Rating Adult overall
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story and make
no profit from them
Summary: Set in the early 1940's, Spike is a G-man sent on
a mission in the Applachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.
Knocking twice, Spike enter a small functional office. It had
dark wood paneled walls, with wooden desks and straight back chairs.
Each desk had a goose neck lamp, a large black telephone and a cup of
The only difference in them was that the first also had a typewriter.
Spike assumed that signified some type of seniority, so this was the one he
Both desks were occupied by women. Something that was
rare back in London. Snorting, he was firmly of the belief that women
should be home tending to their duties.
Before he had the chance to announce himself, the blond that had
been pounding away on the typewriter jumped up and rushed
around the desk to greet him.
Stepping back to take in her appearance, the only word he
could conjure up was "floozy".
She wore a sweater that must have been deliberately purchased
a size too small, and a skirt that flipped loosely around
her knees suggesting she was wearing only one under slip.
Her blond hair was pulled up in a thick rolling curl around her face.
Her nails and lips were painted blood red.
Glancing down it occurred to him that secretaries in this country must
make very good money to be able to afford silk stockings.
Ones that she obviously made sure had very straight seams.
When his eyes finally hit the floor, he was stunned to see
she was brazenly wearing high heels.
To work in!
"Hi. See anything you like?"
Snapping him out of his musing, Spike's eyes immediately met
those of the blond who was now standing directly in front of him.
"What? Well I never. I'll have you know....."
"Hey, no biggy. Just joshing is all. I'm Buffy. Can I help you?"
Regaining his composure, Spike smoothed his suit jacket and
fussed with the handkerchief that was tucked in his breast pocket.
"Yes. I am William Beemish. I am to see Mr. O'Connor in
regards to my position."
"Wow! Listen to you talk. You hear him talk, Faith?"
The dark haired girl at the other desk had been watching the
exchange with a grin.
Winking, she sat back in her chair.
"Sure did. Real classy. Better show him in before we gobble
Positive he was being mocked, Spike clenched his jaw and
tightened his hands.
Flouncing over, Buffy tapped on the frosted glass of a door
on the side of the room.
Sticking her head in, she announced him
"Hey, boss. Got a William Beemer out here to see you."
"Beemish" He attempted, but was ignored.
"Thanks Darlin'. Show him in." The voice was deep and strong.
Spike was ready.
"Go on in, Mr. Beemer, and if you want some coffee or anything,
you know where I am."
"It's Beemish, and no thank you." Spike stepped in and closed
the door behind.
"Wow, he's dreamy." Buffy floated back to her desk.
"Real cat's meow."
"I guess. Kinda girly though." Faith looked at the office door
appraisingly, then returned to her work.
The man behind the desk rose as Spike entered and extended his hand.
'Firm grip. Firm grip' Spike kept telling himself.
"Got some soft hands there, William." Sitting back down, he
motioned for Spike to take the chair in front of the desk.
Straightening his back bone Spike corrected him
"Spike, sir. I go by the name of Spike."
Confusion wrinkled Liam's brow and he flipped through the
papers in the file on his desk.
Flinching, Spike wondered what all was in that file.
He really wanted to start here with a clean slate and hoped his
past problems would not have followed him.
"Doesn't say anything about that. But to be honest, it really doesn't
say much of anything. I know you scored high marks on whatever
written tests you took at you old job, and that you are here on one
of those exchange of information programs.
Gotta be frank here Wil - Spike. Don't have much use for London
Police tactics. We do things a certain way. If you can adapt,
you are welcome. If not, well,"
"No, sir. I can adapt very well. I just want to learn your way
of doing things and do a good job."
"Great! Great. Then we are good to go. Just one other thing.
A couple lines in here about some trouble you got into doing the
nasty with another inspector. Real modern of you folks to have
women inspectors, but we can't have that happening here.
Can't shit were you eat, so to speak. Keep 'er zipped, Spike."
Spike was absolutely mortified. He had no intention of discussing
this matter, but was slightly glad for the misunderstanding.
He made no move to correct the fact that it was not a female.
"No sir." He stuttered, unable to lift his eyes from his lap.
"It is not a situation that will ever repeat itself."
"Good man." Leading Spike to the office door, Liam yelled
"Buffy! Darlin' have someone show Spike here to the dorm rooms."
Turning to Spike he explained "That will give you a chance to
get settled into the job and get some money under your belt.
Then you can find an apartment later. Sound o.k?"
Nodding his relief, Spike had no idea how to finding a living space.
This was an excellent solution, and encouraged him that the
direction of his future was right.
"Follow me, dreamboat." Buffy bounced off toward the elevators,
Spike collected his bag and followed trying to both keep up and
"Spike, huh? Can't wait to find out what that means."
Spike offered no response.
Buffy looked like trouble.
He knew he wanted people to think he was a real woman's man,
but definitely not this woman.
Stepping outside, Spike feared he was going to have to get in
Something he dreaded, and the thought of Buffy piloting said
vehicle sent shivers up his spine.
"It's just a block away, we can walk."
Bouncing ahead, she did not see the relief show on his face.
They stopped in front of a large victorian three story house,
turning, she smiled.
"This is it. I can't come in."
Leaning in uncomfortably close, she whispered
Giggling she started back the way they came but paused to
shout over her shoulder.
"Go on in. Someone will take care of you. Hey, don't be a
stranger. Come up and see me sometime."
The last part was said with such flourish, Spike was sure it was
some type of reference, but it confounded him as to what so he
just shook his head.
Climbing the steps, he entered the front door.
The foyer was large, warm and welcoming.
It had light pained walls with wide, thick, dark wood work.
The carpet was rich colors and patterns.
It felt thick and plush under his feet.
Off to the left was a library.
Several men were talking easily in there. Some smoking.
Some sharing a bottle of wine.
It was relaxed and masculine.
Spike wanted very much to be part of all this.