Blood Wings, 2/?
Title: Blood Wings 2/?
Fandom: Buffyverse
Author: frk_werewolf
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.
Chapter Summary: Agent Harris gets permission to visit William the Bloody.
previous chapter
Chapter Two
"I don't like it." Agent Rupert Giles informed him from the other side of the desk. Xander sat in the hard wood chair, knowing Giles bought the contraptions just to keep his workers nervous when they came to visit him. Giles -- Xander had never grown comfortable calling him by his first name -- pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them. "Why don't you have that new girl go?"
"Sir, Faith is not ready for that sort of... Assignment." Xander said, carefully.
"She seems like a capable young woman." Giles commented.
"Yes, and she is, but... You know William Bradshaw will not talk with just anyone." Xander said.
"I don't see the point in you going to begin with, to be honest." Giles replied. He leaned forward, setting his glasses down on the desk next to the phone. "You're a good agent, Xander, but if you feel this case is too much, too soon--"
"I'm not broken, sir." Xander interrupted. "And, I'll admit, I'm getting a little tired of everyone assuming so. I know I can get this guy, but I need a little insight. Not the kind a psychiatrist can give me, but the kind a fellow sociopath can. I know he'll help."
"How can you be so certain?" Giles asked.
"I can't, but it's worth a try." Xander admitted. "No one knows how to get inside a killer's mind than a fellow killer. If I can convince William to look at the murder scenes and autopsy reports, we may discover an actual motive."
"Most serial killers don't have motives, Xander, you know this."
"Forgive me, but I think they do. In their own way, at least. The symbols, the repetition of style, and the way the victim is selected indicates a motive. This Angelus creature isn't doing it because he's bored, he's doing it because he wants to." Xander leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. "I just can't figure out why."
"Very well." Giles reached for his phone. "I'll get you permission. I'll also check on those yearbooks while you are gone. Expect the results on your desk when you return."
The Los Angeles Center for the Criminally Insane was recently built, once it became less practical to send the west coast's sociopath to Boston's facility. Xander had never been inside it and, up until today, he had assumed he never would. It was a large building, with steel doors and a near hospital-like feel. The newest approach to keeping your prisoners uncomfortable, Xander supposed.
Dr. Willow Rosenberg greeted him at the door, immediately shuffling him toward her office. She was a short woman with bright red hair and a sunny disposition. She made Xander comfortable, remembering a time when he was always the first to crack a joke or smile. Willow sat down across from him, a bright smile on her face. "So, you're the man that caught William the Bloody. It's a pleasure to finally meet the man that brought him into this prison and my files."
"Yeah, it was fun." Xander stated sarcastically. Willow raised an eyebrow. "...How is he?"
"Tormenting the staff." Willow informed him, her lips curving into a mild smile. "He's demanded second breakfast and tea in bed thus far. He's rather... Intellectual. We've given him permission to access books within our library. He's rather fond of Robert Frost."
"He is a poet fan." Xander agreed. Yes, William Bradshaw was definitely a lover of poetry. His apartment, when ransacked by the police, had at least five bookshelves lining the wall. They had been overfilled with books. "Did you need anything else, or can I get started?"
"I just need to go over a few rules. Don't accept anything from him. Don't touch the glass wall that separated him from the rest of the world. Most importantly, don't answer any personal questions. He's very charismatic, as I'm sure you know." Willow watched Xander's jaw tense. She stood and handed him a small badge. "I'll walk you to the guard station, shall I?"
Soon, Xander found himself walking down a long hallway. He passed several cell. People thumped on the glass walls, one man yelled obscenities at him. As he drew closer to his destination he saw a small chair had been placed for his convenience. Xander stalled, unable to take the necessary steps to bring the inside of William the Bloody's cell into view.
"Hello, sweetness. Can I have a piece?" Someone asked in another cell. Xander didn't look over. Tightening his hold on his briefcase, Xander stepped forward.
The cell was bright white, a color that didn't fit the madness of its occupant's minds. A few paperback books sat on a bolted down desk. Bits of paper and a felt tip pen resided next to them. At the back of the room was the small twin bed, sheets white and blanket gray. It was bolted down as well. Along the wall was pictures, photographs of places Xander had never been and wondered how they had come to be there.
Propped up, knee bent and the other stretched out, William 'The Bloody' Bradshaw rested his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, though Xander knew he wasn't asleep. The man was an enigma that was certain. He was also beautiful. The hot-blooded gay male in Xander couldn't deny that. Soft skin, bleach white hair that used to be slicked back, but was now falling down into his eyes. The roots were darker, but still blonde. His body was compact, he was but a few inches shorter than Xander, and his stomach had well defined muscles. The light gray prison outfit did nothing to flatter the man, giving him a washed out impression.
Xander still thought he was beautiful, despite the small fault such as too pale skin and a homicidal mentality.
"I was wondering when I'd see you." Clear blue eyes peeked open as a soft voice spoke in a cockney accent.
"Listen, why don't we cut to the chase, William--" Xander started.
"Spike." He interrupted. "William is so blah, don't you think? I'd rather go by Spike."
"Any particular reason you want to change your name?" Xander couldn't help but ask.
"Skin of the chameleon, love. Nonetheless, I won't answer to anything but it."
"Fine. Spike it is." Xander fought to not role his eyes. Bloody murders aside, 'Spike' was the type of man Xander could never deal with. He was arrogant and full of himself, leaving Xander to feel inadequate.
"Now then, love." Spike swung his legs over and off his cot, head cocked to the side as he watched Xander sit down on the small chair provided for him. "What can I do for you?"
"There's a new serial killer in town." Xander informed him. He watched, as Spike stood, moving with liquid grace. "We can't get a hold on him, though."
"We... Or I?" Spike countered, moving toward the glass wall. A single hand reached out and began tracing shapes along the glass. Xander noticed that his fingers, though that of a killer, were slender and delicate, like a writer's. Spike smirked. "Cat got your brain and you're all out of ideas."
"I wont deny it." Xander shrugged. Spike began to smile, his teeth practically bared like a jungle cats. "You understand the mind of a psychotic better than anyone else, what with you being one--"
"Your words, pet, they wound me." Spike interrupted, before dropping down into a crouch. He stared at Xander, causing a shiver to go up the agent's spine. "I could help you, for a price. Can't get nothing for free, you know that."
"I suspected as much." Xander admitted. "What do you want?"
"That would depend on what you were willing to give." Spike let out a soft sigh, his eyes traveling across Xander's form. Xander shifted in his seat and frowned. "I could ask for so many things, you know. Mmm, in fact, what I wouldn't give for one night with you."
"Why? So you could kill me?" Xander realized that his best defense in these types of situations was talking. Most would remain quiet and let Spike talk himself into a stupor. Not Xander, though Xander had a feeling that was why Spike was so intrigued with him. "Even I'm not that stupid, Will... Err, Spike."
Xander wouldn't get used to calling him Spike, he had been William in his head for too long. Though, maybe, a name change would be good. His link to William was thick and constant, digging into his dreams and affecting his work. To have this man before him be Spike would mean he wasn't the murderer that Xander had captured less than a year ago.
"I would never kill you, love." Spike informed Xander, dragging him out of his thoughts. Spike stood, one hand still pressed against the glass. Nails scratched across the surface. "I want to help you."
"Do you? Or maybe this is all a game." Xander stood, picking up his briefcase with a trembling hand. Spike licked his lips and Xander wanted nothing more than to be home, curled up in bed and with the knowledge that he was alone. But even home wasn't safe anymore.
"You can't escape me, Harris!" Spike suddenly snapped, one hand slapping at the glass. Blue eyes, filled with something that Xander couldn't identify, stared. "I'm stuck in your head now. You've got me in every inch and crevice of your soul. I won you."
"I think the artificial light is getting to you." Xander managed to say. Spike wasn't right, or so Xander tried to convince himself.
"Why did you really come here?" Spike asked, his voice a mere hiss. "Was it to get help, or to see me? Give me a copy of the case file, pet, and I'll do your detective work."
"And in return?"
"I want a picture." Spike said, lips curved upward. "A nice big one of you.... Shirtless."
"I will not be one your fantasies, Spike." Xander replied, eyes darting over to the wall with the photographs. He couldn't picture an image of himself up there and he didn't want to.
"You already are, love." Spike smirked. "Give me the file."
Xander's hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase. Should he allow Spike one more entry into his life? He already had to move into a different apartment and buy a new bed because of him. Xander frowned, determined to not think about what Spike did to him, or wanted to do.
Setting his briefcase onto the chair, he slowly undid the clasps. The file wasn't very thick. Xander had only photocopied the important data: pictures of the murder scenes and bodies, as well as the police report. He placed it into the tray that was used for giving food to Spike and pushed it through the wall. Spike watched him, head stuck at a tilt.
"There. I'll... I'll bring your picture when I come next." Xander said.
Spike pulled the file out and flipped it open, a look of pure glee appearing on his face when he saw the full color photos. "What a lovely devil this man must be. You bring me that photo, love, and we'll have him in the cell next to mine shortly."
"So you can play with him, I'm sure." Xander muttered.
"I only play with you, Xander Harris." Spike turned serious eyes toward him. "You know that."
Xander left as quickly as he could, unable to deal with being close to Spike any longer. Once outside, he climbed into his car and took a moment to simply breathe. He had to question his own sanity. He knew coming here had been a bad idea. Spike had a wonderful habit of playing with his victim’s heads. He was sensual, to every core of his being. Even Xander was affected by it.
Spike also had a short attention span. He grew tired of his play quickly, usually resulting in the victim's deaths. Xander could remember every crime scene he had step foot on while on the William the Bloody case. Bloody was a correct title for the man. Yet, Xander couldn't help but notice that Spike's interest in him, the one who placed him in that prison, was not wavering. It was very different from Spike's usual style. It was also really creepy.
Xander drove back to the office slowly. He knew the test results on the yearbooks would be done and placed on his desk within the hour. He needed to get the keys to the Colby storage. The Colby house had already been packed up and was placed on the market two weeks ago. Going to the house wouldn't help anything, now. Still, he needed to see if Ms. Colby had kept any of her high school yearbooks. It could be that this was yet another trend for Angelus.
"Sir?" Faith stood, catching Xander by the arm before he could step into his office.
"Yes? What is it?" Xander asked.
"Mr. Osbourne called." Faith informed him. "He's coming over immediately. It seems he found something while inspecting the pictures he took."
"Good, thank you." Xander opened his office door and entered, Faith behind him. "Did the crime lab send anything over?"
"Yes, the report is there on your desk." Faith said. She wasn't looking at him. Instead she was staring at the various news clippings pinned up to the wall. Some were on Spike's capture; the others were on press releases about Angelus. Xander didn't say anything and focuses instead on the files next to his phone.
"You went to see him today, right?" Faith suddenly asked, causing Xander to look up.
"Yes."
"Why?" Faith frowned. "I mean..."
"Sometimes when you've stared at a file over and over again you start to ignore the little things." Xander informed her. "It's good to have a new perspective on it."
"No offence, sir, but if that's all you needed than one of the other agents, or I, could have looked at it." Faith said, her lips curving into a slight smile. Xander had found that Faith was very sarcastic in nature and that most of the office considered her rude. Xander, however, enjoyed her teasing. It made things interesting.
"I just might take you up on that offer, Faith." Xander smiled.
"Do you think he'll find anything?"
"Bradshaw is... A different breed of human. He'll find something, but whether he'll tell me is another story all together." Xander admitted.
"From what I hear amongst the gossip the likelihood of him not giving you anything is slim to none." Faith smirked. Xander scowled. "Though, that sort of opinion is typically generated when a person is found tied to their bed by the very man he's suppose to be hunting."
Xander refused to acknowledge this comment and instead shifted through the crime lab's report. "Damn."
"No fingerprints?" Faith asked, hovering next to the door. "Well, maybe your little photography friend might have something."
"Let's hope so." Xander sighed and rubbed at his temple. "Otherwise, we're back to ground zero."
Fandom: Buffyverse
Author: frk_werewolf
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.
Chapter Summary: Agent Harris gets permission to visit William the Bloody.
previous chapter
Chapter Two
"I don't like it." Agent Rupert Giles informed him from the other side of the desk. Xander sat in the hard wood chair, knowing Giles bought the contraptions just to keep his workers nervous when they came to visit him. Giles -- Xander had never grown comfortable calling him by his first name -- pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them. "Why don't you have that new girl go?"
"Sir, Faith is not ready for that sort of... Assignment." Xander said, carefully.
"She seems like a capable young woman." Giles commented.
"Yes, and she is, but... You know William Bradshaw will not talk with just anyone." Xander said.
"I don't see the point in you going to begin with, to be honest." Giles replied. He leaned forward, setting his glasses down on the desk next to the phone. "You're a good agent, Xander, but if you feel this case is too much, too soon--"
"I'm not broken, sir." Xander interrupted. "And, I'll admit, I'm getting a little tired of everyone assuming so. I know I can get this guy, but I need a little insight. Not the kind a psychiatrist can give me, but the kind a fellow sociopath can. I know he'll help."
"How can you be so certain?" Giles asked.
"I can't, but it's worth a try." Xander admitted. "No one knows how to get inside a killer's mind than a fellow killer. If I can convince William to look at the murder scenes and autopsy reports, we may discover an actual motive."
"Most serial killers don't have motives, Xander, you know this."
"Forgive me, but I think they do. In their own way, at least. The symbols, the repetition of style, and the way the victim is selected indicates a motive. This Angelus creature isn't doing it because he's bored, he's doing it because he wants to." Xander leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. "I just can't figure out why."
"Very well." Giles reached for his phone. "I'll get you permission. I'll also check on those yearbooks while you are gone. Expect the results on your desk when you return."
The Los Angeles Center for the Criminally Insane was recently built, once it became less practical to send the west coast's sociopath to Boston's facility. Xander had never been inside it and, up until today, he had assumed he never would. It was a large building, with steel doors and a near hospital-like feel. The newest approach to keeping your prisoners uncomfortable, Xander supposed.
Dr. Willow Rosenberg greeted him at the door, immediately shuffling him toward her office. She was a short woman with bright red hair and a sunny disposition. She made Xander comfortable, remembering a time when he was always the first to crack a joke or smile. Willow sat down across from him, a bright smile on her face. "So, you're the man that caught William the Bloody. It's a pleasure to finally meet the man that brought him into this prison and my files."
"Yeah, it was fun." Xander stated sarcastically. Willow raised an eyebrow. "...How is he?"
"Tormenting the staff." Willow informed him, her lips curving into a mild smile. "He's demanded second breakfast and tea in bed thus far. He's rather... Intellectual. We've given him permission to access books within our library. He's rather fond of Robert Frost."
"He is a poet fan." Xander agreed. Yes, William Bradshaw was definitely a lover of poetry. His apartment, when ransacked by the police, had at least five bookshelves lining the wall. They had been overfilled with books. "Did you need anything else, or can I get started?"
"I just need to go over a few rules. Don't accept anything from him. Don't touch the glass wall that separated him from the rest of the world. Most importantly, don't answer any personal questions. He's very charismatic, as I'm sure you know." Willow watched Xander's jaw tense. She stood and handed him a small badge. "I'll walk you to the guard station, shall I?"
Soon, Xander found himself walking down a long hallway. He passed several cell. People thumped on the glass walls, one man yelled obscenities at him. As he drew closer to his destination he saw a small chair had been placed for his convenience. Xander stalled, unable to take the necessary steps to bring the inside of William the Bloody's cell into view.
"Hello, sweetness. Can I have a piece?" Someone asked in another cell. Xander didn't look over. Tightening his hold on his briefcase, Xander stepped forward.
The cell was bright white, a color that didn't fit the madness of its occupant's minds. A few paperback books sat on a bolted down desk. Bits of paper and a felt tip pen resided next to them. At the back of the room was the small twin bed, sheets white and blanket gray. It was bolted down as well. Along the wall was pictures, photographs of places Xander had never been and wondered how they had come to be there.
Propped up, knee bent and the other stretched out, William 'The Bloody' Bradshaw rested his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, though Xander knew he wasn't asleep. The man was an enigma that was certain. He was also beautiful. The hot-blooded gay male in Xander couldn't deny that. Soft skin, bleach white hair that used to be slicked back, but was now falling down into his eyes. The roots were darker, but still blonde. His body was compact, he was but a few inches shorter than Xander, and his stomach had well defined muscles. The light gray prison outfit did nothing to flatter the man, giving him a washed out impression.
Xander still thought he was beautiful, despite the small fault such as too pale skin and a homicidal mentality.
"I was wondering when I'd see you." Clear blue eyes peeked open as a soft voice spoke in a cockney accent.
"Listen, why don't we cut to the chase, William--" Xander started.
"Spike." He interrupted. "William is so blah, don't you think? I'd rather go by Spike."
"Any particular reason you want to change your name?" Xander couldn't help but ask.
"Skin of the chameleon, love. Nonetheless, I won't answer to anything but it."
"Fine. Spike it is." Xander fought to not role his eyes. Bloody murders aside, 'Spike' was the type of man Xander could never deal with. He was arrogant and full of himself, leaving Xander to feel inadequate.
"Now then, love." Spike swung his legs over and off his cot, head cocked to the side as he watched Xander sit down on the small chair provided for him. "What can I do for you?"
"There's a new serial killer in town." Xander informed him. He watched, as Spike stood, moving with liquid grace. "We can't get a hold on him, though."
"We... Or I?" Spike countered, moving toward the glass wall. A single hand reached out and began tracing shapes along the glass. Xander noticed that his fingers, though that of a killer, were slender and delicate, like a writer's. Spike smirked. "Cat got your brain and you're all out of ideas."
"I wont deny it." Xander shrugged. Spike began to smile, his teeth practically bared like a jungle cats. "You understand the mind of a psychotic better than anyone else, what with you being one--"
"Your words, pet, they wound me." Spike interrupted, before dropping down into a crouch. He stared at Xander, causing a shiver to go up the agent's spine. "I could help you, for a price. Can't get nothing for free, you know that."
"I suspected as much." Xander admitted. "What do you want?"
"That would depend on what you were willing to give." Spike let out a soft sigh, his eyes traveling across Xander's form. Xander shifted in his seat and frowned. "I could ask for so many things, you know. Mmm, in fact, what I wouldn't give for one night with you."
"Why? So you could kill me?" Xander realized that his best defense in these types of situations was talking. Most would remain quiet and let Spike talk himself into a stupor. Not Xander, though Xander had a feeling that was why Spike was so intrigued with him. "Even I'm not that stupid, Will... Err, Spike."
Xander wouldn't get used to calling him Spike, he had been William in his head for too long. Though, maybe, a name change would be good. His link to William was thick and constant, digging into his dreams and affecting his work. To have this man before him be Spike would mean he wasn't the murderer that Xander had captured less than a year ago.
"I would never kill you, love." Spike informed Xander, dragging him out of his thoughts. Spike stood, one hand still pressed against the glass. Nails scratched across the surface. "I want to help you."
"Do you? Or maybe this is all a game." Xander stood, picking up his briefcase with a trembling hand. Spike licked his lips and Xander wanted nothing more than to be home, curled up in bed and with the knowledge that he was alone. But even home wasn't safe anymore.
"You can't escape me, Harris!" Spike suddenly snapped, one hand slapping at the glass. Blue eyes, filled with something that Xander couldn't identify, stared. "I'm stuck in your head now. You've got me in every inch and crevice of your soul. I won you."
"I think the artificial light is getting to you." Xander managed to say. Spike wasn't right, or so Xander tried to convince himself.
"Why did you really come here?" Spike asked, his voice a mere hiss. "Was it to get help, or to see me? Give me a copy of the case file, pet, and I'll do your detective work."
"And in return?"
"I want a picture." Spike said, lips curved upward. "A nice big one of you.... Shirtless."
"I will not be one your fantasies, Spike." Xander replied, eyes darting over to the wall with the photographs. He couldn't picture an image of himself up there and he didn't want to.
"You already are, love." Spike smirked. "Give me the file."
Xander's hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase. Should he allow Spike one more entry into his life? He already had to move into a different apartment and buy a new bed because of him. Xander frowned, determined to not think about what Spike did to him, or wanted to do.
Setting his briefcase onto the chair, he slowly undid the clasps. The file wasn't very thick. Xander had only photocopied the important data: pictures of the murder scenes and bodies, as well as the police report. He placed it into the tray that was used for giving food to Spike and pushed it through the wall. Spike watched him, head stuck at a tilt.
"There. I'll... I'll bring your picture when I come next." Xander said.
Spike pulled the file out and flipped it open, a look of pure glee appearing on his face when he saw the full color photos. "What a lovely devil this man must be. You bring me that photo, love, and we'll have him in the cell next to mine shortly."
"So you can play with him, I'm sure." Xander muttered.
"I only play with you, Xander Harris." Spike turned serious eyes toward him. "You know that."
Xander left as quickly as he could, unable to deal with being close to Spike any longer. Once outside, he climbed into his car and took a moment to simply breathe. He had to question his own sanity. He knew coming here had been a bad idea. Spike had a wonderful habit of playing with his victim’s heads. He was sensual, to every core of his being. Even Xander was affected by it.
Spike also had a short attention span. He grew tired of his play quickly, usually resulting in the victim's deaths. Xander could remember every crime scene he had step foot on while on the William the Bloody case. Bloody was a correct title for the man. Yet, Xander couldn't help but notice that Spike's interest in him, the one who placed him in that prison, was not wavering. It was very different from Spike's usual style. It was also really creepy.
Xander drove back to the office slowly. He knew the test results on the yearbooks would be done and placed on his desk within the hour. He needed to get the keys to the Colby storage. The Colby house had already been packed up and was placed on the market two weeks ago. Going to the house wouldn't help anything, now. Still, he needed to see if Ms. Colby had kept any of her high school yearbooks. It could be that this was yet another trend for Angelus.
"Sir?" Faith stood, catching Xander by the arm before he could step into his office.
"Yes? What is it?" Xander asked.
"Mr. Osbourne called." Faith informed him. "He's coming over immediately. It seems he found something while inspecting the pictures he took."
"Good, thank you." Xander opened his office door and entered, Faith behind him. "Did the crime lab send anything over?"
"Yes, the report is there on your desk." Faith said. She wasn't looking at him. Instead she was staring at the various news clippings pinned up to the wall. Some were on Spike's capture; the others were on press releases about Angelus. Xander didn't say anything and focuses instead on the files next to his phone.
"You went to see him today, right?" Faith suddenly asked, causing Xander to look up.
"Yes."
"Why?" Faith frowned. "I mean..."
"Sometimes when you've stared at a file over and over again you start to ignore the little things." Xander informed her. "It's good to have a new perspective on it."
"No offence, sir, but if that's all you needed than one of the other agents, or I, could have looked at it." Faith said, her lips curving into a slight smile. Xander had found that Faith was very sarcastic in nature and that most of the office considered her rude. Xander, however, enjoyed her teasing. It made things interesting.
"I just might take you up on that offer, Faith." Xander smiled.
"Do you think he'll find anything?"
"Bradshaw is... A different breed of human. He'll find something, but whether he'll tell me is another story all together." Xander admitted.
"From what I hear amongst the gossip the likelihood of him not giving you anything is slim to none." Faith smirked. Xander scowled. "Though, that sort of opinion is typically generated when a person is found tied to their bed by the very man he's suppose to be hunting."
Xander refused to acknowledge this comment and instead shifted through the crime lab's report. "Damn."
"No fingerprints?" Faith asked, hovering next to the door. "Well, maybe your little photography friend might have something."
"Let's hope so." Xander sighed and rubbed at his temple. "Otherwise, we're back to ground zero."