KAY pov

I wander the hallways of the Hyperion for what feels like ages. Then I try to draft my letter requesting my leave from Charm City’s finest. There’s another fight here and I’d better get on board, huh? Those kids need all the help they can get, what with their main muscle looking for the Out. Like a pussy. We have a job to do, and we don’t get to decide if we feel like it. If I ever meet him, leaving a mess like this? He’s gonna wish he drank a garlic smoothie, huh? If I ever get the pleasure of leading a squad, there’s no way I’d eat my young like that. The only way I’d leave my squad is feet first.

Of course, I’m not good at having lunch with people and writing block grants like Megan, but that’s not what they need here. They need a pro who knows what’s going on in the end of the twentieth century like Wesley knows the fourteenth. They need somebody who’s seen a gun outside the movies. And I’ve been puked on, spat on, and bled on. Slime? Big whoop.

And Detective Lockley either knows or will learn quickly that I will not be easy to push around like a foreigner, an Undead American, and a college girl...I know all the tricks.I’ve already bought a whiteboard with three sets of markers. Animal, vegetable, or mineral, huh? And I admit it, I have unfinished business in the City of (no) Angels.
Wesley’s light is still on. Maybe I’m not the only one whose dreams keep her up. I’m just going to walk by when he sees me and says “Detective Howard...a moment please?”

“It’s Kay, for God’s sake. And I’m sorry about the other day...I was drunk, huh? Drunk and...upset. Even for me, it’s not every day...” But that’s too hard to talk about.

“I’m familiar with that condition,” he says. And he picks up some work and tries not to look at me. I keep my eye on him for a minute The room is very a-place-for-everything-ish. Makes Bayliss’ desk look like cleanup for Mardi Gras, and God knows you can eat off that.

“Your dad? No offense...you’ve got the look, huh? I’ve seen investigated crime scenes that weren’t this neat. You’re such a good boy, Wesley.”

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to analyze me?”

"You asked me...”

“I blame myself. I should have come forward. Or staked him myself.”

“Anyone tries to do that goes through me. Not a threat, just a fact.”

Heh. The look into Kay gets to be Wesley's, now. I love that. I honestly wonder how they'll mesh gears when Kay's first kill with AI comes up.

And with that hair? Minister of Grace takes on a whole new dimension.

God, I love the idea of Kay working for AI. Love, love, love it.

We have a job to do, and we don’t get to decide if we feel like it. If I ever meet him, leaving a mess like this? He’s gonna wish he drank a garlic smoothie, huh?

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Hmm.It's difficult writing a scene with the both of them. They have so much they don't want to give away.And more to the point, so much they won't talk about. I could see some major disagreements...philosophically I think they're quite different. But kind of attracted(I'm not sure if anything comes of that or not) Anne, thanks. At least this time she'll know she's on a Busman's Holiday unlike "Last of The Watermen". And, yeah, I would think she would have very strong opinions about what a lieutenant should do, and Angel isn't. And I don't think she'd be impressed by his long sad story. "We all have problems, huh? My soul hurts sometimes too. You've just got to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope it all works out in the end." Feels funny to say, with all the vamps but maybe I bit off more than I can chew with this one.

Yup, she'd get cranky with King of Broody. But I could see something cataclysmic forcing a confidence-session between her and Wes.

And I don't think she'd be impressed by his long sad story.

You're right. She doesn't strike me as the sort to be all that tolerant of broodiness.

Now, in other ficcish news, I need the last name of a famous lawyer (fictional or real), that is recognizeable as such, but not so much so that people will say "Hey, that's the last name of a famous lawyer!"

Cochran. Bailey, or are they too famous?

Spence, (I already used Ms. Allred.) Heh. Somehow, I think that's funny. Angel: Yeah, you know. Cursed soul, forbidden moment of perfect happiness.
Kay(not looking up): If I had a dollar for every guy who told me that.

This week's drabble challenge was "pairings or characters you would normally never write."

Here's two.

To Mask Pain (Buffy/Tara)

I'm not sure how it happened, even though I do know why it happened.

I found her crying in her mother's kitchen. Iconoclasm's horrible, watching someone you think is unbreakable, cracking like cheap crockery. Joyce was upstairs, mumbling to herself, and Buffy was sobbing, her face awash in pain. I saw fear there. She understood: Joyce was going to die.

I touched her, tentative at first, wanting to help - because, well, the Slayer. We ended up there on the floor, locked lip and hip, passion born of fear, to push her terrors away.

I wonder if Willow would understand.

Ripe (Dawn/Andrew)

I'm hosed.

I've always a good idea about losing my viriginity, especially since I found out how Buffy lost hers. No big deal, no complications, no losing the soul, no world ending, no having to kill him later. Just a hot guy, a few nerves, fun. More like Faith than my sister, except without Faith's "use 'em-lose 'em" thing.

So how I managed to drink my first tequila shots ever and wind up on the bathroom floor with Andrew, biting back squeaks and praying none of the Potentials needed to pee, I don't know.

I don't think Buffy would understand.