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.
Fred Cooper flexed his cramped fingers and sat up straight
in his chair listening to the vertebrae in his spine snap loudly
back into place. To him it had been a tedious 8 hour shift.
It was one of the drawbacks to giving up the uniform and cruiser.
It didn't take long to realize all government jobs contained a direct
correlation between the pay increase and the paperwork load.
By his calculation each additional dollar equaled 10 new forms.
He scratched his fingernails through his short stubbly hair and belched.
The acid in his stomach burned with indigestion from too much
vending machine coffee and too little food.
He had given up the search for antacid tablets three hours ago,
although he did find a lint covered cough drop in the back of his
It looked better than it tasted.
The arthritis in his hands and the strain from his bifocals had given
him a pounding headache.
'It's a bitch getting old.' He told himself.
His day had been tied and tangled up by weeding and wading
through a weeks worth of paperwork that had filled his in box to
He much preferred field work to the boredom of completing
forms, complaints, and background checks, but knew it was a
necessary evil. It wasn't arrests that got convictions it was the
attention to detail in the paperwork done after that sealed the case.
He was well aware that no Prosecutor would take a case that
had been sloppily done and no pervert would walk free due to
laziness, not if Cooper could help it.
Cross the "t's" and dot the "i's" was his motto.
Sighing with satisfaction, Cooper viewed the empty in box and the
stuffed out box. By the time he came in tomorrow one of the interns
will have filed and transferred all the folders to their appropriate
destination and he could hit the streets again. Maybe it wasn't
a wasted day after all.
Checking the clock on the wall he was delighted to see he was just
ten minutes from punching out and rushing home to the waiting arms
of a frozen pizza and a bottle of beer. Just one.
He was lonely, but knew it was an isolation of his own doing.
After the incident with Faith, Cooper had become moody, depressed,
and angry. Sue had tried, she really had, but after six months she
had given him an ultimatum. Get help or she would take the kids and
go home to Ohio, to her parents.
One month later she left.
Cooper promised himself he would call tomorrow. He hadn't talked to
his daughters in weeks and missed the hell out of them.
He didn't tell Sue, for fear of failure, but he had gotten help. He had
stopped drinking, realizing the answer was not at the bottom of a bottle,
met with a therapist once a week for a month now and was considering
asking her to come back. If she would. If it wasn't too late.
Standing up he lifted his jacket off the back of his chair. Rooting through
his pockets he found the ever present cigarettes he always kept with
him and decided he could wait till tomorrow to buy more.
One more thing held him back. That nagging, itchy feeling still slithered up
and down his spine. Jerking open his desk drawer, Cooper pulled out a
scrap of paper. It was the torn off corner of a sheet of yellow legal paper
that he had written a name and address on. Glancing at the street number,
he stuffed it in his pocket with his smokes and headed out, closing the door
and snapping off the light behind him.
The older, dark colored Kia switched off it's headlights and cruised to
a stop in the quiet residential neighborhood. The back seat was folded
down and stacked to the roof with empty packing boxes and paper bags.
The car's driver strained to see down the block at the small cottage
that sat on the corner.
"Are you sure he isn't home? How can you tell?"
The passenger reached for the driver's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"I know him. He always parks the Jeep right in front of the house and it's not
there. Besides that, when he is home he turns on every light in the house.
I used to kid him that he was afraid of the Boogy man."
Faith listened to Kennedy's assurances and continued to stare at the
innocuous looking wood shingled house.
"I still don't see why we're doing this. What the hell does he have that you
can't live without? The divorce hearing is next week can't you just come up
with a list of things that you want the judge to award you?"
Kennedy unbuckled her seat belt and turned around to reach into the back
and start stacking up the empty containers.
"No. Some of that stuff is just too important. My Grandma's china, and my
Aunt Ida's lamp and candy jar. Elvin knows how much that stuff means to me,
if the judge adds it to the decree El will smash every bit of it, if he hasn't
already. Come on, please Faith? You promised to help me. We just
slip in load up the rest of my clothes, my personal papers, and glassware
and we can be out in less than 30 minutes."
Through the darkness of a corner with a broken street lamp, Faith looked
over at her lover, her soul mate. She could see the desperation in her
eyes as they sparked with tears. There was nothing she wouldn't do for
Kennedy, but she had a bad feeling about this.
Still, a promise was a promise.
"30 minutes. No more. We go in, snatch what you need and we're gone,
you understand? And the first sign of trouble we sneak out the back door.
No confrontations. No face offs. Agreed?"
Kennedy threw herself in Faith's lap and kissed her soft lips.
"Agreed. I love you Faith. No matter what happens, I love you."
Faith reached her hand around to her side, comforted by the feel of
the shoulder holster and the 38 special that was tucked in there.
She looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. 10:13.
Starting the car she crawled down the street keeping to the curb
and not turning on the head lights, all the time watching the house
for any sign of occupation.
As soon as they stopped, Kennedy jumped out and ran around to the back
lifting the hatch and retrieving as many boxes as she could carry.
Faith did the same and followed her girlfriend to the side door that led to
Praying that he hadn't changed the locks, she slipped her key in and breathed
a sigh when it turned easily. With her hand on Kennedy's arm, Faith drew
her service revolver and led the way into the darkened house.
They paused and listened. No sound reached their ears so they crept
on toward the center of the room. Grabbing Kennedy's hand as she
reached for the light switch, Faith shook her head vigorously and pulled
a small keychain flashlight out of her pocket.
Setting one of the boxes on the kitchen table, Kennedy pointed out
which china was her grandmothers and indicated silently that Faith was
to start boxing it up while she went to retrieve her personal items from
the bedroom upstairs.
Faith was torn between insisting that they stay together and hurrying up
so they could get the fuck out. Hesitating, she watched her lover disappear
into the dim recesses of the house before she quickly began snatching and
stacking, hoping she would be forgiven for any chips or cracks.
Silently, Kennedy crept up the stairs toward the bedroom. She knew the
small metal box that contained all her personal papers was hidden in the
back of the closet and, unless he had trashed it, this would be her only
She had an empty plastic trash bag in her hand and planned on shoving as
many pairs of shoes and jeans in it as she could in the allotted time.
Such frivolity would, no doubt, piss Faith off, but damn it, she worked hard
for her things and she had no intention of watching Elvin warm himself
beside a bonfire of her clothes.
Creeping quietly across the landing at the top of the steps, Kennedy
stuck her head in the dark, empty bedroom. She momentarily wondered
where he went when he disappeared at night, but considering she no
longer cared, she shrugged and darted in.