A/N: Ha! Update! Didn't see that one coming, didya? I'm on a roll here people! I'm planning on a little more action in the next chapter, and some Spuffy too, but until then I give you one more chapter full of talk, talk, talk. Just hang in there, will you? I promise it'll be worth it. :)

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As soon as Spike had disappeared from the room, Buffy made use of a talent she had perfected years ago; completely ignoring her watcher while looking attentive and interested in whatever he had to say. It wasn't like she didn't know what he was ranting about anyway, she had heard different varieties of this particular speech for several years now.

The difference this time was that she now was fully aware of the fact that everything he had to say about the subject was complete bullshit.

The subject, of course, being Spike.

Instead of listening to the watcher going on about 'the folly of trusting the undead', 'Spike is a loose cannon' and his new favourite 'The soul is no guarantee', her mind drifted to earlier that day, when she had spent several hours in her room with Spike doing something they had almost never done before.

They had actually talked.

They had talked about everything they could think about, they had joked and actually laughed together. She had told him everything about Heather, and he had sucked up all the information like a sponge. He had perched himself on the bed next to them, but he hadn't made a move to touch either of them. It was like he was afraid they were going to break by the slightest physical contact.

When her growling stomach reminded her that she hadn't had any breakfast yet however, she made sure he didn't have any choice in the matter. Before he could protest, she had deposited her daughter in his lap and made her way down to the kitchen before he could say a word. She managed to charm the manager into preparing a tray with something similar to brunch on it, and took it up to her room. The sight that met her when she opened the door made her heart swell, and a brilliant smile settled on her mouth. The expression on Spikes face was priceless, a curios mix between pure elation and complete dread. Heather had locked gaze with him and looked at him with the same expression she always had on her face when introduced to new people; a happy smile and a look of curiosity.

Buffy hadn't been gone for more than maybe ten minutes, but the look on Spikes face when he turned towards her almost looked as if he'd though she would never come back. A fact that was somewhat contradicted by the fact that even though he immediately handed the child back to her mother, he'd seemed almost reluctant to let her go.

They'd talked, and they'd laughed, and they had been really chocked when they'd noticed the time when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Was it really ten to three already? Yes, they'd talked, it had never really been quiet for more than a couple of seconds at the time, but at the same time it didn't feel like they'd really said anything at all. Nothing of importance any way. Nothing but superficial topics, news or amusing anecdotes from their time apart had been mentioned. Not a word about the two of them (or really three now), about their feelings or what was going to happen next had been uttered. And although not one of them had said anything out loud, little else had been occupying their thoughts but what the other one hadn't said..

'He said he loved me. He still loves me. But he didn't come back, didn't want me to know he was back. I hurt him so bad. Have I completely lost him now? He loves me, but does he want to be with me?'

'She said she couldn't, wouldn't forget about me. Of course she couldn't, she's got a permanent reminder of me sitting on her lap right now. Does she love me? Did she mean it? She hasn't said she loves me. Oh God, what if I was right after all?!'

Before either of them mustered enough strength to voice their thoughts out loud, Dawn had knocked on the door, and their time alone had come to an end. And now Buffy was still sitting on the bed lost in thought, while her watcher droned on and on in the background, but it was all white noise to her. One thought kept turning round and round in her skull, and a sense of dread started to fill her.

'I just got him back! Have I completely lost him now?'

***

"It seems you don't exist."

Bugger!

Oh God, how could he had been so monumentally stupid? Of course he didn't bloody exist, he'd been dead for the last one hundred and twenty years! The only kind of identification he had was the fake American passport he'd used to get him in to the country, the one that listed him as Adam Finn. Since he hadn't planned on getting involved with any human authorities he hadn't bothered with a new identity. He'd planned on disappearing amongst the crowd of the London demon world as soon as he got of the air plane.

But then he'd found out about Buffy and suddenly he was knees deep in a murder investigation. Suddenly he had to deal with the bloody police! And it seemed like the law officers they had here actually had something at least resembling brains, something the cops in good ol' Sunny D had been sorely lacking. And he'd been stupid enough to give them his actual name!

Of course they would check up on him, especially since the first thing he'd done had been assault a police officer. And of course they hadn't found anything, how could they have? William Sinclair had vanished of the face of the earth one evening in the fall of 1880, and the only one that would have missed him had been dust in the wind not even thirty six hours later. He was long dead and buried.

Dead, yes. Buried, not so much. At least not any more. The shy poet who had encountered death in form of a beautiful brunette in an ally besides a stable didn't resurface much any more, but he was still there, under the façade of Spike, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe that he'd worked so hard over the last century to construct. The man that had never been closer to a policeman than across the street from one in his entire sad little life was suddenly the centre of attention.

What the hell was he going to say?

***

Ha! Busted!

Barnaby couldn't stop the childish exclamation from going through his head. The startled look in the eyes of the man across from him had vanished in a second, to be replaced by cold indifference once again. But it had been there, and he had seen it. The lighter the young man had been playing with clattered against the table, and William quickly scooped it up and put it in his pocket. He leaned back in his chair and an air of cocky arrogance settled over him, but Barnaby wasn't fooled.

He'd been rattled. He was now trying to compose himself, probably giving himself time to come up with a good answer. He settled back comfortably, his spirit lifted considerably. He couldn't wait to hear this!

"What? Do I look like a sodding ghost? I'm sitting right here, 'course I exist."

Playing stupid had worked for Spike in the past. Get your opponent to underestimate you, gives you the advantage. He settled a sneer on his face to complete the look, but ended up disappointed when the older man opposite him did little else but quirk a small smile.

"As I'm sure my sergeants rather sore jaw can attest to, you seem to be too solid to be a ghost. I was re referring to the lack of... shall we say paperwork, to help identify you. No birth certificate, no evidence of ever attending school, no form of employment, and of course no police record." the obvious attempt at riling him up had done nothing more than amuse him, Barnaby was starting to enjoy this!

Oh, buggerin' bleedin' fuck! Gotta think fast on this one. Buy some time!

"Huh. That's odd. You didn't find anything on me? Why not? " Ah, good one mate! Make him talk until you come up with something or you can make a run for it.

"You're asking for my theory on the matter?" the DCI smiled at the man in front of him. William shrugged, and answered with a seemingly indifferent 'Sure'.

"There are any number of possible explanations for your apparent non-existence, but all of them are highly unlikely, and I won't divulge any of my thought on the matter until I'm much more confident that my theories are correct. " In reality, he was at a loss on what to believe about this man. He had a theory involving SIS and international espionage, but that sounded to much like a cheap James Bond knock-off in his mind to be even remotely possible. And by giving a deliberately vague answer he hoped to force something out of William that he could work with, without giving him any ideas on how to answer.

Oh hell, Spike thought, that didn't work out so well. Maybe he ought to try a different approach.

He drew himself up so he sat straight in the chair and gave the policeman a look he had perfected over the years; his cold, steel blue eyes spoke of defiance, arrogance and superiority, and if Buffy had been there to see him, she would have been amazed just how much he really looked like a full-fledged master vampire in that moment, one of the four deadliest that had ever crossed the European continent. Barnaby saw a dangerous man who looked like he he had the confidence that he could beat any opponent in any battle, and suddenly the cheesy 'secret agent'-explanation didn't seem so far out there after all.

With a voice he knew used to struck fear in the most ferocious of demon hunters, Spike stated calmly;

"You don't know what you're getting in to here. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to." 'Nice one', Spike thought to himself. 'Looks like there's still a trace of the Big Bad left in me somewhere.' He suppressed the urge to smirk.

The urge quickly disappeared by itself when he noticed that the older man didn't react at all to his intimidation-technique, but just sat there opposite him with the same expression on his face. He didn't even quirk an eyebrow. Spike clenched his jaw and stared right into his eyes, annoyed that the 'Big Bad'-approach seemed to have failed.

Barnaby was slightly impressed by the display, but refused to show it. It wasn't like no one had never tried the same trick on him before, but this young man was the best he'd seen yet. He almost could feel the hair at the back of his neck rise. Almost. It was far from the most frightening thing he'd ever witnessed, the man hadn't tried to stab him, strangle him or shoot at him after all. Not yet, anyway. Knowing his job, it was probably only a matter of time.

Spike, never known or his patience, had now completely run out of it, and he was still pissed that he hadn't had the cigarette he'd left Buffy's room for in the first place. He stood up without acknowledging the other man and fished the pack of cigarettes and his lighter out of his pocket.

"I have nothing to tell you." he stated shortly, and started to walk out of the room towards the entrance, but was forced to an halt when the doorway was blocked. When he saw who it was, he cursed under his breath and backed into the room again. And then, suddenly, he knew exactly what to do. Try as he might, he simply couldn't suppress the wicked grin that passed over his mouth. He turned back t the DCI.

"You know what? Maybe I do have something to tell you after all. Don't bother with checking up on me via the authorities, you won't find anything. But you can ask your contact higher up the ladder what they know about the Watchers council. Good luck with that, mate." he turned around to leave again, but not until he'd tossed a final barb towards the man that had entered a few seconds before.

"You wanna take it from here, Rupes? I'm sure the nice police officer would love to have a chat with you too." and with that he strode out of the room, leaving a fuming watcher and a slightly bewildered DCI behind him.