Title: Blood Wings
Fandom: Buffyverse
Author: frkwerewolf
Pairing: Spander
Rating: R
Summary: AU. When FBI Agent Alexander Harris is put on the case of the latest serial killer, known to the law as Angelus, he finds himself turning to an old enemy for help.
Warnings: GRAPHIC blood and gore. Its rated R for this reason, specifically.
Credit: This story is inspired and very, very loosely based off of the Hannibal Lector stories by Thomas Harris.
Notes on the Spander: The Spike/Xander pairing in here is very light, and nearly one sided. Towards the end of the fic we may see some more hard core evidence, but it's mostly just severely hinted at. It's kind of like on the actual show: We see a minor look between our boys and yell "OMG! Spander!" This story has the same principle. You know they want to screw each other.
Chapter One
The file sat on the oak desk, surrounded by yellow sticky notes and pieces of paper with quick sentences written in a hasty hand. Agent Alexander Harris, known to his coworkers as Xander, sat on one side of the desk, hands resting lightly on the edge of the desk. The edge of a picture peaked out from the file, allowing a blood-coated hand to be seen.
"Sir?" Xander looked up as the department's newest intern entered the room. She was short, with dark brunette hair and sharp eyes. Most of the other agents didn't think Faith would last under the pressure. Xander was willing to bet them wrong.
"Yes?"
"Dr. Ethan Rayne is on the phone." Faith replied. "He's overviewed the file and is ready to offer his opinion. Line three."
Xander waited until Faith had left the room before letting out a sigh. Reaching for the phone, he cradled it against his shoulder and chin before flipping open the file. Bright pictures of a body greeted him. "This is Agent Harris."
"Ah, Harris, I was happy to find you in." Ethan's voice was calm and hinted with a British accent. Xander thought he was an arrogant prick, but had never developed the nerve to say it to his face. "I was hoping we could take a moment to go over the file on your latest hunt. I must say I was surprised they put you on this case so soon after Agent Summers' removal. Tell me, Harris, is she well?"
"Last I heard she had stopped vomiting in the morning." Xander said. "Dr. Rayne, I'm sure you didn't call me up to chat about Summers' pregnancy. Shall we get started?"
"Hmm, yes." Ethan sighed and in the background Xander could hear pages turn. "Our boy is a sociopath, though I'm sure you knew that. The tabloids are calling him a vampire, did you know? Of course, they only know of the dual puncture wounds to the neck and not of--"
"I'm perfectly aware of what the papers know and don't know." Xander interrupted. He had spent the better part of the hour looking at the pictures that he now had spread out on his desk. Buffy Summers had been precise in her research, leaving Xander the privilege of simply diving in and trying to find a new angle. He didn't have time for Ethan's small talk. Four people were dead, not including two cats and a dog that had been owned by the newly deceased.
"Very well, on to the hard core bits, eh?" Ethan chuckled. "He's a sociopath, as I've stated. He obviously feels no guilt in what he does, leaving the likelihood that he will not stop. He's got a taste for the blood, after all. The use of angelic symbols and the neck wounds signify a deeply rooted hatred or feeling of abandonment from God. It's possible he went to church in his early days."
Xander grabbed a piece of paper and began writing down notes: i church connection/i
"He's very careful, isn't he?" Ethan murmured. Xander glanced at the postmortem pictures and couldn't help but agree. "He knows anatomy, that is certain. He probably went to college, don't you think? Ah, yes, our boy knows exactly what he's doing."
"What we need to know is what he looks for in a victim, Dr. Rayne." Xander informed him.
"That's the question, isn't it? I'm afraid that's all I can offer, Agent Harris. I'm merely a psychiatrist, after all." Ethan said. "You will send me any of your latest information, correct?"
"Yes, of course." Xander lied. Buffy had trusted Ethan mostly because their supervisor, Rupert Giles, trusted him. Xander wasn't that gullible, however. Ethan had given everything he knew. Some psychiatrist looking at files one hundred miles away wouldn't catch this serial killer.
"By the way, I was curious about something." Ethan said, before Xander could hang up. "How are you sleeping at night?"
"I don't think that's any of your business." Xander stiffened. "Goodbye, Dr. Rayne."
Setting the phone back on its cradle, Xander took a moment to rub at his temples. Then, he began placing the file back together, each picture and piece of paper going in exact order. Grabbing a case for the file, he slid it inside and stood. Faith watched him leave the office. He was almost out the door when a thought struck him. "Faith?"
"Yes, sir?" Faith asked.
"Call Daniel Osbourne for me and have him get over to the Hurley's house. Tell him I'll meet him there." Xander ordered, before walking away without a reply.
The Hurley's had been the second family killed in two months. As Xander jumped into his car and drove toward the small three-bedroom home, the case file zipped through his mind like a cat on speed. Mr. Hurley had been divorced for five years and his daughter had just turned twelve. They had two cats. The cats had been found with their heads cut off on the back porch. The neighbors hadn't heard a thing.
The first family was a single mom, Ms. Colby, and her nine-year-old son. Their dog had been found poisoned in the alley behind the house.
The murders were exactly fifty miles apart, both families living in small towns east and west of Los Angelus. Aside from both murders including a child and a parent there were also the visible clues. Which was why Xander needed Daniel 'Oz' Osbourne, a forensic photographer who was better at being a genius than a film developer.
"Hey." Oz greeted, resting against the side of his white van. Xander got out of his car, slamming the door behind him.
"Oz, my man, I need your help." Xander said, pulling the house key out of his pocket. "I need you to take a set of pictures of the upstairs master bedroom and hallway."
"Didn't your men do this already?" Oz asked, opening his van in order to pull out his equipment.
"I'd rather you go over it, personally." Xander admitted.
The house was musty inside, despite having been accessed repeatedly by both the local police and the FBI. Downstairs, everything was clean. Not a drop of blood, a footprint, or even a hair had been left behind. Upstairs, on the other hand, was a different story. The girl's bedroom showed sign of a struggle. Bed sheets had been kicked off the bed, a lamp knocked to the floor. A handful of long, blonde hair had been found near the door. Mostly likely from when the killer had yanked the girl out of bed.
As the camera's flash filled the room repeatedly, Xander searched for any clues that might have been overlooked. He retraced the supposed steps of the killer, walking into the girl's room and inspecting the dresser. Pictures of friends were tacked onto the vanity mirror and a jumble of bracelets and make-up covered the surface. A small jewelry box sat in the middle. Inside, Xander found a few rings and a cross necklace.
The closet held modest looking clothes. It was obvious Mr. Hurley didn't let his daughter dress inappropriately. The girl didn't have a diary or any personal notebooks of any kind. This was the type of daughter that didn't feel the need to keep secrets from her father.
Xander followed the path from the girl's bed, down the hallway where a few pictures had been knocked off the wall, and into the master bedroom. For a moment, red filled Xander's vision. Closing his eyes, Xander took in a deep breath. The copper-like scent of dried blood hit his nose. Then, slowly, he reopened his eyes. Xander forced himself to remember what had happened next, mind shifting back to the case file that sat in his car outside.
The daughter had been dragged into the master bedroom, where she was tied up and thrown into a corner. Bruises had been found along her wrists and ankles. The killer had then turned to the father, who had still been asleep. Medical records showed Mr. Hurley had been placed on a heavy sedative to help with his nerves barely two weeks before his death. While Ms. Colby had woken to the sound of her son screaming, Mr. Hurley did not wake until the murderer had stabbed him in the hip.
Why the hip? Was it significant? Xander frowned and looked toward the bed. A large circle of blood shown where the hip wound had bled.
"Huh. Weird." Oz stated, taking pictures of the symbol on the wall. Xander kept himself from looking. He wasn't to that point yet.
Mr. Hurley had been dragged into an upright position, where he had not struggled or moved. Xander suspected he had been warned. A familiar tune with psychos. i Move or say anything and your daughter gets it. /i The killer had then turned back to the daughter, possibly said something or maybe touched her cheek in a fake caress.
Then, what? Xander crossed his arms, brow furrowed in thought. The knife wound had occurred at about eleven at night, but the time of death was sometime around two or three in the morning for both parties. What had the bastard done to entertain himself? The slaughter and gore was obvious, but that had only taken about an hour.
Xander walked toward Mr. Hurley's closet, searching for something, anything. Opening it, he stared at the business suits and jeans. The top shelf had a stack of board games and, right next to them, high school yearbooks. Xander pulled a pair of latex gloves from his back pocket and slipped them on. He could hear Oz move around behind him, taking images of the dresser, bed, ceiling, everything.
Xander pulled down the yearbook from Mr. Hurley's freshman year.
"I'm not finding anything, Xander." Oz informed him. "Everything's so out in the open. There isn't anything here that the office didn't catch the first time around."
"Get the bathroom and closet." Xander ordered. Oz let out a slight sigh, but moved into the master bedroom's bathroom and began taken pictures.
Images of the seventies burst from the yearbook's pages. A group of men dressed up as Kiss for Halloween. Cheerleaders and football players getting ready for a pep rally. Some pictures had little circles around them. One junior had small pink hearts around her picture. Xander turned to the freshman section, flipping pages until he reached the H's.
Xander stared at the page. A hole. Someone had cut out Mr. Hurley's image. No, not someone. The killer. The sociopath that other members of the FBI, as well as local police, had taken up calling Angelus. Xander slowly closed the book and put it back in place. He would wait until Oz had the closet photographed before packing the yearbooks away and taking them to the lab for tests.
Having figured out what 'Angelus' (Xander shuddered, hating the thought of giving the man a title, but his mind fought the desire for anonymity and labeled the killer as such nonetheless.) had been doing, Xander turned back to the corner of the room.
Angelus had attacked the girl, first. It was certain he had gagged the father. Signs of bruising indicated as such on the autopsy. Xander took a step toward the corner of the room, where splatters of blood outlined the girl's figure, where she had been bound and left. Behind him, Oz moved toward the closet.
She had been stripped to only her panties. Xander didn't want to picture it, but the agent in him demanded the image of the twelve-year-old girl, coated in sweat due to her fear, to srping to mind. Angelus hadn't spent much time on her. It was the same with the Colby boy. Both had a cross etched into their cheek with a sharp piece of metal. Not a knife, the wounds had been too jagged to be a knife.
The Colby boy had been stabbed repeated, but had died of suffocation instead of blood loss. The Hurley girl had had more time spent on her. Careful slices, not deep enough to bleed a much as the boy had, and in the end she had suffocated as well. Both had a set of punture wounds, most likely from a sharpened screwdriver, placed on the neck like a vampire. Both victims had been cleaned after their death. The blood on their body was minimal. On the boy, the floor had been soaked with blood, but the girl had been found on a carpet that only had a few drops.
Behind both were streaks of blood. Xander lowered himself into a crouch and looked at these streaks now. They looked as though they had been done intentionally. Xander made a mental note to check the file for any fingerprinting done on this wall.
But, why? Why had Angelus been so careful with the children's bodies? Why did he feel the urge to paint the wall with their blood? Xander couldn't figure it out. Standing, Xander turned to the carefully painted angel wings above the bed. The crusted blood had already begun to flake, but the image was still clear.
"Done." Oz announced. Xander jumped in shock. "Anything?"
"Nothing." Xander admitted. "He cut out Mr. Hurley's image from the yearbook. I'll get that packed up in a minute. Other than that, I can't figure this freak out."
"He's good." Oz said in his calm tone. The sound soothed Xander, as it usually did. Oz had the impression of a placid lake in the midst of a hurricane. "That's some detailed work right there. I'll have the close ups analyzed. Do you want to have an open connection with the other departments, or should I talk to you only?"
"Send all of the copies to both, but talk only to me. I'll relay whatever is important." Xander said.
"Right." Oz held his camera close, looking over Xander's shoulder at the bloodstained bed. "Do you want me to stay?"
"No, I'm fine." Xander said, taking in a deep breath.
"You shouldn't be out here. Not so soon." Oz informed him. Xander wanted to tell him to shut up, but Oz was a friend and not someone easily ordered around. Oz would merely keep talking. "I don't know how you do it. I'm nervous simply standing here, taking pictures, knowing I did the exact same thing for your last catch."
"It wasn't a big deal, Oz. Everyone is blowing it out of proportion." Xander told him. "Besides, I don't think he would have killed me."
"No, you're right. He would have done worse." Oz replied, softly. "After you get this madman taken care of, you should go on vacation."
"Hmm, probably." Xander agreed.
"Or just quit. If William the Bloody reacted to me the way he did you, I would have quit a long time ago. You've got to be insane to stay in a job like this."
"You know what they say." Xander shrugged, eyes still trained on the blood painted wings. "Only a crazy man can recognize a fellow psycho."
"Then have them release William and let him catch this freak, not you."