A/N: Hello, me again. As I said, I give you a two-for-the-price-of-one offer this week. Chapter 8 AND 9! Sorry about chapter 9 being slightly shorter than usual, but I always manage to keep my chapters over 2000 words, and this one is too, I promise. Just a slight warning lable; there might be colourful words in this chapter. The story is rated T after all. So, please read on, and please leave a review (She said, chewing her nails nervously...)
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It was a rather nervous sergeant Jones that knocked on Anne Sinclair's door at eight thirty in the morning. His boss had told him to be there as early as possible. He had also said he would be right there with him, but had called not fifteen minutes before and said he would be a bit late, and could Jones start the questioning without him? He shouldn't be more than 20 minutes or so.
Before the phone call, Jones had been slightly calmed by the fact that his boss would be with him the next time he had to go head to head with the stubborn blonde. When he found out he were to 'soften her up' for the DCI, he felt slightly panicky. He hoped he wouldn't be thrown out on his arse as soon as she saw him.
When the door opened, he was confronted with a bleary eyed young woman who looked anything but pleased to see him. He braced himself when she opened her mouth, and in a split second he decided to try to get a word in before he was shot down completely.
"Now, miss Sinclair, before you start to say anything you might regret later, just consider I am here because of a murder investigation. I would prefer to have this very much needed conversation sooner, rather than later. Wouldn't you agree?"
He saw her deflate somewhat, but she still looked less than happy when she glared at him. She still had her sleepwear on, a tank top a bit to big for her, and a pair of light blur cotton shorts. With her messy hair she managed to look utterly adorable. Se sighed, and her shoulders slumped even more.
"You might as well come in then", she said, and opened the door wide enough for him to slip past her. "But try to keep it down. Heater is still sleeping".
And Jones couldn't help but beam at is slight victory!
***
Spike had managed to find a shady spot under some trees just a few yard from the building the old geezer had pointed out for him. It looked like it would be a cloudy day, so he felt somewhat safe. It wouldn't do to dust before he had a chance to at least muster up the courage to go and talk to her!
She was so near, he could almost smell her! He would have gone to her a long time ago, if it weren't for the bombshell the old man had dropped on him.
Buffy was here with a child. Her child!
How had that happened? Well, obviously he knew how, but when? And more importantly, with whom?! He now regretted not asking the man how old the baby was. Could the bloody immortal have knocked her up? Was it physically possible for him to do that? He had always assumed that the immortal had the same deal he did; no need to reproduce when you're going to live forever.
Could it be some other worthless git? And why wasn't he here with her? The older man had been certain about that; she had moved to the village alone with her daughter.
The man he had interrogated hadn't known the baby's name, but he had a nagging suspicion that he himself knew. It was something Giles had told him. He had asked what he knew about someone named Heather.
Buffy's daughter Heather, maybe?
A myriad of emotions was whirring through his mind as he paced the shady spot under the trees restlessly. A big part of him felt utterly crushed. She really had moved on when he had dusted, and very quickly too, by the look of things. He felt betrayed, and hurt, and would like nothing more than to get his hands, and fangs, on the bloody bastard who had dared to touch his woman, his slayer, soul or no soul!
Surprisingly enough, a very, very small part of him was actually happy for her sake. Finally, she had been granted a bit of the normality she had always craved, and had been given the opportunity to raise a family of her own. Something he knew he could never have given her.
But most of all, he was more confused than he had been in his entire existence. He thought about their last night together, when they, in his mind at least, had made love for real for the very first time. No violent fucking, and no guilty look in her eyes afterwards. She hadn't even run away, but stayed the entire night, huddled in his arms. He had held her the whole time, not sleeping more than maybe half an hour, just marvelling at the fact that she was actually there, with him.
And at the time, it had felt like she was. There, with him, entirely, for the first time. It had felt like they finally were on the same page, even emotionally.
He had fooled himself that it was possible that she actually loved him.
And then she had told him, and he had answered her; 'No you don't. But thanks for saying it'. He had said it to get her to leave, to get her out of the cave, to save her, but it had also been to save himself. Save himself from the heartache of leaving her when she finally loved him back! He was afraid he would be weak, and change his mind. He knew he had to finish what he started. He had to see how it ended.
And so he had sent her on her way, while the cave crumbled around him, and the rays of the sun singed his flesh and finally set him aflame. But he had perished with a small flickering hope in his hart that maybe, just maybe, she had meant what she had said. That she loved him!
And now he was back, and that hope was now entirely extinguished. She had a child, with somebody else, 'cause it couldn't bloody well be his, now could it? Vampire here people, as sterile as you can get! If you don't happen to be Angel, the soddin' poof, and manage to bring a propheticed son into the world, with no other than the bloody she-beast Darla!
He had always been jealous of his grandsire, he could even admit it! He got it all! First Drusilla, then Buffy, then the flashy job at Wolfram and Heart (but he could admit that now he was bloody glad and grateful that had fallen on Angels shoulders, and not his), and he had even managed to get a child. That last fact made the jealousy flare up inside him again, even more potent then ever before, even though he had never given a thought about children until now.
How he wanted that child to be his! Something tangible between himself and Buffy, something he could protect, cherish and love like he had loved nothing else before! How he wished that Buffy had actually meant what she said to him in that cave,and that by some miracle the powers had taken pity on him for his sacrifice and granted him with a gift. The gift of a daughter.
And now even he could hear how ridiculous his thoughts had become. He sounded like a bleedin' ponce, for Christ sake! He was almost ashamed of himself.
The fury was returning to him, pushing away the despair. He had to talk to her, now more than ever, to get a few straight answers for once in his life! He would not let her wriggle her way out of this one!
He lifted his jacket above his head and made a mad dash to the front door of the Bed and Breakfast, not caring about the sun rays that managed to burn him, despite of the cloudy sky. He was glad there wasn't anyone in the small entry, somehow he didn't think they would be all that welcoming and helpful towards a man who just rushed in, smoking and smelling slightly of burning bacon. He just had t follow his nose to find her now. So he did just that, and went up the stairs. He could almost swear he felt his heart beat by how nervous he was!
***
Buffy felt a lot better now, despite the lack of coffee. Sergeant Jones was actually not that bad, once he had managed to get past her not so charming morning persona, and he had even managed to get her to smile a little. He was polite and pleasant, when she gave him a chance to talk, and she actually felt a little bit ashamed about how she had treated him the day before. He was only trying to do his job, after all.
They had talked for almost forty five minutes, and she had given him the entire story about her invented persona, Anne Sinclair. When he had asked her about the 'rough neighbourhood' she had mentioned the day before, she had just shrugged and said; 'you know, LA', as if that had explained it all.
Heather had wakened up halfway through the conversation, with surprisingly little fuss. After being fed, she had settled on her mothers lap, staring with huge, fascinated eyes on the strange man she didn't recognise. Then suddenly, she stretched her chubby little arms towards him, and demanded to be picked up.
Jones looked towards Buffy with questioning, and a little weary eyes. She just gave him a tiny smile and shifted Heather, and put her on his knees instead. Heather beamed toothlessly at him, and he gave her a hesitant smile in return. Then she started playing with his tie.
Jones tried his best to go on with the questioning with the child on his lap, all the while wondering where his superior had gotten to. He had said twenty minutes, now it had been almost fifty. Not that he minded that much. He was actually enjoying himself quite a bit. Now that Anne cooperated with him, he found her to be really sweet, and the tiny crush he hadn't quite admitted to himself that he had on her grew a fraction more.
***
Spike had stopped in front of the door he was sure she was behind. He had been so focused on her smell that he'd nearly missed the other two coming from the room. One that couldn't belong to any other than the baby, and another, stronger, and decidedly male fragrance. That one really disturbed him.
And to make it worse, he could smell excitement from the unknown man!
He had planned to knock, and enter like a normal person, really he had. His intentions had not been to rush into the room with a wild look on his face and punch the living daylights out of the man he found in there, with his hand on Buffy's knee. But when he heard the sound he had dreamed about for more than a year, the clear sound of her laughter, clearly caused by the man that was not him, he just saw red, and he couldn't help himself. So he did just what he wasn't supposed to do.
Thankfully, Buffy had just lifted Heather from the sergeants lap when the door burst open, and a black and white whirlwind stormed in. the next thing she knew, she heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the sergeant was laying on the floor, on the verge of unconsciousness. She quickly put Heather down on the bed behind her, and jumped up in a fighting stance, ready to protect her child from the danger that had entered the room.
But when she got a good look at the apparition in front of her, all she could do was stare at it. Standing there, staring at her with a wild look in his eyes, his fist tightly clenched at his sides and panting needlessly was...
Spike!
Spike, without his leather duster, and with no bleached blonde hair, but still with the same piercing blue eyes that could stare right through her soul, the same scar across one eyebrow and with the same, sinfully delicious lips.
So she did the first thing that came to mind. She acted on instinct alone. She grabbed his face, and kissed him, hard. And when she felt him close his arms around her, she broke free before he could hold on to her. Then she punched him, and broke his nose.
That's when Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby walked trough the door.