Paring: What else? S/X of course.
Rating: Adult for language and M/M activity.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to the Bee.
and she makes no money off them, or anything else. The Bee is broke.
Summary: The Rosebud Murders took an emotional toll on
everyone involved. Is love enough for a happily ever after or does
it take a hell of a lot of work and compromise to build a life together?
Spike and Xander struggle to find out.
Thanks to Petxnd for the lovely banner
Spike had settled into his car to wait. He had the radio
cranked up and was enjoying an article on Britney's latest
meltdown in a People magazine he had swiped on the way out
of Jacob's waiting room.
He and Faith had done this a dozen times. It was their version
of good cop bad cop and you would think anyone with a
reasonable mentality would recognize what was happening.
Nope. Almost without fail, it worked every time.
He could just imagine that right about now poor Mindy Greene
was commiserating with Faith on the wretchedness that was the
male species and hopefully spilling her guts about the crime.
Spike smiled and flipped the page.
"Oh, Shit! A photo shoot of John Barrowman in his underwear!
Yes! So tell me, Grandda, what do you think of that?"
Spike held the page up to his left shoulder and chuckled.
"So you have really had a bad time of it haven't you? I mean all
the men in your life have been jerks too, haven't they?"
Faith blinked innocently.
Mindy sighed and took another swallow of cold coffee.
"Yeah, my mom told me not to marry Jack Greene, but I was a
kid, 18, and just wanted out of the house. Anyway, pfft, that lasted
less than a year. Maybe if he had tried rehab like I asked, but I
guess that doesn't matter now."
Faith nodded and patted her hand.
"You should just try to forget him. Maybe go back to using your
maiden name. What did you say it was?"
Mindy scratched her head with obviously fake, jewel crusted,
fingernails, then absently flicked the dandruff out from under the tip.
"Kinsey. Yeah, maybe I should, but it won't matter cause soon
it will be Jacobs. Mindy Jacobs. Sounds real high class, don't
Mindy smiled and let out a dreamy sigh, her eyes took on a hooded
Faith put on her most convincing sympathetic frown and squeezed
"Are you sure? I mean men can be so fickle. My boyfriend has been
promising me a ring for years. But, shit, there just never seems to be
Mindy immediately shook her head and scooted forward happily.
"No, it's not like that for us. Besides, sometimes a girl just has to
take the reigns and lead the horse to water herself. I've got a plan
that I KNOW will work. I, um, can't say what, but it will."
Faith figured that was it for now. She didn't want to push too far just
yet. She didn't want the future Mindy Jacobs getting suspicious too
Reluctantly she withdrew her hands and picked her purse up off the
floor. She threw her sun glasses and cell phone in and rose from
"Well, I better get going. My partner is waiting and you know how
impatient men are."
Faith rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Mindy nodded. She felt sorry for this poor woman cop. Stuck
with such an ass hole for a partner. She didn't know how she managed.
"Yeah, I know. Maybe you can stop back sometime. You know,
without him and we can have a real girl talk."
Faith smiled sweetly.
"Oh, I'll be back, Dear. You can count on it."
Spike saw her darting down the front steps and he reached over, flipping
the passengers side door open. Faith dove in, breathless.
"I don't want to get your hopes up, but I think I got something. First, it
seems Mr. Jacobs promised the less than innocent Miss Greene a wedding
ring if he could come in to enough money to get out of a bad marriage.
Second, Miss Greene says she has a plan to acquire said money, and
third, and this may be the big one, her maiden name was Kinsey."
Faith waited. Spike blinked.
"Oh for God's sake, Spike. Don't you read your own statements?
The orderly at the nursing home, the last one to see Myrtle before
her final bath, was named........are you ready? Adam Kinsey.
Co-inky dink? I think not. I think we need to look into him again."
Spike tossed the magazine over his shoulder where it landed on the floor
among the pile of CD cases. He grinned, thanked the stars for his partner,
and started the car.
Buffy hurried off the set and down the hall to her dressing room.
Well, to be honest it was really just the first floor broom closet
but after she had insisted, they put in a mirror, a small make up table
and took out most of the mops.
She had a hot date tonight, the first in weeks, and didn't want to risk
being late. Of course fashionably late was expected, but late late might
just piss him off. She had been really surprised when that cute EMT
Riley Finn had called and asked her out.
Fact was, she hadn't been laid in so long she would have gone out with
Quasi Moto if he had hauled his ass down out of the bell tower long enough
to ask her. She paused for a minute to give it some thought 'Yeah,
I could work my way around the hump' then nodded
and hurried on.
According to her calculations she had about ten minutes to dress and
another 20 to make it to the restaurant across town. She darted into
the ladies room for a PTA bath (pussy, tits, and armpits) and
rushed on to change.
Ever since her "promotion" from news anchor to weather girl, her
dating pool had seen a drastic change.
While doctors, lawyers and certain high ranking detectives wanted to fuck
a news woman, a weather girl apparently spreads 'em for EMT's,
shoe store managers, and IRS employees.
Within minutes Buffy was firing up the Miata and heading downtown,
her only concern being the woefully low arrow on her gas gauge.
For the millionth time she promised herself that the first chance she
got, she would worm her way back into the news room.
All she needed was a chance. A chance to get rid of that back stabbing,
smooth talking, great cock using, mother fucker, Max Webster.
Buffy smacked the steering wheel and scowled as her thoughts turned
'Fucker got my scoop, my job, and even most of the men I was fucking.
Worst part is now because he's mister big shot important news man, he's
too important to even fuck ME! I'll show him. I'll get him. He'll be sorry
and I'll be back on top.'
Slowing down and checking the intersection, Buffy hit the gas and zipped
through the red light. She quickly realized she was only blocks from the
restaurant and immediately began rubbing her forehead to smooth out the
anger wrinkles. She checked her hair and mascara in the mirror and slapped on
another coat of Devil Red #5 lipstick.
EMT or not, Buffy wanted laid.