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The alley was slick with the aftereffects of rain, as Angel led the detective through it. A thick metal door was off to the side, and he stepped to knock on it.
"Eh?" a voice from the other side asked, as if it was the question that would led to every answer it needed.
"Angel," he answered. A slit of a window was slide open from the other side, and two dark eyes peeked through. The door was bolted open, and the should-be couple were granted entrance.
"Angel!" the bouncer exclaimed. "Where ya been? Haven't seen you around in ages," he said, a smile gracing the bulky man's face.
"Just settling around, Tito. You know," he answered, gesturing to Buffy.
"Oh, hey. How you doin'?" he asked Buffy, with an invading glance.
"I'm doin'," she answered.
"See ya later Tit," Angel patted him heartily on the back, and it barely fazed the man as they inched their way into the party. Tito frowned at the nickname and silently muttered spiteful curses at the fading 'Angel'.
Buffy only now had the chance to check out her surroundings. It was an industrial-type interior, clearly setup recently for a shindig. One might mistake it for a club, with the pulsating music and lights that scanned the dark place. It was cool enough for the mass of sweaty bodies to not heat up the place, nor the cigarette smoke that filled the air. The large area was complete with tables, a dance floor, and a bar. "Whoever's hosting the party must be criminally loaded," thought Buffy.
He found himself a nice quiet wall to lean on, and dug into his duster for a pack of cigs. Spike hated going to these obligatory functions, but Wesley was fairly pushy for the ponce that he was. It was the same old thing. Trashy chits threw themselves on him, wankers tried to talk business, and he'd always find himself against a wall. It was better that way, he figured. They get few words out of him and he plays it all lonewolf-like in the corner, and then they could use their imaginations to credit whatever cool demeanor they figured him for having. The system worked.
Spike lit his cig and tossed the match wherever, savoring the tobacco that'd be the death of him. He scanned the room once more, eyeing a couple that had just entered. Angel had has hand on the small of-- a gorgeous girl Spike knew he saw in the coffee shop. He looked her up and down, nearly shocked at the revealing blood red number she wore. It hugged her curves and flowed in all the right places, taking every ounce of Spike's attention. The few thoughts about her that didn't concentrate on her beauty wondered why she was all done up in the first place. His gut assessment at the coffee shop was that the girl was a down-to-earth working girl. He figured her for smart, witty, and everything and anything he'd savor. "Seems she's a bit more complicated than I wagered," thought Spike.
"So who's the biggest wig in this joint?" Buffy leaned into Angel asking the question as they worked their way to the crowd. Angel's eyes skimmed over the people, drinking in the ones who he'd need to mind.
He whispered into her ear, invading enough to touch his chapped lips on her lobe, "Two geezers at the bar. They sponsor all the big guns. Anything from Meth to pickpockets. Tonight, it's burglary. Short and stocky over on the dance floor, with the prossies all over him, he's into collecting museum crap. Peroxide on the wall's pretty slick. He's the youngest here, he's never been caught, and he should be loaded-- even if he doesn't show it."
Buffy stared in concentration at the man she'd seen at the coffee shop as Angel prattled on. He wore the same black number from Starbucks, sucked on a deathstick, and played the lone wolf shtick with all his might.
"Tell me more about Peroxide," she interrupted, not taking her eyes away from the man at the wall.
"Alright," he answered with all the nonchalance the New York accent could bring. "Name's Spike. British. Far as the underground knows, he's only involved in this business. Came out of the woodworks around two years ago. No one knows much about him," he concluded.
"Introduce me."
He crushed the cigarette with the heel of his boot and answered the ringing cell phone.
" 'ello?"
"Spike? How's the party?"
"Just dandy, mum. Crumpets when I come home?"
"Haha, Spike. Listen, about the next job--"
"More problems? I don't care about whatever technical mumbo jumbo you run into, seeing as how I can't do anything about it--"
"Spike, it's something else. I think we're going to need another person..."
"What? Not on your life, wanker. We can't ruin this now by bringing some halfwit--"
"There's no possible way for you to get through these lasers. You're just not agile enough, and you need someone--"
"Oh, a bird then? You're wasting your breath, mate. There isn't anyone here with the finesse or the brains you're looking for..."
"Are you sure? It's very--"
"I'll get back to you," he said softly as he pocketed the cell. Spike's crystal gaze met green and his mouth gaped just a bit, as Angel and his new girl approached him.