Title: LA's Finest

Rating: PG-13.. nothing that couldn't happen on the show, I guess.

Disclaimer: The crowd chanted loudly, "Defense! Defense!" I clutched the ball in my hands, waving it wildly to escape my man's steal attempts. I scanned for an open, and caught a glimpse of shiny red hair in an otherwise empty corner of the court. "Joss!" I passed it to the man in the shortest pink shorts, with the number 13 on it. He caught it, and dribbled in place. Joss had a wide-open shot, but guards were fast approaching. "Shoot, Joss! Shoot!", I screamed. He yelled back, "Not until you say that the shows belong to me! Me! And that you're not going to make any profit from writing your pathetic--".. "Okay, Joss! Yes! Just shoot!", I desperately interrupted. He launched the ball at the basket, but it landed on my mother's head in the audience instead. She is now in a coma.

Summary: Extremely AU. Buffy is the LAPD's finest undercover officer, and Spike's Robin Hood shtick is her newest assignment.

Feedback: Why is this even here? Who, in their right mind, would say no?

Elizabeth Summers shuffled mercilessly through countless manila folders and government-branded sheets, jotting down notes at any given moment. The sight of her hair tied back, holster and leather jacket on the chair, and makeup practically nonexistent could tell any random passerby that she's been there since daybreak.

"Buffy, it's midnight. You're not going to accomplish anything half-dead, so why don't you just go home already?"

Rupert slipped on his coat as he walked over to Buffy's desk, mindlessly passing by the daily shuffle of the police station.

"I can't, Giles. I've been working on this case for so long and I think if I just--"

"Drop dead, it'll solve itself? I'm the boss Summers, and I say go home."

"Oh no, you're calling me Summers again. It isn't that bad, is it?"

Giles just stared at her, his face screaming, "duh!".

"Harris already left hours ago, and you should've done the same," he argued.

"Well that's Xander. Just because the guy's my partner doesn't mean I'm supposed to be as lazy and half-witted as he is--"

"Buffy?"

"Hmm?"

"Go home."

"Stupid Giles. Telling me when to go home and do my work and.. and.. being a big stupidhead!"

Buffy turned the ignition on her steel blue Chrysler, and headed out the station lot. She turned off the CB, and on the radio. "Then again," she thought, "off-duty's looking pretty sexy right now." The radio blasted, and she thanked goodness she didn't have a headache tonight. Tapping on the steering wheel with the beat, she sang dramatically along with the radio.

"Oh-- I! I just died in your arms tonight! Must've been somethin' you say-ead.. I!.. I just.."

Her cell phone rang and she muttered, "Pfft.. when I finally get some me time, of course this happens."

Contradicting her mutter, she cherrily answered, "Hello?"

"Hey Buff! How was work?"

"Eh, ya know Wills. Just the usual underpaid adrenaline-pumping deskwork. Haven't actually gone out for a case in a while. How'd you know I just got off?"

"I know because I actually know you. Geez, it's been ages since you've been out with the gang too, ya know?"

"Oh poppycock. What about that time when we had that big dinner with--"

"Buffy, that was Thanksgiving."

"Oh."

"That's the reason I called though. We're all going to Starbucks for lunch tomorrow. Wanna come with?"

"Starbucks? Really? What's the special occasion?"

She wasn't being sarcastic, at those prices and at her wage.

"Oh I don't know. You? And your gracing us with your presence?"

"Fine, I get the message. I'll be there. The one across from the station, right?"

"Yep! Specially picked location and everything!"

"Haha, Willow. See ya then, bye."

"Bye!"

She took a second of silence to get back into her groove.

"Oh-- I! I just died in your arms tonight!"

~Next chapter, meet the rest of the gang!~