Part Five

Part Five

~**~

"It certainly has good pickup," Giles offered, swerving the rented Toyota out of the way of the woman applying her mascara on the freeway.

"It's not the Citroën, that's the best I can say for it," Buffy replied, miffed.

"You know full well we couldn't afford to rent that red Mustang convertible, so try to make do," Giles snapped back.

"It could be worse," Willow offered from the back seat, "It could be some ugly color, like grey."

Buffy turned to glare at her friend. "Wills, it's *silver*. Silver is just grey with a little ambition." She faced forward, focusing again on their task. "So, we have to find Xander in the huge city of Los Angles, we only know where Cordelia saw him *hours* ago, he's wearing a personality we don't know and has a mission we can't guess. Could be harder, I guess. At least we know what *car* to look for." She shot a sidelong glance at her Watcher, who appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from responding. Rather, he pretended not to hear the last comment.

"What precisely do we know about Xander's current personality?" the older man mused.

"He's definitely a 'he,'" Willow ventured. "Did you see the way he walked? That was either a guy or a serious butch."

"Yeah, the whole car thing was seriously male, too," Buffy said, "Except it would have been more likely if he'd gone for, say, a red Mustang convertible." She smirked while Giles gave her a poisonous glare. "Wonder if he's a good guy or bad?"

"Well, he stole Giles' car, and dissed Cordy…" Willow thought out loud.

Buffy turned to look at the redhead. "You're right – it's too evenly balanced right now to call. Could go either way."

"Excuse me," the Watcher interrupted. "Stealing my car was a *good* thing?"

"Oh, geez, you're even more right – that means everything he's done is good. That's a relief. At least he's on the side of the light."

Giles' mouth was open to respond when Willow sang out from the backseat, "This is the exit, according to MapQuest. We need to go west to reach the Manhattan Beach pier." At least briefly, the bickering came to an end.

~**~

Marco sat on the bench, mentally working out his plan. It would be easier if he could trust someone else – this was going to be hard to pull off alone. He might be able to talk to Detective Collier, although the positive mention in the article was veiled enough – he could have been talking about anyone. Besides, how likely was the detective to believe a total stranger – a seventeen-year-old kid, no less – about evidence that a cop in his department was dirty, and had killed and framed his own partner? Right – and pigs can fly. No, Suarez would just have to figure out a way to do it all alone. He just hoped he wouldn't harm Harris' body in the process.

He didn't really notice the people who approached him until the girl sat beside him on the bench. "I don't know who you are, but you have something that belongs to a friend of mine, and I'm here to help him get it back." Marco heard the older man clear his throat. "Oh, yeah, you need to give Giles back his car, too."

"Look, I'll do my best to take care of your friend's body, but you can't help me, and I'm not going back till I'm done." Marco went to stand, but found a firm grip on his forearm was preventing his action. He twisted in a way that would have easily freed him from a grown man's hold, thinking this little girl couldn't hang on, but hang on she did. "Let go," he growled, annoyed.

"I don't think so," the blonde replied, standing and with a quick motion tossing the young man's body over her shoulder and flat on the ground, landing on his chest and pinning him down. Marco brought his legs up, getting the girl in a scissor hold and flipping her over, pinning her in return. She twisted and bucked beneath him, pulling free and bouncing to a fighting stance. He jumped up and faced off with her.

"Lover's spat," the redheaded girl standing watching explained to a concerned and curious onlooker. Buffy swept her leg around, but Xander's body jumped away, twisting in the air and landing behind her. Marco grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, pulling her to his chest.

"Must be a very passionate relationship," the watching passerby commented before moving on.

"I didn't think Xander's body was strong enough to beat me," Buffy gasped, not quite in pain, but certainly in discomfort.

"Can I trust you if I let you go?" Marco asked her. She nodded, and shook her arms out when he released them. "Your friend Xander is stronger than you give him credit for," Marco continued. "His legs are pretty powerful, he's got strong abs and good glutes."

Willow giggled. "He thinks Xan has a nice butt," she explained to Buffy.

Marco frowned. "I wouldn't have put it that way."

"I would," Willow sighed wistfully. The cop looked at her, confused, then shrugged and went on.

"He could use some upper body work, though. You might want to tell him to try swimming – it's good for the chest and back."

"If you're done assessing Xander's body could you tell us what you plan to do with it?" Giles pitched in, still not trusting the spirit that stole his car.

Marco seemed to actually notice the Watcher for the first time. "Oh, hi. Thanks for letting me use your Citroën. I adjusted the points and plugs for you – it should run better. But you need to get the tires aligned, and make sure you change the oil every 3,000 miles. And it could use a paint job, of course. That thing's a classic. You need to take care of it." Giles visibly inflated, smiling happily. No one else had ever appreciated his car before.

"Thank you, sir. Now, could you tell us why you're here and what you have planned? Perhaps we can be of assistance, and retrieve our own Mr. Harris in the process." Giles estimation of the spirit had obviously risen enormously in the past few minutes.

Marco grunted, and his good humor of a few moments ago vanished. He ran his hand through Xander's hair. "My name's Marco Suarez – formerly Lieutenant Suarez, LAPD Special Operations." He paused, realizing how unlikely his story might sound.

"And you're dead, right?" Willow didn't sound like she had a problem dealing with that fact, which sort of surprised the late cop. When his face showed this, she shrugged. "You aren't the first spirit that's visited this way, although we got to see more of Xander, last time."

Marco nodded – he was dead, but right now alive and living in the body of a seventeen-year-old boy. Statements claiming strange things were no longer cause for distress, or even pause. He continued. "I was killed by my partner, and framed as a dirty cop. I came back to set the record straight."

"And we can help! I can fight, Willow's great with the computer, and Giles is Research Guy." Buffy was bouncing up and down in her excitement She caught her Watcher's expression of disapproval. "What? It doesn't sound any harder than dusting vamps." She tried a wheedling tone. "And it'll get us Xander back. C'mon, Giles, pleeease?"

"Vamps?" Marco held up his hand. "Wait – I don't think I want to know." He'd realized he couldn't do anything alone, but should he involve these children? But still – they seemed competent, and the blonde was certainly strong. And pretty. And the older man seemed responsible enough. Surely he would protest if he thought they'd be endangered. Marco's gut said to trust them. He looked up into Buffy's eyes and nodded slowly.

The Slayer was still bouncing. The thought of helping set something straight, to bring justice where it was due, excited her. This was the stuff of *Nash Bridges*. And this Marco guy was a hunk. Buffy stopped bouncing. A dead hunk. A dead hunk that looked just like Xander. Who, physically, anyway, *was* Xander. Did that mean Xander was a hunk? She shook her head, and began to bounce again. Justice. *Nash Bridges*. Cool.

~**~

"I was able to access those databases you suggested," Willow told Marco several hours later. "Here are the official reports from the LAPD on the whole thing."

The late cop paged through the printouts. "How were you able to get these? Was this legal?"

Giles moved to Marco's side. "Which would you prefer – the information, or the answer to that question?" At the other man's startled expression, Giles offered, "I've learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth." Marco grunted, and Willow continued as if she'd never been interrupted.

"The reports indicate that Kyle Martinson was highly investigated – some members of Internal Affairs thought he was your accomplice, while other officers are on record as suspecting the truth – that he set you up. But the evidence against him wasn't there, and the evidence against you, while weak, was. Finally, they were ordered by the Assistant Police Chief to close down the investigation."

"Kyle's wifey must have whined to Daddy," Marco muttered.

"That was four years ago," Willow went on. "Your buddy Kyle laid low for a bit, then bought his wife a nice new Jag and moved to Manhattan Beach from Fullerton." She handed Marco some more papers. "Here's the tax records. Oh, and I have a couple of account numbers for some overseas banks that should be helpful." At the looks she was getting from both the cop and the librarian, Willow shrugged. "Some people aren't very careful with their e-mail. What they don't know about technology catches them every time."

Marco leafed through the pages. "Why couldn't Internal Affairs find all this?"

"Kyle knew the system. He sat on everything until he was sure no one was looking anymore, then he managed to conjure a 'rich distant relative' who left him lots of money. Everything stunk a bit, but the system wasn't set up to investigate the smell properly. Nobody trusted him, but there was no way to reopen the file without something more than suspicion." Willow looked at the Xander-shaped cop blankly. "This isn't the movies – there isn't always a happy ending, and justice isn't always served."

Suarez glanced again at the papers. "It will be," he growled. Motioning to the others, he gathered them together. "Here's the plan…"

~**~