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.
"Where the fuck are they?"
The older man sat impatiently behind his desk, drumming his fingers and clutching
the phone receiver in his hand. He had listened to it ring about a hundred times
already but kept thinking that just a few times more would give one of them time
to come in from outside and answer it. Finally, he gave up and hung up.
'No answer, Sir?"
Mayor Ethan Rayne looked up at his second in command, Police Chief Rupert Giles
who stood blocking his office doorway.
"No, and I don't understand it. I had the operator check and she said the line was
working properly. They should have answered. I told them that if anything happened
in the case, I would call. They couldn't have gone far from the cabin. They need to
know that we have apprehended three of the suspects but that Carlos slipped through
our net. They can't risk coming back. Not yet."
Giles entered the office and sat in the chair across the desk from the concerned Mayor.
"I remember that cabin. We used to have some great hunting trips up there. I wouldn't
worry too much, Sir. We can try to call again tomorrow. As long as they stay where they
are, they should be safe. Carlos has no idea where they are hiding and just to be sure, I
am on my way down to the holding cells to interrogate the others myself."
Mayor Rayne nodded his thanks, then, picked up the phone and dialed once more
as Giles left the room.
"Are you sure you know the way?"
Xander rolled his eyes. Spike had already asked that same question twice and gotten
his assurance that yes, considering this was the only fucking road to town, they were
headed in the right direction.
"It's already late. They may have closed for the night."
That comment was fucked up even for Spike so Xander turned in his seat and stared at
the driver of the car that was cruising down the rough and bumpy county road.
"It's 9 o'clock, Spike. What kind of self respecting bar closes at 9?"
Spike glanced over. While the only bars he was ever in were crime scenes and he
was fairly certain they were not self respecting establishments, he had to concede that
most drinking places probably did remain open until well towards, what? midnight?
They had spent the entire day on a point/counter point that Spike lost on each issue.
Every protest he could think of was immediately shot down by Xander's rational
response. Xander could be very persuasive. Still, Spike felt he should voice each
concern as it came to mind and several did. Truth was, Spike did not want to share
the boy's company. Not even in the time it took for a quick beer.
"Did Andrew say what sort of......"
Before Spike completed his latest query, Xander shot up straight in his seat and pointed
"There! That's got to be it!"
When he saw the building, Spike mentally cursed his agreement. It was a huge, white
washed converted barn surrounded by a gravel parking lot that was packed to the max
with vehicles that Spike imagined spent a lot of time in the county welfare office parking
garage. There were rusty pick up trucks, Pinto station wagons, and one lime green
Gremlin with cardboard over the rear window.
The entire building was no doubt infested with mice, rats and cockroaches.
A violent shudder ran through the detective's body
The barn itself, was lit up with colored neon bar signs in every window and a weather
worn sign on the outside that had the picture of a parrot with the name 'Cracker' neatly
printed around it.
"Cracker's. That's what Andrew said it was called. We're here. Hurry up. Park the
Spike found a roomy spot on the end that offered some safety against a car door being
opened against his paint job and he pulled in.
"Now, remember, you said one beer then we......"
But it was too late. Xander was gone. Frantically, Spike threw the car into 'park' and
he ran, catching up to him just as they reached the door. When the barn door swung
open, the men were bombarded with the sounds of music, shouting, glasses clinking
and general fun being shared by a packed mob of happy, drunken patrons. Cracker's
was apparently THE place to be in Harrison County.
The interior was long with the expansive bar running the length of the far wall and lined
with padded, well worn stools. The right side of the room was round tables and chairs
and the left side a small square wooden dance area with a large, blasting juke box.
The men all wore tight jeans, plaid flannel shirts and pointy toed cowboy boots. The
women obviously all shopped at the little girls department of J.C.Penney as nothing fit
properly and every inch of skin that could poke out, protrude or hang, did. Spike
wondered if they had somewhere along the line, crossed the border into another country,
Xander did not share his companion's discomfort. To the contrary, he sparked. He felt
the excitement charge through him and he sauntered in with a smile on his face, a fifty dollar bill he had swiped from Spike in his pocket and a half hard dick in his jeans. Both men and women alike smiled, nodded and greeted the handsome young man as though he
were a nightly regular and they had all congregated in hopes of seeing him.
They were not as taken with Spike who was clearly a fish out of water. Despite his
down home attire, any good old boy who has smoked a fair share of weed can spot a
cop a mile away. Spike might as well have been in uniform with a sign that read, 'You
are all about to be busted".
Fidgeting, Spike stayed as close behind Xander as he could. This was not his comfort
zone and the situation was made worse by the fact that Xander had prohibited him from
wearing his service revolver suggesting that a loaded gun was probably not a good
accessory to wear in a place like Cracker's.
When he stopped short, Spike ran into Xander's back and bounced off him awkwardly
only to be spun around and planted in a vacant seat at the last available table. Immediately, Spike ripped open a small packet of sterile wipes and he scoured the table top as well as was possible. Within seconds, a busty, over painted waitress appeared at their side.
"Evening, boys. My name's Amy. What can I get for ya'll?"
With a grin that Spike thought showed far too many teeth, Xander winked at the girl.
"Evenin' Amy. How about you bring my friend a Bud Light and get me a shot and a beer."
Amy tucked her arms up under her artificially round tits and she let her eyes dance
all over Xander's chest and face.
"Sure thing Handsome. You got some I.D?"
Xander laughed easily.
"I do indeed, Darlin'. I got an idee that you are the hottest woman in this place and
I may just have a hell of a time keeping my hands off you."
Amy threw back her head and whooped out a laugh before she left to bring their drinks.
The night was off and running.