Title: Rocks on the Road
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The character's of Buffy, Angel, and any other show that are unfortunate enough to be used here belong to other people.
Setting: BtVS- Post Chosen. L&O- Between seasons 12 &13. Marvel Movie Verse- After X2, Spider-Man & Dare Devil.
Summary: Hank Summers is framed for the murder of a controversial Senator while in New York.
Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/William, Willow/Kennedy, Faith/Wood, Faith/Logan, Scott/Jean, Hank/Isabel, Marie/Bobby
Feedback: Is always appreciated. Just try to keep it constructive.
Email: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.
Chapter One: Like A Rolling Stone
New York, New York. The city that never sleeps. Bright lights, from tall street lamps, cuts the darkness and burns the night away. A city where people rush around as franticly at midnight as at noon. If for entirely different reasons.
Some legal, some... Not so much.
Thirty-fourth street, outside the Loews 34th street Cineplex was as busy as ever with people jostling and bumping into one another as three different shows finish within moments of each other. At the same time, lines that have been forming for the last fifteen minutes or so, begin surging forward. Rushing to fill up the vacuum the exodus created.
"You know we're never going to here the end of it," Don Delacy informs his partner of the last three months, Juan Frienz, as the two of them cross in front of the mouth of a partially lighted alley. Despite being smaller then the giant Puerto Rican standing at his side by a good six inches and seventy-five pounds, Delacy normally wouldn't be considered small, standing five feet eleven and weighing a hundred and eighty-five. Next to Frienz though he almost looks like a child. "How they got a number one movie made about them."
Frienz takes a pull from his coffee as the two of them work their way back to their patrol car. He was still becoming use to Delacy constant chatter. The man could talk the ear off a corpse. "You seen it yet?"
Don nods. "Twice. Wasn't bad, not enough action for my..."
The gunshot rings out. Slicing through the other wise tranquil night.
People shout. People scream. People drop to the ground. People dash for cover. Most do a combination of things like giving a hoarse shout as they drop to the ground, or screaming wildly as they bolt down the street.
Frienz coffee drops from his hand as he reaches for his gun. He spins, towards the street so not to bring his partner into his line of fire, dropping to one knee, his pistol seems to jump into his hands.
At the same time Delacy whirls the opposite direction, towards the building, his automatic in his hand by the time he finishes his turn. His hand steady as he aims at the mouth of the alley they had walked pass less then ten seconds ago.
Time passes by in a rush while seeming to come to a complete stop. The two officers exchange quick glances, bare shifting of their eyes. Frienz rises to his feet as Delacy inches forward in a fast shuffle. Making sure that his partner stays out of his line of fire Frienz begins to circle out wide.
As the two men begin moving forward, a short, stocky man with dark strawberry blonde hair, graying slightly at the temples, and a short clipped beard, shambles out of the alley. His clothing, a dark blue pinstripe suit, was rumpled, looking slept in. There were dark spatters covering his clothes, his face, his hands. The man was moving like he was in a daze. Sleepwalking.
"Drop the gun!" Delacy shouts.
He lifts his head, slowly, as if in a dream. Then glances down at the gun in his right hand.
"Drop it!" Frienz yells.
He shrugs, the gun falling from his lax fingers to clatter on the concrete sidewalk. Then he stumbles ahead, staggering to the curb.
"Get down on the ground!" Delacy shouts as the two of them begin moving in. "Get down!"
Stepping down to the street, he drops heavily to the curb, shoulders slumping, his head drops down.
As the man who stumbled out of the alley drops to the curb Delacy and Frienz rush forward.
"On the ground!" Frienz shouts slipping his gun back into his holster. Delacy moves keeping the man targeted. A moment later Frienz tackles the man, driving him to the pavement. Flipping him over, smashing his face into the hard, unforgiving road Juan pins his hands to his back. Pulling out his handcuffs he glances at Delacy. "Go. Check it out," he says.
Delacy nods turning towards the alley. As he begins to move forward he pulls his flashlight from his belt. Pointing it into the alley he turns it on illuminating portions of the alley. As he pans the light across the alley he continues to move closer.
Some fifteen feet from the mouth of the alley, slumped against the right wall, at an odd angle, was an obviously dead body. From what he could see most of the man's face was missing. There's a dark blood splatter directly against the wall and a trail leading downward.
His suit was top of the line. Made from the finest material, the best cuts, and fits like it was tailored made. "Nothing like getting dressed up for your own murder," Delacy mumbles to himself.
Lenny slips around the young officer stringing up the yellow tape. "Hey Lenny," Green calls out. Lenny nods as he approaches his partner. "You just have to love a case that comes pre-solved."
Briscoe's eyebrows raise slightly. "What I love is not getting called away from dinner during the desert."
Green looks over at the older man, "So. Does this mean what I think it means. Lenny Briscoe was about to have a good night?"
Lenny looks down the alley at the covered body and shakes his head. "Anytime I've got to see something like that it's never going to be a good night."
"It certainly wasn't a good night for him," Green responds with a shrug.
"What do we have?" Lenny asks stepping pass an officer taking a statement.
Green follows flipping his pocket size note pad open. "One vic, Frank McCellum..."
"Isn't that that equal rights activist?" Briscoe asks his partner. Green shrugs not sure of who Lenny is talking about. "Some Senator or something. Read about him all the time. Going on about how mutants deserve equal rights. The same protection the constitution affords to everyone else."
"Don't pay much attention to that," he says with another shrug. Looking back down he starts again. "He still had his watch on. A gold Rolex. Wallet, over a thousand in cash, plus the plastic."
"So we can rule out robbery," Briscoe inserts.
"Pretty much," Green agrees. "Single gunshot to the head. Close range. One perp, Hank Summers, still had the gun in his hand when he came stumbling out of the alley, covered in blood, in front of an entire street full of witnesses. Including two cops." He flips his note book close. "According to Delacy and Frienz, Summers came bumbling out of the alley, a few seconds after a single gunshot, like he'd been on a three day bender."
"So the guy was messed up," Briscoe states.
"Guess we'll find out once we get the toxicology reports," Green answers.
The large screen television set clicks off, the screen going black. The airy television room is filled with a profound silence. Five of the six mutants in the room shocked, rocked to the very core of their beings.
Logan standing by the window on the far wall, where the smoke from his cigar makes a quick exit from the room, is the only one unfazed by the grizzly murder. Even Peter- the young Russian whose seen far too much carnage in his homeland- and Kurt- the three finger, two toed, blue skin mutant with a prehensile tail- haven't seen anything as horrific as this before.
For Jean, Scott, and Ororo the murder strikes a chord close to home. All three had known Senator Frank McCellum since their early teens. Occasionally helping out during his campaigns; stuffing envelopes, hanging up fliers, handing out pamphlets.
"Figures," Logan mumbles from his spot.
Ororo looks back, over her shoulder, to gaze at Logan. "What, figures?"
Logan lowers the mostly empty can of beer from his lips. "The only politician worth his weight in salt and he has to go and get himself killed. That's what figures."
"Being a little harsh aren't you?" Jean asks as she places the remote on the coffee table.
"I prefer realistic," he answers. He shoots a quick glance at Scott, the otherwise bane of his existence. He had expected more bark out of the boy scout, but so far he's been unusually quiet. An oddity in and of itself. "Everybody's number gets punched sooner or later."
"That's a rather callused view my friend," Xavier says rolling into the room. "Especially since most everyone here knew the Senator, did volunteer work on his early campaigns."
Scott rises from the sofa, even stiffer then usual. Jean glances up at her lover, a worried frown creasing her face as she picks up a strange vibe through the psychic rapport she shares with him. "He was the most outspoken proponent for equal rights between human and mutants."
"Do you believe Senator McCullem was killed to make an example of him? Because of his politics?" Kurt asks from his spot on the fire place mantle.
Logan shrugs saying, "People have been killed for less."
"Quite true," Xavier agrees. "I however would like to know for sure."
"You want us to investigate?" Ororo questions.
Charles nods as he says, "We are all intelligent. Each of us possesses various skills, powers, and abilities that the vast majority of people do not."
"We should keep the kids out of it for the time being," Logan advises causing most of the people in the room to either arch an eyebrow, gape slightly, or act surprise in some way. "Just because the craps out there doesn't mean we have to shove their faces in it. I'm not completely heartless," he finishes with a slight growl.
"Much as I wish we could shelter the children Logan. Some of their powers are going to be vital in gathering information," Xavier replies. Looking around at the gathered group he adds, "They've proven that they're capable of taking care of themselves under extreme duress any number of times. Tonight however we'll leave them be."
"How do you want us to proceed Professor?" Scott inquires.
Charles gives Scott a puzzled frown. He could sense something was troubling the young man, but like he had taught him, he's keeping his thoughts well guarded. It doesn't take much effort on his part to deduce what it is that is bothering him. If he wasn't so focused on discovering the reason why Senator McCellum had been killed he would have picked up on the fact when he first heard it.
The prime suspect, the only suspect, is a man named Hank Summers. The same as Scott's long lost father. Is it just some strange coincident he shares the same name and is approximately the right age. Or is he really Scott's father.
He puts the question aside for the moment. It would be better if he talks to Scott alone on this subject.
"You, Jean, Logan, and Kurt will check out the crime scene. Peter, Ororo, and myself will pay a little visit to the police station," he informs them.
Kurt teleports to the open door. "Just remember Logan. No smoking in the car," he remarks as he reappears.
"A moment Scott?" Charles asks as everyone begins filing out of the room.
"Sure," Scott answers with a shrug coming to a stop in front of the Professor. He gives a slight nod to Jean letting her know she should get ready.
"Sue me," Logan returns with a light glare.
"You'll at least keep the window rolled down," Jean remarks as she passes the Professor. "Unlike you, the rest of us don't have a healing factor to deal with the effects of second hand smoke."
Logan glance from Jean to Kurt. "Don't you just love it when she decides to take charge?"
Xavier swings his chair around to face Scott. Seeing the quite pain he stoically tries to hide, the old mutant can't help but have his heart go out to him. Even if he hadn't known Scott since shortly after his twelve birthday, more then seventeen years, he would still feel the same. Not as strongly, but the emotions would still be there.
"Are you alright?"
Scott's head shifts slightly as he looks down at Charles. "Why wouldn't I be?" Scott returns in a bland emotionless tone.
"Please Scott. We both know there is every possibility of this man being your father," Charles begins.
"Even if he is," Scott cuts in. A slight glimmer of anger cracking his voice before he stops. Recomposing himself Scott starts again. "Even if he is my father, I haven't seen him since he abandoned us when I was six. And if he did what he's being accused of, I'm not all that sure I'd ever want to meet."
"Of course," Xavier answers. "I didn't mean to suggest that you would."
"Then what did you mean to suggest?" Scott challenges.
Charles locks eyes with the man he hopes will one day take charge of the school, after he's retired. "To the point, I merely wished to find out if you were going to be capable of carrying out you duties as the team's field leader. Or if I should have Logan take command on this operation?"
Scott blanches at the suggestion. "That won't be necessary Professor. This isn't going to effect the way I run the team," he assures Charles.
Xavier nods, a slight, affectionate smile creasing his lips. "Good to know that. The thought of putting Logan in charge was... Troubling to say the least," he finishes confidentially.
Van Buren closes the door to her office, shutting out the chaotic din of the station house, as she follows Briscoe and Green inside. "Please tell me this case is as open and shut as all the paper work I've read makes it appear?" The Lt. says without preamble.
"Problems in the wonderful world Lieutenantdom?" Briscoe inquires.
Van Buren scowls at Lenny as she walks pass him. When she reaches her desk she tosses a small stack of phone messages on top of the organized clutter. "At last count I've had half a dozen of McCellum's fellow Senators, or the Senator's aides inquiring over the disposition of this investigation. Not to mention the Mayor and the Governor breathing down my neck. Then there's the fringe elements that think the good Senator got exactly what he deserved. And they're not exactly shy about making their feelings known."
"The case is as good as closed," Green replies. "With all the evidence against him, the guy might as well have confessed."
"I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I had that confession," she suggest with meaning.
Briscoe bobs his head as he says, "then why don't junior and me go and take a run at him." He lets out a light sigh as he straightens and turns towards the door.
A hard right hook punch slams into the side of Faith's head, spinning the brunette around. Her own spinning backfist drops Kennedy to a knee. At the same time her rising back kick clips Rhonda square in the chin, flipping her over onto her back.
A side kick smashes into her knee knocking her to the ground. Faith rolls to her side avoiding the heavy stomp to her head. She spins on the ground, her leg sweeping Chao Ahn's feet out from underneath her, dropping her to her back.
With a quick flip she lands back on her feet. At the same time all three other slayers land back on their feet as well. Faith does a quick shuffle in, her side kick smashing into Chao Ahn's face knocking her back.
Kennedy follows Faith in, her left cross smashing into the back of the brunette's head. The older girl twist away from the full impact of the punch. Her left arm locking up Kennedy's, as her right fist slams into Kennedy's jaw. A bare fraction of a second later Faith's elbow flies backward slamming into Kennedy's chest, while at the same time Faith's right leg sweeps Kennedy's left out from underneath her. Combined, the two moves send her crashing to the Hyperion's hard marble floor with a resounding thud as her head rebounds from the impact.
"That had to hurt," Buffy murmurs to Willow. The tiny blonde's legs swinging back and forth lazily as she sits on the counter in the Hyperion's lobby. Each time one boot heel hit the wood paneling it bounces back forward.
Willow smirks as Rhonda launches a series of kicks and punches at Faith buying Kennedy and Chao Ahn a chance to recover. As the strongest of the newly called slayers they all received personal lessons from Buffy and Faith. In other words, they were privileged to extra beatings from the two senior slayers. Then they got to pass on what they learnt to the others.
"I'll be sure to give it a kiss later tonight and make it all better," she replies.
Buffy returns her best friend's smirk. "I'm sure that's not where you're going to be kissing to make her feel all better."
Willow chokes slightly as color, a deep crimson, blossoms on her face. Totally and completely shocked that Buffy would say something like that to her. Not wanting to discuss her sex life with Buffy she instead inquires. "You feeling any better?"
A swift little move sends Rhonda crashing into Kennedy sending them both sprawling to the floor in a heap. "That's gonna leave another mark you'll get to kiss all better," Buffy remarks instead of answering Willow's question. The tiny redhead gives her best friend a reproachful scowl. Buffy sighs, "I'm feeling fine right now."
Buffy's shoulders slump slightly. "So I wasn't feeling so good this morning," she answers.
"The same as yesterday?"
"And the day before, and a few days before that."
"So when's your doctor's appointment?" Willow questions becoming extremely concerned. In all the time she's known Buffy, she's had only become sick one other time.
"Doctor's appointment?" Buffy questions her face scrunching up in wonder. "What do I need to see a doctor for?"
Willow's eyes widen slightly as she glances at the blonde sitting next to her. "Buffy, that's what? A week you've been waking up with an upset stomach, vomiting. The smell of certain foods make you sick. God if I didn't know better I'd..." Her eyes widen again as she stares at Buffy.
Who stares back, a questioning look on her face. "What?"
In a tiny, soft voice Willow whispers, "are you pregnant?"
In the middle of the room four young woman come to a screeching halt at the word. "Damn B," Faith breathes out. "You went and got yourself knocked up?"
"Whose the father?" Kennedy demands.
"Anybody we know?" Rhonda chimes in.
Buffy hops off the counter, her glare sweeping over everyone. "First of all. No, I'm not pregnant. The last person I've slept with, not that its any of your business, was Spike, and like everyone knows vampires can make babies," she informs everyone present.
"And besides, that was more then a year ago," Willow adds in a nervous little voice. "No way you'd just becoming up pregnant now."
As Willow makes her little speech Buffy looks down, guiltily, at the floor. "Holy shit," Faith exclaims seeing the look on Buffy's face. "You were screwing Spike before the apocalypse."
"So what if I was," Buffy spits out. Her eyes pinning Faith to the floor. "I thought we were all going to die the next day. So I took what comfort I could. The same as you and you two," she adds looking from Faith to Willow and Kennedy.
"Whoa, calm down B," Faith begins picking her towel up from the counter. "Nobody here is saying you did anything wrong," she adds patting her arms down. Out of everyone there Buffy was still the only person who could routinely kick her butt. She had a lot of respect for the blonde, for everything she's been through- some of it her doing- but she wasn't about to back down.
"The night before," Rhonda starts. "That was like two..."
"Seventy-eight days," Buffy finishes without thinking about it.
"And now you're getting sick in the mornings?" Kennedy questions in disbelief. Turning to Willow she asks, "what was that you and Giles were talking about the other day? I'd just walked in at the end of it. Some scroll or something Wesley brought by."
"Oh, my god," Willow breathes out looking at Buffy.
"What are you people talking about?" She demands.
The door to Giles' office swings open allowing the watcher to step out. "Don't any of you believe in answering the phone?" He questions roughly.
"Turned it off," Buffy informs him glad for the reprieve. "Didn't want to be disturbed while evaluating the training session."
Giles scowls at the girls as he steps forward. "Its for you," he tells Buffy. "You can go ahead and use my office."
Buffy moves around Willow and the other slayers heading for the open office door. As she passes Giles she says, "and can you please convince everyone out here that vampires can't have children like shiny happy people?" With that she steps inside Giles' office and closes the door.
Giles' curiosity filled gaze follows Buffy until his office door shuts. With that he turns his attention towards the other four girls in the room. "What was that all about?"
"Before the last apocalypse, well. Buffy kinda, sorta had sex with Spike and the last week or so she kinda, sorta not been feeling good. Like she's been sick in the mornings and not any other time of the day and you have this prophecy about an ensouled vampire having a baby."
Giles blinks at Willow's round about explanation.
"B went and got herself knocked up with Spike's kid before he went and brought Sunnydale down," Faith simplifies.
"Hello," Buffy says into the handset.
"Is this Buffy Anne Summers?" A very young, very female, very Hispanic accented voice asks.
"That's what my birth certificate says," she quips lightly.
"You have a sister Dawn Marie?"
"Wow two for two," Buffy answers. "You wanna tell me what this is all about?" She asks.
"Hank and Joyce," She growls. "Divorced in ninety-six. Anything else or our we done now?"
There was a brief pause as Buffy imagines the woman blinking at her response. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to upset you. I've been trying to reach you for nearly two days. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding you."
"Well you found me. Now, why are looking for me?"
"My name is Isabel Tamara Summers..."
"If you're trying to track Hank down he's somewhere in Spain," Buffy says cutting in. "Fact is I haven't seen my father since ninety-seven. He didn't even bother showing up for Mom's funeral."
"You misunderstand," Isabel says into the slight silence. "I'm not Hank's daughter. I'm his wife..." Buffy drops into Giles' chair, her mouth going slack as the words tumble through her head like a run away rocket. "We're not in Spain, but in New York. We were on our way to California to find you and Dawn, but... There's been a terrible mistake. Your father, my husband... Hank... He's been arrested for murder. He needs you..."
"He needs," Buffy growls only coming back to herself in time to hear the last statement. "Where was he when Dawn needed him?"
"Buffy. Please," Isabel pleads. Buffy could almost hear the tears in the young woman's voice. "He needs you Buffy, we need you. You and Dawn. You're the only family he has. The only family we have."
Briscoe sighs as he leans back in his chair, tossing his pen onto the table. Two hours now and they were no closer to getting a confession then when they started. If anything they were further away.
"Why don't you just come clean," Green gripes. He was getting more then a little tired of hearing the same story of being at dinner with his wife, going to the bathroom and then having a cop shove his face into the ground. "Everyone knows you killed him and the DA can get really vicious when you make them do more work then they have to. Like prosecuting a case..."
"How many times do I have to tell you, I have know idea what you're talking about!" Hank snarls leaning forward. In the last few hours he hasn't been given a choice about anything he's done, nobody has told him anything. He catches vague snatches of conversation that he knows are about him. Sees people look at him with disgusted, hateful, and loathing glares and so far nobody has said a word to him. Worse are those that cheer him on as if he's some kind of idol or icon. A role model for some cause and he doesn't understand any of it.
"The guy whose head you blow almost clean off," Briscoe responds. "Its not really the kind of thing you forget. What was it? Didn't like his politics, or maybe it was just the way his breath smelt?"
Hank pushes the chair back and rises to his feet in a rush. Tossing his hands into the air he grumbles something unintelligible as he turns away. Both detectives stand, their chair legs scraping loudly on the tiled floor. "You wanna sit back down?" Green request.
Hank glance back over his shoulder. They had taken his coat, his fingerprints, his shoes. Just about every indignity they could subject him to, they had and he was getting tired of it. Getting tired of being nice and reasonable to these people.
These two were worse yet. Come in demanding he confess to some crime he didn't commit. Not listening to a word he says. "As a matter of fact, no. I don't wanna sit back down," he finishes answering in a fair imitation of Green's accent.
"Sit down," Briscoe orders taking a menacing step closer towards Hank.
His eyes shift to Lenny, burning with a pent up anger and just waiting for an excuse to unleash it. "And if I don't? Then what, you and your buddy here help me sit down? They've got a word for something like that. Police brutality."
"Aw, hell no," Green mutters taking a few steps forward.
The door swings open without warning. An average size man with light brown hair, wearing an above average cut suit stepping into the room. A pair of dark glasses cover his eyes, and the cane swinging from side to side before him, in a small sweeping arc, tapping the ground occasionally, lets everyone know the man in question is blind. Despite that, his gaze seems to settle on Green. "Not planning on doing anything rash detective?" He inquires in a voice just smooth enough to bristle both men.
"You must be the attorney for the accused," Lenny mutters.
A slim, young Hispanic woman, her stomach heavy as she enters the last few months of her pregnancy, slips past the young attorney. Her long black hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail exposing her sleek and very graceful neck along with her lightly bronze skin. Her clothing while being both simple and functional still hold a touch of elegance not normally seen in maternity clothes.
She seems to cross the room in the blink of an eye. One moment she was by the door the next she is at Hank's side. "Isabel! Agradezca a dios que usted es todo a la derecha," he states as her arms wrap around his waist. He returns the embrace just as fiercely. His large hands engulfing her as he strokes her back, her hair. The top of her head barely reaches the top of his chest.
Isabel leans up on her toes capturing Hank's mouth with hers in a passionate, but brief kiss. Pulling back she starts speaking in a rush. "Era así que preocupado cuando usted desapareció del restaurante... No sabía qué le había sucedido. Entonces cuando el policía dijo él no podría encontrar ninguna muestra de usted que era secuestrado que tendría que esperar veinte cuatro horas e hice y archivé todos los informes apropiados. Ahora le encuentro aquí y el policía dice que usted ha hecho algo horrible."
Lenny stares at the pair. The man was nearly his age and he was fairly sure the girl was quite a few years younger then his daughter.
"In case you gentleman haven't noticed, this interview is over," he informs them. Pushing the door all the way open he inquires, "why don't we step outside and give them a little privacy?"
Briscoe shrugs as he gives Green a disgruntle scowl. Turning he picks his pen up off the table and follows his partner towards the door. "After you," the attorney murmurs gesturing them out.
"So counselor, do you come with a name or just a cane and a lot of attitude?" Green questions stepping through the door.
"Murdock, Mathew Murdock," he answers stepping out of the room almost on Briscoe's heels, pulling the door close behind him. His cane sweeping the area in front of him.
"Well Mr. Murdock. It appears you've taken a bite to big for even you to swallow without choking on it," Southerlyn comments. The scorn emanating from the blonde attorney is an almost palpable force.
Mat smiles sadly as he says, "so good to see you again Serena."
"You're gonna have a hell of a time getting your client off," she replies. "His fingerprints on the murder weapon. Senator McCullem's blood on him, his clothes and about two hundred eyewitnesses that saw him walk out of the alley seconds after the gun shot. Two of which happen to be New York's finest."
"But no one actually saw him pull the trigger did they?" His voice losing its softer qualities. "In fact since my client got up from his table at Da Tommaso, where he was having dinner with his wife, to use the restroom two nights ago, nobody has seen my client at all."
"But everyone knows exactly where he was at ten minutes to ten," Green informs him.
Murdock smiles at him. Just that. But it makes everyone feel as if he sees something no one else can. "I should probably check on my client now," he says. Turning back around, his hand flawlessly connects with the door handle. Turning the knob he pushes the door open and steps back inside the room and closes the door behind him.
Green looks through the one way mirror. "Now that guy just freaks me out," he comments. Murdock looks back at the glass, directly at Green. "What the hell is he looking at?"
"Get use to it," Serena advises. "Mathew Murdock. The original voice of the falsely accused, the disenfranchised, the underprivileged. And he wins far more often then he loses. Find out everything you can. The two missing days, his past, if there was a connection between the two."
"Sounds like this is personal?" Van Buren questions.
She turns her head towards the Lieutenant. "Our paths have crossed a time or two."
The lobby of the Hyperion is a madhouse of activity as most everyone rushes about helping Buffy, Dawn, Willow, Faith, and Wood prepare for their unexpected trip to New York. Most everyone rushes about, a few however don't seem to be in much of a rush at all.
Willow tucks a stray lock of Kennedy's dark hair behind her ear. A soft reassuring smile floating on her lips as she says, "you're going to do great."
Kennedy gives her a rare, nervous smile. "I'm not so sure about that?"
"Buffy wouldn't have picked you if she didn't think you couldn't handle the job." Willow replies in protest. "Besides," she begins in a soft hush as she leans forward to whisper in her ear, "I know you're going to do great."
Kennedy feels a shiver run up her spin at the touch of her lovers moist breath kissing her skin. At the same time she feels a knot grow in her stomach that has nothing to do with pleasure. "You're not even gone yet, and I'm already missing you like crazy," she murmurs. A wicked grin flashes across her face. "Think we got time for a quickie?"
The saucy question causes Willow to blush a light scarlet. "I doubt it," she answers. A devious glint flashing in her eyes. "I'll call you as soon as we get checked in," she tells Kennedy.
"Hurry it up Willow. Give that girl of yours a big old smoldering kiss that leaves the rest of us weak in the knees and come on," Buffy shouts while trying to extricate herself from the current debates she's having with Giles and Dawn.
Willow blinks at the unusual note of command in Buffy's voice. Looking back at Kennedy she adds, "make sure you're alone."
"Giles. I'm going and that's all there is to it," the tiny blonde says in a level, but extremely aggrieved voice.
"I don't see why," Dawn responds before Giles can get a word in. "Its not like he's been there for us or anything."
"Because he is our Father," Buffy snaps. "Just because he was a selfish prick doesn't mean that we are, or that we're going to be."
"Buffy this is important," Giles manages to burst in.
Almost on top of him Dawn says, "fine. Just don't expect me to be nice to him," she finishes in a huff. She storms off taking two steps before stopping and turning back to face Buffy and Giles. "And don't expect me to call her mom either," she adds. With that she turns on her heel and stomps off.
Giles gives his head a slight shake at the young woman's outburst. Turning his attention back to Buffy he picks up where he left off. "If you are in fact carrying Spike's child, there are ramifications you are not aware of."
Buffy turns to face the old man saying, "if I am? Don't you think if I was meant to get pregnant with Spike's child, it would've happened last year when the two of us were going at it like mad bunnies on PCB instead of a one night, we might die tomorrow, stand on the eve of the end of the world?"
He lets out a deep sigh of frustration. "That might be so. But you're forgetting the spell that Willow did. It was meant to awaken, to bring to life, if you will, all the potential slayers. What if it also brought to life Spike's dead sperm as well?"
A disgruntle breath escapes Buffy. "Fine. While I'm in New York I'll take one of those home pregnancy test. When it comes back I'm not pregnant I'll be able to say I told you so." Glancing around the lobby she notices everyone else taken an interest in a lot of other things. "And that goes for all of you as well," she informs them. Raising her head she shouts, "Faith! Wood! Hurry it up!"
"I really wish we'd been able to get in touch with Xander," Dawn murmurs.
Willow shrugs as her and Kennedy fell in step alongside the younger brunette. They climb the foyer stairs leading to the bank of door. "So don't I, but he wants a life away from all of this."
"Sorry about that B," Faith says in a rush as her and Robin Wood come bounding down the top of the stairs. Her hair is rumpled, there's a slight sheen to her face, and an almost satisfied smirk quirking the corners of her lips.
"We... Uhm, were just having a little problem finding everything," Wood finishes as he hastily buttons up his shirt. A moment later he slips his jacket on.
Kennedy glances over at Willow. A small frown creasing her face. Leaning close to Willow she whispers, "they're not even going to be apart from each other and they had time for a quickie."
"That's Faith," Willow says with a shrug. Then lowering her voice so only Kennedy can hear it she says, "just remember to be alone when I call."
Buffy shakes her head at them. She wasn't jealous that just about everyone else was in a stable relationship and she wasn't in any relationship at all. Well not very much anyway. "Come on," she says. "We've got a plane to catch."