Chapter Four
Xander managed to loosen his grip on the long roll of paper in his hands. He carefully sat down on the small chair provided for him, eyes avoided the glass wall in from of him. Out of the corner of is eye he could see Spike leaning against the wall, looking calm and composed.
"What do you have for me?" Xander asked, glancing over. Spike licked his lips and leered in response. Scowling, Xander moved toward his briefcase. "I suppose I'll just take this home and burn it, then--"
"No need for that, love." Spike interrupted, suddenly eyeing the concealed photograph with hungry eyes. "You give it to me and I'll tell you anything you want. That was the deal, wasn't it?"
"Something like that." Xander watched him a moment, feeling uncertain, before moving toward the drawer that would allow him to pass the photograph on through. "I hope twenty by twenty-four is an okay size."
"Perfect." Spike immediately snatched it up and unrolled it. Xander looked away. He didn't want the joy of watching Spike stare at the photograph. It had been hard enough taking the picture, shirt off and inside Oz's living room, while Oz made noises of disapproval. If it got him what he wanted, however, Xander was willing to give up a little bit of pride.
Spike moaned softly. Xander rolled his eyes and glared at the serial killer.
"What can you tell me?" Xander demanded, ignoring the way Spike gently placed the photo onto his bolted down desk. Spike picked up the file on Angelus and sent it through the wall to Xander. "You don't want to keep it?"
"Contrary to what you might believe, I don't get my kink from dead bodies." Spike smirked. "I suppose I could give over my professional opinion. That is what you want, correct? I could analyze his killing style... The way he cuts into their flesh."
"If it will sooner or later lead to you giving me a reasonable objective this guy might have, then that's fine." Xander admitted. He tried to make himself comfortable in the chair, ignoring the banging from one of the cells a few feet down. Surrounded by madmen, Xander could easily say that Spike was one of the few he didn't mind being near. The others made him feel even more uncomfortable. Which was odd, considering they -- unlike the man currently leering at him -- didn't have a Xander Harris obsession.
"That shrink of yours is an idiot, Harris." Spike announced, leaning his shoulder against the glass as he talked. "Our boy Angelus is not one of them church goers. He doesn't use the angelic symbol because he has some idiotic vendetta. That's just too simple. But you never believed that to begin with did you?"
"Not really." Xander shrugged.
"Good boy." Spike pushed himself away from the wall, turning to look directly as Xander. "Do you remember my third kill?"
"Sister Drusilla." Xander replied, fighting down a shiver. "It took an hour to get her off of the wall."
"She was a sweet thing, wasn't she?" Spike bragged. "A perfect child of Christ, except for the darkness I saw in her soul. She was beautiful, a dark princess. And yet, I didn't kill her because I hated the church. I never went to church as a child. Do you know why I went after her?"
"I always assumed she tempted you by being alive." Xander replied. "She represented what you couldn't have, or maybe didn't want."
"Got it in one, pet. Do you really need me at all?" Spike smirked. "If that came so easily to you, then why are you having trouble with Angelus, hmm? I would think it would be obvious what he wants... What he doesn't have."
"What do you--?" Xander started.
"Mr. Hurley." Spike interrupted. "Was he a good father? Or did he beat his little girl? Maybe he touched her, while she fought down tears at night? What do you think? Sexual abuse is so... Primitive. A man's greatest sin is to soil that of his own flesh. Soiling someone else's flesh, however..."
Spike stepped forward, pressing both hands flat against the glass wall. His clear blue eyes seemed to darken as he ran them down Xander's body. Xander shifted in his seat and tried to concentrate on what Spike was telling him.
"What I wouldn't give to have you flat on your back, naked." Spike said, softly. Xander ignored him.
Mr. Hurley had been a good father. He was a member of the PTA and one of those fathers that showed up to every basketball game. Nothing, as it were, like Xander's own father. Frowning, Xander took a moment to question that sudden thought. Why did thinking about Mr. Hurley's good character make Xander think of his own history with his father? And what about Ms. Colby? Her records showed that she had been the near definition of a soccer mom; only instead of soccer her son had been the ultimate school nerd. She was a member of the PTA, as well.
"That's it, love. You're getting it, aren't you?" Spike hissed, his voice causing an electrical charge to shoot down Xander's spine. Xander opened his eyes and met Spike's. "I don't think you need my help at all. You just needed to be away from all of the goodie-goods at that job of yours. Needed to be near something that brought the spark back, isn't that right?"
"Maybe." Xander blinked. "His victims were good families, single parents with one child."
"I grew up without a father." Spike suddenly announced. He slid down into a crouch, hands still pressed against the glass. "My mum was wonderful, best woman there was."
"And yet you targeted women, as well as men." Xander said. Spike, he believed, never had a motive. He was one of the few serial killers that Xander knew of that didn't focus on a certain type, whether it be perfect families or the ultimate beauty that would always turn them down. "Then again, you just killed to be killing."
"Something like that." Spike smirked. "The joy isn't in the deaths, whelp, it's in the hunt."
"Or the selection." Xander added. Spike gave him a slow nod.
"I bet they called him an angel when he was little." Spike murmured, his eyes drifted half-closed. "He's a beauty, this Angelus. Angel of Death, swooping in on the least deserving. It has an odd sense of... Charisma to it."
"Insanity, charisma... It's all the same in this world." Xander stated. Spike broke into a wide grin at this, his eyes lighting up. "What?"
"Someone's getting bitter." Spike said, cheerfully. Xander managed to not roll his eyes this time and stood, picking up his briefcase and distributing the file inside. "Leaving so soon?"
"Some of us have jobs." Xander replied as the click of the briefcase echoed in the hallway. "Perhaps I'll see you again sometime, Spike. I don't think I'll be needing your services anymore."
That said, Xander turned and began walking away. He could hear Spike muttering behind him, but didn't focus on deciphering the words. His mind was stuck on what he had just learned. It amazed him how smart Spike really was. He wasn't just a sociopath; he was an honest to God intellect. Shaking his head, Xander pushed his way through the front doors of the building, stepping out into the morning sun. He made it halfway to his car before something caused the back of his neck to rise.
The parking lot was empty, except for row after row of cars. Eyes darting around, Xander couldn't make out any suspicious shadows. Skin still crawling, Xander carefully unlocked his car door. He would have missed it if he hadn't looked up before getting inside. To the right a bright flash came from the window of a small, black car. Xander immediately recognized the flash of a camera. Scowling, Xander said nothing and climbed into his car. By the time he glanced over for a second look, the car was gone.
Shaking his head, Xander reached to start the car, only to jerk in shock as his cell phone ring. Opening his briefcase, Xander pulled out the small phone and answered.
"Uh, boss?" Faith's voice sounded worried and almost scared.
"What's wrong?" Xander immediately asked, turning the keys and listening as the car engine roared to life.
"We have a situation in the Valley." Faith informed him. "It looks like Angelus struck last night, possibly early this morning."
"Shit." Xander took a deep breath. "You're closer, so I want you to get over there and start pulling people out of that damn house. We don't need a hundred footprints tainting the scene. Call Oz to get over there as soon as possible."
"S-Sir? I'm not sure they'll listen to me--" Faith admitted, though her voice indicated how much the fact pissed her off.
"They'll listen, just use that assertive voice that you use on the broken copier." Xander said. "I'll be there as soon as possible. No one enters or leaves the property without signing in and out, got it? No items are to be taken, either."
"Right, got it." Faith said, before giving him the address and saying goodbye.
Xander quickly hung up, pulling the car out of the parking lot and nearly speeding toward the expressway. A nervous tension hit his spine and neck as he pulled into the correct neighborhood. He had yet to be at an Angelus crime scene right after the actual murders since being placed on the case. Agent Summers had been thorough in her reports, but nothing was like seeing it for his own eyes. The fresh blood, the bodies that had died barely hours before, and the knowledge that if he touched or moved the wrong thing his crime scene could be destroyed in an instant.
His car door slammed shut as he jumped out of the vehicle. He could see Faith on the sidewalk leading to the house arguing with what looked to be someone from the local precinct. Xander sighed. It wasn't that he hated cops, but the fact remained that both sides had a tendency to get a little possessive over evidence.
"What do we have?" Xander asked as he approached.
"I managed to get everyone out of the house, but bozo here insists on having a fucking football team inspect the yard." Faith snapped, her frustration showing in her eyes.
"Look, officer--?"
"Detective Riley Finn." The man literally growled. Xander raised an eyebrow. "I don't appreciate some intern coming in and telling--"
"I understand, sir, but the fact is that this falls under the FBI, not the local police department." Xander informed him. "Now, I'm very welcome to receive any help you can provide, but I will not have you taking over and destroying the scene before we get a chance to look at it."
"I'm perfectly aware of the what rights each of us have." Riley replied.
"Good, now get those men off of the yard." Xander snapped. He turned to Faith. "Did you call Oz?"
"Yes, he's on his way." Faith nodded.
"Okay, I want you and only you to search the yard, understand?" Xander ordered. Faith nodded. "Ask the fine detective if you can borrow a pair of gloves and a flashlight. I want you to search for any sign of a pet, in grid formation. He always kills them first."
"Sir, there's more." Faith told him. "It seems one of the neighbors heard something. Now, she says she didn't see anyone, but I thought you might like to know. Finn's men are talking to her now."
"Okay, thanks." Xander watched her leave, before glancing over at Riley. "I want a copy of the police report as well as a transcript of that interview in my office by nine tonight."
"Fine."
Xander watched Riley stalk off, before rubbing at his temples. He looked up at the house. It was a two story, just like the other two, with a colonial style. There were tulips planted underneath the large front window. They looked like bright bulbs of light as the morning sun hit their yellow and red petals. Xander slowly turned and walked back to his car. He pulled off his jacket, leaving on his gun and holster, before reaching inside for a small flashlight and a pair of gloves. Straightening up, he turned to find Oz standing next to him, high-tech camera in hand.
"I thought he was suppose to be one of those monthly characters." Oz commented, following Xander up the walkway.
"Apparently he's having too much fun." Xander replied. "He probably got tired of waiting."
The living room was dressed in light green and mauve. A large sofa rested against the far wall in front of an oak wood coffee table. Xander's eyes skimmed the room, searching for anything that seemed out of place. It looked like a normal room. A baseball bat leaned against the corner, it's matching glove on the floor next to it. Along another wall was the television, with baseball trophies on top of the entertainment center.
Xander waited until Oz had taken enough pictures, before moving into the kitchen. The kitchen table, made from the same oak wood, was small: large enough for two and a guest. Xander slipped on his gloves and opened the refrigerator. They had a half-gallon of milk left; it was two percent. Gently shutting it, Xander moved to the patio door, which was at the back of the room. Oz followed and immediately began snapping pictures.
In-between the flashes of light, Xander saw that there was no screen door. He didn't think Angelus had removed it, most likely it had fallen apart and the family had never bothered to replace it. The door had been first picked open, probably with your standard accessories. The chain had been on, but was cut with a set of cutters strong enough to cut through metal. Through the half-open door he could see Faith diligently inspecting each square inch of the backyard. He pushed the door open a bit farther and called through.
"Faith!" Her head jerked up in response. "When you're done with that, I want you to get a screwdriver and take both ends of this chain off, got it? Put it in a sterilized bag. I want to know what kind of cutters did this."
"Will do!" Faith gave him a slight wave, before returning to her inspection.
Xander took a step back, giving Oz the room to photograph the door and back patio. He turned and moved toward the hallway and stairs. He could picture, in his mind, Angelus walking the same steps. The stairs weren't carpeted and, instead, were made of oak as well. Without touching the banister, Xander began climbing the steps. Behind him, he heard Oz follow. Taking a deep breath, the tang of blood hitting his nostrils, Xander stepped onto the landing and entered what he could only call a nightmare.