Eight o’clock in the morning on Friday morning Jordan and Nigel walked up to the Beacon House Bed and Breakfast and knocked on the door to room four. When it opened they found themselves face to face with a person they’d never expected to see vertical, or at least not with out some serious support. “Hello, why don’t you come in?” Jordan and Nigel silently walked past the former corpse and sat down. Buffy was sitting on the bed opposite them, a mischievous smirk on her face. The two criminologists sat silently and listened to Buffy and Spike’s story in mute amazement.
When the blond couple had finally finished talking Nigel and Jordan were amazed, neither had expected the story they were told. “So two are INTERPOL agents?” Nigel asked with an eyebrow in his hairline.
Buffy nodded, “We’re in Boston tracking an art dealer suspected of trafficking artwork and relics from the Middle East.”
Jordan was still amazed, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for all the suspicion.”
Buffy shrugged, “Trust me; it’s not the end of the world.”
“I don’t understand how you were able to switch the bodies?” Nigel asked, “The body we examined was so lifelike.”
“You’d be surprised what a bunch of brains can do with gelatin, a human skeleton, cow’s blood, and latex,” Spike said. “We have this one girl, Willow, the things she does, you’d swear it was magic.”
“And if we’d gone ahead with the autopsy?” Nigel pressed.
“You’d’ve come up with amazingly realistic latex organs. That’s why we had to get the body out after Buffy saw the holes from the blood draws. Even history majors could tell the difference between rubber and human flesh. We knew the job had been blown.”
Jordan nodded, “What about your records? Buffy’s is about eight miles long and Spike’s is non existent.”
Buffy laughed, “My record from Sunneydale is real. I was working undercover in a gang at the time. After the case was over my bosses decided to just keep it the way it was to make latter insertions easier. And Spike… Spike had a few little problems awhile back, HQ hasn’t finished putting together a new background, he was let out here because no one thought there’d be a problem. But no, someone couldn’t keep himself out of the damn bars.”
Spike glared, Buffy smirked.
After about three hours Jordan and Nigel had had their questions answered. And Buffy was afraid her nose wouldn’t fit in any building smaller than the Super Dome. The night before she and Spike had decided to keep their real jobs under wraps, the fewer people who knew about vampire, slayers, and the problems that went with, the better. It had been fairly easy to convince Lily to keep their secret; the counselor was accustomed to keeping confidences and didn’t think people would believe her anyway.
As Buffy packed her bags she watched Spike strut around their room in his fighting blacks, they were planning to make one more attempt on the head of the rouge clan tonight before catching a plane back to California in the morning. Giles would have both their heads when he found out, and he’d probably laugh in her face when she told him what their cover had been. Her, an art inspector, well her mother would’ve been proud.
As Jordan and Nigel walked into work three hours late Dr. Macy was there to greet them.
“Had a productive morning?” The chief examiner asked, with more than a slight hint of sarcasm.
Jordan shrugged, “People live, people die, people show up in the morgue. About the same as usual.”
Dr. Macy wandered off to begin work on a new case, and Jordan and Nigel walked down the hall to the lab. As the door shut Jordan turned to Nigel, “Was it just me, or was Spike not reflecting in the bathroom mirror?”