I don't own anything BtVS or AtS.
Pairings: B/A, B/R friendship, S/D, G/J, X/Anya
This is the last one I have that I know I can complete. Knock on wood, it'll be 9 chapters. -Hope you like it.
Ed Hardin entered the L.A.P.D. with annoyance before glancing over the officers gathering inside. "Johnson," he called.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Get in here," he ordered as he walked into his office and took a seat at the desk. He looked up as Johnson walked in before leaning back in his chair. "The woman that took our flag was working for the mayor?"
"Yeah. She said it had some damage on the edge and she wanted to repair it."
He nodded. He'd heard it yesterday when he'd asked about the flag's disappearance, and he reached for the newspaper he'd picked up earlier before holding it out to his deputy.
The younger man took it and glanced at the headline stating the police department's flag had been stolen before shaking his head. "Andrew jumped the gun." He held the paper back out to his superior.
"The article continues on page 8," the police chief said coolly and watched as Johnson furrowed his brow before flipping through the pages. He took a moment to skim the rest of the article before looking at his boss incredulously.
"I didn't see a note." He hesitated before shaking his head. "And there's no way the woman that took our flag could break into a museum. I mean, she looked like my grandmother."
The police chief nodded. "She's clearly a nut, but it makes us look bad." He tapped a finger against his desk. "I want you to put up a new flag and remove the note Andrew says is taped to the pole. Maybe that'll stop the media from asking embarrassing questions."
"It'll help," Johnson agreed, "but what about the Batman comic she says she's going to steal?"
Ed Hardin scowled as he thought about the mayor's anti-crime reelection campaign... and the exhibit of law enforcement items that were going to be on display at the museum... including a number one Batman comic. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "The museum has alarms, cameras, security guards. I don't think there's anything to worry about. We'll just answer any questions the reporters have with 'no comment'. It should be a done deal when the crazy lady..."
"Nemesis," Johnson added helpfully.
"Yes," the police chief agreed dryly. "As I was saying it should be a non-issue when *Nemesis* fails to steal the comic and it's returned to the governor."
A few days later: April 16th
Jim Jones stood in the museum and looked at his watch. It was almost two am, and he looked over the room that was lit with minimal lighting before glancing at the comic book. Everything looked fine, and he went to check some of the other rooms. He didn't see the black clad figure shift out from behind a column before starting toward the comic book display.
When the night guard walked through again, the comic was gone, and in its place was a note stating the next item she was stealing was the gold coin that Bill Bailey had just won on ebay. There was an address and a date... and it was signed Nemesis.
April 17th
Ed Hardin looked up when the door to his office opened before settling back in his chair when he saw the cop that had opened it. "Did you talk to Baily?"
"Yeah," Bernie answered, "and he says he doesn't have the coin yet. It's in the mail and set to be delivered four days from now."
"I wonder how our thief knew about it?" Hardin asked thoughtfully.
Bernie shrugged. "He posted on twitter that he had the winning bid... and promised to put up pictures when he received it."
The chief of police rubbed at his forehead before looking back at Bernie. "I hate social media," he growled. Silence fell before Hardin gave a shake of his head. "I want cops stationed at..." he broke off. "Is he going to be home when it arrives?"
The deputy nodded. "He said he's taking a vacation day."
"Alright," Hardin murmured thoughtfully. "I want cops stationed at the post office and Bailey's house on Tuesday morning. If anyone sees a sixty year old woman acting strange, I want her questioned and possibly brought in. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Bernie answered instantly.
"Good. Hopefully the old broad will try to steal it and we can catch her." He got up to look out the window. "This is becoming embarrassing."
April 24th
Maggie Walsh looked at the man that had just walked into her office. "Hello, Ed. What can I do for you?"
The police chief took a seat. "Have you been keeping up with the latest on Nemesis?"
"Some," the well dressed woman answered. "She's pulled off three robberies hasn't she?"
"Yes. Our police department's flag, a museum exhibit, and a rare gold coin that was delivered on the same day she stole it." He hesitated. "The coin arrived without a problem... and we thought it was a done deal, but then Bailey got a phone call around 11 that night telling him to check his safe. He did, and the coin was gone. This," he held up a note in a plastic bag before pushing it across her desk, "was left in its place."
Walsh glanced down and read the note before settling back in her chair. "So she's going to steal the Midnight Star," she broke off, glanced at a calendar, "next Friday," she murmured thoughtfully. "Isn't that a necklace?"
He nodded. "We've already been in contact with the owner." He hesitated before looking up. "I was hoping you could spare an agent or two that could help us out. I mean, it's an election year, and both the mayor and governor are getting more than a little irritated about how things are going."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I think I can spare a couple of agents."
12 am Friday morning:
Angel walked into the middle of the living room before doing a slow inventory. He took note of the large windows, doors, the open stairway... and the 6 foot safe that stood in plain sight off to the side. At least it was easy to find he mused. Mr. and Mrs. Coleman certainly hadn't tried to hide it. He frowned and walked over to look out a window. There was a large barn off to the side, a gravel road, and several acres that separated the house from the interstate that ran in front of it. There was a combination gas station and restaurant on the other side of the highway.
The door opened and closed behind him. "Right then," Spike said as he stepped into the room. "You find it mate?"
"It wasn't hard." Angel turned from the window and motioned toward the safe.
Spike whistled. "Not trying to hide anything are they?"
"No." Angel walked over to sit on the sofa. "Is everything set out there?"
"There's an unmarked car at the truck stop," Spike answered as he examined the safe, "and a black and white complete with L.A.'s finest in the barn."
Angel nodded before giving a shake of his head. "It's hard to believe Nemesis thinks she's going to walk in, open the safe, and steal the necklace with us sitting here."
Spike gave a faint grin and walked over to sit across from his partner. "You don't think she's going to be able to do it?"
Angel snorted. "I don't see how."
Spike's grin widened as he slid deeper into the chair. "I don't know... Maybe Walsh should have given the case to Finn and McDonald. They'd probably have the house wired with video cameras... Maybe put up floodlights around the yard."
"Probably," Angel agreed as he dropped his head against the back of the sofa. A companionable silence fell, and he idly glanced at his watch before sighing. It was going to be a long day, and he looked back at Spike. "Do you want to guard the safe or make the coffee?"
"You go ahead," Spike answered as he shifted the lever to bring up the footrest on the recliner. "I've got this covered."
"I'm sure the boss would be relieved to hear that," Angel answered dryly as he headed for the kitchen.
"Hey," Spike called. Angel turned back, and his partner held up a walkie-talkie before pointing to the matching one on the table. "You forgot something. What if she breaks in while you're gone and I need help?"
Angel rolled his eyes before heading toward the kitchen. "I'm like Dru," he answered. "I'll just know."
Twenty-two hours later:
"Bums," Buffy said quietly into the truck stop's payphone and listened to the older woman's tirade of indignation before the line went dead. She smiled with satisfaction before hanging up and walking back to her table and the steaming cup of coffee the waitress had just refilled.
Sliding into the booth, her gaze raked over the customers and staff as she took a sip of her drink. No one was paying attention, and she shifted her attention to the familiar landscape outside of the window. There wasn't much to see, a four lane interstate, cornfields, a stand of timber, gravel road, and a stately mansion with a horse barn off to the side.
Her manicured nails tapped lightly against the coffee cup. She'd never cared for locations like this, where the job was out in the open and she didn't have the option of disappearing into crowds or another building afterward. On the other hand, taking risks was part of the thrill. It was one of the reasons she'd started tipping off law enforcement on where she was going to strike next.
The blower under the table kicked on and started to circulate warm air, and she took a moment to luxuriate in the pleasant warmth. One good thing about the location of the Dena Coleman house was the diner within sight of it, and she once again turned her attention to the stately manor.
The lack of activity didn't fool her. She was well aware of the police car hidden in the barn, and the unmarked car in the truck stop's parking lot. They'd arrived in the predawn hours of the morning and she'd recognized them, even down to the cops that drove them. There was one car though that she hadn't recognized. The classic black convertible that was parked behind the house. Now there was a car practically screaming to be noticed. Her eyes narrowed as she wondered about the owner. She'd expected there to be a new car today. How could she not with the newspaper headlines about the FBI being called in on her case? But she hadn't expected... Buffy broke the thought with a slight shake of her head and a faint smile. Driving a car like that, especially under the right circumstances, would be a rush.
She took another sip of coffee. The FBI... She sat back as she thought about the agents she knew were in the house, probably in the room where they thought the beautiful sapphire necklace was hidden away in a safe. She shook her head. This was going to be too easy. The Midnight Star was a job that had pretty much dropped into her lap. She'd been in the right place at the right time, and the information she'd overheard from the older woman that owned the gem was too good to pass up. Her fingers absently grazed the warm coffee cup. The agents would be in for a surprise. That necklace was practically begging to be stolen. She checked her watch and saw that the diner would be closing in about fifteen minutes. Time to get the show on the road.
Dropping a tip on the table, she made her way to the bathroom before critically studying herself in the mirror. The black wig fell to her shoulders and the contact lenses made her eyes look brown. Her makeup was gothic and the black ribbon necklace that was tied high up on her throat completed the look. She carefully adjusted the scarf over her hair before sliding on a pair of thin black gloves and heading out to her car with satisfaction.
Spike sank into a chair and looked around with a bored expression. "So much for Nemesis's little challenge," he murmured as he dropped his head back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling. "I was expecting her to at least show."
"She still has time."
"Maybe another," he looked at his watch, "hour and forty minutes until it's technically tomorrow."
"Look at it this way, if she doesn't show, we can claim it's because she's too afraid to take us on," Angel answered. "Walsh might even give us a raise."
"Uh-huh... More than likely she'd decide we're overpaid since tonight would be a flop."
"I guess that's one way to look at it," Angel agreed. The doorbell rang, and they exchanged glances before the brunette got up to answer it.
"Hello Miss...?" he asked the woman on the other side.
"Winters," Buffy hoarsely supplied as she studied him. "And I was hoping I could borrow the phone. My car broke down and I'm pretty sure I need a tow." A gust of cool wind blew past her causing her to shiver, and Angel to invite her in.
He glanced toward the side of the house and caught sight of Eric, one of the local cops as he walked out of the barn with his binoculars trained on the large front window where he knew Spike was greeting their visitor. Angel gave a wave of acknowledgment before closing the door and turning to watch Buffy flip through the yellow pages with gloved hands. "I don't know the area," she murmured. "What was the name of that little town about four miles back?"
"Trinity," Spike supplied as he reached for the book she'd just pushed away. "I think there's a garage there that works on cars, although I doubt they're open now."
"Doesn't Fairview have a garage hooked to a 24 hour restaurant?" Angel glanced at the clock. It was ten twenty-five. "They might still be open."
"Yeah," Spike agreed as he flipped through the phone book and found the number he was after. "I'll give them a call."
"Thanks," Buffy murmured as she looked thoughtfully at the bleached blonde before turning to the brunette. "I'm sorry to be a bother. It's just your bad luck to be here tonight."
"Not a problem, Miss Winters," Angel answered as he watched her warily. If this was Nemesis, it should be interesting he decided as he let his gaze sweep over her.
"Cat," she offered before wincing when her sore throat caused her voice to break. "I mean, that's what my friends call me. My name's Kathy." She took a moment to pull her gloves off before running fingers over her face as if to warm them. "They tell me I always manage to land on my feet." She took a few seconds to meet Angel's careful appraisal, that vanished in an instant when he caught her watching him.
He nodded agreeably. "That's always good, especially when you have to take a fall. I'm Angel by the way."
He caught her faint smile before Spike broke in as he put down the phone. "Closed. It looks like you're going to need a lift home."
"I was afraid of that. I've got a friend that lives about twenty minutes from here." She paused to give her voice a rest before pulling her gloves back on. "Can I use the phone? It's not long distance."
"Go ahead." Spike motioned toward it, and both agents watched as she punched in a number before giving her location and asking if she could be picked up.
"He thought he could be here in half an hour." Buffy looked at the men watching as she put the phone down and couldn't stop a shiver that was half from the cold, and half from the job.
"You're freezing," Angel murmured. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Please. If you have some made." It never failed to amaze her how predictable law enforcement types were. Coffee seemed to be a necessity at a stakeout. It was perfect.
"We live on the stuff," Angel answered before turning to motion toward a glossy fashion magazine on the coffee table. "And Spike... now's probably a good time for you to catch up on that new and improved way to bleach your hair." He turned back to Buffy and noticed the smile she was giving his partner.
"Right," Spike called as he watched Angel start to lead her out of the room before reaching for his walkie-talkie. No way was he being left out of this one, but just to be safe, he'd make sure the cops were still awake. *They* could watch an empty room instead of him for a few minutes.
"Do you like cream?"
"Black's fine," Buffy answered as she pulled off her gloves and wrapped hands around the mug before studying the agent across from her. Angel. His name was Angel, and with a face like that... This had definite possibilities. "So... Angel and Spike, interesting names."
Angel's neutral gaze swept up to hers, but it was Spike that spoke, "My name's William," he broke in as he walked into the kitchen. "Spike's just a nickname I carried over from my basketball days." He topped off his coffee before his cool blue eyes landed thoughtfully on her. "His name," he motioned the cup toward his partner, "actually is Angel."
Buffy turned back to the brunette, and he gave a faint lopsided smile before taking a sip of coffee. She settled a little deeper into the chair as a silence fell before looking up uneasily. "I just realized it's after 10 on a Friday night. If you guys have plans, I can wait outside."
"We couldn't allow that. It sounds like you've already got a cold." Spike's eyes bored into her as he leaned against the counter. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. Would you like to take your coat off?"
"I'll hold on to it for a while," she answered before taking a slow sip of coffee.
"Getting back to your question about our plans," Angel murmured as he leaned back in the chair. "I guess we're expecting a guest any minute."
She frowned slightly, looked up. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding."
"Of course you're not." His gaze ran over her almost, but not quite mockingly. "We've never met her before." He leaned in closer from his spot across the table. "All we know for sure is she's small, likes to play games, and is supposed to be here before midnight."
"Yeah," Spike broke in. "If it wasn't for your car breaking down, you could be her." He eyed her carefully and took another sip of coffee.
Buffy dropped her eyes to the table. "So you guys are into blind dates... and seem okay with it being 2 to 1?" She nodded before looking up. "Does your date know that?"
"You've got it wrong," Angel answered as he settled back into the chair. "She's the one that set this up. We're just trying to accommodate her.
"Not sure that helps," she muttered a moment before her eyes met his with amusement.
The doorbell rang, and Spike and Angel exchanged looks. "I got it," the bleached blonde stated as he set his cup down and left the kitchen.
Buffy watched him before looking at Angel as she got to her feet. "Maybe I should go."
"There's no reason you can't wait here for your ride," Angel answered as he also got to his feet and glanced toward the door Spike had disappeared through. "We..." he broke off at the loud shout his partner gave before almost bolting out of the kitchen.
It was what Buffy had been waiting for, and she quickly pulled on gloves before opening the freezer and finding the package she was searching for. Satisfaction ran through her when she shoved the door closed before sliding the plastic wrapped box into her pocket and pulling out a pre-written note that she placed on the table.
Her quick movements didn't falter as she wiped gloved hands over her coffee cup before exchanging it with Angel's. With that done she took a moment to look over the room before heading toward the back door... and abruptly stopped at the sight of the beautiful black convertible sitting behind the house. Her smile widened.
Angel's quick steps slowed until he stopped at the scene that greeted him. Spike was doubled over with his hands covering his eyes and what looked like a very angry, very old woman trying to push him out the door.
"Mrs. Coleman?" Eric tried to reason with the elderly woman as he tried to maneuver between Spike and his attacker. Don't you remember? You asked us to keep the Midnight Star safe from Nemesis."
She started to turn her pepper spray toward him before stopping when she noticed his police uniform. "These men are in my sister's house, and she and my brother-in-law are not. I demand you arrest them."
"Your sister's house?" Angel asked and watched as she turned toward him.
"Yes, my twin sister's house." She looked back at Eric. "I received a phone call about 40 minutes ago stating this house was being lived in by two bums, and that my sister was at the family lodge in Switzerland."
"And you didn't think to call the police?" Angel asked with disbelief.
"I *did* call the police, and they gave me some story about that woman Nemesis. I hung up on them and decided to check things out for myself... and look," she motioned to Spike and Angel, "bums."
Eric sighed and tried to calm the agitated woman down as Angel suddenly remembered the other female in the house and went to check the kitchen. He frowned when he didn't see her before noticing the note she'd left on the table.
'Thanks for the coffee and conversation. I always like to know who I'm working with, or against. See you soon. Love, Nemesis
p.s. Thanks for the ride. She's a sweetheart.'
Dropping the note on the table, he hurried to the back door to see his car was gone.
"Spike... Angel. The boss wants to see you." Riley didn't even try to hide his amusement. "And I wouldn't keep her waiting if I were you."
Spike stared after him as he walked off. "I think we just made Finn's day."
"That was always my goal in life," Angel answered before glancing at his partner. "Ready?"
"Oh yeah," Spike muttered as he got to his feet.
Maggie Walsh looked up as the two agents entered her office before settling back in her chair. "I've spent an hour on the phone apologizing to Mrs. Coleman for the loss of her necklace and assuring her we will not press charges against her sister." Silence fell, and she tapped a pen on the desk. "I heard your car was stolen last night, Mr. O'Connor." She gave him a sharp look. "I'm very glad there were policemen there to give you a ride back to Los Angeles."
Angel frowned as he looked at his boss. "We didn't know the necklace was kept in the freezer. If we'd just had that information..."
"You think it would have made a difference?" Maggie cut in. "I can assure you I'd like to believe that." She leaned back before holding up a piece of paper. "This was under the windshield wiper of my car this morning. I think it was meant for you." She held the paper toward them and watched as Spike almost cautiously took it before beginning to read the carefully printed letter out loud.
"Thanks for the coffee, the towing information, and the laughs. The midnight star and I are going on vacation for a while... so I guess I won't be seeing you until I get back. It should be next Saturday when I steal the painting hanging over the Marlowe's fireplace. Love and Kisses, Nem."
The Marlowe's address was typed below Nemesis's carefully stenciled signature.
"Do you think you can stop her this time?" Maggie asked as she looked at them with narrowed eyes.
"From stealing a painting... that's hanging on the wall in plain sight?" Spike asked incredulously. "Yes."
Angel walked into the FBI's crime lab an hour later. Nemesis had made three crucial mistakes in her last job. The first was leaving her fingerprints on the coffee cup. The second was talking to them face to face. The last, he thought with a scowl, was stealing his car. There weren't many '67 Plymouth GTX convertibles out there, and he'd made sure the news media and police had pictures of the car he'd restored when he was eighteen. "Willow," he called as he walked over to the redhead in charge of the department. "Have any luck with the fingerprints?"
She looked up from the papers she was filling out. "Um... yeah," she broke off with a smile. "Here's the computer printout." She handed him a sheet of paper before sitting back and waiting for his reaction.
"Thanks," he murmured as he studied the paper with interest. "She really..." he broke off before warily turning to look at her. "I know the rest of the department's having fun with this but I didn't think..."
"Angel," she interrupted. "Yours were the only prints on the cup. You must have picked up the wrong one."
"You're sure about that?" he tried once more.
She shook her head. "Sorry. She must have switched them on you. The girl's nothing if not intelligent." She hesitated before giving a shake of her head. "And if you want to talk about her car, Oz said it looked like it had just been cleaned. He couldn't find a hair or fingerprint on it." She thoughtfully tapped a pen on the metal bench she was sitting at. "It looks like you and Spike are in the same kind of situation Riley and Lindsey are with Green Mask. Neither of the criminals you're after are making mistakes." She turned back to her paperwork, and Angel crumpled the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket.
"Are you telling me you didn't rent out a 2003 white BMW two nights ago?" Spike tapped a pen against his desk as he spoke into the phone with annoyance. A negative answer came, and he sat forward in his chair. "Then could you tell me..." he broke off and looked up as Riley dropped a paper on his desk before returning his attention to the phone call. "Then could you tell me if you have any BMWs rented out now?" A negative reply came again, and he stared at the rental paper with frustration. "Thanks," he murmured before hanging up the phone and looking at Riley.
"What do you want, Finn? I'm kind of busy now."
"I think you've got time for this." The other agent pushed the paper across the desk, and Spike glanced at it with a frown.
"Tell me again why I should..." he trailed off before shuffling through papers. He'd been concentrating so much on the rental slip in Nemesis's car that he hadn't gotten around to checking on the license plate. Lining up the paper Riley gave him with the one that had the BMW's information on it, he quickly compared the numbers. They matched, and Spike's eyes narrowed as he stared at the papers thoughtfully.
Riley shook his head before turning to go. "You guys may as well admit defeat," he threw over his shoulder before stopping when he saw Angel. "And how did that fingerprint session go, O'Connor?"
"It's just a matter of time," Angel answered as he walked to his desk.
Riley snorted. "Let me know when you guys are ready to get serious, and I'll tell you how to catch her."
"What happened?" Spike broke in as he watched Riley head back to his desk.
"She switched coffee cups," Angel murmured before sitting down at the desk beside Spike's.
"You're kidding." The bleached blonde leaned back and studied his partner before giving a shake of his head. "I've got to admit she's good."
"Maybe," Angel hedged, "but that's not going to change the outcome. What did you find out?"
Spike's expression sobered. "The rental information we found in the car's bogus, and according to the information Finn just dropped on my desk, the license plates on it were stolen so..." he trailed off.
"Stolen from where?"
"A little town about two hours from here called Sunnydale." His phone rang and he answered it. His frown deepened before he rolled his eyes. "Keep working on it mate and let us know if you find anything useful."
Angel glanced up as Spike hung up the phone. "What now?"
"The vin number on her car's been scratched off."
"So we have a fake rental slip, stolen plates, and, according to Willow, a freshly cleaned BMW with no identification?"
Spike rubbed at the back of his neck before giving a slow nod. "Pretty much sums it up." He paused thoughtfully. "I know it's a long shot, but what did you find out about her phone call?"
"The phone company doesn't have a record of it. Evidently she made up a fake number."
Spike nodded. "Figured it'd be bogus, but it was worth checking out anyway. Never thought I'd work a case where the criminal *tells* you where they're going to hit."
Angel didn't respond as he checked his emails. "The cops sent the camera feed from the truck stop," he murmured before punching a couple of buttons on the keyboard as Spike got up and walked over to his desk. The screen on the computer monitor changed to a view of a parking lot, and they watched as a white BMW pulled into it. The timestamp was 8:57 pm. A black haired woman got out and walked into the restaurant before there was a time lapse of about an hour when she reentered the parking lot, waved at the cops sitting in their car, and drove away.
Angel scowled before punching a few more buttons and starting to rewatch it in slow motion. He paused the screen on one of the better pictures of her face. "That's a heavy coat she's wearing. I wish it had been something lighter."
Spike nodded as he studied the screen. "She's a little on the short side. Girl only came to about here," he held up his hand.
"She was a little shorter than most, but," Angel gave a slow shake of his head, "I'd need more to id her."
"Well we can't use her voice," Spike muttered. "She was way too hoarse for that." Silence fell, and he shook his head. "I don't think we can use that video either. I'd say she's in a wig, possibly contacts... and a different style of makeup than she usually wears." He looked at Angel. "How old do you think she is?"
The brunette looked up thoughtfully. "Mid twenties." He looked back at Buffy's image before punching a button and watching as she once again started walking across the parking lot.
"I got a call from Bernie this morning," Spike murmured as he leaned against the wall and watched the screen. "He said he'd interviewed the woman that waited on her. It wasn't anything unusual... she ordered a burger and fries, had a coffee. Paid in cash."
Angel nodded before looking at Spike. "She might have won the first round, but we've got another chance Saturday."
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "and I've got to admit I'm looking forward to it."
The Witch's Brew was about a block and a half away from the FBI's HQ. It was a convenient place to grab something to eat or have a drink after work, and more often than not, meet up with colleagues that had the same idea. Angel looked up when a brunette sat at his table. "Hey, Faith. I suppose you're here to talk about your latest case?"
She snorted before leaning back to study him. "You know you and Spike screwed up a good thing for us."
"And that would be?"
"We've been betting Riley that he can't catch the Green Mask Bandit, and he's been taking our bets for the last few weeks. I mean, I've got fifty dollars from him in the last 3 months. "Now though..." She shook her head. "Everyone thought you guys would bring in Nemesis, except Finn. We placed bets, and he's really cleaning up since, well, you *didn't* bring her in," she stressed before stirring her drink with a straw. "It sucks."
Angel rolled his eyes before looking up as Gunn sat down beside him. "She's not lying. Finn's floating on air. He's already betting against you on Nemesis's next challenge."
"She's going to try to steal something that's hanging on the *wall*," Angel stressed. "We might not have known the Midnight Star was in the freezer, but I'm pretty sure we'll be looking right at the painting."
"Yeah," Gunn answered. "That's why everyone's taking the bet, but it's not exactly encouraging she was able to steal your car."
"That wasn't our fault," Spike defended as he sat down at the table. "I mean, we parked the car and went into the house. She stole it. It could have happened to anyone."
Faith snorted and a comfortable silence fell that lasted for a couple of minutes before she bumped Spike's arm. "Is that Holtz?"
He looked across the bar and nodded. "Yeah. I wonder what he's doing here?"
"Don't know," Gunn answered as he looked over his shoulder before turning back to the table. "Might be after votes. From what I understand the election's pretty much neck and neck."
"You can't be suggesting that Wilkins, the mayor of our fine city is going to lose?" Lindsey asked with amusement as he walked over and sat down.
Faith looked up and settled back in her chair. "What's your take on it then?"
"It's a close race, but Wilkins has it in the bag."
"I don't know," Gunn answered. "I'm not sure I'd bet on it."
Spike snorted. "Speaking of that, I suppose Finn's taking bets on the outcome?"
"Probably," Gunn answered. "Is it wrong of me to hope whoever he bets on loses?"
Lindsey settled back into his chair with a grin. "Jealousy doesn't suit you guys. I mean, to an outsider it almost appears you're upset Riley bet on Nemesis and won."
"Her winning streak will be ancient history by Sunday morning," Angel spoke up.
"We can only hope," Faith answered with a roll of her eyes.
Buffy smiled at the man that had just popped up on her computer screen. "Ethan," she greeted as she spoke into her mic. "How's business?"
"It's good," the brown haired guy assured as his eyes sparkled with amusement. "And I have to say you're in top form. From what I understand you stole an FBI agent's car."
She glanced at him with a smile. "I needed one, and it was there."
His response was a low chuckle. "As always my dear, I am in awe."
"You should see it," she told him. "A 1967 Plymouth GTX convertible that runs like it just came off the assembly line."
"I've heard there was an agent with a car like that," Ethan stated as he leaned back in his chair. "And the owner?"
"I'm not sure. One of them was a brunette and the other was a bleached blonde, but..."
"The brunette," Ethan told her, "Angel O'Connor's the owner. His partner goes by the name of Spike Pryce."
Buffy smiled. Ethan wasn't in the game anymore but he still knew the players. And speaking of the players... her smile widened at what she had planned for them in a few days. "Were you able to get a hold of Giles?"
"Of course. He may enjoy his privacy when he goes on vacations, but that doesn't mean he's always resourceful enough to keep me from finding him." He looked at her with amusement. "He's agreed. You didn't have a doubt, did you?"
"I'd hoped," she answered, "but it's been a while since I've talked to him, and I wasn't sure he'd want to take any chances."
Ethan snorted. "Worrying about Ripper isn't even on my list. If anything we're both a little worried about you. This hobby of yours is risky."
"I'm always careful."
"Jenny and I were careful Buffy. We were busted because someone knew what we were doing. And the more people that know what you're doing, the more I worry."
Buffy's eyes narrowed. She knew the story. Knew that someone had tried to blackmail her friends before turning them into the cops when they refused to pay. She studied Ethan for a moment and wondered if he'd guessed what she was trying to do. "Did you figure out who turned you in?"
"No. We were always careful, but as you know we used a small network of close friends to perform various tasks for us." Silence fell before he gave a slow shake of his head. "You're good... one of the best. But when it comes to trusting people, I want you to be careful."
She sobered. She didn't have any intention of going to jail, but she knew she was playing with fire. Her name was, in certain circles, linked with Ethan and Jenny's, and even if she'd went straight for the last three years, there were still those that would know who Nemesis was. "I trust you and Giles... as for the rest of them," she gave a slight shake of her head, "I'm counting on you guys to get me out of anything they can throw my way."
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "As long as you're careful," he stated quietly, "then by all means feel free to give them a run for their money."
"I'm kind of looking forward to it," she answered. There wasn't a need to tell him why she'd decided to start pulling heists again, and if he wasn't going to mention it had started after the parole board had denied Jenny's release from prison, neither would she.
Cans rattled in the back of the car as Spike turned into the driveway of a well maintained brick house. The Chevy lurched to a stop, and Angel got out, an empty potato chip bag slipping out before he could close the door. He chased down the wind blown item with a soft curse before looking up to see his partner already at the front door, his arms loaded with more bags of potato chips. Rolling his eyes, Angel followed him inside, the key they'd requested from the owners allowing them entry.
"Nice," Spike breathed as he looked the great hall over before dropping his snacks on the entryway table.
"Yes," the voice carrying from the living room was quickly replaced by the woman herself as she appeared in the doorway. "It is nice, and I hope it will still be when I return." Mrs. Marlowe eyed the potato chip bags with distaste before looking out the window to examine the beat up car in her driveway with the same grimace. "You *are* the FBI agents that are supposed to be here today aren't you?"
Angel smiled as he stepped forward. "Yes. I'm agent O'Connor and this is agent Pryce."
She gave him a nod before returning to the room she'd just left."This is the painting you're guarding gentlemen." She motioned to a three foot by two foot canvas painting with three white horse heads. "It's a Herring," she pronounced, "and quite famous. The image has been used extensively on an assortment of items for many years. *I* however have the original and intend to keep it that way." She looked at them with sharp brown eyes and both agents nodded in agreement.
Angel studied the painting appreciatively. He was familiar with its history, and the original piece was lovely. "It's beautiful..." he began before being cut off.
"Maggie told me you could be trusted to ensure its safety."
"Maggie?" Spike asked with a frown.
"I believe you know her as Ms. Walsh."
Spike rocked back on his heels as Angel diplomatically forced a smile. "We'll take care of your painting, Mrs. Marlowe. You don't have a thing to worry about."
"Good. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear that when I have supper with her tonight."
"Um... yes," Spike agreed as he shot Angel a wary look. "You can tell her that we won't let her down."
The woman that had been making her way toward the front door stopped and turned at his statement. "You can be assured I will." She eyed him before once again looking out the window at the car in her driveway. "At least this time she won't have a vehicle she can get very far in. That's if she decides to steal it."
She closed the door behind her, and both Spike and Angel looked at the painting before Angel wadded up the empty bag still in his hands and threw it in the trash. "Could this be any more embarrassing?" he asked as he turned back to look at his partner.
"Yes," Spike answered grimly. "She could get that painting." He hesitated before walking over to look out the window. "Too bad for her, there's no way that's going to happen."
Spike was almost like a caged animal as he paced in front of the fireplace a few hours later. "Where the hell is she?" he finally growled as he swung around to look at Angel. "I'd love to see her knock on the door this time."
The brunette didn't turn from the window. "Maybe she decided it was too risky. There's got to be ten reporters across the street as well as four cop cars."
Spike dropped on the sofa. "I knew it was a mistake to allow the reporters to stay. Walsh really screwed up with that one."
"I don't know," Angel murmured. "It was Nemesis that invited them, and Walsh decided having them here for the arrest would be good publicity."
A crackle of static from the walkie-talkie followed by the voice of an awed cop caused Angel and Spike to quickly forget their disagreement. "She's here," the voice practically shouted, "and she's in the convertible."
Angel's head shot up as Spike turned to the large picture window that looked out onto the main highway. They were just in time to see a sleek black vintage car cruise into view.
"I don't believe it," Spike stated incredulously. "She's practically begging to be caught."
Angel's gaze slid familiarly over the car before settling on the driver draped in what looked to be a heavy white coat, headscarf, and glasses. "It can't be this easy. She's..." he broke off at the sound of a shot, a curse coming easily as he pulled open the door and watched the car lurch before it sped off. "Who fired?" he yelled as he ran out of the door with Spike on his heels.
No one answered as all but one of the police cars stationed at the house raced past, and Angel and Spike were soon following.
"Angel," Spike glanced into the rearview mirror before looking back at the road ahead, "look behind us."
"What the..." Angel broke off and frowned at the headlights following them before groaning. "The reporters."
"Seems like it," Spike agreed as he expertly navigated through the late night traffic. "How could they pass up a story like this?"
Angel's attention went back to the road ahead of them in time to see the Plymouth make a turn. "It's fine with me if they want to report her capture," he answered as he watched several cop cars make the same turn, "as long as they don't get in the way."
The blonde driving the old car cast a quick look at her watch before glancing in the rearview mirror at the sea of red lights flashing behind her. She was almost itching to push the pedal to the floor, but that wouldn't go with her story. And with a last glance at her watch, she pulled into a grocery store parking lot and put the vintage car in park.
"We've got her," Spike stated as he pulled into the lot and parked the car.
"At least we do if we can get to her before the press does," Angel answered as he stepped onto the asphalt and palmed his gun.
He was heading toward the Plymouth when he spotted a splash of red on her pristine white coat. "Damn it," he muttered as he thought about his last run in with her. "She's hit."
"Looks like it," Spike answered grimly as he moved closer before raising his gun. "Get out of the car with your hands up," he ordered.
The blonde did as instructed, and Angel started toward her, felt relief when he realized the stain on her coat was from a spilled red drink. It was a few seconds after she was cuffed and Spike had finished reading her her rights that he leaned down to her ear. "Hello Nemesis," he murmured. "It's nice to see you again." Blue eyes looked into his, and he couldn't stop from feeling something was wrong before turning away to examine the car.
Spike glanced at the GTX as well before looking down at the cuffed blonde beside him. "Let's get you back to HQ," he murmured before beginning to tug her toward his car. "There's a lot of people looking forward to meeting you."
"What are you talking about?" Darla almost snapped. "Someone tried to kill me... and now *I'm* the one in cuffs. Are you on drugs or something?"
Spike opened the door to his car and helped her into the back seat. "Not that I'm aware of," he answered before looking over to where Angel was staring at the dash of the Plymouth. "Angel! Are you coming with me?"
The brunette slowly straightened as he tried to process that this wasn't his car. There was a crack on the dash and 50,000 miles on the odometer. His car's interior was perfect and the odometer had over 200,000 miles on it. He turned to stare at his partner before giving a shake of his head. "Spike, it's not my car." He moved quickly to the bleached blonde that was looking at him incredulously.
"It's a vintage black Plymouth convertible. How many of them do you think are floating around?"
"It's not my car," he repeated adamantly as he slid into the passenger's seat, "and we left Bernie guarding the house."
"Oh shit," Spike breathed as he bolted into the driver's seat and yelled out the window for the cars blocking the way to move. They slowly did, and he headed back to the house burning rubber.
Buffy climbed into the back of the semi-trailer and carefully slid the painting she'd just stolen into the back seat of Angel's car. What she was planning was a gamble, but it was just too good to pass up. Sliding into the driver's seat, she turned the newly made key and smiled when the engine purred to life. It would just be a quick ride... then she'd safely tuck the car back into the trailer and make her getaway.
"Mrs. Marlowe was the only one that entered the house," Bernie took a step back from the two furious FBI agents. They'd screeched into the driveway about ten minutes ago and spent time in the house before coming out and demanding a report from him. "It was even her car. I checked the license plate when she pulled in."
"The painting's gone," Spike almost growled. "Whoever you saw wasn't her."
"She was wearing a purple and white spotted blouse with a black skirt and black heels," Bernie defended. "It's the same outfit *and* car she left in."
"And did you see her leave with the painting?" Spike asked sarcastically.
"No. Just a bagged outfit on a hanger."
"Oh God." Angel stared up at the sky. "I don't believe this." The FBI agent turned to look back at the house with frustration before his gaze went to the driveway and then to the irritated blonde in the back seat of Spike's car. He sighed before turning to Bernie and motioning to Darla. "Her car's about five blocks away. Would you get her contact information and see that she gets back to it?"
"Sure thing," the cop agreed as he took the key to her handcuffs.
Angel nodded his thanks before turning to his partner. "We need to find out if the neighbors saw anything."
Spike grimaced before looking over the two large houses on either side of the Marlowe's. Both of them had lights on and several cars in the driveways. It was clear they'd been the entertainment for the night.
"Alright," he agreed. "I'll take the one on the left, and you take the one on the right." Angel nodded, and Spike turned to Bernie. "If any leads come in... anything at all... let us know immediately."
Bernie murmured an acknowledgment and watched the agents walk toward the houses before he glanced over the crime scene. There wasn't anything to do right now other than take the girl back to her car and wait for the forensic team to show up... and he doubted they'd find anything. Nemesis hadn't made a mistake yet.