.

Unforgettable - Part 3
By Jill

//...// indicates dreams

Tuesday, August 22nd, 10.00 p.m.

"Did I ever tell you that I hate observations?" Spike asked while his hand
was reaching into his pocket for cigarettes. They were standing in front of
Derryl Chambers' house in Beverly Hills. He was a very rich film producer
and he was also the father of the girl Mike Harmon intended to marry. Enough
reason to keep an eye on the young police officer, whose engagement party
was taking place tonight.

"And did I ever tell you that I despise smoking people in my car?" Angel
replied casually, noticing the movement of Spike's hand from the corner of
his eye. "I tend to become quite violent about it."

The blonde's hand stilled in his pocket and with a little sigh, he reached
for a bag of potato chips he'd placed on the ground for emergency purposes.
Spike really liked Angel. He liked working with the dark-haired man and he
was glad to call him his friend, but his friend's attitude towards smoking
left something to be desired. Yet, he had learned to live with it. "Even
more I hate observing a colleague. This whole Internal Affairs business
stinks," he said and ripped the bag open. "I have you to know that if I'm
dying of a heart attack due to high cholesterol intake, it's your fault."

"At least I don't have to watch you cough to death with lung cancer," Angel
replied mercilessly. "I wonder how a police officer like Mike Harmon ever
got to meet someone like Simone Chambers. They hardly hang in the same
circles."

"Maybe he gave her a ticket for speeding," Spike mused, munching his chips,
"I'd say it's a good guess. Her nice little red sports car has a lot of
power."

"Mike Harmon was already working for homicide when they met, hardly the
department to give speed tickets to rich girls." With a disgusted look he
watched his friend stuffing more chips into his mouth, "How on earth can you
eat that stuff?"

"Better than starving to death," Spike shrugged, enjoying the spicy, fatty
food. Once the bag was empty, he threw it on the ground and reached for the
can of coke. "Talking about death. Who is, or rather was, Mike Danicki?"

He felt Angel instantly stiffen beside him, "Who?" the dark-haired man
asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"Don't play games with me," Spike said, "The guy in the file on Buffy
Summers' desk. The reason she ran into the bathroom this afternoon where you
followed her only seconds later."

Angel didn't answer at first, if it hadn't been for his harsh breathing
Spike would have thought he hadn't even listened. Then slowly, the
dark-haired man put his hands on the wheel and gripped it tight. "Mike
Danicki," he began in that same controlled manner, "was a young police
officer who was killed four years ago in a crossfire. He was also Buffy's
half-brother."

"Her half-brother?" Spike's eyebrow rose, but he didn't turn his head.
"Younger or older?"

"Younger by six years. He was only twenty when all this happened. Buffy
didn't even know he existed until he was 14. He was the result of an
extra-matrimonial affair of her father. She had a hard time accepting him.
But finally she did. With all her heart and when he chose to become a police
officer, she was so proud," his voice cracked.

"And he died in a crossfire?"

"Yeah," the answer came out with a harsh breath, "He was shot. Straight
through in heart. With my weapon."

"Son of a..." Spike bit out, his head jerking around. "You shot him?"

"No," Angel's voice was sharp, "I didn't kill him. Although she never
believed me. He was killed with my weapon, but I hadn't used it the whole
night. There was a... 211... two men had taken hostages in a bank. The
moment the men came out they started shooting. Mike was hit by accident. But
I didn't do it. I only used a riffle that night."

Angel's hands hurt from almost crushing the steering wheel and he forced
himself to loosen his fierce grip. It had all happened what seemed like an
eternity ago and still it hurt. He swallowed hard remembering Buffy's eyes
when the ballistic report came in and said it had been Angel's weapon. The
way her shoulders had stiffened, the moment she turned away and never looked
back. It was imprinted in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.

"And she thought you had," Spike shook his head and ran a hand through his
hair, "Oh, man."

The laugh that came in reply wasn't a happy one. "Yeah. Oh, man. The only
ones who backed me up were Faith and Drusilla. They said, they'd seen the
weapon lying on the ground beside me, Drusilla even swore that I had not
even once put the riffle down and so I was cleared. Buffy was devastated.
She refused to talk to me, refused to see me. That's the end of the story."
He laughed again, "That day when the call came in about the bank robbery,
Buffy and I were on our way to a date. We only went because we were so
close. And I had a diamond ring in my pocket."

"Oh man," Spike said again, then nothing for a long time.

People still arrived at the huge three-story house. From time to time Mike
or his future father-in-law appeared in the doorway to greet some of them.
Once or twice they caught a glimpse of Simone, a fragile looking redhead in
expensive clothes and high heels.

"And I suppose Riley seized the day and began holding out his hand," the
blond finally broke the silence.

"Ten points," Angel replied sarcastically. "I had no idea he had the hots
for her. He never once..." he shook his head. "He had been supportive all
throughout our relationship, I never guessed... Then he couldn't get into
her pants fast enough. Only four weeks after Mike was killed they announced
their engagement and two weeks later they were married."

"And then some people say, police officers don't work fast," Spike remarked,
his voice holding the same sarcasm. "What a friend."

"Oh yeah. My good friend Riley. I tried to talk to her," he said suddenly,
looking at the blond, "I went to the church, tried to talk to her. But she
sent me away. Told me that now she knew real love thanks to Riley. I
left L.A. and never looked back. Until now."

Spike was about to reply when it suddenly hit him, "Wait a minute. You said
you were cleared. But you didn't tell me who shot her brother."

"No I didn't, simply because I don't know. The case was never solved. We
never found out who accidentally killed Mike Danicki."

Spike was about to reply when suddenly a large car with coloured windows came to
a halt in front of the house. The door opened, revealing a voluptous blond and a
rather meaty looking man. Angel whistled through his teeth, the moment he saw
them, "I'll be damned," he whispered, barely able to believe his eyes.

*****

// It hurt to look at him. He was so young and carefree and he was smiling
at her, the Californian sun highlighting his blond hair.

So young.

Mike was waving now. And grinning, "Hey, Buffy. Don't look so serious. Life
is fun. California is full of sun, sand and pretty girls."

She laughed at that, "It must be a guy thing," she joked. "Do guys think of
anything but pretty girls?"

"I only think of one extremely pretty girl," a voice whispered in her ear
and a pair of arms circled her waist, while a chin was laid on her shoulder.

"You guys are so boring," Mike rolled his eyes, "I'm never going to fall in
love. Just to think that I'd have to spent all my time with one girl. What a
waste."

"Big Ego, huh?" Angel tightened his hold on Buffy's waist, he smiled and his
eyes were looking at the sea that glittered in the sun. "Just you wait.
Love's going to find you soon enough."

"Me?" Mike laughed aloud and shook his head, "Never. I'm just going to enjoy
life and lust."

Now it was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes, "I can't believe you're my
brother. The way you think about women is disgusting."

"Uh-huh," her brother's grin widened, "Sure it is. But they love me anyway.
When are you guys going to tie the knot?" he asked out of the blue.

"Oh, that's the way it goes," Angel raised a brow, "You are allowed to enjoy
women the way you like, but I'm not."

Mike's eyes narrowed a bit, "Hey, we're talking about my sister here."

Buffy giggled, snuggling back into Angel's chest, "My hero. But you don't
have to worry. You'll be the first to know if we decide anything. Until
then, I'm your big sister, Mike. No need to protect me." She stifled a moan
when Angel bent his head and kissed a particular sensitive spot behind her
ear.

"Please," Mike groaned, "not in public and not around me. It's hard enough
to imagine what you're doing with my sister as soon as the doors are closed.
I don't need a demonstration."

"The boy's just jealous," Angel, whispered in Buffy's ear, "should we get
rid of him?"

"Get rid of him?" her body tensed and she turned her head to look at her
lover. His face changed all of a sudden. It wasn't the face she loved
anymore. It was different. Hateful. Evil. And now it laughed.

"Yeah, get rid of him," Angel said, pushing her away, drawing a gun without
warning.

"No," Buffy screamed, knowing what was going to happen. "No, please."

"Go way," he warned, pointing his gun at Mike, who had stepped back, his
both hands raised in defense.

"Hey, man, it was just a joke," his voice sounded frightened.

"A joke? I'll give you a joke," Angel said and pulled the trigger.//

"NOOOOOOO," the shout tore from her throat and sounded through the dark,
quiet apartment. Buffy bolted upright in her bed, her whole body bathed in
sweat, she was panting heavily. Oh God!

Ohgodohgodohgod.

The dream. She hadn't had that dream for years. She closed her eyes against
the images that were still burning in her mind. Damn Riley. Damn him. Why
had he done this to her? Of course that was a dumb question. She knew
exactly why he did it. He wanted to show her that he could still get to her.
And maybe he wanted to show something to Angel, too.

Angel.

She rolled out of her bed and walked to the kitchen. Opening the fridge she
pulled out a bottle of milk and drank thirstily, then put it away.
Leaning against the closed door she thought about the way Angel came to her aid
this afternoon, the way he held her, soothed her. All she wanted was to curl
up in his lap and stay there. It was so safe and secure in his arms, she'd
felt so loved and treasured. Something she'd missed for a long time.

She wanted to tell him. Tell him, that she didn't blame him anymore for her
brother's death. Tell him that she was wrong. Oh so wrong. Wrong and stupid
and stubborn and...

With a heavy sigh she pushed herself away from the fridge and walked back to
her bedroom. The bed was large, for a while she'd shared it with Riley, now
it was empty. And cold. And lonely. But then, it had been lonely for even
longer. Even with Riley's large body beside her she was lonely, silently
longing for another, she could no longer have.

What was he doing this very moment, she wondered? Was he lonely as well? Was
he lying awake thinking about her? Or would his arms hold another? Would his
mouth kiss another? Would his lips whisper of love and a future, the way
they'd done to her so long ago?

The sudden pang of jealousy she felt at the image made her gasp. The feeling
was so violent, she felt herself shudder. She had no right to be jealous.
She had given up that right four years ago when she'd sent him away, when
she'd ignored the pain in his eyes and thrown him out of her life. She had
been the one who married his best friend and made the break up final.

No she had no right to feel that way. Even more so she had no right to hope he
would ever forgive her. Still, she found herself hoping he would.

*****

Wednesday, August 23rd, 11.00 a.m., Los Angeles

Cordelia tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the table and let out
an exasperated sigh. Studying her hands for a moment, she frowned and looked
back at the man who was sitting opposite to her in the Internal Affairs
inquiry. The room was not very big, sparse furnitured with three chairs and a
table and one wall was covered with mirrors. They weren't the regular kind
you could buy in a store, but a one-way mirror, those that were mirrors on
the one side, windows at the other.

Behind them, protected against discovery were standing Rupert Giles, Brent Harley
and Timothy Philips, the District Attorney. And they were all observing the
proceeding on the other side of the window.

"You know, this is getting old," Cordelia leaned back in her chair and
crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes on the face of Riley
Finn, who was scowling at her.

"Oh, so this is boring for you?" he said, rubbing his eyes. "Well, it's not
boring for me. In fact, it's rather annoying. Being summoned before the
Internal Affairs at the break of dawn and being interrogated for more than
an hour by my wife's best friend."

"Soon to be ex-wife," she countered without blinking. "And that's not the point
here. I'm here because I need answers. Answers you might have."

"And I already told you that I never had a connection with David Griffin. Of
course I've heard his name. Who hasn't? He's the new big gun around. But
fortunately I haven't had the pleasure to meet him."

He was cool, Cordelia decided. Cool and controlled. Too cool and controlled?
Yesterday evening her boss and Brent Harley had decided to start
interrogating all the officers of the 9th department. Timothy said it might
be more effective to start the inquiry from two sides. And it would also
help to avoid officers to become suspicious of Angel and Spike.
With pleasure Cordelia agreed to start with Riley Finn. Interrogating the
bastard was like receiving a Christmas present.

She cleared her throat, and then casually flipped through a file she'd
opened on the table. "As I can see here, you have an interesting variation
of female companions," she looked up, nodded, "Very impressing. Tell me
Riley-"

"Detective Finn for you," he hissed.

She smiled; glad she was getting at him, "If you wish. So tell me,
*Detective*, how do you pay for them? Some of them look rather...
expensive."

"Fuck you, bitch," he spat, glaring at her, "Is that your way of getting it
done?"

"Watch your tongue, officer," Brand Harmon warned from his seat beside
Cordelia. Brand Harmon was working for Internal Affairs and had been advised
to take part in this interrogation as well. He was used to officers acting
offended, but he was old-fashioned and didn't like men to use foul language
in front of women. And Brand had always had a weak spot for Cordelia.

"Thank you, Brand," the brunette gave him a particularly grateful smile,
then shook her head, "But I'm used to this. Some of us aren't as well
mannered as others." She sighed heavily at the end of her sentence and shook
her head again, then smiled inwardly when she saw Brand nailing Riley with
another hard glare.

Flipping another page, Cordelia looked back at Riley, "Now, tell me
*Detective* Finn, where do you get the money to pay for all those expensive
ladies?"

"I don't have to pay for female company, Miss Chase," he hissed through
gritted teeth. "Usually my body is enough for them."

"Oh really?" she raised a surprised brow, "Oh well, people have different
tastes," she remarked. "Okay, but you don't deny your... let's call it
encounters with different women over the last two years."

"No, I don't," he hissed again. "I suppose Buffy told you all about it."

"In fact, she has," Cordelia smiled again, "but coming back to that," she
pointed at the file, "Your current bank account shows more than ten thousand
dollars, and you drive a new car. An expensive, European car," she raised
her eyebrows, "Tell me, how you managed to pay for it?"

"My mother died," he said, controlled again, "But you should know that.
Buffy's lawyer knew it instantly."

Yes, she knew, it was in the file in front of her, and still it made a grand
opening for her next hit, "Well, if you'll allow a personal remark, I think
Buffy earned each penny for all the time she stayed with you," she raised a
hand when he was about to reply, "Sorry, I got sidetracked," she smiled
sweetly, "A last question, Mr. Finn," she said almost casually, closing the
file, "Have you ever heard the code 'Operation Delta'?"

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, she noticed, but he covered
his reaction quickly, and when he finally looked at her his expression was
completely blank, "No," he shook his head. "I've never heard of it. What
about it?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she replied, busying herself with opening her
briefcase and pushing the file inside. "Thank you, Mr. Finn," she said
without looking up. "That's all. You can go. Thank you for your
cooperation."

"F..." Riley started, then caught Brend Harmon's gaze, and his lips drew
into a thin, angry line. He cursed inwardly and wished, not for the first
time, that Cordelia was just some bitch and not the assistant DA. There was
no way he could get to her, without endangering his own career. "Ma'am," he
said instead, then turned and left the room.

As soon as the door was clicked shut Cordelia closed her briefcase, leaned
back and released a long breath. She turned when she felt Brand's hand on
her shoulder, "Well done, Miss Chase," he complimented.

"He's right," came her boss' voice over the speaker. "You did a good job.
And I'd say your personal... er... relationship helped in this case."

Cordelia grinned at the mirror, "Thanks. And yeah. I really hate the guy."

"Who would've guessed," Timothy replied, his voice full of sarcasm. "Take a
break," he said, "We'll meet in about half an hour to discuss this. Drink
some coffee." With that the speaker went off.

"Drink some coffee," Cordelia muttered, standing, "If I drink any more
coffee I'm going to jump up the wall."

"Then what about some home baked muffins and a nice cup of tea?" Brand
offered with a fatherly smile, "My wife made them yesterday and I have no
problem sharing."

The brunette looked at him with gratitude, "Brand, you're saving my life,"
she said and followed him to his office.

*****

"So, how do you feel, being pregnant and all?" Faith asked, plopping on
Willow's desk beside the computer screen.

"And all?" the redhead raised a brow at her.

"Yeah, you know, morning sickness, cravings, that sort of stuff."

The other brow came up as well, "What do you know about morning sickness?"
she inquired, suddenly curious.

"Hey," Faith looked as if insulted, "don't look at me that way. I'm not
pregnant, but I wasn't raised in limbo either. And I read. Books, you know."

"Yeah, I know books," Willow said on a chuckle. "What about them?"

"Duuuh. They tell you stuff. Explain things." When Willow's expression
didn't change, Faith sighed dramatically, "So much for small talk."

"So much for it," the redhead agreed. "So what was the real reason you
wanted to talk to me? Do you need a day off or what? Then go to the big
boss, I'm just the computer specialist."

"No, I don't need a day off. This is more a... uh... personal matter."

"Personal, huh?"

"Yeah. It's... about Buffy," Faith admitted.

"Buffy?" Willow eyed the brunette curiously. Her relationship with Buffy had
been strained at the least. With Faith being Riley's former lover, the women
didn't get along well. Since Buffy's breakup with her husband things started
to get better, but they still weren't back to normal. So Willow
couldn't quite grasp what this was all about.

"How is she?" Faith asked.

Willow turned in her chair and gestured towards the desk where the blond was
sitting and reading a new file. "She's right over there. Maybe you should go
and ask her."

The brunette rolled her eyes, "I know she's there, but I need to hear it
from you. So how is she?"

"She's been better," the redhead admitted finally. "The divorce is getting
to her and with Angel around..." she trailed off.

"Ah, Angel," Faith said, glad Willow had given her the entry. "I met him
Monday night. At the Splash."

Now the redhead's eyes widened, "Angel? At the Splash? But he doesn't
drink."

"So what?" Faith snorted, "They serve non-alcoholic drinks as well."

"Yes, yeah, I know. But Angel just isn't the type for bars and clubs. He
never was."

"He said so much himself, but I think he was just seeking for some company."

Willow's eyes narrowed instantly, "And so you thought you'd give him what he
needed? Is that what you're saying?"

"No," Faith said in sudden anger. "I'm not a slut you know. I don't just
jump on men as they come." She saw Willow raise a brow, and threw her hands
in the air, "Okay, think what you want. But the point is, we were talking
about Buffy."

"You were talking about Buffy?"

Was Willow dense, Faith thought? "That's what I said, wasn't it? And you
know, you might call me utterly romantic, but I could swear he's still got
it bad for Buffy. I mean, he didn't say it exactly, but a girl with my
experience just knows things. Wouldn't it be fun if they got back together?"

Willow's expression changed rapidly, suspicion and anger were gone, and
replaced with excitement. "You know," the redhead said, smiling, "it's
interesting to hear you say that, because I have a theory myself. Are you
interested in a cup of coffee?"

At that Faith smiled as well. It would be nice seeing Buffy and Angel back
together, she thought. But even more so, she could hardly wait to see the
expression on Riley's face when he lost his wife to her former lover.

*****

"Oh," Drusilla's voice sounded a bit breathless when without warning a body
collided with hers. But she smiled when a heavily British accented voice
suddenly said.

"I would say, I'm sorry, but I'm not. Well, not really." Spike put a hand
under her elbow and smiled.

"Spike," she said, shifting the files in her arms. "Aren't you a bit late?"
she asked and glanced at the clock.

"Observation," he answered. "We were out half the night, so the big boss
gave us the morning off."

"Ah," she nodded.

"Ah, what?" he asked.

Quickly glancing down, she laughed a bit uncertain when she looked up again,
"Oh, nothing. I just thought you'd be at the Splash again last night." As
soon as the words were out, a blush crept up her cheeks. Spike thought she
looked incredibly sweet.

"So you... missed me?" he said, cocking a brow.

"I... uh... well, I wouldn't go that far," she stuttered, "I just... I feel
comfortable in your company," she admitted.

"You do?" he liked the idea. "Only comfortable?" Comfortable was good.
Comfortable was fine, but friends felt good in each other's company, and
what he felt for Drusilla was already far beyond friendship. God help him.

"Not only," she replied and glanced down again. Then - almost angry - she
frowned, "This is not... I'm not used to this, you know," she admitted. "The
last guy... my last... you know," she gave him a look, hoping for
understanding and when he nodded, she continued, "We found out he was a drug
dealer. It wasn't nice."

Compassion rose in him, "I understand," he said, lying his hand on her
forearm. "Would you like to go on a date? With me?"

She stared at him at first so that he almost thought she had lost her voice,
but then suddenly she said, "Yes. I'd like that. Very much actually."

His answering smile was slow, but sweet, "Well then. How about tonight? No
observations tonight."

"Okay," she laughed a bit breathlessly, "Is eight alright for you?"

"Eight it is," he agreed. "See you then."

She nodded, and was about to turn when his voice held her back, "Where do
you live? I need your address."

This time her smile was pure female, and Spike felt his body tighten at the
sight, "You're a police officer," she said, "You should be able to find out."
Then she turned her hips swinging and left him breathless for a moment.

*****

Thursday, August 24th, 7.00 a.m., Los Angeles

"So what you're telling me is that the girl of the night, the girl - or
rather the woman - accompanying David Griffin to the Chambers' engagement
party was Diana Massey?"

"That's what I'm saying," Angel said, picking up his cup of coffee and
carefully sipping at the hot brew. These early morning meetings with
Cordelia Chase were going to be fun, he thought acidly. It's not
that he wasn't a morning person. Actually he was, but he still liked his
mornings more private, not completely taken over by business.

She was all business, sitting opposite to him, dressed in a conservative
navy suit, from head to toe screaming that she was the assistant DA. Not the
sassy fiancée of his friend who was - no doubt - still sleeping like a baby
in his satin sheets. Doyle, as Angel recalled, wasn't a morning person and
it would be fun to see those two married for the next fifty odd years.

"And may I ask why you didn't tell me this yesterday?" the brunette asked.
"Or did you just think, 'hey this isn't important. Why bother Cordelia with
this development about my ex-lover's sister.'?" Her voice had risen during
the speech and her eyes were blazing.

His narrowed in reply and an expression entered them who was more than just
a simple warning, "Be careful," he said slowly, his voice low.

She looked at him for a long moment, and then threw her hands up in defeat,
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm just," she paused and sighed. Then took a sip
from her coffee. Putting the cup down she gazed back at him, her voice and
eyes apologetic, "I'm really sorry, but this business isn't any fun for me
either. I had a rather annoying interrogation yesterday with our beloved
Riley Finn. If I hadn't know it already, after yesterday I'd swear he's the
lowest form of life on this planet. A definite..." she trailed off, but of
course he knew what she was thinking.

"I see," he replied, choosing his words carefully. He knew that Cordelia
wouldn't tell him what had happened during the interrogation, and he
wouldn't ask, but, "So he wasn't quite the gentleman, I assume?"

"Gentleman," she echoed, and the disgust so thick that, that one word held
said more than a whole novel ever would. "I asked him about Operation Delta
and there was a flicker in his eyes, you know. It was quick, but it was
there. I have no idea what it means, but my boss certainly has Finn on his
list. And believe me, you wouldn't want to be on Timothy Philips' list."

"Well, I for once don't care if he's got Riley on his list or not," Angel
said and meant it. Lists were just that, lists. He was more interested in
finding out if Riley had his hands in shady business - or if it was Riley at
all. And besides, he thought, this wasn't about Riley. This was about
finding a foul egg. "And I have no idea if the fact that David Griffin is
dating Diana Massey has anything to do with Darla. They never really got
along. At least not while Darla and I were dating. I saw Diana, once, twice
max."

"But you're sure about her? I mean you're sure it was her?"

"Oh, yeah," Angel nodded and ran a hand through his hair, "It's not really
complicated," he told Cordelia, "If you know Darla, you know Diana. They're
twins."

Cordelia almost choked on her coffee and was about to say something, when
the door of a room opened and a sleepy eyed and rather groggy Spike stumbled
into the living room, only wearing his boxers - the same way he had a couple
days ago. Blinking against the Californian morning sun, he cast his eyes on
the brunette, "Oh, Miss District Attorney," he grinned, although it was
rather lopsided, due to the fact that the whole left side of his face was
covered with interesting colors.

"What the..." Angel was on his feet in an instant, eyeing his friend
closely, "Whatever happened to you last night?"

Spike's smile changed into a pain-filled grimace and he touched his cheek
gingerly, "I... uh... had an argument with a local shi... idiot, so to
speak."

"Some argument," Cordelia commented sarcastically. "I'd say it grew rather
out of hand."

"Not really," the blond replied, groaning when he touched a special spot
near his eyebrow. Glancing sideways at Cordelia, he said, "I had a date with
Drusilla last night. We went to a nice club. I found it yesterday when we
drove by and thought it might be a nice change to the Splash. So I took her
there," he sighed deeply, "big mistake. Next time remind me not to chose a
club if you're not familiar with the town."

"So what happened?" Angel wanted to know, sitting down again and crossing
his arms in front of his chest, watching his friend expectantly.

"Well," Spike began while he was walking to the kitchen and back, completely
unconcerned about his lack of clothing, to get an empty cup, "seems the club
belongs to the brother of an asshole Dru dated before. He wasn't the nicest
guy, she told me. Crossed Vice. So there we are and as soon as the asshole's
brother spots Dru he begins to taunt her. Gentleman I am, I couldn't just
sit by and watch, you know."

"So you... um... decided to save the lady's honor, right?" Angel said, now
grinning.

"So to speak," Spike replied, pouring himself coffee. Caffeine was a
necessity. His head was pounding from a mix of alcohol and being beaten up
by two gorillas and the fact that he'd been the noble one and just brought
Drusilla home instead of trying to get her between the sheets - preferably
his.

And that alone was enough reason for a severe headache. Because it pointed
out that Drusilla wasn't just some casual fling. The blond groaned inwardly.
Not that he hadn't already noticed the problem. But it was the absolute
wrong time to fall in love with a possible suspect. Sure, Angel swore,
Drusilla was clean, but Spike was a cop and as a cop he knew you had to
expect the unexpected.

When he looked up he saw Cordelia's gaze resting on him, "What?" he asked.
"Isn't a guy allowed to play the protector?"

"Some protector," she snorted, shaking her head. "From the looks of you I'd
say you ended up in the gutter. Or do the others look worse?"

"No, not really," he admitted rather quietly. "But hey," he glanced at
Angel, "they were two, with really big muscles and really mean faces."

"Oh, this is just great. One of my internal officers goes out and lets
himself be used as a punching bag. Wonderful." Cordelia glared at him.

"Hey, lady. I was out with a girl," Spike wasn't looking at his coffee
anymore. No, his eyes were solely directed at Cordelia and they were rather
angry now, "A guy insulted her. What should I do? Just sit there and watch?
In your dreams." With a last look he stood up and walked into his bedroom,
slamming the door in her face.

"Explosive character, your friend," Cordelia remarked, turning back towards
Angel.

"Not really," he replied and tilted his head. "He's just protective. He
always was. With women and with his partner and I'm more than grateful for
it."

"Yeah, I heard," she said, all humor vanished from his face. "He saved your
life one night. I read the reports. It's rather impressive. He carried you
on his shoulders for over six miles. Regarding your height and weight and
his, it's very impressive."

"He's my friend and my partner. I would've done the same for him. But yeah,
it's impressive and I owe him."

This was becoming far too personal, Cordelia decided, "What impression did
you get of Mike Harmon and his girl? Is this relationship real?"

"It looks like it," Angel was grateful for the change of subjects. He wasn't
comfortable talking about Spike and his relationship with him with Cordelia.
The things they had done for each other were between them - and that meant
private. "He couldn't keep his hand off the woman. And she was smiling at
him like he'd hung the moon."

"Good for him," Cordelia commented. "And for us. If it's love, I highly
doubt the money is important. Mike doesn't strike me as the type who needs
money to impress a woman. He isn't self-conscious."

"No, he isn't," Angel, agreed. "I like him actually. He's got a great sense
of humor and he's got a lot of experience for his age. Besides, Derryl
Chambers has money, and yeah, David Griffin was a guest at the party, but
that doesn't really mean anything."

"I know," Cordelia sighed again, "It's just... I hate this. You know,
digging through our own trenches to find a traitor."

"Yeah," he agreed again. There was nothing worse than a dirty cop. Cops were
meant to protect and to clean up, not to change sides. Oh yeah, a dirty cop
was definitely the worst.

"So who will you be watching next?" she asked.

Angel shrugged, "We haven't decided yet. Maybe Kate Lockley. We'll have to
see. We have to decide what the best opportunity is. Spike's going to shadow
Darla today," he then added, "We need to find out if she'll contact her
sister. We already watched her yesterday, but nothing so far."

Cordelia nodded, and then changed the subject again, "Buffy told me what you
did for her. When her oh so wonderful soon-to-be ex was behaving like the
asshole he is."

He gave her an irritated look, "Yeah, and?"

"And nothing. You did good," she smiled, "She had and sometimes still has it
rough, you know. Riley wasn't just cheating on her. I'm certainly not supposed to
tell you, and she never told me, but women just know some things."

"Cordelia," now he grew even more irritated.

"He beat her," as if the words hurt her mouth, she spat them.

Angel stared at her, then was on his feet in a flash, his motions jerky, he
ran a suddenly trembling hand through his hair, "Jesus Christ," he muttered,
beginning to pace the room. "You're sure?" he asked, stopping shortly to glance
at her, then continued pacing.

"Yeah," she replied. "Makeup can't cover everything. I'm sure the others
were completely oblivious, but I always had a thing for makeup."

"No kidding," he remarked, but it didn't sound funny. Actually it sounded as
if he was ready to hit something. Really hard.

"Yeah, well, anyways. I noticed that the color of the eye shadow on her left
lid didn't really match the one on her right. I never asked, knowing how
uncomfortable women are about it. And as Riley moved out of their apartment
the same afternoon, it didn't happen again. But of course I'm not sure if he
ever did it before."

"He's lucky I wasn't around," Angel hissed through gritted teeth. He had
stopped pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching in a steady rhythm. "I
would've beat him into a bloody pulp. God," he asked nobody in particular,
"Did I ever know him at all?"

"Seems Spike isn't the only one with a protective streak," Cordelia said as
she came to stand beside him. Tentatively she reached out and touched his
arm. When he turned his head to look at her, she gave him a warm smile,
"It's over," she said slowly. "She'll be divorced soon and all this will be
nothing more than a bad dream."

"You're wrong," he replied, not heeding to her smile, "those things never
leave you. You can get divorced. But things like that will change you
forever." Turning to look out of the window again, he frowned and Cordelia
wasn't sure if he was just trying to blink the tears in his eyes away. "Did
you ever look into her eyes? Really look? They're so sad. So lost. They used
to sparkle with mischief. They used to laugh. Almost all the time. Sure, a
part of this was vanished when Mike was shoot and she thought I'd killed
him," he suddenly laughed harshly, "Geez, for all I know she still blames
me."

"No," Cordelia said firmly, her fingers on his arms tightening, urging him
to look at her again. "She doesn't blame you for her brother's death. She
probably never did." She saw the incredulous expression in his eyes and
shook her head, "Angel, she was devastated when Mike was killed. You know
how long she needed to finally accept him. He was the embodiment of her
father's failure to love her mother. But then she loved him. She really
loved him. And then he was killed, and with your weapon.

"From there everything fell apart. *She* fell apart. I saw her, Angel. She
couldn't eat or sleep. After a while she couldn't even cry anymore. She
certainly couldn't think clearly. By the time she woke up she knew she was
wrong, that you wouldn't have shot Mike, not even unintentionally. You're a
too good cop, and I know you loved her." She tilted her head, "Probably
never stopped loving her."

He just looked at her steadily, his expression not changing and she wanted
to scream. One thing she'd always hated about Angel Reardon was his ability
to hide his feelings. Damn the man. "Anyways," she continued, "As I said,
she woke up. Unfortunately she found herself married to Riley and you were
already gone to New York. You don't just throw your marriage away and run
after a guy whom you just hurt by rejecting him."

Now his eyes widened in surprise. His expression was a little dazed when he
whispered "I always thought you saw me responsible for all this mess."

She couldn't help it, but she had to laugh, "Sorry," she said instantly. "I
know this isn't a laughing matter. But no, I never thought you responsible
for it. Or only a little bit. Maybe I blamed you for not fighting harder,
for not being a bit more stubborn."

"I didn't want to cause her more pain." His voice was still not more than a
whisper. Then it hit him, "She really doesn't blame me?"

Her smile warmed even more, "No," she assured him. "So maybe knowing that,
you could... well, try to right the wrong?"

"Cordelia," he sighed loudly, "I... I just don't know. It's been four years.
A long time. A lot of things happened. I don't even know how she feels about
me. If she's still interested."

"Well," she let go of his hand, her smile turning a bit wicked, "As I see
it, you'll never know until you try."

... to be continued