Not the Usual Game

by Kuma

Disclaimer I don't own the characters, Joss does. Even though I don't even get to watch Buffy OR Angel b/c my stupid cable network took them off...and have no intentions of returning them (I asked so myself!). I own Carter, Emily McClain, and any others who you fail to recognize. Any resemblances to a real person(s) is purely coincidental.

Summery Buffy leads a normal life...as a FBI agent.

Author's note This story just won't get out of my head ^_^ so I just have to write it. R/R please!





Their plane ride to Houston was short. When they got there, they decided to check in a hotel room near the crime scene.

Buffy slipped the driver a twenty and they both got out of the cab. "Let me get the for you," Angel offered, picking up her bag.

"Thanks," she replied. She walked into the hotel entrance, holding the door open for him. As she approached, two clerks smiled.

"Welcome to the Dreams Hotel. My name's Linda. How may I help you?" The woman clerk greeted warmly.

Buffy leaned on the counter. "Yes, I'd like two rooms, please." She slid a credit card out of her pocket and gave it to the Linda, clerk. Buffy thanked the clerk after she received her credit card back and the room keys.

Buffy started off towards the elevator and look behind her to see if he was following.

Angel knew that Buffy hadn't really offered her own credit card for the hotel rooms. They would be courtesy of the FBI. But the look on Linda's face told him he was a jerk for not paying for them.

He picked up the bags and saw her look back to see if he was following her. He smiled after she had returned her gaze back to the elevator. He was following her alright. He looked down at her tightly jean covered legs. His eyes then travel upward to her ass. 'She doesn't have a bad one at that.' He admitted. 'Stop thinking about your partner that way.' He tried to stop himself from thinking about her. 'She looked really sexy in that outfit she was wearing earlier, you have to admit. And she's very beautiful. All the blonde hair that you want to loose yourself in and those eyes. Oh, those eyes. The ones that shows so much about her, even though she doesn't show it on the outside.' A little voice kept whispering to him over and over.

"O'Roake!" Buffy called out. "This elevator isn't going to wait forever." She was annoyed. Why the hell was he walking so slow? He couldn't possibly be tired already.

He realized that his pace has slowed down almost to a halt. He quickened his pace and rushed into the elevator before she would leave him.




Buffy woke. The pale moonlight slipped through the window. She thought she had heard something. She closed her disorientated eyes and listened. She heard her heavy breathing, but nothing else. She opened her eyes. Her mind was just playing tricks. Deciding to get a drink of water, she sat up.

There. She heard it again. She was sure it wasn't her mind. Reaching under her pillow, she grabbed her .45 acp. Quietly as she could, she disengaged the safety feature.

"Go ahead. Scream for her," she heard a muffled voice say. "You do and she's dead. Well, she will be anyway after I kill you."

Buffy stood up and pad her way over to the bedroom door. It was cracked and she was now thankful that she never fully shut her door. She peered out and saw the side profile of her partner with a gun pointed to his head. The gunman was wearing a ski mask from what she could tell.

"Don't kill her," he ordered rather than pleaded. "She has nothing to do with this. I'm the one you're mad at, not her."

The gunman laughed softly. "What makes you think-"

"Put the gun down!" Buffy shouted. Her aim was fixed on the gunman's head.

The gunman was surprised, but didn't loose his focus. "I see the little lady here has waken."

"Shoot him," her partner now pleaded to her.

"Drop the gun and I'll promise not to kill you." He replied swiftly.

He looked at Buffy with pleading eyes. "Shoot him." He ordered her.

Buffy didn't think twice. Her had was already wrapped around the cool metal; finger ready poised on the trigger. All it took was one little finger and the gun fired. She fired her gun twice. In the milliseconds it took the first bullet to reach the gunman, she heard him shoot. She watched as both her partner and his murderer collapse onto the hardwood floor.

Buffy rushed over to her partner, still ready to fire again if the two bullets didn't kill him. She saw a puddle of blood form around the gunman's head and knew he was dead. Kneeling down beside her partner, she scooped his head into her lap.

She grabbed his wrist and felt a faint heart beat. Her eyes lit up. She had heard of this before; people surviving through multiple stabs or blows to the head. Perhaps his wasn't his time to go.

'Perhaps I wished too hard,' she thought to herself as she felt her partner's heart beat fade into nothing. She couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes nor the sob that caught in her throat.

And there, in the lonely dark night, she cried.





Buffy awoke with a jerk. Her eyes flew open. She was bathed in her own sweat, the sheets covering her were soaked. Another bad dream. 'Nightmare's is a more fitting word.' She'd often have the same reoccurring nightmare of what happened. Her partner, Jason, was allowing her to stay with him until she could find a new place to relocate. He had allowed her to sleep in his bed while he took the couch. She would wake up only to have her partner and her best friend shot and die and her arms.

She wiped the sweat off her neck and her forehead. Her skin was already drying from the cool air and getting sticky. She glanced over at the illuminated clock. It was almost five in the morning. Grabbing her bag and her holster, she headed to the bathroom.