy until we know," John told him.

"We can't just assume that anyone new is a spy!"

John snorted and glanced at Walker.

"We have to, Chuck," she said after briefly frowning at John. "If she isn't a spy, then there's no harm done, but if she is…"

"She certainly is acting suspiciously," Caridad added. The Slayer was standing near the door, a deep frown on her face. No surprise there.

"How so?" Grimes asked. The glare he got in return made him flinch. Wimp.

"She's trying to seduce Casey."

"That's not grounds for suspicion," Bartowski replied. "Perhaps she likes the tall, dark and, uh, grumpy type?"

John clenched his teeth.

"She was after Chuck before," Caridad said. "She only switched to Casey because he wasn't in a relationship."

Or because she knew that John had made her, and wanted to take him out.

"If Fulcrum or the CIA sent her, she would have known Chuck and Morgan are in relationships," Bane pointed out. "Obviously switching her interest is a valid tactic, though it might not fit her cover personality. A 'girl next door' generally doesn't act like that.

"'Girl next door'?" Bartowski asked.

"Someone to appeal to Casey's protective instincts and red, white and blue ideals," Bane explained. "A 'vamp' on the other hand wouldn't back off just because someone's in a relationship."

"Ah."

John rolled his eyes. Bane would be speaking from experience. Very personal experience. "I wouldn't fall for either," he said.

"You fell for Carina," Walker said.

He gritted his teeth at the memory of that humiliation, but before he could refute the implication that he would fall for that ploy again, Bane spoke up: "In my briefing for this mission, I was informed about Casey's weakness for spies. Although it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to play the innocent girl since you all knew I was a spy, so they never even considered another cover. That wouldn't be the case for Hernàndez."

"If she's CIA. She might be Fulcrum," Walker added.

"Or she's not a spy at all, just a nice girl trying to make friends at her new job," Bartowski said.

Moron. John rolled his eyes. He wasn't the only one - even Walker gave Bartowski a look.

"What?" Bartowski tried to defend himself. "I'm just pointing out a very valid possibility. Not every new staff member at the Buy More is a spy!" Yes, the nerd was still too naive. "And if we focus on her, we might miss the actual spy - The Chameleon is still out there, somewhere."

That was actually a valid point. John nodded. "You're right."

"I am? I mean, of course."

He bared his teeth. "She's a decoy meant to distract us."

Bartowski stared at him, his mouth half-open, but the professionals at the table nodded in agrrement.

"Alright. I'll, uh, do some hacking and see if Federica has some skeletons in her closet," Bartowski said. "Figuratively - you already cleared her for demonic influence, right?"

"She's not a vamp or demon, but that doesn't mean she's not working for one," Caridad said.

John forced himself not to tense up too much. Demons. He hadn't considered that angle. And he should have. They didn't just have to deal with enemy spies, but with enemies from hell. Literally. If President Reagan had known about this other realm of evil…

He shook his head. Most demons, as he understood, knew not just about Caridad, but knew her on sight. At least in Los Angeles. That meant anyone who paid attention would know Grimes and Brown-Smythe, and, by extension, everyone in John's team. And demons weren't all dumb monsters who only thought about the next meal. There were also the kind of monsters that had run Wolfram & Hart. If even half of Caridad's stories were true, they could execute an infiltration mission with the best of them.

That meant John couldn't handle this alone. He would have to work with Caridad.

Goddamn it.

California, Los Angeles, Echo Park, March 17th, 2008

"So, uh, I'll call you if we find something suspicious in Federica's past, OK?"

John looked around if anyone was listening in - their homes were known to their enemies, after all, and a parabolic mike had a large range. Bartowski's declaration that he'd be calling his father for help with the investigation wouldn't tip off anyone about Orion's presence, but with a few more such hints? The moron wasn't as subtle as he should be.

John glared at him to remind him of that, nodded and entered his home. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It wasn't just Bartowski's lack of proper operational security or his naivety about potential threats - Walker should have taught the moron better - but his father…

John didn't like Orion. All things said, the man was a traitor. A deserter, at least. When faced with choosing his family or his country, he had chosen his family - even though the Bartowskis would have been fine if he had toed the line and followed orders. That wasn't how a patriot acted.

Not that there were too many patriots around, anyway, he thought with a glance at the autographed picture on his desk. Not like him. John hadn't met Reagan while he had been president, but it remained one of his most treasured memories.

Walker wouldn't choose her country over Bartowski. Bane probably wouldn't either. Caridad, Grimes and Brown-Smythe weren't even nominally working for the USA. Hell, even John himself was planning to quit the service - for reasons that weren't his fault at all.

It wasn't deserting. He would still be serving the country. He would just be working for another organisation.

It didn't feel right, of course. But it was the best he could do. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

He took a few deep breaths to centre himself, as Sensei had taught him. Or tried to teach him. But he was calmer, at least. He walked over to the stereo and hit the shuffle.

'Cherry, Cherry' started.

Good.

He grabbed a glass and the bottle from the cabinet and sat down to drink and listen for a while.

And think.

Until someone knocking on his window disturbed him. Knock. Knock knock.

Caridad. He checked the feed on his laptop to confirm her identity and found her grinning directly at the camera. As usual.

Sighing, he said: "Clear." She would hear him.

A moment later, he heard the window opening. Caridad would make a good burglar. Not a good spy, though - she was too flashy.

"Hi, Casey!"

And too emotional. He took a sip from his glass. "What did you find out about Hernàndez?"

She pouted in response. As if he didn't know she'd go after the spy! "I've tailed her to her apartment. Nothing suspicious there, and no signs of anything demony in the neighbourhood," she said, dropping a note on his table as she headed to the kitchen.

"Does the apartment fit her story?" John asked, picking up the note. The address fit - lower middle class, roughly.

"Yeah." He heard her ransack his fridge and pantry as she replied. "No gold-plated toilets or something. IKEA furniture. Normal food."

"Normal for California?"

"Yes. Healthier than yours."

He snorted - she was making a sandwich on the kitchen counter.

"Hey! I'm a Slayer; junk food won't clog my arteries."

Nor would it clog his; spies like him rarely grew old. And here were far worse ways to go than suffering a heart attack. "Was the furniture new?"

"Most of it had that new smell."

Ah. Perfect for a young woman moving out of her parents' house for the first time. And for a spy's cover. "What about her car?"

"She was using the bus."

That made him frown. How unamerican. She probably had a car available in a garage nearby. "No weapons. No car. And a perfect cover story, I bet." Yes, she was a decoy. Meant to make them focus on her, waste time and resources looking for her angle while the real threat remained unnoticed. Unless it was a double-bluff, and Hernàndez was merely waiting until they started looking for the next spy and relaxed surveillance on her.

Her response didn't make it past the five inches of sandwich in her mouth in a form that could be understood. After swallowing a significant part of his food budget, she tried again: "So, what now?"

"We'll keep her under surveillance." And hope the morons didn't spill more intel.

"We can do that." She nodded.

"We can handle her," he corrected her. She had another job.

She frowned. "Refusing assistance isn't very professional."

"You've got your own mission."

"So? I can handle it." She finished the sandwich, which would have given Big Mike pause, licking her lips. "I can handle a lot," she added in what might have been a husky voice with a little more training and started walking towards him with that unnatural grace of hers.

He still felt himself reacting to her and clamped down on that. It was unprofessional. Even though, technically, she was in a different organisation. Like Carina. He shook his head, both at her and at the memories, before she reached him.

She narrowed her eyes in response, and, for a moment, he felt a chill run down his spine as he saw her turn into something not human. Something dangerous. Exciting. Then she pouted, and the feeling vanished. "I know you want me."

He grunted at the words. They weren't in a teenage movie. Or a Harlequin novel. "I don't mix business and private life."

She scoffed at that. "Chuck and Sarah do. And Morgan and Kirsten."

"That doesn't mean it's right." Or smart.

"And you slept with Faith." Her voice became more clipped. Angrier. As usual when the topic came up.

He tensed. "That was a mistake." One he didn't intend to repeat.

She snorted but sat down on the couch instead of pushing on. "You need to relax, Casey. Really. Nothing good comes of suppressing that," she said, staring at his groin for emphasis. "Really - there was tons of bad stuff happening in Sunnydale because of such hangups."

"I'm not a teenager any more. Haven't been for a long time."

She rolled her eyes at that. "And if you had been a bad boy in high school, you could've been my dad," she replied with a snort.

He hadn't meant to bring up the age difference. It wasn't as if either of them cared about it, anyway - not given the lives they led. He shrugged, not really having a response.

After a moment, she huffed. "You're too stubborn."

He relaxed a little. "Right."

"You can't resist me forever."

"Watch me."

"Oh, I am."

He chuckled, once. They had gone over this before.

She sighed, and leaned back on the couch, stretching - and arching her back and pushing her chest out in that exaggerated way he knew meant she wasn't quite as serious any more.

He watched, taking another sip. This was safe. Frustrating but safe. She was right - he did want her. She was attractive. Very attractive. But she was also inhuman. And dangerous. More dangerous than himself. Probably. Stronger, faster, tougher. Not as experienced, but she was learning.

He wanted her anyway, but he also...

He forced that thought away. Hell, sleeping with a coworker was unprofessional, and he was a spy. And she was a Slayer. She just wanted the challenge.

California, Burbank, Buy More, March 18th, 2008

"...and Dad didn't find anything linking her to the CIA or Fulcrum. She really seems to be just a normal girl," Bartowski whispered, hunched over at the Nerd Herd desk.

"She's Fulcrum, then," John replied in a low voice. Given how deeply the deserter had penetrated the CIA - and the NSA - it was unlikely that they were behind the woman. "

"We don't know that," Bartowski tried to argue. "I said Dad hasn't found anything linking her to Fulcrum!"

John scoffed in response. "He hasn't found anything linking the spies we captured or killed to other Fulcrum assets, has he?"

"Well, no, but… that's a little more difficult than checking out a person."

"No, it's not." Not for Orion. John caught movement behind Bartowski, and his eyes widened. "Head's up! Spy behind you!"

The moron gasped and whirled around - and froze.

"Hi, guys," Walker said as she joined them, then frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Bartowski complained with what probably should have been a glare at John. "Casey was just trying to be funny."

John snorted. "He filled me in about the computer intel update," he told Walker. "She's Fulcrum."

To her credit, Walker nodded. So, her skills as a spy hadn't been compromised by her relationship with Bartowski. Yet.

The moron, of course, didn't like that. "Oh, no - not you too! Why is it so unbelievable that a girl is just a girl and not a spy or demon in disguise?"

"Because the world doesn't work that way," John told him. "Not our world."

Bartowski blinked. "Uh… do you mean world as in the world, or is that a euphemism for, like, the spy world?"

"What do you think?" John spat, then turned around and walked away. He had a camping section to watch.

Where, as he realised, Hernàndez was looking at the entrenching tools. Even worse, the way she smiled when she saw him coming her way, she must have been waiting for him.

Goddamn it.