A/N: Ha! Finally I arrived at the real crossover. I've never written MM before, and I don't know how I feel about the end result. At least I managed to update fairly quickly. I was rather in a hurry to write this, so I apologize for any typos or spelling mistakes you might find.

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"It always amazes me, Tom, how you manage to find the most dastardly crimes in the most idyllic of places." George Bullard shook his head resignedly while addressing the DCI who was waiting patiently behind him.

"Dastardly, George? What have you been reading lately?" Tom Barnaby shook his head slightly said with a small smile. "I would have thought that word wasn't even in the dictionary any more".

"Just comes to show that I am more eloquent than you", the pathologist smirked. "You don't have any questions about the body then?"

"Well, the cause of death seems fairly obvious to me, if you don't think that the decapitation was done post mortem."

"No, it seems that the beheading indeed was the cause of death." The pathologist sighed softly. "Of course, I'll have to do a full autopsy, complete with toxicology testing. It never pays assume."

"Not when it comes to deaths in these parts. And to think that it wasn't even a year ago I had to conduct a murder investigation in this village the last time." He had been standing slightly hunched over with his hands on his thighs, studying Ballard as he did a quick first examination of the body, but now he stood up and straightened his back. "Any luck finding any identification? No wallet or anything on him?".

"No, not that I could find. Seems you have a John Doe on your hands this time."

"And with no luck finding the head, identifying him is going to be hard if his fingerprints or DNA doesn't show up in any of our registers". The DCI rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Sometimes it feels like someone is conspiring to do my job all that more difficult for me."

"That would probably be the murderer, Tom. Unfortunately the first objective of someone committing a crime is seldom to help the police with their enquiries", Ballard smirked.

"Pity that. It would certainly save us a lot of time and tax money". Sargent Ben Jones had caught the last two sentences of their conversation as he made his way towards them. "I am sorry I'm late, but I had a bit of car trouble." That was more or less true. He had spent twenty minutes looking for the car keys. "What do we have here then?"

"Decapitated body left practically on the doorstep, the head is nowhere to be seen. He was killed somewhere else, there is no blood to speak of here. Was dumped here less than an hour before it was found, since it wasn't here when the house's occupants left". Bullard quickly and efficiently brought him up to speed.

"Now that you managed to get here, Jones, why don't you go and talk to the lady who lives here". It was quite clear to the sergeant that his boss was not amused by his tardiness, and that he probably was a bit suspicious about the nature of his "car troubles" as well. "I believe that it is the young woman over there, talking to constable Trent". Barnaby pointed towards a petite blonde woman talking animately with one of the uniformed policemen. Jones had to shake his head slightly and look again. It had been a long time since he had seen such an attractive woman! Barnaby noted his reaction with an amused smile.

"Yes, right. I'll go do that. She's the one who found the body then?" Jones quickly looked back at his boss, taking on a strictly professional air.

"No, it wasn't. Miss Garrison over there found the body. Apparently she had been coming around to pay a visit, and literately stumbled over him." Barnaby pointed towards a woman in her late fifties with rather garishly dyed carrot red hair. "I'll go talk to her now when she's calmed down a bit. And now that you have arrived of course". He gave Jones a pointed look that the sergeant interpreted as 'Now that I don't have to wait for you to show up I can finally start doing my job'. Never the less, he almost felt like he'd been given a reward for something, since he'd been told to interview the pretty young blonde rather than the older lady. He quickly started towards the young woman before the DCI could change his mind.

Barnaby smirked at Jones back when the young policeman made his was towards the woman who lived in the cottage. He had observed her talking to constable Trent. 'Talking at', rather than 'Talking to', he thought wryly. Perhaps dealing with the clearly agitated blonde spitfire would teach his sergeant not to be late to a crime scene in the future.

***

Buffy was beyond pissed at this point. She was not allowed to go inside the house, and the police had politely asked her to refrain from making any phone calls until someone had talked to her, which she thought was ridiculous since someone actually was talking to her by telling her not to use her mobile. Apparently it wasn't the right someone.

She had been ranting at a poor policeman for almost fifteen minutes straight, and while somewhere inside her she knew that the poor man was only trying to do his job she was beyond caring at this point. The constable had barely managed to put in five words during the entire conversation, and when Jones tapped sightly on his shoulder and told him that he would take it from here, he looked at the sergeant like a drowning man who'd just been offered a lifeline.

When Ben stood face to face with Buffy, he noted her facial expression. The look she gave him clearly stated his ears would soon be bleeding.

Ah. Not a reward then.

He really should learn to take better care of his car keys.

***

Same time, at the Watcher Council headquarters, London.

When Spike had finished the tale of his unlike post Sunnydale, he fell quiet and studied Giles for any reactions. He had made a point of not looking directly at the watcher during the story. He had carefully edited some of the events, particularly events that could lead to questions about his decision not to tell about his return to this world. The trip to Rome he skipped almost entirely, only saying that he'd followed Angel there on a mission and that he'd run into Andrew, again. That still amazed him, that the little rodent actually had kept his yap shut about his return. And if he'd told Buffy, she clearly hadn't thought it fit to inform Giles or the junior slayers about it, and he didn't find that scenario likely.

Giles shook himself out of his shocked facial expression when he noticed Spikes quiet scrutiny of him. He couldn't fathom that the bleached pest (although he seemed to had to abandoned the peroxide look for the time being al least), had been back in this world a little over a year, living in LA with Angel of all people!

"I... Well..." He cleared his throat and started over, unconsciously reaching for his glasses and started polishing them, much to Spikes amusement. "I have been in contact with Angel and his people several times during the last year, and not once did anyone mention anything to indicate that you had returned to the land of the living. Or undead, as it where. Why is that, exactly?"

spikes face fell and his expression darkened when he thought about the watchers refusal to help save Fred. They had asked for help in a time of dire need, and had been refused it. It had been their only hope, and it had been crushed mercilessly. But before he could begin to vent his feelings about that, Giles spoke again, efficiently shutting him up.

"I have a hard time understanding why you wouldn't come looking for Buffy directly after you had regained your corporeal body. As I understood it, your... affection towards each other at the end of the days in Sunnydale grew quite a bit. You have claimed to love her for several years. Surely those feeling didn't just evaporate at the time you emerged from the medallion? Did you find another love interest in Los Angeles, perhaps?"

At first Spike just stared at him, clearly not really believing what he had just heard. It lasted for about ten seconds, then he exploded.

"Are you completely daft?!? 'Found another love interest...'. Of course I didn't just went out and found myself another bird, you bleedin' idiot!" If he hadn't been bound to the chair he would have been pacing the length of the room at this point.

He closed his eyes, shook his head hard and visibly tried to calm himself down. When he felt like he had found some semblance of control of his temper, he started talking again, the calmness of his tone in stark contrast to the tension in his tightly wound body.

"The reason I didn't go gallivanting after the slayer the firs chance I got is between me and her. 's none of our bloody business. And unless she's standing behind that door right now, waiting to interrogate me herself, you ain't gonna find out any time soon, because the second you seem fit to let me go, I'll be on my merry way, hopefully as far away from slayers and watchers as I can get".

Giles looked at him again. He felt like missed an important piece of the puzzle somewhere. Something must have happened that the vampire across the table hadn't told him about.

A sudden thought struck him. If Spike had heard of Buffy's pregnancy, and hadn't done the maths, the chances were that he thought she had moved on to another man directly after the collapse of Sunnydale. After all, Spike knew he couldn't have any children. On the other hand, if he didn't know about Buffy's daughter, that was another deal entirely. Giles was in noway prepared, nor willing to be the one who would inform the vampire that he was Heathers biological father. Right now, he actually wasn't convinced that he should ever know.

Still, he had to know how much spike had heard of his child, if anything.

"Spike... do you know who Heather is?" Giles asked resignedly. He really didn't want to ask this question, but he knew he had to.

Spike was puzzled at the sudden change of topic, and it showed on his face. That was really all the answer Giles needed, but he waited for him to speak anyway.

"Never heard of a bird named Heather. Why? 's she one of the new slayers? Should I know her?"

"No, I guess you don't. It's not important right now anyway." Giles felt terribly relieved. He didn't have to open this particular can of worms just yet. But it was still possible that Spike knew that Buffy had a child, but hadn't heard the name. He braced himself to ask another question.

"Have you heard anything about Buffy this past year? Anything that would discourage you from coming after her?"

Spikes expression darkened again. "If you're trying to break the news about the blood Immortal, don't bother. I got hat memo, loud and clear". He quickly looked away so Giles wouldn't see the hurt in his eyes, but he needn't have bothered. As soon as he'd mentioned the Immortal, Giles had zoned out.

It seemed like Spike thought Buffy was in Rome. He had been fooled by the decoy, the fake Buffy Anne Summers living with Dawn and Andrew in Italy. Yes, ha had said he went there with Angel, hadn't he. He clearly had believed that Buffy had taken up with the Immortal. Giles was actually surprised by this. He had thought that if anyone would have been able to see through the disguise and glamour of the slayer in Rome, it would have been Spike.

Before he could question the vampire further, there was a timid knock on the door, and a young gir poked her head in.

"Mister Giles, there is a phone call for you".

"I am rather busy at the moment Clara. Have someone else take it".

"Sorry Mister Giles, they said they would only talk to you."

Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Who is it, Clara."

"It's the police. They said something about a death. Mister Giles, I think it had something to do with Buffy."

Giles paled and stood up so fast that the chair he'd sat on fell over. Spike whipped his head around to stare at the girl behind the door. Cold dread seized him, and it felt like a hand of ice had grabbed a hold of his heart.

The police had called about a death. The girl had mentioned Buffy.

Oh God!