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.
Banner by BmblBee
The instant his beam of light settled on the still form at the bottom
of the steps, Spike rushed to him. He knew from the dull, glassy
stare in his open eyes and the huge amount of blood that pooled
around his head that there was no hope, still, he crouched
and pressed his fingertips against Cooper's carotid artery.
Spike hung his head and fought back a choked sob. His
incompetence had cost a good man his life. Spike gently closed
Fred's eyes and ran his hand over the cool, clammy face, paying
no heed to the blood that coated the soles of Spike's boots.
The urgent, hoarse whispered voice from the top of the steps caught his
"Spike! Get up! We have to go. Now! Faith and Kennedy are
in the building. So is the killer and they are the one's he really wants.
We have to find him first."
Spike looked up at Xander who stood at the top of the stairs. He
wiped the tears from his face and did his best to pull himself together.
He swallowed the bitter taste that burned the back of his throat and
took a deep breath.
The odor of death coated his mouth and nose. This time he welcomed it.
It fanned the flames of his hate and determination.
Standing, he straightened his back, squared his shoulders and, with no
further hesitation, dashed back up to the darkened landing, taking
one last glance behind him.
It was an image he would carry with him to his grave.
Yet as terrible as he felt about this, he had to set it aside. There
would be plenty of time for recrimination later.
"All right. The complainant's apartment is on the first floor. I can see
light in the hallway so apparently he wasn't able or didn't have time to
knock those out. Stay with me. Stay close to the wall and remember,
he could be behind any door so don't stand directly in front of any of them."
Xander nodded and they started up. He could barely breath as
he tried not to get sucked up in the overwhelming, strangling
emotions his lover was feeling.
Reaching the top, Spike looked down the long silent hallway. There
was no movement or sound. He took one step forward just as Faith
appeared at the far end. Silently he raised his hand then pointed
in the direction of the second door on the right hand side.
Quickly and cautiously they approached till they met, two on each
side of the door. Using the blunt end of his flashlight, Spike knocked
on the door and called out.
"Miss Summers? Stark Co. Sheriff. Are you all right?"
There was no answer. The fear hung in the air as heavy as smoke.
Faith's face then lit up with an idea.
"Miss Summers? I'm Detective Faith. Are you o.k.? Don't open the
door, Honey, just let us know."
"I'm..I'm o.k. Did you catch him? Is Detective Cooper out there?"
The voice was so quiet they had to strain to hear, but the relief
flooded and encouraged them. Faith looked to Spike with
curiosity and mouth, "Cooper?". When the meaning behind his
expression became clear she fell back against the wall, squeezing her
eyes shut, and her stomach fell to her feet..
Recovering marginally she was anxious to get moving. They had a killer
to find and they were sitting ducks if they stayed here.
"Listen to me, Honey. We have officer's in the building and we are going
to find him. I need you to promise me something. Promise me you will keep
your door locked and no matter what you hear, don't open it until you hear
my voice. Do you understand? You don't open it until I tell you to."
"I promise. I won't. Thank you Faith."
Spike pressed the button on the microphone clipped to his lapel and spoke,
keeping his voice low.
"Officer down. Send all available units. Back up needed at the Market st.
address. EMS and ME needed to stand by on location. Suspect at large
believed to still be in the building."
His radio, turned down low, cracked and answered.
"D1, this is Starcom. Situation status received. Back up enroute."
Spike and Faith looked down the hallway. There were four doors
on each side. They paused for a second to formulate a plan for searching
when a voice called out from the apartment across the hall.
"Hey! You lookin' for that asshole that was beatin' on her door?
I was watching out my peeper and saw him go up the stairs but ain't never
came back down. Do me a favor. Shoot the fucker, will ya? He
fuckin' woke me up.""
Spike gave a firm nod to Faith and the four of them dashed up to the
next floor, tossing a last minute,
"Thanks buddy." as they passed.
They reached the top landing as the far off reassuring sound of what seemed
to be a thousand sirens blasted from every direction. It brought a
measure of comfort but at the same time Spike and Faith knew that
the key was to stop him before anyone else died.
A desperate criminal was capable of anything.
Spike grabbed Xander's hand and gave it a firm quick squeeze. When
all this was over he planned on kicking some Xander arse for not
staying safely behind.
The second floor was identical to the first. Same dirty, worn carpet.
Same number of apartment doors. Same window at the far end of
the hall. Same silence. Almost.
A crash and muffled shout signaled a scuffle. Splitting up into two groups
they immediately began working their way down opposite sides of the hall
till Faith, with her ear pressed against the door to apartment 204, signaled
that she had located the source.
Wasting no more time on finesse or citizen's rights, Spike banged his fist
on the door at the same instant that the hallway was flooded by uniformed
cops, guns drawn rushing forward from both ends of the corridor.
"Stark County Sheriff. Open the door! Open it NOW!"
"FUCK YOU! I GOTTA HOSTAGE AND I'LL KILL HER IF....."
Spike took a wild, unsanctioned and totally against the book chance.
His gut told him a negotiator would be a waste of time and a standing
by waiting for the arrival of the SWAT team would cost precious minutes.
Time the hostage couldn't afford. If it was Elvin Masters or not, that wasn't
important. It was a serial killer and one more body wouldn't matter to him.
If he was wrong. If this cost someone else their life, could he
possibly feel any worse than he did right now?
With a wave of his hands and a point of his gun the shock of energy surged
through every person standing on the outside of apartment 204.
Spike glanced down at the Doc Martin that was still stained with his
friends blood and he made the decision.
Standing back with six armed officers flanking each side of him,
Spike lifted his leg and knowing he wouldn't get a second chance at
surprise, he slammed his boot against the thankfully cheap door,
splintering it off it's hinges.