Disclaimer & Notes: NCIS belongs to Bellasario. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, and related characters belong to Joss Whedon.
I usually write Gen, so an additional note: in case you missed the summary and the category icon, this is SLASH. Spike and Xander will do things people who dislike slash will dislike. Also, I don't write pr0n for pr0n's sake, so no graphic nookie.
Set pre-NFA, but not too much. No spoilers that I can think of for NFA, but some for eps leading up to it. Consider most of Buffy spoiled. Occurs immediately after NCIS's Under Covers. Spoilers for Honor Code. Note: I couldn't find a first name for Dr. Angelman, so I used the actor's first name.***
Spike grinned around a mouth full of fangs and dragged his talon-like nails across the bars of the cage, letting them tink merrily along the iron. The man inside jerked awake. Spike chuckled. "Isn't this quite the treat, Doc? The irony, it's a beautiful thing, innit?"
"Oh god." The man scrabbled into the back of his cage, arms and legs flying in his orange jumpsuit. "Oh fucking Christ."
"Not quite, mate. Though I did give up my life to save the world like that old bloke. God-like, ain't I? I can see how'd you'd make the mistake. But I'm much better looking." Spike spread his legs and tilted his head. "How's it feel? You being the caged rat and me out here? Like it?"
The human swallowed convulsively, then forced himself to calm down. "It doesn't matter, Seventeen. You're leashed. Chipped."
"Righty-o, Mengele. Angelman. Wilder. Whatever you're calling yourself now. Care to test it out? Come check the workmanship?" Spike spread his arms. "Feel safe, little man?"
The human licked his lips.
Spike slipped into his human face and affected a pout. "Come now, you're not going to be much fun if you just sit there and wet yourself."
"It's not working."
"Took care of it a year or so ago. Nice piece of work, that. Now, I'm gonna take care of you." Spike's fangs and yellow eyes flashed out.
The human clawed at the cinderblock wall behind him. "Help! Help me!"
Spike chuckled. "Gonna get you all the help you need, Doc. Tomorrow, the best lawyers money can buy are gonna be helping you out. Demons are good for something, eh? Gonna get you off of these charges, Doc. Or get you a reduced sentence. Don't want to see the military execute you for treason. I want to put a spike in your brain meself." He pulled a railroad spike out of a pocket and licked it. "Show you personally how I got my name."
"No need to thank me, mate. Glad to help out a fellow monster. See you soon." Spike left in a swirl of duster. He quite liked the echo his boots made along the prison hallway.***
The joint FBI op had just been put to bed. Tony looked like he'd been through a meat grinder. David was making cow eyes at Tony when Tony wasn't looking. That'd probably go away in a few days. If not, there were ways to help that along. A few well placed words to get Tony into obnoxious fratboy mode would have her sneering again. Everyone else appeared normal. Gibbs sipped his coffee and mentally lined up the details in the cold case file he was reading.
Commander Coleman marched, dress right dress like a marine drill instructor with a corn cob up her ass, right up to his desk. He ignored her on general principles.
"Gibbs," she said.
"I don't care."
"Well I do." He wrote a name on the yellow pad next to the file and drew an arrow from it to the victim's sister's name.
"We've got a problem."
"Yeah, we do. It's you standing in my squad room."
He looked up and frowned. "What? That bastard better not walk."
"A team of expensive lawyers took over his case this morning."
"So? You eat expensive lawyers for breakfast and shit them after lunch."
Her teeth ground together. "Wolfram and Hart. These guys are trouble. But that's not the problem. Wilder's acting weird. Like he doesn't want anything to do with them, but he won't fire them. He does everything but pee on the floor when they're in the room with him. He tried to change his plea to guilty before they showed up this morning, and once when they left him alone. They won't let him. They make him change it back. They're intimidating him somehow and for some reason." She grimaced. "They seem to find it almost funny."
He threw his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "I've never heard of lawyers intimidating their clients into doing the smart thing."
"Something scared the hell out of Wilder last night. There was about thirty minutes of security feed where Wilder appears terrified out of his wits for no reason. No one saw or heard anything during that time period." She tossed a video tape in a sealed bag on his desk. "For your forensics people. Wilder can't afford Wolfram and Hart. Someone obviously thinks he knows something and plans to keep him out of Leavenworth for it."
Gibbs frowned. "We gave you a good case."
She nodded. "Evidence is solid, as usual. That doesn't mean that something isn't going to go wrong. I've done some digging. Ethics aren't something Wolfram and Hart worries too much about. You need to make sure your people are secure. You're the best witnesses I've got."
"You think they'll try to take us out."
"Witnesses in their cases have a tendency to come up missing."
Gibbs scowled. "Not my people."
"It was scheduled to go to trial in three days, but with the new lawyers, motions are being filed right and left. Wilder's got a month. Which is another weird thing. They only asked for a month, usually they ask for six. And they'd get it."
"Have you found out who hired them?"
"No. My office hits the wall at their LA branch. I can't get any deeper than the receptionist, a Miss Harmony Kendall."
"Well, what did she say?"
Coleman shifted uncomfortably and all but snarled at a point on the corner of Gibbs' desk. "She ranted about her shoes and how all men were jerks. Somewhere in all of that she said something about a blondie bear taking care of things. I don't know if it's significant or not. I hope you'll get farther."
Behind her, Tony mouthed the words blondie bear and grinned.
Gibbs nodded. "We'll take care of it."
Tony's job was to get through the receptionist if he could. Expensive lawyers were their own breed of pain in the ass, but Tony should break through them easily enough. David's job was to fetch everything they had on Wilder and then find the lawyers. They'd meet up where ever those bastards were at. Gibbs went straight to the federal jail, McGee in tow.
At the front of the jail, where visitors entered, were the administrative offices, a small waiting area, and a short hallway that held vending machines and doorways to restrooms. Voices echoed along the short corridor, somewhere between a hiss and a growl in tone without leaving the range of socially acceptable human language.
Gibbs held up his fist when he caught Wilder's name, not surprised when McGee missed the stop signal entirely and ran into him. McGee opened his mouth, Gibbs glared him into silence. He sidled up to the mouth of hallway. McGee looked at his feet, but remained in place, silent and waiting. Excellent.
"How do you plan on stopping us? Staking us? What we're doing is not only perfectly legal, but it's a good deed. Pro bono cases are altruistic
." Male, with a well-educated voice and no real accent. American. Probably. Staking?
"Haven't you figured it out yet? With all your evil lawyering and college degree having, I would have thought you'd be more with the brains and less with the stupids." Male as well. Definitely an American in accent. A kid maybe? The voice was older, but.... The kid tutted.
The other guy didn't say anything.
"Bad guys lose. You're all mwa-ha-ha with your big evil plans and then the good guys show up and while you're monologuing, your evil gets all bitch slapped like Pilar."
There was a moment of silence, then: "Pilar? Who in the fuck is Pilar?"
"Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald. You know Pilar? Rebecca whipped her ass. Don't you people watch TV? You work for Admiral Broodster and I know his bleached brat is running around the place."
Admiral Broodster? A real admiral or just a nickname? Gibbs was leaning toward nickname. McGee started sidling toward him.
The first man sniffed. "We don't waste our time on that junk."
"You should tell Spike that. A lot," the kid said, sounding very amused.
Spike. Not much of a name, but a name.
The kid chuckled suddenly, as if something significant had happened. "Spike? Ah hah. I didn't think the broody one would give a flying pro a bono."
The other man snorted. "I didn't---"
"Didn't have to, evil lawyer guy. Didn't have to. I can guess what bleach for brains wants with your best new evil buddy. I'm surprised you people didn't try to hire him when you were all come to the dark side of the force, Luke."
"As opposed to what we are now?" The lawyer laughed.
"Getting down on your knees and offering King Broody McBroody a happy so you can get Mr. Leather Pants and Velvet Shirts in charge?"
Gibbs ground his teeth. This conversation made no sense. Silence came out of the hallway.
"Mr. Leather Pants is a monumentally bad idea, by the way. You get him and next thing you know, you'll actually be doing good deeds just to get rid of him instead of faking it with pro bono charity work for last decade's evil," the kid said. "Not that it matters. We keep our eye on Broody O'Broodster. Your new buddy here wants to fire you, you'd better let him. You won't like the consequences."
"He's a piece of scum. Even you have to admit that."
"A piece of scum that's no longer your problem."
The lawyer growled. "We don't have that option."
"See this face? It's my I don't care face."
"See this face? It's my I'm going to file obstruction charges face," a third voice put in smoothly. Feminine, but male. The accent was hard to place, though it sounded American on the surface. It was too sibilant.
"Have fun with that. I'm walking on the Strand with my buddies in London, waving at the cameras right now. Gonna stop off at the chemist's for a little bit of mugwort. What is it you people call it? Shthphthrl's bane?"
At least it sounded like shthphthrl.
There was silence for a moment, then the first male lawyer said, "The Senior Partners won't---"
"Do a damned thing because they gave you to Deadboy, lock, stock, and evil."
"This is getting us nowhere," the feminine lawyer hissed. "You--"
"Will be telling Deadboy on you."
Deadboy? Gibbs frowned. Another interesting name. More silence, this one stretched while bodies in the corridor shifted around.
The kid chortled. "Doesn't know you're out here, huh?"
"He's far too busy to deal with such minor things."
The kid laughed again. "Don't worry your evil, little heads over it. You toddle back to your evil headquarters and I'll deal with the bleached menace."
The bodies shifted again. "We---"
"No." The kid's voice was hard, like any veteran combat soldier's at a checkpoint. "You go file the paperwork to get yourselves off the case and go back to LA. You better be out of town by sundown."
The kid didn't reply.
"Fine," the feminine voiced lawyer said. "You deal with Spike."
"I will. You get back to LA."
Gibbs grabbed McGee and headed for the desk. He stopped near the desk, turned to McGee as if to speak, and watched as three suits filed out of the hallway followed by a messy guy in khaki cargo pants and flannel. All of them headed straight for the door and disappeared.
"McGee, get started on the security feed. I'm on the guy in the flannel. Fill DiNozzo in when he shows up."
McGee nodded. "On it, boss."
Gibbs headed out the door.
The flannel guy was waiting outside, leaning against the wall and sucking on a piece of beef jerky. The suits were in the middle of climbing into a rented Lexus. The kid, because the guy in the flannel was undoubtedly who belonged to the voice of the kid, alternated between watching the suits and Gibbs. Gibbs wandered over to the car and grabbed a file from the back seat. The kid looked amused, or as amused as someone can look with an eye patch and a piece of beef jerky hanging out of his mouth can look. Gibbs called McGee.
"Can you see the front of the building with security cameras?"
"Uh, yeah boss."
"Five meters east of the front doors is our guy. Keep an eye on him." Gibbs slammed the car door and headed back into the building.
"I got him boss. He's the guy with the eye patch?"
"That's the one." The guy waved as Gibbs passed. Gibbs ignored him and went inside. "Keep watching him. I want to know what car he gets into. I want a plate."
Gibbs hung up on McGee and dialed Tony. He cut Tony off before he could wind himself into a really good kiss up session. "Forget the lawyers and get down to the jail now."
"I got a name out of the receptionist. She wants to meet if we ever get out to LA. He goes by---"
"Spike. Get your ass down here. Now."
Gibbs hung up before he had to put up with any more crap. The desk sergeant looked up and scowled, then took him back to the security room where McGee was typing at a laptop hooked up to a security feed.
"Hey Boss. He got into a sedan. I'm trying to isolate a plate now. He stopped off at your car first and put something on the windshield. Wait, there!" The computer screen digitized a blurry license plate into something clearer.
"Run that and put out a BOLO. I'll check out the car and meet DiNozzo. Then we'll talk to Wilder."
"On it, Boss," McGee said.
Gibbs headed for the car. Under the driver's windshield wiper was a thin piece of paper. He got an evidence bag from the trunk and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He unfolded the paper, and squinted at it. The penmanship was awful, worse than the average marine recruit's on the first day of boot camp. Ivy Hill O 106
. Nothing else on the paper, which appeared to have been torn off of a gas station's pay at the pump receipt. There was no other marking on the paper. He kept it unfolded and slipped it into the evidence bag with the words facing the clear side. He sealed the bag and signed it.
Tony pulled up and rolled down his window. "Find something?"
"Ivy Hill, O, 106. Mean anything to you, DiNozzo?"
"You got five minutes to make it mean something."
Tony whipped out his cell phone and dialed. Probably Abby. "Hey, Abs. Does Ivy Hill, O, 106 mean anything to you? Yeah, O as in Orleans."
Gibbs smiled to himself and made his way back into the building.***
Xander followed his handy dandy, little, Spike-tracking amulet to the Marriott. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was only a mile from the jail. Spike could walk there before he huffed his way through a cigarette. He went into the parking garage and parked halfway up. He swapped the stolen plates out with the car's real plates and tossed the stolen ones into the trunk. His nice, millions just like 'em on the road rental now had no legal resemblance to the one he'd parked at the jail. Just the way he liked it. Okay, maybe he didn't like it so much because stealing license plates, even from the long term parking lot at the airport and he was gonna replace them, was not cool, but you couldn't be too careful when you had to deal with cops who weren't from Sunnydale. And he'd read it in one of Buffy's romance novels with a serial killer in it. He never knew romance novels had serial killers in them. But it kind of made sense since Buffy kept hooking up with them. Not that Buffy had bad taste in men, they just turned out to, okay, time to stop the train wreck. At least her new guy was normal, even if he never aged. He and Ra's al-Ghul could hang out together at the end of the Earth.
He got himself a room under the name William Giles, just to annoy both Spike and Giles, then took the elevator to the floor the amulet liked the most. Top floor. Figured. He went to the appropriate door and banged on it. "Hey, Spike! Dawn's been kidnapped!"
The door flew open and Mr. Sleepyvamp's head stuck out.
"Seriously. Buffy made her play hooky from Cambridge and took her shoe shopping. We thought about sending a team after her, but we figured they'd just get sucked into the shoe shopping abduction, too."
Spike vamped out.
Xander hung his index fingers from his lips and pretended to vamp out.
"I could just eat you, Harris."
Xander grinned. "Only in the sexy way, please."
Hey, even vamp eyes could bug out. The eyes narrowed a bit and the vamp bumpies melted into regular human looking Spikeness. Spike heaved one of those why me sighs and rubbed his hand through his hair. He opened the door wider. "Might as well come in, boy."
Xander slipped his cell phone out and took a picture. Well, most of a picture because Spike was butt nekkid and he thought it might be best to only put the top half in the shot.
"What the bloody hell?"
"Hang on." He pushed a few buttons and texted it to Dawn, Buffy, and Willow. He stuck his phone back in his pocket. "Okay."
"What did you just do?" Vamp face was back. If he was the kind of guy to be intimidated by vamp face, Spike would be intimidating, even with all his man junk whipping the breeze. And what lovely man junk it was, too.
"Just letting the rest of the Scoobies see that you're unalive and well. Knowing's just not as good as seeing, you know?" Xander bounced into the room, getting just the right amount of bounce for annoyance factor by thinking of Willow on espresso. "We've all missed you so much."
"Nevermind could. I am
going to eat you. Saves getting take away." Spike stalked to a table near the thick drapes held shut with pieces of duct tape and snatched up a pack of cigarettes.
"Is it so hard to believe that we care about you?"
Spike paused, a cigarette halfway to his mouth. "Right. You care so much you send off piccies of me starkers." He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and sneered. He did it so well. "Cheers."
Xander flopped onto the couch, which was way cool. He bet his room didn't have a couch. "But you look so yummy. Besides. I only sent off the top part. Wouldn't want the Big Bad's Big Bad to start a riot at the shops. Everybody'd want you and I can't have that."
Spike flicked his Zippo, but didn't light the cigarette. "You flirting with me, Harris?"
"I'm going with my subtle technique. How am I doing?"
"Christ." Spike dropped into a chair and slapped both the cigarette and lighter onto the table next to him. He very considerately kept his knees spread.
Xander grinned. "Show off."
"Those of us that got it keep those of you that want it in wank material."
Xander nodded agreeably.
Spike stared at him.
Xander admired the view.
Spike twirled the lighter on the tabletop.
Xander started thinking of that picture he found of Giles in a dress to make sure that his admiration of the view didn't get too visible.
Spike started fidgeting. "Bloody hell. What are you here for? Can't say it's my hot body."
"Wouldn't mind that, but well, only partially." Xander sat forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. "Riley called us up and let us know about that doctor. Soon as he came up on their radar. Not soon enough."
"What'd you do, boy?" And there went the view.
"I sent your pack of lawyers home. You're going to have to leave him be, Spike."
It was quiet for a moment, then Spike exploded to his feet. "What the soddin' hell do you think you're doing? Swooping in to save the day like some ridiculous knight
? The tosser's not worth it! He's not just a butcher, he's a traitor. They're like to kill him anyway."
Xander opened his mouth.
Spike's glare didn't make him not say anything, but the harsh breathing did. "You interfering, little git. I thought you'd understand. Of all you lot."
"Spike, it's not like that. You think they
will ever stop
watching him? I mean ever?"
Spike took a final, shuddering breath, and was still.
"He's a traitor. You were only going to get yourself in trouble. With more military wanker people. Only this time, not so much with the easily intimidated like Riley and more with like the whole damned thing. Cause the Secretary of the Navy is keeping an eye on this guy. Though, I don't know why the Navy's secretary is such a big threat. Buy her a latte and take her shoe shopping or something."
Spike wrinkled his nose ala annoyed Buffy and flopped back into the chair. "'M going to me final death again in a day or so anyway. Might as well get some revenge first. Thanks ever so for trying to spoil it."
Xander frowned. "Final death? What the---? You're not allowed! I just got you back! I mean we just got you back!"
"The workings of apocalypses don't care about your little sidekick sensitivities, now do they?"
"What's going on?"
Spike shrugged. "Dunno. Soddin' Poof's workin' on some plot or some such with them soddin' lawyers." Spike snorted and picked up the cigarette. "'Spect the soddin' Watcher has the soddin' right of it. Stay away from Angelus before he gets you lot killed off."
"Could you say sodding any more in that sentence?" Xander frowned and scratched his belly. "I've seen Law & Order. They wouldn't get the doc out of jail before that."
Spike smirked. "Sure they would. Get him out of jail to the courthouse and then back again, wouldn't they now?"
"Sneaky. Very Time to Kill
"Couldn't make it last, but a few hours of playing in his entrails would make me feel right cheerful, it would. Then I'd be off to LA and my certain doom."
"I say ixnay on the ertainsay oomsday."
"Love to, mate, but I'm not leaving them to die by themselves."
"So, we make sure it's not doomsday," Xander said. "Angel's plans all suck anyway, so we just come up with a better one and no doom necessary. So what's the apocalypse, anyway?"
"If you were a frustrated twat that didn't get to save the world for puppies and ponces because Buffy made you run away to LA, what would you do?" Spike put his cigarette down and spread his arms, showing off those lovely abs. "Especially if I got to save everything from the First in your place when you just knew it was your destiny and all that rot?"
"Uh, knowing Angel? Find my own version of the First to take on so I could show off my broody hunkiness to everyone."
Spike smirked. "Got it in one, Xan."
"You mean he went out and actually dug up a First Evil to fight with? How lame is that?"
"The lawyer gits, you tit. Not the First so much, but bad enough. He plans on taking out the head lawyers. Since they're demons about as old as the world, living in other dimensions, he's taking a bite out of a bull elephant's neck."
"So that's what you mean by him getting you killed."
Spike shrugged. "Angelus is right, though. Rip out your tongue if you ever repeat that. They have to be stopped."
"Okay. I'll help."
Spike shook his head and pointed a finger at Xander. "No, you'll trot back to Jolly Ol' where you'll be safe and take care of the Bit and the Slayer."
"I'm going to help you and Angel and everyone."
Spike sneered. "And how do you think you can do that, Polyphemus? Trip over files?"
Xander rolled his eye. "Angel's big plan to defeat you was to give me to you as a snack. You can see me not feeling the Angel confidence here."
Spike blinked. "He is something of an idiot at times. I blame the soul."
"I blame the woe is me-ing thing he does. I'll be there, helping, whether you like it or not. And I can be a lot of help, too. I swing a mean axe."
Spike deflated in the chair. "I don't want you getting hurt."
"I don't want anyone getting hurt." Xander sighed. "Look, want me to call Faith? She's in Cleveland. She can be there with a bunch of slayers in like, twelve hours. And she knows Angel and everything. Could kick some sense into his broody ass."
Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Might work, that."
Xander tapped his temple. "Hey, I'm smart. I know how to plan. Never send in a man to do a woman's job."
"Still getting that doc."
Xander's smile turned wicked. "I'm taking some steps to make sure he gets at least some kind of punishment. Even if it is just jail."
Spike arched a brow.
"I checked out these Navy cops that are on his back and the JAG lady that's doing his case. The cops are good and the JAG lady makes Darla look like Betty Crocker. Which, hey, don't turn her. Seriously. She's an apocalypse in the making. Anyway. I think they can take on whoever was behind the Initiative even if it's one of those big government conspiracies, you know dig deep into the past and punish accordingly, and I definitely think they can make sure the doc gets locked up and they throw away the key." Xander tilted his head. "Besides, ol' Doc has a reason to cooperate with 'em now, don't he?"
Spike smirked. "So your brilliant plan is to what?"
"Feed 'em enough info to get 'em to keep the guy out of the Initiative's clutches." Xander frowned, vaguely remembering the memory of memories from the soldier he'd been for a few hours. "Maybe get the Initiative people worried enough and they'll just kill him."
Spike snorted and lit up the cigarette. He took a deep drag and blew it out. "Not Maggie Walsh's happy little Igor. They'll keep him alive because they might want to use him again. Never know when the military might need another Frankenstein's monster and the doc's the only tame evil scientist what can make one." Spike barked a single laugh. "Peaches' fancy lawyers always good for digging up dirt on the evil."
"At least he'll be in jail where we can keep an eye on him and the Initiative has to stay away from him, instead of running around being a happy monster maker, right?"
"Right. 'Cause that's ever so much better than dead with railroad spikes through his eyes."
"Which would, in no way, make anyone at all suspicious of you." Xander could do sarcasm just as well as Spike could.
"Will, too. Gonna get Faith to kick lawyer ass, and then maybe Deadboy's for bad planning. You'll be around for a really long time showing everyone what being the Big Bad is all about."
"Can't really blame Peaches, now can you? What with Rupes shutting us out and calling us no better than the lawyers of evil and all that. How was he to know he could get help from you lot?"
Xander frowned. "So no kicking of Angel's ass?"
"No arse kicking. You gonna call the chit or you gonna ogle my bits all day?"
"And such lovely bits they are, too. If you're courting me, you're doing a great job." Xander grinned at Spike's shocked face. He noticed that Spike didn't look like the courting thing was wrong, and, more importantly, he just tossed a two fingered salute and kept his legs spread. Oh so lovely. "Anyway, I'm a multitasker. I'll do both since you're indulging me." He grinned as wickedly as he knew how. "You do have one hell of a courtship ritual!"
Spike just sneered.