bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Rough Diamond

Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named in this story.
Warning: This story contains mention of prostitution, group sex, violence, m/m orgies
and one wild raccoon.

Summary: Xander is a male prostitute. It is his chosen occupation and he is very
happy with it. One night he takes on a group of clients with a friend and things
do not go as planned. When his friend is found murdered, homicide is called in.
Spike is a brilliant detective with OCD issues. When he is told to hide out in the
woods with the witness to protect, he gets more than he could have imagined.

Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banners, the story idea and for holding my
hand during the writing.

Buffy hurried through the front door of the government building. She had her
briefcase clutched in her hand and tried her best to look professional despite her
disheveled appearance.

It was well after midnight and she had only been in bed two hours when her cell
phone vibrated on her night stand, ringing to the snappy, recently downloaded
tune of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun".

At first she thought it must be a prank. After all, her job was not one that
ordinarily required 24 hour, on call, response. It was one of the things she liked
most about it. Steady hours, great pay and surrounded by good looking men
all day long. The only thing that would make the job perfect was if one of
those men would ask her out once in a while.

So, when she finally was alert enough to catch the underlying urgency in Detective
Penndelton's voice, Buffy knew it was serious. Within 35 minutes, she had
arrived, hair in a pony tail and wearing a green shirt and blue pin striped trousers,
trying not to yawn.

She swiped her I.D. tag at the door and headed straight for the back interrogation
rooms. That's where she spotted them, standing with their heads together, in
animated conversation and she rushed toward them, breathless.

"Hi. I'm here, what's the big to do?"

Penn spun around and his eyes lit up at the arrival of the Department sketch artist.
He knew Buffy could be a bit of an airhead, but she was one of the best
reconstructionists he had ever seen. Her work in perp identification had broken
more than one case and they knew it was exactly what was needed now.

"Oh, Miss Summers, thank God, look we just got a huge break on that Colombian
drug case we have been working. We have an eye witness! Now he didn't get
any names but if we can get some accurate drawings of them, it will go a long
way toward identifying them. Oh, and the best part? The fuckers killed somebody
so we can haul their asses in immediately."

Buffy stood silently, nodding her understanding and trying to pay attention to
everything Penn was telling her, unfortunately, the detective's partner was
standing off to the side scrutinizing her as though she had a booger hanging
from her nose. When she couldn't stand the distraction of it any longer, she
whirled around to face him.

"WHAT? Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

Spike wanted to stay silent. He understood that certain leeway must be given
on the fact that she had been called out of bed, still....

"Um, well, since you ask. If you tagged and color coded your clothe's closet in
a system of simple efficiency, you would be able to appropriately match anything
in your wardrobe instantly. Even in the dark. Even at midnight. It is surprisingly
easy to do. I could assist you in setting it up."

Buffy stared at Spike for a few seconds before turning back to his partner.

"So, you want me to sketch four separate perps? That's going to take a while
depending on the witness's accuracy of description and memory."

Penn nodded.
"Sure, we understand. Take your time. We have already called INS and
they are sending down Liam O'Connor. He has worked with us in the past
and I think we need his office's involved in this. Now, with an eye witness, picture
identification and whatever evidence CSI can collect at the crime scenes, we
have enough to round them up and hold them on the murder charge. From there,
it is just a hop, skip and a jump to getting what we need to bust this drug and
gun running business wide open. So, he's in there. His name is Xander.
Go get 'em."

Buffy smiled and nodded.

"I'll do my best Penn, I know how hard you guys have worked this case, I
hope this breaks it. Oh, and Spike?" Buffy turned and smiled sweetly.
"Thank's for the offer, Hon, there is no one on the department that is more
of a closet expert than you. Maybe I will let you show me a thing or two."

With that, she unexpectedly leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the
cheek before heading for the waiting witness. Spike was stunned and horrified!
He sputtered and choked. He wanted to rub his hand over his face but he
hadn't had the chance to wash up in at least 15 minutes. Not since the
removal of the gloves.

His eyes bugged and he took a step back.
"What the...?? She just.....! Did you see.....? Oh, Lord! I'll be back"

Detective Penndelton howled with laughter as his partner rushed toward the
nearest men's room and the antiseptic soap he had insisted be kept there.
He couldn't help feeling optimistic. This was the first break they had and
the possibility of a conviction at last seemed within reach.

When Buffy entered the room she took a minute to just observe. Her livelihood
and her expertise were in faces of mankind. It was what she knew. Without
saying a word, she could read a person by the smallest detail and the slight nuances
in their eyes as well as the way they smiled and the movement of their heads as
they talked.

What she read here was misery. Pure, unadulterated sorrow that was bravely
trying to be masked and concealed from a cruel world. His eyes were puffy
and his nose was red. She knew whatever had touched this boy had very
nearly broken him.

Xander sat up straight when the woman walked in the room. As soon as the
ethnicity of the men had been revealed, the detectives had taken on a whole
new frenetic attitude. They had bombarded him with questions, not giving him time
to answer one before three more were thrown out. It had been frightening and
overwhelming and he finally just stopped talking. At that point, they left the room
and Xander laid his head down to cry. All he could think of was Joey.

He couldn't imagine who this woman was and what she wanted of him. She didn't
look like one of the detectives. He wondered briefly if someone was supplying
him with the Miranda required lawyer. Did that mean he was under arrest?
He wished they would tell him something or let him go........home? No.
Xander knew he could never go back there again.

Buffy sat down across the table from him. She laid down her briefcase then popped
the locks to open the lid and she extracted several pencils and a large artist's pad.

"Hi, Xander. My name's Buffy. I work for the department as a sketch artist.
The detectives thought that if you could tell me what the men looked like, I'll
draw it and you can tell me if it is right or wrong. Can we try?"

Before Xander could answer, his stomach growled loudly and he blushed.

"Sorry. I haven't eaten today, or, I guess if it's after midnight, yesterday."

Buffy frowned and pushed her equipment out of the way.

"Well, that's something I can fix. You sit tight and I'll make sure one of
the guys gets you something."

Immediately, she got up and left. Xander was surprised. Maybe not
everyone around here was a fuckhead after all.
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