Chapter Seven
Xander gently placed the telephone back onto its cradle. A dull pain echoed from behind his eyes. He had been up for over twenty-four hours, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. He had just gotten off of the telephone with every police jurisdiction in the Los Angeles area, giving them the name of Liam O'Connor. Xander was determined to have the man by the next evening.
Of course, it wasn't that simple. A name was well and good, but it wasn't always enough. A person could change their name; create an entire different identification in a matter of minutes. Xander had to do more. Reaching over, he pressed the intercom located next to the phone.
"Faith?"
"Yes, sir?" Faith's voice replied. In the background he could hear typing. He had given her the assignment of searching the Internet for online art sales and records that could lead them in the correct direction.
"I need the yellow pages of the greater Los Angeles area, as well as all of the nearby cities." Xander ordered.
"I take it you're looking for art galleries?" Faith asked.
"Got it in one." Xander smiled. He couldn't help but feel vaguely proud of Faith. He had been given the job to train her barely a year ago, mostly because he seemed to work best with the female officers instead of the men. Agent Buffy Summers was a perfect example of this. The two agents had often worked side by side. As for Faith, Xander couldn't help but feel pride over how well she was dealing with the recent events.
"Alright, I'll have that to you in a second." Faith replied.
Xander reached into his desk, pulling out a large legal pad for note taking. He rubbed at his temples, the headache growing in size. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Xander began searching for some aspirin. He was interrupted by Faith entering the room, her arms loaded down with yellow phone books. She set them down with a thump, let out a groan of relief at no longer needing to carry them.
"Thanks." Xander grinned.
"Be happy we had these stashed away on this floor." Faith said, teasingly. "Oh, and you have a phone call on line two."
"You answered the phone and got these all in a matter of a minute?" Xander inquired, looking amused.
"What can I say? I'm the ultimate multi-tasker." Faith smirked.
As Faith left the office, shutting the door softly behind her, Xander picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Well, well, well." A soft female voice chuckled. "If it isn't the big bad Agent Xander Harris. Where is my autograph book?"
"I'm afraid I don't do autographs, Summers." Xander replied, his grin widening.
"Pity." Buffy replied. "Because I'm sure Miss Cordelia Chase, greatest tabloid bitch of all time, would love to get a copy of it. Who knows, perhaps you could make first page three times in a row?"
"I see you read the latest slander." Xander commented, fighting down annoyance. He had managed to not get sick over the latest article published in which William Bradshaw had nearly solidified the love affair rumor.
"Between attempting to put matching socks on and not falling into tears over my weight, I managed to have the time." Buffy said.
"Have you started waddling, yet? I heard pregnant women waddle in their last couple of months." Xander asked.
"I've surpassed waddling and am now requiring roller blades in order to make it across the room." Buffy sighed. "Anyway, I didn't call to complain about my current pregnant state."
"If it's to talk about your love life, I'll pass. I've gotten rather pampered with only Faith around. She doesn't talk about who she takes home, unlike some people I know." Xander couldn't help but fall into this form of banter with Buffy. That was the sort of relationship they had.
"That's because she takes home a different guy every night. I on the other hand have an amazingly devoted husband." Buffy's voice was practically beaming with happiness. It made Xander's heart ache, knowing that he might never have that.
"Who's a short geek." Xander finished.
"Maybe a little." Buffy agreed. "But I love Jonathon all the same. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"
"Right, what did you want to tell me?"
"I got a call from Giles." Buffy informed him. "I figured since I really don't have anything to do but sit around and watch As the World Turns I could look into our boy Angelus' history."
"Yeah?" Xander pulled the legal pad toward him, pen poised. Buffy was known for her ability to find out information in the least likely places. It was what made her such a valuable agent to the FBI. All someone had to do was give her a name, or even a date, and she could manage to find something linked to the crime. It was because of her that the agency had snagged a cult leader who called himself the Master around three years ago. Xander was positive the Master would still be loose if it wasn't for Buffy.
"I looked into the name Liam O'Connor." Buffy began. "I thought, considering what you had written in your most recent notes concerning O'Connor's questionable childhood, it would be best to start with the social services."
"And?"
"After a little digging I came up with a good match." Buffy told him. Her voice sounded smug, a fact that annoyed nearly everyone. When Buffy was right about something, she had a tendency to shove it in their faces. "Liam Michael O'Connor. His father was the co-owner of a grocery store. Interestingly, his father disappeared about six years ago. There's no record of death, but one day he just stopped going to work. No missing persons report was submitted."
"Sounds suspicious." Xander commented.
"Hmm, it is once you take in the fact that there was an abuse complaint filed against Mr. O'Connor by their neighbor when our Angelus was about eight." Buffy continued. "Seems you had a good hunch, a terrible childhood and the lack of respect toward his artwork when he got older... Well, I've seen psychos kill for less."
"So have I." Xander agreed. In fact, Spike had been one of those psychos. Xander could never really figure out why Spike killed people, but in the end a motive isn't what got him caught. Xander closed his eyes briefly. That wasn't something he should be thinking about. "Is there anything else? Do you have a current address?"
"Sorry, no. The last recorded address is where he lived with his father." Buffy said. "He's managed to hide himself rather well since his teen years."
"Okay, thanks." Xander sighed. "I should let you go, I have a phone book to search through."
"Always doing things the hard way, eh Xander?" Buffy teased.
"You know me." Xander grinned.
For the next fifteen minutes, Xander shifted through the phone books and searched for every art gallery that specialized in macabre and dark art. It took some calling, but it was tedious enough work to keep Xander's mind on the objective. It was better than getting caught up in his thoughts, which were easily driven out by what was happening. He didn't have time to worry about whether this was going to go differently than his capture of William Bradshaw.
It was a time like this that Xander was happy Spike was locked away, where he no doubt belonged. It had been a difficult journey with Spike to get a hold of him, and no doubt it would be with Angelus. Of course, Xander knew Spike's capture was a one of a kind event...
It was nine in the evening when Xander came home to his apartment. The day had been spent shuffling through autopsy reports. Visions of railroad spikes shoved through the skin and bone of a Carmelite nun by the name of Drusilla swam before his eyes. She had been pinned to the wall, a mockery of Jesus Christ.
Xander drifted through the rooms, switching on every light in the process. The darkness made him nervous. He quickly changed into a pair of soft sweatpants, kicking his clothing into the corner to be dealt with later. He downed a couple of aspirin for his head and, not bothering with dinner, fell into bed.
The soft creak of shoes awakened him. Xander had been trained by the FBI to acknowledge every strange sound, since hearing a single footstep could save his life. Xander stiffened within the bed, eyes darting around. He wondered where he had put his gun. Silently, Xander lifted himself up into a sitting position. He didn't want to turn on the light. Whoever was inside his apartment couldn't see through the thick darkness any more than he could.
Xander leaned to the side, hoping to be able to reach his bedside table and grab his gun before his intruder noticed. Suddenly, a heavy body had landed on top of him. He fought, hard, but the man above him had the advantage of not being half-asleep. Before Xander could think the whole scene through, his hands were tied to the bedpost. Xander tugged, but got nothing but the rope digging into his wrists for his trouble.
"No need to fight me, love." A soft, accented voice whispered into Xander's ear. Xander froze. He didn't recognize the voice since he had never heard William 'The Bloody' Bradshaw speak, but he had been called love before. William had sent what Buffy claimed to be a love letter to the office two weeks ago, right before the murder of Sister Drusilla.
The lamp next to Xander's bed clicked on, revealing a toned, pale man straddling his hips. Xander couldn't help but noticed, underneath the fear and anger, that this man was rather sexy. A set of bright white teeth flashed at him as William smiled.
"What do you want?" Xander asked, fighting for a calm tone.
"Been watching you, pet." William wiggled devilish eyebrows, before crawling off of him. Xander contemplated kicking him, but he didn't think it would be very productive.
He didn't know why he was going along with this. A madman, who had killed quite a few people, was tying his legs to the foot of the bed. He was nearly naked, having only worn the sweatpants. The situation didn't look promising, at all. Xander fought to relax, taking in deep and meditative breaths. He ignored William, not looking over until he felt the cold tip of metal against his side. A sharp bowie knife shined up at him. Xander gulped.
"You are something else, did you know that?" William asked, his eyes watching the blade trace white lines across Xander's skin. "I've watched you search and search for me, never giving up. I've never met someone like you before. Add in the fact that you're hot as hell and, well, I do think I'm in love."
"You've got to be kidding me." Xander muttered, before letting out a screech of pain. Gasping, he looked down to see blood spurting out of a deep cut in his abdominal.
"Don't mock me, Harris." William hissed, eyes the color of steel.
"No." Xander managed to say. William smiled, a sight that sent a shiver of fear and--Xander couldn't believe it--arousal down his spine. Xander watched as William leaned down and licked up someone of the blood. Then, William cut Xander again. Xander let out a grunt of pain. William glanced up at him, thoughtfully.
Before Xander could protest, William slithered his way up Xander's body and kissed him. The kiss was the complete opposite of William's personality: soft, gentle, and sweet. Xander had to focus hard on the fact that a psychotic murderer was slipping their tongue inside his mouth. Otherwise, he might have enjoyed it.
Xander knew the scream had been what had saved them. If his neighbor hadn't heard him--and if Spike hadn't been so intrigued by the sound of him in pain, instead of gagging him to begin with--then Xander would probably be dead. He had burned the sheets, thrown away the bed, and moved before the month was up. He never would have survived living in that apartment.
"Forget it, Harris." Xander told himself, gathering the addresses for the art galleries and standing. "Focus on what's important."