“Elizabeth,” Riley said with a weary smile as she burst into the squad room still dressed in the elegant eveningwear from the ball, “yeah, I know we blew it, but at least we got the guy who—”

“Where is he?” Elizabeth ran a hand through her now-disheveled hair, her mind narrowed down to pinpoint focus. Really, it was a wonder she hadn’t had an accident on the frantic drive here.

“We’ve got him in interrogation room two,” Riley provided, “but he’s as good as convicted. We’ve got the gun with his prints, in his car. And he was hovering over the corpse when we—”

“In a second.” Elizabeth held up one hand for silence, continuing to wind herself through the assortment of desks and over to the necessary room.

Riley chased after her, somewhat surprised by her determination. “It’s still salvageable, though,” he quickly defended himself. “If Spike’s working for Wilkins, then it shoots his credibility to hell in the Trick—”

Elizabeth came to an abrupt halt outside the interrogation room and breathed a deep sigh of relief to see Spike, safe and sound and looking very dejected, in the chair of the cold concrete room. Some irrational voice in the back of her head had only heard that he had been involved in a shooting and had refused to let her mind relax until she finally saw him alive and well. The violent pounding of her heart slowed from its deafening cacophony, and she finally first registered Riley’s presence fully.

“He’s cuffed,” she said simply.

“He is considered dangerous,” Riley pointed out.

Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s not dangerous,” she insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“He asked for a lawyer,” Riley provided. “It could be a while before we can get a public defender in, and—”

“I need to talk to him.” Elizabeth’s tone brooked no argument.

Riley let her into the small interrogation room and, after a pointed look, removed Spike’s handcuffs.

Spike looked up at that and noticed Elizabeth for the first time, the hints of a pleading look forming deep in his eyes.

“Leave us,” Elizabeth instructed Riley.

He scratched his head hesitantly. “I’m not sure if that’s such a—” he began.

“This is a privileged consultation,” Elizabeth informed him primly. “Mister Albrook has a right to privacy.”

Riley looked confused at that. “Miranda—”

“Only applies to agents of the justice system,” Elizabeth concluded. “And, as of now, I am not acting as such.”

“Then, why…?” Riley shook his head at her stubborn look. “Where’s Wood?” he asked pointedly.

“No clue. Now, if you’ll leave us…”

Riley didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged it off and shut the door behind him.

Elizabeth breathed a slow sigh of relief and turned back to Spike. “How are you doing?” she asked softly, a regretful smile on her face.

“Been better.” He seemed to relax now that they were alone, some instinctive knowledge telling him that the danger had passed…for now.

Elizabeth pulled up a chair so that she could sit beside him. She tentatively reached out for his hand and gave him an affectionate smile when he didn’t pull away. “Tell me about it?” she requested softly, her free hand venturing to cup his cheek.

And, as if a dam had suddenly burst, Elizabeth suddenly found herself cradling a frightened Spike in her arms, cooing soft promises as his tears stained the silk of her dress. She didn’t mind, though. Nothing mattered at that moment except clearing up this horrible misunderstanding.

“I din’t do it,” he murmured repeatedly against the comforting warmth of her breast. “It wasn’t me, Buffy. You’ve got to believe me…”

“Shh,” she whispered softly, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the spectacle they must be making to those stationed outside the one-way glass. “I believe you. I never doubted even for a second.” As if in defiance to those outside, she gently stroked his platinum hair, noticing that even though the locks were bleached now they were still every bit as soft as she had remembered.

He slowly calmed down at her words and finally pulled away from her warm embrace, embarrassed at his own actions. He wiped frantically at his tear-stained cheeks and looked pointedly anywhere but at her. For a brief instant, his eyes alighted on the mirror on the wall, and he knew his emotional outbreak had been witnessed by all.

“And now you think ‘m a complete wanker,” he attempted to joke lightly. His heart wasn’t in it, though.

Elizabeth kept her grip on his hand and smiled at him anyway. “I can’t imagine I’d take to being accused of murder any better,” she assured him.

“Yeah…” He let out a weary sigh. “’m being railroaded, luv,” he provided.

She nodded. “I kinda heard… I wasn’t paying too much attention, though. I had to see you.”

“And you have no idea how much the friendly face is ‘ppreciated.” He managed a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you know I’m always here. We’re in this together…” She trailed off and bit her lip nervously.

He nodded. “Seem to recall you tellin’ me that once…”

Buffy yawned and padded over to the door, running her fingers through sleep-tousled hair as she did so. The buzzer to her and Willow’s door rang again just as she reached it. “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, I’m co—” She froze in mid-syllable when she opened the door and saw who was on the other side of it. Her cheeks tinged slightly pink, and she quickly moved to straighten her hair. “Oh, um…hi, William. What’s up?”

William looked a bit embarrassed that he’d obviously caught her sleeping and ducked his head in that shy manner that was almost permanent. “I-It’s Giles,” he said nervously. “He wants to see us right away about that brief, and…” He trailed off, eyes looking anywhere but at the pointed nipples beneath her gray sleep shirt and the long, tanned legs revealed by her cutoff shorts. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his reaction. A beautiful woman like Buffy could never see anything in a nerd like him. She was popular and pretty and could have any guy she wanted.

“Now?” Buffy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Uh-oh, what did we do?”

William shook his head. “Didn’t say. Just that we were supposed to…er, get down to his office yesterday.” His distraction was caused by the fact that Buffy had just turned around to let him into the small apartment. One of the legs of her shorts had a tear up the back that just barely exposed a hint of black lace. He shut his eyes tight as he entered the apartment and willed himself to remain in control.

“I’ll just get dressed,” Buffy offered, still blushing slightly. She bit her lip in disappointment when it appeared he had been too busy looking around the room to notice the extra little sashay she’d put in her step. Inwardly, she cursed herself. He was the quiet, studious type. He probably just thought of her as a flaky, vapid blonde, and she didn’t know what to do about it. All her tricks for picking up popular guys just seemed to be falling flat on him.

“Oh, er, right.” William blushed even harder and stared at the coffee table like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Buffy vanished into her bedroom. “How’d you find me here?” she asked hopefully. After all, looking a girl up was a definite sign of interest.

“I checked the law library. Your roommate was there,” he responded. Hell, like he was going to tell her that he’d known all about her ever since she’d plopped down in the seat in front of him in his Legal Ethics class.

“Oh.” Buffy tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. Yeah, of course, he’d know Willow. She was the academic type, just like him. Hell, if Willow weren’t gay, the two of them would probably be a match made in heaven.

William sat down awkwardly on the threadbare couch and tried his hardest not to dwell on the fact that Buffy was quite probably naked in the other room. “Yeah. So, um, you ready?”

Buffy blushed when she realized her fingers had come to linger on one taut nipple as she listened to the sound of his voice, and she hastily raced to slip her bra and blouse on. “Just another minute!” she assured him, slipping into the pants that accompanied the suit.

She checked in the mirror, frowned, and yanked the pants and blouse back off, choosing a lower neckline and a short, professional skirt instead. She hopped back in front of the mirror in anticipation, decided she looked thoroughly lickable, and ran her brush through her hair one last time for good measure.

William frowned and checked his watch. What could possibly be taking her ten minutes? The image of her lithe, naked body strutting around in the other room popped quickly to mind, and he had to consciously force back the blood that was running south at the thought. “She’s just a casual acquaintance,” he mumbled his latest mantra to himself. “She has no interest in you outside of work…”

“Did you say something?” Buffy frowned as she tried to pick up the muffled sounds.

William’s face instantly flamed a deep red. “N-No,” he insisted a bit too hastily, moving to rap on the bedroom door. “Are you almost done because—” He was cut off dead in mid-sentence when the door opened, revealing the most beautiful vision he had ever laid eyes on. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he gulped and forced himself to breathe. “U-Uh, we should go.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed with a little sigh. Would a comment on how nice she looked have been out of the question? Just some little hint that he’d noticed…

William held the door open for her, and they stepped out into the crisp, spring afternoon. With no clue what to do with his hands, he stuffed his sweating palms into the pockets of his tweed jacket and tried to look natural while walking beside the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

Buffy was equally nervous, but instead of trying to act inconspicuous, she turned to her own defense mechanism: babbling. “So, what do you think this could possibly be about? Because we sooo had that brief turned in on time, and I thought we did a good job with the research. And Giles even said Carleton’s motion would probably stand anyway, so he can’t really blame us, can he? I mean, we’re just second-year students and… We’re just learning this stuff!”

“Calm down, luv.” Before William had even had a chance to think about what he was doing, his hand came to rest in a comforting manner on her shoulder.

She turned wide hazel eyes to look at him at that, and he instantly blushed and withdrew his hand. Buffy was torn whether to be disappointed at the loss of touch or elated at the tingles that still lingered from where his hand had warmed her shoulder.

“I-I just mean,” William hastily began scrambling for words as well, “he knows we’re not pros yet, so even if we did bugger it all up, he’ll just tell us how to better in the future. I mean…” He trailed off, embarrassed. “If that makes any sense,” he finally finished in a mumble.

“Yeah,” she looked up at him with a soft smile, “that makes a lot of sense.” It was the most he had ever said to her since they’d started working together. Usually he was strictly business, despite her subtle attempts to draw him out. But this more open William…this was nice.

They stood frozen on the pavement for a minute, lost in each other’s eyes, before William reluctantly turned away. “Giles’ll be pissed if we’re late,” he pointed out.

“Right,” Buffy agreed, taking her place at his side once more. “You know,” she began hesitantly, “that’s actually a pretty good philosophy.”

“Y-You think so?” he replied.

“We hapless law students have to stick by each other,” she agreed. “We’ve got all this pressure on us and…” She took a deep breath. “What do you say we make a pact?”

“A pact?” William inquired curiously.

“I stand by everything you did, and you stand by everything I did. ‘Cause, y’know, we pretty much did everything equally and…” She trailed off with a blush. While her efforts to chat William up may have failed, it was uncanny how fluidly they worked together. One of them would start an idea, and the other would finish it off. Whenever one got caught up on a detail, the other had the solution. Working together, she was quite positive there wasn’t any corner they couldn’t argue their way out off. It was…exhilarating. If only it would carry on to other matters as well…

“Perfectly equal.” He agreed to that with a shy smile.

“So, we go in there with a united front. We’re in this together, right?” Buffy decided, shoulders squared.

“Right.”

There was a determined gleam in his eyes that Buffy found sexier than anything she’d ever seen before. “Shake?” she offered her hand.

He shook it. They walked into Giles’ office, and…

“I didn’t even believe it possible,” Giles said with a wide smile. “Congratulations.” He took the hands of each of his stunned interns, in turn, and shook them vigorously.

“Uh…” Buffy began slowly, confused because they’d been all geared up to face a good yelling. “Huh?”

“Your work on Motion Five,” Giles explained patiently. “We got it denied. I really didn’t think there was much of a chance, but…whose idea was it to use the Turner Case?”

William and Buffy exchanged a look. “We both came up with it,” William finally said sheepishly.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile at that. Technically, he’d pointed out the significance of that case at first, but… Well, she had been the one to fit it into their argument.

“You two make an excellent team,” Giles concluded. “I trust you would not be adverse to taking on another project?”

Hope flared in both Buffy and William’s hearts. Both had been feeling a bit glum lately, since their excuse to work in close proximity was now gone.

“Not at all,” Buffy assured him with a bright smile.

William merely nodded.

“Excellent,” Giles concluded. “Now, I’d like to two of you to go through the witness interviews for—”

“Witness interviews?” William repeated in disbelief. “Don’t you want someone with more experience to handle that?”

Giles merely shook his head. “How else does one get the experience?” he countered. “I have full faith that the two of you will be able to handle it.” He shoved a stack of folders their way. “You have a week,” he announced.

Buffy and William both nodded and quickly picked up the pile of work.

“Nice work, once more,” Giles said cheerily to their retreating backs. The door to his office swung shut.

And Buffy and William both groaned. “Well, there goes the weekend,” Buffy said with an apologetic sigh.

“Perhaps we should try to be more mediocre in the future?” William suggested with a completely straight face.

Buffy giggled. She’d only gotten rare glimpses of his quirky – and somewhat sarcastic – sense of humor, but they always delighted her. “Still,” she let out a weary sigh and a yawn, “there goes my social life…”

William looked down at the polished toes of his shoes. “It’s Friday,” he pointed out. “No reason not to have some fun tonight. We’ve got plenty of time to worry about everything else on Saturday.”

Buffy blinked up at him in surprise. “Are you asking me out?” she asked hopefully.

William instantly froze like a deer caught in the headlights. His original thought had actually entailed her going out with all her friends and painting the town red, while he sat alone in his apartment moping around like a wanker. “Uh…well, I mean…don’t know why you’d want me along…” he began, horribly embarrassed.

“We’re in this together,” she reminded him of their earlier pledge. “That means for the celebration, too.”

“Er, uh, great.” He managed a shy smile.

“So, why don’t we drop this stuff off in the law library,” she gestured to the stacks of folders they were both carrying, “and then you can stop back by my apartment around eight?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Inwardly, Buffy was ecstatic beyond words. He actually asked me out!

And, inwardly, William was cheering just as wildly. She actually asked me out…

Elizabeth took Spike’s hand. “We’re in this together,” she repeated the words from years ago. “No matter what, remember?”

He shook his head. “You’re not a part of this,” he insisted. “Got myself into this mess all by my lonesome and—”

“William?” Elizabeth said with a falsely sweet smile.

“Yes, Buffy?” he shot back, a hint of the old fire in his eyes.

“Shut up and stop being ridiculous,” she instructed. “You honestly think I’m just going to stand by and watch them pin this murder on you?”

He sulked and grumbled and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Now, tell me what happened,” she demanded.

He let out a bark of laughter at that. “May not’ve actually graduated, luv, but ‘m not about to provide fodder for the DA to convict me.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I’m representing you, stupid,” she shot back.

He balked at that, jaw dropping in surprise. “Don’t need you to defend me,” he insisted sullenly. “Can take perfectly good care of myself.”

“Again with the being ridiculous!” Elizabeth exclaimed in annoyance. “The police have a murder weapon; they say your prints are on it. You think a public defender’s going to get you off? Or maybe your dad will step in to help?” It was a low blow, and she knew it.

Spike instantly tensed and sent a scowl in her direction. “Don’t need your help,” he insisted, but even he knew it was a lie.

Elizabeth merely sighed. “Will you just tell me what happened?” she requested.

A moment of silence. “This won’t bugger up that cushy job ‘f yours?” he asked, concerned.

“Let me worry about that,” she assured him.

He sighed and nodded. “Got an anonymous tip around nine,” he began. “Was checkin’ through old police reports at the time, but Harm called me on the cell.”

“‘Harm’?” Elizabeth questioned.

“My annoyin’ secretary,” he explained. “Said there was this guy down on 59th – a Harold Worth – who had some information on the Trick case.”

“Did you know that Mr. Worth was one of our witnesses against Trick?” Elizabeth asked pointedly.

He cast her an irritated look. “No, I bloody well didn’t,” he countered. “Think I would’ve meddled with a prosecution witness if ‘d known?”

Elizabeth just took a deep breath and nodded. “Continue.”

“Right,” he agreed, “so I get to the building, buzz, and no one answers. So I try the other apartments. Teenage kid up on the fourth floor finally buzzes me in, thinkin’ ‘m the deliveryman. I go up to Worth’s apartment, door’s open. I ask if he’s there, no answer, I go in. I see the body in the kitchen and run over to it. Just as ‘m leaning down to check if he’s still alive, half the Boston PD rushes in and tells me I’m under arrest.”

Elizabeth frowned. “How long were you in the apartment before they arrived?”

“A minute, tops,” he replied.

“And did the kid say he thought you were delivery?” she pressed.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Said to bring the pizza right up ‘cause he’d blown out his knee and couldn’t take the stairs.”

Elizabeth frowned and circled the note in her pad. “That’s interesting,” she agreed. “What about the gun?”

Spike snorted. “What about it?”

“Did you touch it?” she demanded, giving him a scathing look. “Pick it up?”

“’m not a soddin’ amateur!” he exclaimed. “Think ‘m stupid enough to touch the murder weapon? It wasn’t even there…”

This puzzled Elizabeth even more. “The gun wasn’t in the apartment?” she demanded.

“Not that I could see. Just was in the living room for a minute, and then the kitchen. But it wasn’t near the body.”

“So how did it get in your car?” she asked, bewildered.

He shrugged. “Someone planted it there,” he insisted.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How long between the time when your secretary got the call and the police rushed in?” she inquired.

“Not long,” he answered, fingers tapping against the table nervously. “Was right in the neighborhood. Maybe half an hour? Tops.”

Elizabeth gave him a wistful smile. “Well, I’d love to know how the police knew to arrive when they did, especially since the guy upstairs seemed so unconcerned by the recent gunshot.”

Spike’s brow furrowed at that as well. “Think the same people that sent me there called the police to catch me?”

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s where we’ll start,” she agreed. “Although I’ve got to say…other than that, you were set up pretty well…” She trailed off at that, choked up slightly. However, she forced her emotions back under control, a steely determination overtaking her. “Whoever they are,” she concluded, “I’m not going to let them set you up for this, William. I’ll get you out,” she promised.

He looked only half-convinced.

“The unstoppable team of Albrook and Summers, right?” she reminded him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, venturing a weary smile of his own. The erratic tapping of his fingers on the surface of the dingy table increased. “Don’t s’pose you could get me a fag, pet?” he asked hopefully. “Took my smokes when the brought me in. Took the coat, too,” he grumbled as an afterthought.

Elizabeth smiled and gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see to it,” she assured him, rising from her seat and exiting the interrogation room.

He felt a pain settle down over his heart when the door closed behind her and he could see her no more. Determined not to break down again in front of all these tossers, he closed his eyes shut tight and did something he never had before. He prayed.
 

“Elizabeth, there you are!” Robin Wood had just rushed into the police station, having gotten the message belatedly from a very disturbed Willow. “I heard that—”

“Spike’s being framed,” she informed Wood matter-of-factly.

“What?!” That exclamation came from Riley Finn. “We’ve got the weapon; we’ve got his prints. It’s an open and shut case!”

Wood was flipping through the preliminary reports as well, a grim expression on his face. “I have to agree,” he began. “Just because the guy is your ex—”

Riley looked at Elizabeth in surprise at that.

“I know he’s innocent,” Elizabeth insisted stubbornly.

Wood let out a weary sigh. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I can understand if you want off this prosecution, given that he’s an old friend…”

“Off the prosecution?” Elizabeth repeated with a little laugh. “Well, I’d say that’s a given since I’m defending him and all.”

Both Wood and Riley froze at that, looking up at her in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious…” Wood began with a nervous laugh.

“I’m not going to let you railroad him,” Elizabeth insisted. “William is innocent, and I’m going to prove it…”

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