Summary:       Someone else takes an interest in Faith's case.  Spike's keeping secrets again, but Buffy's not sure about what.  Spike knows, but he's not telling.         

Warning:  There is something about Faith's case that has always bothered me.  I know nothing about the law, so bare with me.  I'm making things up as I go along.  (Don't you love the freedom fan fics give you?) 

Disclaimer:    Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own everything.  But I wouldn't mind leasing Spike from them for a couple of weeks :) 

Feedback:     As always, appreciated.

Seeing Spike Through Buffy's Eyes

Chapter 22 – Courting with Disaster

Lilah was having a terrible day.  And the conference call with the board members hadn't helped.  Every time she thought she was getting close.  Every damn time!  Something happened.  Now, not only did she need to worry about Angel, but she needed to keep track of Connor.  The boy… after months of research, they still had nothing on him.  No prophesies, no cryptic writings.  Nothing that pointed to why two vampires had spawned a human child.  It was rather annoying. 

She rested her head on the back of her chair.  Maybe she should pay Wesley a visit.  After bringing Angel back from God knows where, she could feel him distancing himself from her.  Well, it's not like they were close to begin with, but still there was additional distance there.  But she didn't care, right?  It was all about the sleep arrangements, nothing more.  And he did help relax her.  Lilah chuckled to herself.  Definitely helped relax her. 

She looked at the file folders almost spilling out of her in-box.  Maybe some less important work would help her focus.  She had been neglecting her other duties the past few weeks.  How was she supposed to run the LA office and keep tabs on Angel , his rugrat and his little gang of merry men all at the same time?  What she needed was an assistant to help with the entire Angel problem, but she couldn't trust anyone to do the work but herself.  It was always something.

Lilah pulled the stack of files into her lap, quickly flipping through the tabs.  She'd give the files a preliminary run, then hand them over to someone else.  Nothing sitting on her desk was that important – wait.  She flipped back a few tabs as a name caught her attention.  Faith?  What was Faith's filing doing on her desk?  She pulled the file out of the stack, placing the rest of them back in her in-box.  A frown creased her brow as she read the note paper-clipped to the outside.      

Ms. Morgan,

We are currently working on an appeal in the case of Faith Danners.  Since you have worked with this client before, we would appreciate any assistance you could offer. 

Sincerely,

Michael Hillard

Jeffrey Robbins

Lilah ripped the file open.  Faith's case was in appeal?  Who the hell had hired the firm to appeal the girl's case?  Her eyes scanned the contents of the file.  William Summers.  She didn't recognize the name, but it did sound familiar.  Summers, Summer, where had she heard that name…  oh, there it was.  The fifth page in.  Buffy Summers – Slayer.  Current residence – Sunnydale, CA.  But the file said William Summers resided in New Orleans.  Interesting.  The last names could be a coincidence, but Lilah didn't believe in coincidences.  Especially when it came to Slayers. 

So, William Summers was spending an enormous amount of money to appeal Faith's case.  Truthfully, it wouldn't be difficult to get the girl out of jail.  If Faith had kept her part of the bargain in the first place, had killed Angel as she was instructed, she never would have seen the inside of a jail cell.  The entire case was built on circumstantial evidence.  The police never found either murder weapon, there were no prints, and the MO for both murders was different.  No, the reason Faith was in jail was her own confession. 

Lilah looked more closely at the file's contents.  Obviously, the attorneys working the case were from the sixth floor.  Imbeciles.  They had uncovered everything but the most important piece of information.  Poor, little Faithy.  Lilah wondered how she was doing in her 3x3 cell.  Must be driving her insane by now.  Knowing she had the strength to escape, but her conscience keeper her behind bars.  The girl was an idiot.  She was wasting the power she was given.  But Lilah had no allegiances.  What she did to insure Faith's incarceration could easily be challenged.  Wolfram and Hart did what the paying clients told them.

All it would take were a few phone calls to uncover the paperwork that had been misplaced at Faith's first trial.  It had been so simple.  The confession was grand, but completely invalid.  And although the court had tried Faith as an adult, she was a minor at the time of her arrest and confession.  Something that hadn't come out before or during the trial.  A minor for whom the police had never found a parent or legal guardian.  With the proper handling, even the lackeys on the sixth floor could have the confession thrown out.  And without the confession, the prosecution had nothing.

She'd tell them to present their brief to Judge Owens.  Owens was known for his opposition to infringing on the rights of minors.  Hell, he was a champion for the brats of the world.  She'd used him before when she needed help with a minor's case.  He wasn't fond of Wolfram and Hart on principle, but he'd put that aside to help a child.  With his assistance, they should be able to speed through the appeal process.               

The entire situation was intriguing.  Maybe she'd pay a visit to the lower floor herself.  Pass along the information she had and gather some of her own.    Lilah laid the file open on her desk, pushing her chair back as she contemplated the new puzzle in front of her.  William Summers.  Who are you and why do you want the little Slayer out of jail?

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Buffy watched Spike as he sat in front of his laptop now stationed on the desk in the living room.  She shook her head as she pulled her eyes away from him and back to the movie she was supposed to be watching with Dawn.  Since coming back to Sunnydale, he spent more time on the damn computer and on his constantly ringing cell phone than she would have liked.  Worrying about his business, The Cup of Souls, Dawn's welfare.  Hell, the only time they spent alone together, aside from their bedroom antics, was on patrol.  Not the best boyfriend/girlfriend quality time.  But then again, compared to her other relationships…

He was just so… different now.  She wasn't sure what the sitch was, and it's not like he was Mr. Spillage when it came to the info.  Oh sure, he told her all about the bar and Cassandra and Anthony and his run in with Giles, but there was something missing.  Something she didn't know.  And it was driving her nuts!

Okay, so he told her upfront that he wasn't going to tell her everything.  And she got that.  She really did.  It wasn't like she had told him everything about her life.  She hadn't told him about the time before she was chosen.  Hadn't filled him in on all the parts of the Angel-Buffy saga.  Hadn't given him a play-by-play of everything that had happened in Sunnydale while he was gone.  But this nagging at the back of her skull wasn't about stuff like that.  She felt – no, she KNEW he was keeping bigger and better secrets from her.  She'd bet her new crossbow on it. 

The question was how did she ask him without having a replay of the kitchen incident a few weeks ago?  Since then, they had fallen into a rather domestic routine.  Which was something else that was secretly wigging her out.  Come on, Spike doing laundry?  Cooking dinner?  Changing the sheets on the bed?  Okay, obviously he had done things like that before, but not in her house.  And definitely not with her watching.  It just didn't fit the Big Bad image. 

Where was she?  Oh yeah, the kitchen incident.  Didn't want to repeat that.  Especially after the conversation between her and Dawn.  She'd put on her best, "look, I'm the adult.  I know more about this stuff than you do" face when she and Dawn had talked about abusive relationships.  And it was a good conversation.  Dawn seemed to understand what Buffy was talking about before Buffy knew herself.  Dawn knew the difference between what was acceptable between Spike and Buffy, and what was acceptable between regular people, but she had agreed with Willow.  The hitting Spike all the time, not the best idea the Slayer ever had.  Dawn had even challenged her.  A stupid bet really.  For every week the two didn't come to blows, Dawn would do the dishes and take out the trash, normally Buffy duties.  And it was working.  Buffy hadn't had dishpan hands in over three weeks. 

So, how DID she ask Spike if he was keeping things from her without it turning into a full-blown argument, complete with vampire broken nose?

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Spike glanced in Buffy's direction briefly before turning his attention back to his e-mail.  The Slayer was supposed to be watching television with the Nibblet, but it was obvious her mind wasn't on the movie.  No, she had the scrunched up worried look about her.  Another place and time, he might have asked her what was wrong.  But since he had a pretty good idea what it was, and since he had no intentions of telling her the truth, he'd just have to let her stew.  Bloody hell, he hated this. 

Giles had called him from Boston the day he learned who was in possession of the Cup of Souls.  Quentin Travers.  The bastard.  Spike had never met the man personally.  No, the Council's grand-poobah was too high up on the food chain to ask questions of the vampire himself.  The last time the council was in town, he had sent the babies to Spike's crypt instead.  But it didn't matter.  Sight unseen, Spike still hated him.  Probably the only person in the world he would enjoy killing with his bare hands, if the damn chip wasn't still lodged in his brain.  Well, besides the Whelp, of course.  But that was just tradition, now wasn't it? 

When they had first talked, Giles had apologized over and over.  And a day later, Cassandra and Tony had done the same.  But it wasn't their faults.  How could they have known their inquires into the Cup would have alerted the Council to the Slayer's recent problem?  It was just bad, dumb luck was all.

Spike knew Giles and Tony were doing the best they could.  Making inquires among their contacts in England.  Of course, Giles wasn't a popular member of the Council, and didn't trust anyone who worked closely with Travers.  And Tony's own associates were mostly demon in nation.  Not prime candidates for information when one wanted to know the inner workings of the Watchers.  But they were trying.  And if all else failed, they had Cass. 

But did the Slayer know any of this?  Of course not.  Spike knew Giles was right.  Never even argued with him over it.  If Buffy knew who had the Cup, she'd be on the next plane to England.  She'd march into the Council and demand Travers give it to her.  And she'd be exactly where he wanted her – at his mercy.  So, Spike agreed with Giles.  Until they had a better plan, Buffy was left in the dark.

But it wasn't Giles who had to look her in the eye, was it?  Wasn't Giles who had to answer her questions about how the research was going.  Wasn't Giles who had to lie to her every waking minute of every damn day!  No, Giles left all of that to Spike.

And then there was the whole Faith situation.  Christ.  Could he dig a deeper hole for himself?  When the Slayer found out…  Why didn't someone just stake him now?  When Buffy found out that Faith might actually get out of jail.  When she found out that HE was the one paying to get her out.  Not to mention when she found out about Giles little theory.  Spike knew his unlife wouldn't be worth two damn nickels.

And the worst part, the bloody worst part, was that they hadn't been fighting!  Nibblet had told him about the sisters' conversation.  Even told him about the stupid bet.  Spike thought the whole thing was funny.  Especially the part where Harris and Red stood up for him.  How bad was it when two of the Scoobies took his side over the Slayer's?  Spike was even doing his part.  Trying not to goad her.  Doing his share of the household stuff.  In his opinion, being the model boyfriend. 

And the minute she knew the truth, it would all be shot to hell.  Some days, it just didn't pay to be a white hat.  Nope.  It really didn't pay.                  

---TBC