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The Hill Street Waitress.

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This story is No. 3 in the series "Free Fall.". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: It was like no one Buffy knew existed anymore, that she’d been dumped in this hell-hole of a town with inadequate clothing and only seventy-five cents. Heaven just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be!

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Hill Street Blues(Recent Donor)DaveTurnerFR151128,901611410,59223 Feb 1414 Mar 14Yes

Chapter Eleven.

11.

Sitting astride Mick, Buffy moaned with desire as she bounced happily up and down in his lap. Pushing up her t-shirt, Mick started to work on Buffy's painfully hard nipples with his lips and tongue; this drew even louder cries of pleasure from Buffy's mouth. Writhing in uncontrolled desire, Buffy moved faster as she neared her orgasm. With a loud cry she climaxed, the intensity of her orgasm almost causing her to pass out from the out-and-out pleasure overload. Gasping for air she collapsed against Mick as she came down from her sexual high.

“It just gets better every time we do it,” Buffy kissed Mick's face as she slowly got her breath back.

“Whatever,” Mick sighed, “y'know, practice makes perfect an' all that crap.”

“You really do want more than just the sex don't you?” Buffy asked in a slightly less breathless voice; she climbed off Mick and started to struggle back into her clothes.

The front seat of Mick's car seemed far to small for two adults who were both trying to get dressed, but somehow they managed.

“Oww!” Buffy cried as she twisted and she tried to put on her panties, “I think the steering wheel hit me in the back.”

“Here let me see,” Mick said before examining the smooth skin of Buffy's back, “nah, nothing there, you'll be fine.”

“You sure?” Buffy tried to turn and look but could see nothing, “I'll take your word for it.”

Almost fully dressed now she sat in the passenger's seat and pulled on her jeans while watching out of the windscreen. After buttoning and zipping up her jeans, Buffy took a moment to take a long look out at the street in front of them. They'd parked Mick's car in an ally on the north side of 124th Street where they had a clear view of the front entrance of the run-down apartment block where Baby-Cakes claimed he left the money for the drugs he'd sold.

“Do you think we've missed anyone going in while we were...” Buffy gave a quiet laugh, “...y'know, doing it?”

“Nah,” Mick shook his head, “I kept watch over ya shoulder.”

“WHAT!?” Buffy looked aghast at the demon cop, “You mean you weren't...?”

“Look,” Mick sighed again, “to be honest and I really don't wanna hurt ya feelings, but...”

“But?” Buffy almost snarled, “Remember that a wrong answer could lead to death or serious maiming.”

“Look,” Mick continued, “I thought you understood, the sex is just a job to me, I get no real gratification outta it...” once more Mick sighed this time with a certain amount of wistful longing, “...of course if you really loved me it might be different.”

“I'm sorry Mick but...” Buffy began; she realised that she'd been so caught up in her own sexual gratification that she'd not spared a thought for any needs that Mick might have.

“I know,” Mick replied softly, “you could never love a demon like me, what with you being the slayer an' all.”

Reaching out she took Mick's hand in her own, for just a moment she considered telling the demon that she might be able to love him given time, but she stopped herself. Mick might be a demon but giving him false hope like that just to ensure she got more sex would be cruel. Instead she said;

“Sorry Mick.”

“Hey!” Mick turned to her and gave her a lopsided smile, “Maybe we should check it out, I mean,” Mick's smile got slightly wider and nearly got all the way to his eyes this time, “once or twice there I got lost in the moment so someone coulda sneaked in.”

“You say the nicest things, Mick,” Buffy leaned across the seat and kissed Mick on the cheek before turning and opening the door.

Just for a moment, Mick sat behind the wheel his hand on his cheek where Buffy had kissed him. He watched her butt as she climbed out of the passenger's side and felt a slight steering of desire. It was then that he realised, the slayer might not love him but he loved her; he was one seriously mixed up demon. With yet another heavy sigh, Mick opened his door and joined Buffy in the alleyway.

0=0=0=0

“Phil, has everyone checked in?” Frank Furillo asked his Station Sergeant while all around them officers got ready for a siege.

“Everyone except Mick Belker,” Sergeant Esterhaus replied levelly.

“Yeah that's right he said he had a lead on this Devil Dust,” Frank gave the door to the squad room a worried look almost willing Mick to walk in with one of his chewed cigars sticking out of his mouth.

“Frank,” Phil said quietly, “Mick's a good cop he knows enough to keep his head down 'til this is all over.”

“Yeah I know,” Frank agreed, “but...” pushing his worries aside, Frank took a deep breath and asked, “Where's Howard?”

“Him and the SWAT guys are covering everyone's tale while we get organised.,” Phil explained.

“Yeah,” Frank smiled; you could say a lot of things about Howard Hunter, most of them uncomplimentary, but you had to admit that the man was brave and knew where his duty lay, “thanks Phil, keep me posted, I'll be in my office.”

Turning away from Phil, Frank made his way across the squad room. For a moment he stood and watched as officers barricaded doors and windows. Over in the far corner of the room a patrolman was handing out spare weapons and ammunition to his buddies. Reaching under his jacket, Frank brought out his own service revolver and checked that it was loaded. It had been so long that he'd actually used the weapon in 'anger' that he often didn't even load it. Today, however it was loaded. Snapping the cylinder of his revolver closed, Frank walked over to the arms locker and got himself a box of spare rounds before heading back to his office.

Stepping into his office, Frank closed the door behind him; just for a moment it shut off the noise from the squad room. In the near silence he watched as Joyce hung up his phone and wondered if she'd be willing to join him so they could start a new life somewhere else. Because if things went the way he thought they might, he for one was not going to be able to stay on in the Chicago PD. When the dust settled, and assuming he was still alive, the crap was really going to hit the fan.

“Frank?” Joyce called softly from across the office.

“What?” Frank gave a small self deprecating laugh, “Sorry I was miles away.”

“Best place to be Pizza-man,” Joyce agreed.

“Who were you on the phone to?” Frank was, once more, the businesslike police Captain.

“I have a few friends in the DA's office,” Joyce began, “people who owe me favours, you know?”

“I think I do Councillor,” Frank gave her a half smile, “can they help?”

“Until I called them they were unaware of what was happening on The Hill,” Joyce explained.

“Unaware!?” Frank gasped, “How could they not be...”

“Because Chief Daniels and the Mayor's office has kept them out of the loop. Frank,” Joyce took a deep breath, “whatever's going on the corruption must go all the way to the top. The money involved must be so big that they don't care if a precinct of cops get wiped out in the process.”

“My god, Joyce...” for a moment Frank was lost for words, “...if I get out of this I'm personally going to shoot Chief Daniels in the head for this...”

“Form a line after me,” Joyce replied with a shrug, “but it might not come to that.”

“Why not?” Frank moved around his desk and opened a drawer.

“Well if the DA is the man I think he is,” Joyce touched the bandage on her head and winced, “he'll get on to the Governor and we'll only have to hold out until the National Guard arrives.”

“In the mean time,” Frank took his spare revolver from his desk draw, opening the cylinder he started to load it with rounds from the box of ammunition he'd just got.

“Hey, Frank,” Joyce held up her hands and took a step back from Furillo, “I don't need a gun I doubt I could shoot someone anyway.”

“It's not for you to shoot other people,” Frank said quietly as he held the weapon out to Joyce, “it's...”

“You mean...?” Joyce stood with her mouth open as she stared in shock at Furillo.

“If they get in you may not want to be taken alive,” Frank held out the gun towards Joyce again, “this'll at least give you the option.”

0=0=0=0

Out at the bottom of the steps at the front of the precinct house, Howard Hunter slipped the last of his spare cartridges into the cylinder of his .357 Magnum. Snapping the cylinder closed he raised the weapon single handed and aimed at the red-eyed, homicidal addict who was charging at him. Squeezing the trigger the big revolver bucked in his hand as the top of the addict's head exploded in a fan of blood, bone and brains.

“Come on men,” Howard called, his pipe still clenched between his teeth, “get inside.”

As the last of his Swat officers disappeared inside the precinct house, Howard shot another rioter who'd got too close. After taking one last look at the scene of destruction that had once been Hill Street, Howard slowly walked up the stairs towards the front door of the station. Pausing as officers yelled at him to get himself inside, he gave the street one last look before going into the building and letting the uniformed officers barricade the door behind him.

Standing for a moment in the entrance lobby as officers moved filling cabinets to block off the door (paperwork was the bane of every street cop's life, but at least now it was serving a useful purpose), he wondered where the slayer was. If as he suspected she was with Mick Belker she'd be safe enough, Belker was a good man he'd know what to do. Another thought entered Howard's mind as he moved to search out some ammunition for his hand gun. When this was all over he'd be giving those fools in London a piece of his mind for not telling him about the slayer being in his area.

“Judas Priest!” Howard muttered angrily as he strode through the milling officers towards his locker where he kept his spare ammo.

0=0=0=0

Walking across the deserted street towards the old apartment block, Buffy shivered, some of it was due to the cold, but some of it was due to the feeling of unease she felt the closer she got to the building.

“Hold on Mick,” Buffy reached out and touched Mick's arm bringing him to a halt, “I think we've found the right place.”

“How'd y'know?” Mick reached for his weapon as he turned to look at Buffy.

“I don't know how much you know about the slayer,” Buffy began, “but I have a sort of 'spider sense', I can sense danger.”

“And you can sense danger now?” Mick asked concerned.

“Totally,” Buffy gestured at the building, “and its coming from in there.”

“You better stay behind me...” Mick said as he went to walk in front of Buffy.

“Get outta here!” Buffy laughed as she pushed passed Mick, “I'm the slayer I'll sense if there's any real danger way before you do.”

“No look,” Mick managed to catch up with Buffy and stand in front of her bringing her to a halt, “Look, whoever's in there probably have guns, I won't be responsible for getting the slayer shot.”

“Okay,” Buffy put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily, “what you say we go in together?”

Mick thought about this for a minute, it was obvious that Buffy was determined to see this through to the end and there was no way he could actually stop her, short of shooting her himself.

“Okay,” Mick shook his head in defeat, “we go in together.”

“Knew you'd see it my way!” Buffy laughed before neatly side stepping around Mick and headed towards the door to the apartment block.

“HEY!” Mick cried out as he followed her up the short flight of stairs that led to the front door.

At some point in the past the doors had been boarded over in an attempt to keep the street people from taking over the building. Just as she was about to start pulling the boards from the door, Mick arrived beside her and easily pushed the door open.

“How'd you know it was open?” Buffy demanded, a little put out because she'd been prepared to break down an already open door.

“I'm a detective remember,” Mick grinned before pointing at the floor, “you can see the marks where the door has been opened and closed.”

“Oh yeah,” Buffy looked down and saw the marks, feeling a little foolish she followed Mick into the lobby.

Inside and the lobby was only lit by the few stray beams of sunlight that got in through the gaps between the boards over the door. Buffy hated situations like this because even her slayer enhanced eyesight wasn't much help. In the night or in full daylight she could see perfectly, but this sort of half light where here eyes had to adapt between bright beams of light and almost pitch darkness it wasn't so good. However she had other senses that didn't rely on light.

“Quiet!” Buffy whispered as she held up her hand bringing Mick to a halt.

“What?” Mick whispered back.

“I can hear someone...” Buffy cocked her head and listened harder, “...no, make that two some ones.”

“Where?” Mick whispered again as he started to pull Buffy out of the line of fire.

“Hey,” Buffy hissed as she pulled her arm from Mick's hand, “I'm not a...”

Before Buffy could tell Mick what she wasn't, an old service door which probably led down to the basement opened. Two men stepped out into the half light of the lobby to confront Buffy and Mick. Both new comers were white, one was big and stupid looking and the other was shorter and the more intelligent looking of the two. The big guy led the way, a heavy looking case in one hand and an automatic pistol in the other.

“FREEZE DIRTBALL!” Mick yelled before adding, “POLICE!”

The big guy raised his weapon to point it at Mick, but never got the chance to fire as Buffy kicked the weapon out of his hand. Realising the game was up the shorter guy pulled a weapon of his own and started to fire not really caring who or what he hit. His first couple of rounds hit the big guy in the back who fell to the dusty floor with a stunned and surprised look on his face. Mick fired back, the muzzle flashes of the two pistols strobed across the room like some hellish disco-lights. Gun-smoke started to fill the lobby until Mick managed to get a clear shot at the short guy and shot him dead with a bullet to the head.

“BUFFY!” Mick moved cautiously forward to check on his victim, “Check the other guy make sure he's dead.”

Keeping his pistol trained on the perp, Mick kicked the guy's fallen gun out of his reach before checking for a pulse. It was as he'd suspected, the perp was dead, not that it bothered him.

“How's the other guy?” Mick stood up and turned expecting to see Buffy standing over the other perp, much to his surprise she wasn't. “Buffy?”

Mick moved across the lobby, stepping out into the open he saw Buffy lying on the floor, blood oozing from a big hole in her chest.

“BUFFY!?” Mick screamed as he rushed to her side, “Oh Buffy...” he almost sobbed as he knelt down beside her, frantically he felt for a pulse, “...damn it!”

Why had he let her come in with him, why hadn't he made her stay outside? Well, the answer to that was easy, he couldn't have stopped her. This answer didn't make him feel any better. Sitting on the floor next to Buffy's body he wiped the tears from his eyes. Her eyes were still open staring sightlessly at the ceiling, a look of shocked surprise forever frozen on her face.

“Damn you, Buffy Summers,” Mick fought to choke back the tears, “why couldn't you have stayed outside...” even as he spoke he knew the answer; it simply wasn't in her nature, “...why couldn't you have stayed with me?”

0=0=0=0

Waking up in the dark, Buffy knew with a certainty that couldn’t be denied that she’d died and she’d gone somewhere where she’d been loved. That somehow she was back in her own world and she was lying in her coffin. With a strength born of the slayer added to her panic at being buried ‘alive’, Buffy fought her way out of her coffin and towards the surface.

The End.

A/N: Unfortunately, one way or another, Buffy always has to die at the end of these stories so Willow can resurrect her at the beginning of Season Six.

The End

You have reached the end of "The Hill Street Waitress.". This story is complete.

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