Rating: M for Mature language and m/m sex
Also warning for violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters
or products named in this story
Spike is a Homicide detective trying
to stop a serial killer before he strikes
again. Xander is a psychic who offers
to help him.
Thanks to the talented Petxnd for the banner and preread.
With the rose clutched safely in his hand, Spike jumped back
in the elevator and headed for the third floor. He knew the
forensics expert would already be in the lab and he hoped
to sign this over to her before any of her lackeys arrived for the day.
Fred was the best. Spike knew if anyone could find something
it would be her. That, and the fact that he trusted her silence implicitly,
he knew there was more than one case he wouldn't have cracked
Sailing through the steel door marked "No Admittance", Spike
paused to look around the bright, spotlessly clean laboratory
till he spotted the small, frail looking young woman with the soft southern
accent. She smiled and waved when she saw him.
"Hey there. Mornin' Darlin' How ya'll this morning? I'm sorry to
say I've been expectin' you."
"Hey, Fred. Yeah, bad news travels through the building fast.
I don't think the press has gotten wind of the connection between
this one and the other three, but it is only a matter of time.
Then look out. Serial Killer will be plastered all over the headlines
and if we don't come up with something soon, well, it won't be pretty."
Fred's smile and easy manner shifted slightly to concern.
"Yeah, I know. They can be brutal. You got another contribution
to our rare floral collection?"
Spike nodded and pulled the sealed package from his pocket.
In turn they each signed the document and the chain of evidence
Fred laid the clear baggie reverently on the counter and she reached
for a pair of latex gloves, snapping them in place.
"I'll do my best for ya, but I don't really have much hope. Whoever your
culprit is Spike, he's smart. Knows what to do to avoid detection.
Seems to know what we look for and avoids leaving any trace evidence.
I'll give it my best shot, but, ya know, I feel like I'm letting you down."
Spike frowned and cocked his head to the side slightly, surprised that
she would take the failure so personally.
"No. Hell, no. I know if anyone can find something, it's you.
Shit, Fred, you're the best. If there is anything here I know you'll find it.
Don't worry, we'll catch this bastard. He'll slip up, they always do."
Spike put his arm around the small woman and patted her shoulder.
"I hope you're right, Hun. I just feel so bad for these girls.
They deserved better in life. They deserved life."
Spike gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze. Fred had told
him once, confidentially, that this was the reason she got in to
this line of work. The science of justice. She wanted to make a
difference in peoples lives and this was the way she could.
"Well I hope you find something this time cause right now
we are getting nowhere fast."
Spike and Fred both jumped and quickly separated at the sound
of the voice coming from the door way.
Faith slightly shook her head and continued on till she stood
next to her partner.
"If you are all done here Spike, we have been summoned to
the high office. Chief Inspector Giles has called for us and I
don't think knighthood is waiting."
Spike gave Fred one last smile and a quick wink before heading
for the door. Faith was already waiting by the elevator, her
hands on her hips and a pissed off look on her face.
"Jesus Spike. First, Officer Masters now the fuckin' lab girl?
Can you at least keep it zipped in your pants till this case is over?"
Allowing the stress, lack of sleep, and the unfairness of the
accusation to overwhelm him, Spike snapped back.
"Shut the fuck up. You don't know a Goddamn thing. Who the fuck
do you think you are? Fred is a forensic scientist and deserves a
lot more respect than "lab girl" and if you are accusing me of
not doing my job and thinking with my dick, then fuck you!"
On that final declaration, the elevator door swung open and the
angry partners stepped in. Like fighters in a ring, each went to
their respective corners turning their backs on the other.
Faith's rigid back and straight shoulders were the first to slump,
her voice quiet and remorseful.
"I'm sorry, Spike. I was out of line. I know you are giving this
case 100% and I had no right to say that, about either of you.
I guess the frustration just got the best of me."
Spike relaxed, ashamed of his outburst, and turned around to face her.
"No problem, Pet. We are both stressed out. We just can't afford to
let this divide us. Oh, and for the record, I'm not chasing the lovely
Miss Fred. She's just a friend."
Faith ran her hand down Spike's arm affectionately.
"None of my business anyway, but maybe you should. She
seems nice and what the hell, a bit of the tequila might
relax you some."
Faith laughed as she stepped out on the second floor.
"Yeah, think about it. You drink it, suck it, and lick it
and it always leaves a bitter bite on your tongue."
Spike let out a whooping laugh and followed her into the lion's den.
"Well, I'm glad to see you two so happy. That must mean you
have cracked this case and I won't have the mayor, the press,
and the County Commissioners on my back anymore."
Spike and Faith both obeyed their boss's gesture and after
closing the office door, had a seat, a hot seat.
"Sorry Giles, just a bit 'o the tension break. It looks like the
other three. No forced entry, no rape or robbery, just the
positioning and the damn rose. We are going today to speak to the
families and neighbors, return to some of the crime scenes
and review the evidence. Faith took a uniform already and
went to the brownstone. Interviewed the boyfriend. I haven't
talked to her yet. Did you get anywhere?"
Spike turned hopefully to his partner. He already knew the answer.
If she had found anything she would have shouted it from the
rooftop and thrown a balloon party in the station house lunch room.
Faith flipped open her black notepad, buying time, and scanned
what little she had.
"The neighbor next door heard a loud thump around 11:30 which
would fit with the time of death, but he didn't hear any voices.
No shouts, no arguments. His door is positioned so that he would
not have seen anyone come or go. The resident in the apartment
catty cornered was not home. He works midnights at the rubber plant.
The apartment resident directly across from the victim is an old man.
81, name of Homer Harvey. Hard of hearing but mentally sharp as
a tack. He swears the only ones at her door were the cops and
her boyfriend at 1am. Says he sees everything and no one else came
"Fuck! How the fuck is that possible?"
Spike stared at his partner hoping she had forgotten something.
Just one fact. One simple thing that would make sense of all this.
She had nothing.
Giles shook his head.
"Get back out there. Find something and do it fast. If this bastard stays
true to his pattern we have 30 days to catch him before he kills another one.
I can't let that happen. If you two don't come up with a break this week,
Detective O'Connor has expressed interest in taking over. Maybe a new
perspective is what we need."
Spike was stunned.
"Angel? Angel wants to take the case from us?"
Faith grabbed Spike's arm and dragged him away. She knew his temper was
already close to the surface and she didn't want him fired because of it.
Once out in the hallway she stuck her finger up to his nose and checked him
before he could explode.
"Don't! Just don't. You know what an ass O'Connor is. What we need to do
is break this case anyway we can and snatch it back from his slimy grip.
Now I'm going to go type up my morning reports. You do whatever you
need to do and I'll meet you down at Mabel's for lunch at 12. Come on,
Spike, don't give up. All we need is that one little pebble that leads to
Spike shook his head. 'Angel. Fuckin' Angel. Apparently not satisfied to
fuck me in bed, now he wanted to do it on the job.'
Well, he decided, this was a scenario that required drastic measures.
Spike reached for the card in his pocket and pulled out his phone.