A/N; I am so sorry for the delay people!

I really thought I would be able to update this before Christmas, and definitely before the new year, but it was simply impossible! I did my best, I really, really did, but I just didn't have the time!

Real life's still a bitch.

This fic is not abandoned however, I promise you! Just know that the updates will be few and far between from now on. I'll try to do better, I promise! A thousand apologies, again.

Did I mention I adore you people? *Blinks with pleading eyes...:'(*

"What the hell happened?"

Barnaby asked the question, and within moments the whole incredible story had spilled from Jones lips. When he was done his superior just stood there and stared at him, as if wondering what kind of drugs he had inhaled, injected or snorted to conjure up such a fantasy. In the end, the only thing Barnaby could think to say was;

"What?!"

And so Jones had to repeat himself.

When he had finished the second time his boss still looked like he thought the story was something taken directly from a badly written Agatha Christie- knock off, but he didn't ask again. Instead he sighed, closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He rubbed his eyes, presenting Jones with the picture-perfect image of complete confusion and utter tiredness.

"I have never experienced a case in which I have more questions after the murderer is caught than I had even before we had a suspect." he said, his shoulders slumping. "It's not that I doubt your word, but..."

"I know, sir. Believe me, I know, but I swear that what I told you is exactly what happened, at least as far as I saw it. And I was there sir. I wouldn't have believed it otherwise. I barely trust my own statement as it is."

Barnaby wearily stood up. "I need to talk to someone out there. I don't care who I start with, I'm going to question them all. Thoroughly. See too that none of them leave, Jones. Not until after I've been satisfied with answers to my many, many questions."

"Perhaps I can help you with that," a voice sounded from behind them. "A word if you please, mister Barnaby?"

The DCI turned towards the man standing in the doorway. "Mister Giles. I trust you'll be a bit more forthcoming with your answers this time around?"

Giles looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face that even Barnaby's trained senses couldn't decipher. "This time I promise you full disclosure," he said, took off his glasses and started cleaning them, "but I can also almost guarantee you won't find the things you'll hear... satisfactory in regards too your inquest." He looked up, staring straight into Barnaby's eyes. "Frankly, mister Barnaby, I don't think you'll believe a bloody word I tell you."

Intrigued against his will, Barnaby stared back at him. "I'll be the judge of that, mister Giles," he said, and gestured for him to sit down. It was time to hear the man out.

***

The people in the waiting room were all antsy. They knew what Giles were going to do in there, and none of them were keen on the idea. They had never before found themselves in a situation in which they had been forced to trust the police! The long arm of the law had always been represented by incompetent morons or corrupt scumbags working for the highest bidder. Sadly enough the highest bidder tended to be the most evil one. Working for the forces of good generally didn't pay well.

They still hadn't heard from the doctor about Rona. No one knew if she was going to be allright. Spike was holding Buffy's hand in support, and she was clinging to it as if it were a lifeline, but that was the only sign of distress she allowed herself to show. Her face was set in a mask of determination, as if there was no option other than Rona's full recovery. She wouldn't allow it to end any other way.

Dawn was chewing on her lip, looking decidedly more worried than her older sister, but she too managed too look braver than she actually was. Even Heather looked concerned, even though she was far too young to comprehend what was going on. She picked up and mirrored the grown-ups emotions, a talent she'd had since she was born.

Spike, never the most patient of people had problems remaining still. His legs were vibrating and his fingers on the hand not holding Buffy's were tapping an anxious staccato-rhythm on his thigh. He wouldn't be able to sit and do nothing much longer.

"I'm going to help the watcher explain to the fuzz," he said, and stood up suddenly. "he might need some... visual aids."

Buffy opened her mouth to stop him, but it was more a reflex than anything else. She gave herself some time to think about it, then closed her mouth and gave him a mute nod of acceptance instead. He gave her a small, grateful smile and quickly disappeared in the direction Giles had went off in before.

***

Giles had just settled down in one of the two chairs the small room had to offer, opposite the two men whose view of the world he was about to change forever. He studied them carefully. Where to start with such a incredible tale?

Well, he thought, there is no place like the beginning.

"Unto every generation a slayer is born", he said, "The one girl in all the world destined to..." and there he was interrupted by the door swinging open and Spike stepping into the room. He just sighed wearily. He didn't even have the energy to get annoyed with the obnoxious vampire.

Barnaby and Jones trained their eyes on the figure imposing on their interrogation. Barnabys eyes narrowed when e looked the mysterious mister Sinclair up and down. This was one of the most infuriating pieces of the puzzle he was trying to solve. Where did the man that didn't exist fit in to all this?

Before he could say anything Giles addressed the intruder.

"What do you want, Spike?"

Spike gave him a smile that he knew for sure would irritate the watcher to the limit. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, a picture of lazy nonchalance. "I just thought you'd want some help with explaining things to these fine gentlemen," he said, tossing a smirk in the policemen's direction, "You know, 'seeing is believing' and all that."

Barnaby frowned. "You have something you wish us to see?"

Giles contemplated his options for a brief moment, then nodded towards Spike. "That's actually not a bad idea. It would give my words some much needed creditability." At the confused looks Jones and Barnaby sent him he said, "I did tell you you probably wouldn't believe anything of what I'm about to tell you."

"Indeed you did", Barnaby conceded. "Please, go on."

"Spike, let me talk to them first before you give your... presentation, allright?" Giles said. Spike nodded, for once looking serious. They needed the two men to hear them out first. He was only there as a source of confirmation.

"Right, so, where was I? Oh yes. Unto every generation a slayer is born..."

***

Paul stirred in the bed and the policemen assigned to guard him stiffened. When he failed to open his eyes within the next few minutes they marginally relaxed, but never took their eyes of the murdering mad-man in the hospital bed. To decapitate people with a broadsword! This guy had clearly played one video game too many!

He stirred again, and this time he opened his eyes. He didn't acknowledge the other people in the room, he didn't even look at them. His eyes were totally blank. He just stared at the ceiling, barely even blinking. One of the policemen stepped out in the hallway to notify the hospital staff as well as his superiors that the murderer was awake.

***

Barnaby had studied the faces of the two men carefully the entire time during the older man's speech. Not a muscle had twitched, nothing showed in their expressions other the serious honesty. The only conclusion he could come up with was that they were mad men, the both of them. Ramblings about vampires and demons...my God! Certified Bedlam runaways to be sure!

The mysterious mister Sinclair had yet to say a word, and had not shown the his 'visual aids' as of yet. He was looking forward to that one. He was imagining a blurry photo or something like that, something hardly even worthy of the seediest of tabloids.

"... so the amulet closed up the hellmouth, evidently dusting Spike in the process. His demise wasn't permanent however, as you can clearly see." Giles nodded in Spikes direction. Barnaby snorted inwardly. Oh yes, mister Sinclair thought he was a vampire. Brilliant. When did he sign up for this?

Spike, on his side of the room had had enough of Giles' long winding explanations so he decided to sod the promise to keep quiet and interrupt the watcher.

"So a few months later someone activates the soddin' amulet and I end up in a law firm in LA. Long story very, very short, after about a year I decide to relocate myself and move back to the motherland, where of course I run in to a bunch of slayers and they all find out I'm back from the great beyond. I find out Buffy's been involved in a murder investigation, I seek her out, and now we're here. End of bloody story." he turned to Giles. "Sorry to interrupt, but you were taking for bloody ever!"

Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really didn't expect anything else from you, Spike. But you're right, that was a rather long speech." he gave a wry smile in the direction of the policemen. "Please forgive me gentlemen, but I am not accustomed to explaining these things to people completely in the dark. When we talk to the new slayers they usually have already noticed some of the darker sides of the world, and we tent to recruit watchers from families that have been involved with the council before."

Jones opened his mouth to say something, but Giles held up his hand to silence him. I know what you're thinking right now, believe me, but before you make the call to have us both committed and dragged away to the nearest 'loony bin'..." he smirked at his use of the Americanism (Xander must have rubbed of on him), "... You might want to see this. Spike?"

Spike gave them a feral grin. This was the fun part!

He shifted to game face.

The chair Barnaby had occupied tilted over and fell to the floor when he jumped out of it. There was a gasp from Jones, who rapidly scrambled backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. The older policeman's hand found his way under his jacket to where a shoulder holster would have been, had he in fact been armed. 'Bloody gun laws!' he managed to think, rather irrationally cursing for the first time in his career that the British police weren't allowed to carry weapons.

Giles slowly rose from his chair and held both his hands up in a calming gesture. Spikes game-face melted away, once again revealing his handsome human features. He smirked at them, and the annoying little smile managed to ease Barnaby's fear and fuel his irritation instead.

"Calm down, it's all right. He won't harm you in any way."

"I really won't," Spike chipped in, "the bloody soul wouldn't allow it."

"What the hell was that?!" Jones shouted in a loud enough voice to ensure that everyone in the adjoining rooms heard him.

"That was me proving to you that all the watcher was telling you was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but," Spike said, still with a grin on his lips. "How did you like my fangs?"

The policemen didn't get the chance to answer, because the door suddenly burst open to revile a flushed Dawn.

"Guys, you'd better come out here. That freak is awake."

Spike was out the door almost before she was through speaking, but Giles was halted by a firm grip on his upper arm. He turned and looked into DCI Tom Barnaby's rather pale but fiercely determined face.

"We are not done here, mister Giles. We've barely even started!"

"I have no doubt", Giles answered calmly, and with a nod of grudging acceptance the DCI let him go. For the time being.