Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

~Chapter Ten~

Hutch tipped his head back to swallow down the last of the amber colored liquid from the tall beer mug that sat in front of him on the now empty table. The flashing strobe lights and the loud pulsing beat from the disco music were making his head ache with the pounding tempo and the consistent whining coming from the BeeGees.

The handsome blond sighed and waved away an attractive brunette's invitational smile for a dance, not even bothering to disguise his dislike of the club they were at. He lowered his eyes to the sweating glass and ran his finger along the water droplets beading the glass, never noticing the angry scowl of the scorned woman as she huffed away in disgust mumbling hot words under her breath about how gay men should be outlawed from coming into disco clubs.

Dancing had never been his forte and Hutch much rather preferred a quiet evening at home with a bottle of beer at his side and his guitar across his lap, strumming quiet tunes on the strings of his "lady"; content to let the soft, soothing melody from the harmonizing strings take his cares and thoughts away. Here in this nightclub though, Hutch could barely hear himself conversing, much less thinking, as the blaring music continued to grate upon his nerves.

Light blue eyes drifted over the gyrating bodies pressed closely together on the lit dance floor, seeking out the familiar face of his partner. Every now and then, he could catch glimpses of Starsky in his white disco shirt and bell bottom pants, obscenely pumping his hips to the beat, eyes sparkling with laughter as he spun the small Asian woman around in his arms.

"Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin', and we're stayin' alive, stayin' , ha, ha, ha stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha stayin' alive . . ."

'Oh God, kill me now,' Hutch though irritably as he listened to the nasally voice of whichever BeeGee brother was singing at the moment. Yet his mind hung onto the last two words of the song and he found himself once again thinking about how miraculous it was that his partner had come out of the horrific nightmare of demons and cultists and had managed to stay alive and in one piece- especially when Hutch had thought that all was lost after Starsky and Jason Marcus had gone over the edge of the balcony.

The blond detective traced an old ring made from a water glass stain that had marked the small table he sat at. Even now, amid the swirling colors and the deafening music, Hutch's mind drifted back to the events that happened in the old Church during the raging storm that hit a few days prior; events that had forever changed his way of thinking about the world and what lay beyond the "veil". The strange and frightening experience he'd just lived through was enough to change anyone's spiritual beliefs and if Hutch were honest with himself, his days of being a skeptical atheist were over.

As a boy, the handsome blond remembered sitting quietly in his parent's church trying to understand the hell and damnation sermons his pastor regularly spewed out to the congregation on a weekly basis. For the most part, the whole Sunday ritual of going to church had bored Hutch as a child, for he knew he could be doing something much more stimulating with his time instead of wasting it, kneeling at a pew. Now as a man, Hutch never gave the man upstairs much thought, having decided a long time ago that God didn't exist. After all, how could a benevolent being allow all the suffering that he'd witnessed time and again on the streets? Over the years, Hutch had decided that there was no supreme, omniscient being and in a way, that thought was comforting for it validated his belief that there was only random acts of violence, chaos, and mayhem in the world.

Hutch shook his head, silently chiding himself as he snorted softly, remembering how he'd called out to God time and again for help when Starsky was vulnerable, hurt and alone with Jason in the locked church. The handsome blond detective snorted derisively. What a hypocrite he was! Maybe if he was truthful with himself, Hutch could admit that deep in his heart he still wanted to believe in God, secretly hoping beyond hope that there was some kind of omnipotent being out there watching out for mankind's welfare; but now after witnessing what had happened to Starsky, there was no doubt in the blond's mind of God's existence. If there were demons in this world, then there had to be angels and a God that directed them. Right?

Hutch sighed, eyeing the empty mug, wishing he had another one in front of him. His eyes drifted once more to the dance floor making sure he could still his partner, his overprotective nature still on high alert after Starsky's near brush with death. A slight smile graced the lips of the blond as he caught sight of Starsky strutting his stuff, making a show of sticking out his butt and gyrating it for all it was worth. Shaking his head, Hutch snorted and dropped his eyes once more to his finger that still traced the watermark on the tabletop.

God, if he had lost Starsky that day . . .

He could feel his heartbeat accelerating even now as he remembered rushing over to aid his partner and Starsky going head over heels over the ledge; hurt and battered, fighting for possession of the gun. He could still remember the burn he felt in his throat as he shouted for his partner, fear and dread making his eyes fill with tears as Starsky fell. Images that he would never forget flashed before his eyes as his mind raced back in time to that horrific day . . .

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted in terror, rushing towards his partner as his dark haired counterpart stumbled over the railing, taking the priest with him.

"Starsky . . . Noooooooo!" the blond screamed, hearing the sickening thud and crunch of bodies slamming and breaking against the hard concrete floor twenty-five feet below. "No!" Hutch whispered, silent tears of shock and pain streaming down his face as he forced himself to look at the carnage below. Bright blue eyes, swimming in tears, widened in disbelief and Hutch could feel his limbs trembling, barely able to support his weight as he looked over the ledge. "Oh my God, Starsky . . ." Hutch gasped. "Oh my, God!"

Hutch blinked back the tears, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It was beyond anything he could understand, yet his heart soared with sudden hope and relief as the blond clutched the metal railing, knuckles turning white with the forced pressure; leaning over as he witnessed what could only truly be deemed a miracle.

"S-Starsk!" Hutch rasped; his eyes wide with fear and wonder as Starsky's body hung suspended in mid-air for a few seconds before it was gently lowered to the ground beside the broken and lifeless body of Simon's son. The head of the priest lay at an awkward angle and Hutch knew without a doubt that his neck had probably snapped in the fall. Light blue eyes jerked to Justin Thatcher standing just inside of the huge double doors to the church; the wooden portals were splintered and shattered as it hung open by its hinges. The dark haired FBI agent had his eyes clenched shut, his hand reaching up and out in the direction of the curly haired detective who hovered a few feet above the ground until the brunet was gently lowered by the wave of Justin's hand. The strain on Justin's face was unmistakable and Hutch gasped as Thatcher wavered and then dropped to one knee.

Breathing hard, the dark haired agent opened his green eyes and locked them onto the motionless body of Starsky. Justin shrugged off Mari's touch as she tried to help him. "Go ch-check on him . . ." Thatcher said breathlessly. "I'm alright."

Hutch quickly turned, warily eyeing the trapped demon who snarled at the blond as he rushed past, flying down the stairs to drop beside his partner and Mari who cradled Starsky's head in her lap. The beautiful Asian woman leaned over the prone man as she firmly pressed a tee-shirt to staunch the flow of blood from Starsky's wounds.

"How is he?" the blond panted, focusing his whole attention on his partner who lay so still, his chest barely lifting as air was drawn into his lungs.

Mari shook her head; her eyes misting over with unshed tears. "He's barely breathing. H-His wounds have reopened again and he's lost a lot of blood." Hutch slid over and pressed his larger hands over the saturated tee shirt that Mari had fished from the forgotten duffle bag that lay by the wayside. Almond shaped eyes, dark and doe-like, lifted to glance at the blond beside her. "Hutch . . . I don't think he's going to . . ."

"Where's the bitch?"

Both Hutch and Mari turned to look at Thatcher who staggered to his feet, angry emerald eyes sparkling with determination.

"Justin, you're in no shape to tangle with her right now," Mari warned.

The handsome agent grimaced as he pressed his hand against the side of his head. "Where is she?" Thatcher snapped; ignoring his partner as he glanced at Hutch then made his way to the stairs. "He ain't gonna die if we kill the bitch first; and sending her back to hell where she came from will do just that. All of Starsky's wounds are paranormal inflictions. If we send the demon's ass back to hell, he'll heal right away before your eyes."

"She up there," Hutch said, nodding his chin to the balcony area above. "She's stuck in some kind of ritualistic diagram that was drawn on the floor upstairs.

"She's in a devil's trap so she can't get out," Justin said, climbing the stairs. "Hutch stay with Starsky, Mari I need you to bring the book."

Mari gently lifted Starsky's head and moved over so Hutch could take her place. "He'll be okay, Hutch." Mari whispered. "Justin knows a lot more about demonology than I do and I trust him with my life." At Hutch's nod, Mari quickly opened her bag and dug through the contents within until she found small, black leather bound book. Smiling her encouragement at Hutch, the petite Asian woman quickly climbed the steps and stood beside her partner who glared at the curvaceous black haired demon.

"He's mine," the seccubus hissed, her vicious claws extended out threateningly as she glared venomously at the agents, green eyes glimmering like a cat's in the dim light of the Church's upper room.

"Go fuck yourself, bitch." Justin growled. "He was never yours. The master that summoned you is dead and in a few short minutes you'll be back to hell where you belong." Justin extended his hand and Mari quickly handed the book to the green-eyed agent, listening to the deep baritone voice of her partner as he began reciting the rites in Latin to return the seccubus to the fiery pit from whence she came.

Hutch could hear Justin's voice from below, the Latin words flowing out were spoken with strength and conviction amid the screams coming from the demon; her beautiful corporeal form slowing dissipating back into a plume of oily smoke. The tall blond gently stroked the side of his partner's face; the usually swarthy complexion of the brunet was now pale and shimmered with a sheen of perspiration.

"Hey, buddy," Hutch whispered, hunching over Starsky's still form as if to shield his partner from all the commotion coming from up above them. "You need to wake up, Starsk." Hutch stared at his hand pressing against his friend's abdomen, now crimson with his partner's lifeblood. The blond shivered as he felt rivulets of red escaping down Starsky's sides and pooling under his lower back.

Too much blood . . . too much blood . . .

Hutch bit his lower lip to get a grip over the anxiety he felt. Then, purposely using the soothing voice he reserved just for Starsky, the blond detective continued, "It's gonna be okay now, Gordo . . . you're gonna be okay. J-Just open your eyes for me . . . that's all you have to do . . ."

Hutch could feel his mouth spreading into a smile as the dark curly lashes of the brunet began to roll, to and fro, a sign that Starsky was beginning to regain consciousness. "C'mon pal, just a little bit more, I'm right here beside you."

Hutch lifted his partner's limp hand, taking Starsky's pulse, only to gently rub the soft skin on the inside of the brunet's wrist. The blond detective's eyes began to grow wide as he noticed the deep slashes on Starsky's ribcage slowly starting to mend, the wounds closing up on itself before his very eyes as the shrill screaming above grew more intense and then suddenly stopped. The church grew quiet and still as the rain outside gentled to a soft drizzle and a ray of light gently broke through the storm clouds, filtering through the broken stained glass window to shine upon Starsky who lay prone and unmoving on the hard cold floor.

"Jesus, Starsk," Hutch whispered, shaking his head in disbelief as his partner's flesh knitted itself. Even as he stared in awe, Hutch noticed that where there once was ragged slashes of torn flesh, smooth skin now replaced it; the opened wounds, now closed, were raw and pink with new skin. Hutch used a clean corner of the shirt to wipe away the remaining blood, noticing the pink color of skin on Starsky's abdomen slowly fading until the usual olive tone stood in its place. If Hutch hadn't known better, it would appear as if Starsky had never been wounded in the first place. The tall blond could feel the soft hairs on the back of his neck raise like hackles on a dog.

"Unngh," Starsky groaned softly, dark lashes lifting to reveal sapphire eyes that were dazed and confused. The dark haired detective blinked away the haze that surrounded the golden being hunched over him until Hutch's face came into focus. "B-Blintz?"

Hutch beamed down at his weary friend, his own smile growing as he watched the slow grin that lifted the corners of Starsky's mouth. "Hey, pal! You promised me you wouldn't be sleeping on the job. That demon almost got you, meathead!"

"Yeah?" the brunet rasped, his throat felt dry and it was hard to speak, but Starsky knew Hutch needed him to say something, to ease the worry he could still see on the blond's hovering countenance. "Well, y-you promised me . . . you'd be back in three minutes." Starsky snorted softly at the look that came over Hutch's face and then closed his eyes. His body felt achy and weak like it did after a bout of illness, yet the horrible pain he remembered was rapidly easing. Starsky lifted his lashes once more as voices drew near.

"It's Mari and her partner," Hutch reassured as he turned towards the couple coming their way.

"How is he?" Justin asked.

"His wounds . . . are they gone?" Mari questioned.

"Hello, 'he' is right here," Starsky grumped, feeling Hutch helping him move into a sitting position, knowing how his dark haired partner hated for others to see him weak and vulnerable. The muscle in the brunet's jaw tightened and Starsky stifled a groan as he sat up, but the grin that lit his face made Mari happily run to the dark haired detective.

"Oh my God, David," Mari laughed, "You're okay. Your wounds . . ."

"They're healed." Hutch finished. "It was unbelievable, just as you said Justin, they all just disappeared once the screaming stopped."

"Yeah, she's gone now," Thatcher said softly, crouching next to his elated partner as he eyed Starsky with a keen eye, making sure the cop was indeed alright.

"She? You mean the sickobus?" Starsky asked.

"It's seccubus." Hutch corrected.

"Just call it a bitch," Justin threw in, his eyes twinkling with mischief as Mari admonished him with a stern look. "Yeah, we sent her back home to hell where she belongs."

"Sooo . . . no more dreams then right?" Starsky asked. At the silent nod from the dark haired agent, Starsky sighed wearily and said, "Well, at least maybe now I can put Sammy to rest."

The exhausted brunet glanced up at the sudden quiet that ensconced him as different shades of pupils stared at him with what he interpreted as pity. "Hey now, c'mon guys, don't look at me like that . . . it's over and I'm fine."

"Well, from what Hutch told me, you can do way better than her, David," Mari encouraged. "She didn't even appreciate you and the friendship you share with Hutch. Everyone knows how important it is to have a great relationship with your partner!" Mari childishly stuck out her tongue at the snort that came from Justin Thatcher.

"Yeah, well . . . like I said, it's over." Starsky resolutely repeated as Hutch helped him to slowly stand up. "Samantha's got what she wanted and she can think whatever she'd like to about me and Hutch. Ain't no skin off my back."

"Well, I hate her!" Mari sniffed. "She's an idiot!"

Justin lifted a shoulder with a casual shrug, his eyes looking directly into the cobalt orbs of the weary cop. "I say she's a bitch, and like the demon we just got rid of, I say this Samantha deserves some payback . . . what do you say?" The handsome FBI agent nodded his chin and lifted a brow towards the curly haired cop, only to slowly smile as he caught a glimmer of mischief that sparkled in the sapphire pools of Starsky's eyes.

"I say it's payback time," Starsky agreed with a smirk. "You with me, Hutch?"

"Hutch!"

The laughing couple called out to the blond as they approached, weeding their way out of the sweaty gyrating throng of people that were still on the dance floor. Hearing the call of his name, Hutch snapped back to the here and now, blinking rapidly as the colorful lights from the strobe flashed into his eyes.

"Come on, Hutch. When are you going to ask me to dance?" Mari grinned playfully, wrapping her slender arms around the broad back of the blushing blond. "You haven't asked me to dance at all tonight" The beautiful agent leaned over Hutch's shoulder to speak into his ear as the loud music blared around them.

"Yeah, Hutchinson," Starsky put in his two cents. "You're being a party pooper, you know that don't chya?"

Hutch rolled his eyes at his exuberant partner and then smiled weakly at the petite Asian woman whom he loved as a sister. "Mari," the blond began, shaking his head, "I um . . . well, I don't know how . . . I mean, I do know how to dance, but I um . . . well, I'm not too good at it and . . ."

Mari leaned over and kissed Hutch on his flushed cheek. "It's okay, Ken. I was just joshing with you. I hate these places too. Maybe you can invite me over before my vacation ends and I'll make some sushi and tempura for you, but only if you play your guitar and sing a few songs for me. Is that a deal?"

Hutch smiled widely, his blue eyes softening with fondness for the dark haired lady who warmed his sensitive heart. "It's a deal, Mari! I would feel so honored to do that for you," Hutch said shyly.

"See?" Starsky scolded the FBI agent, "You've gone and made my partner blush! Shame on you!"

Mari laughed out loud and then quieted as she caught sight of the handsome man who entered the loud establishment. "Okay, they're here," she whispered as she bent near Hutch's ear. "Ready for our little plan?"

Hutch rolled his eyes and sighed. Light blue orbs connected to sapphire gems that twinkled with mirth. "You ready for this, buddy?"

Starsky smirked as he nudged his way between Mari and his partner. "You bet, lover boy! Bring it on!"

"Okay, get ready." Mari whispered, eyeing the couple nonchalantly. "Justin is leading her this way. Contact will be made in three, two, one . . ."

"Oh. My. God!" Samantha squealed as she saw the detectives. Her green eyes widened with shock and then narrowed in disgust as she pointed a red tipped nail towards her former curly haired boyfriend who sat on the lap of the handsome blond, lovingly twirling the short golden tendrils that curled at the nape of Hutch's neck. "I knew it! I just KNEWit!" Sammy screamed into Justin's ear.

As the couple neared the table, Mari pulled back and blended in with the crowd of people standing behind their table, her dark brown eyes never leaving the humorous scene that was unraveling right before her as the buxom woman pushed past the smaller lady to stand before Starsky and Hutch.

"Well, well . . . look who's here. And as usual, you're together . . . in more ways than one, I see!" the curvaceous brunette mocked and then snickered. Samantha Elliot gave an ugly sneer as she turned to her handsome companion who she possessively clung to; gloating that David Starsky would see her on the arm of the good-looking, debonair, green-eyed brunet, wanting, no, needing, to hurt her ex-boyfriend by showing off her new stud.

Samantha shuddered as she watched Starsky lean over to kiss his blond boyfriend on the tip of his nose, and she flinched back in surprise as Starsky yelped and jolted on Hutch's lap.

Hutch laughed out loud at the disguised warning he read in his partner's eyes. "C'mon babe, I know how you love it when I pinch that fine ass of yours. There's no need to pretend anymore. Don't be shy just because she's here!" The blond leaned over to nuzzle the brunet's neck and whispered, "How you holding up, babe?" Hutch smiled as he noted the imperceptible nod that the brunet gave him, knowing that Starsky was gonna be fine.

"You see, Justin?" Sammy continued. "I always knew my ex was flaming . . . both he and his partner-lover. Why, they're the talk of the whole department. I always say that there is truth to every rumor that goes around, and when I heard about David's homosexual tendencies, I just knew those rumors were true. Why, I can spot a gay man from across the room and th . . ."

"Shit, is that you Dave? David Starsky right? Oh my God, I thought I'd never see you again. Fuck, the last time I saw you, we were hugging goodbye in 'Nam. Who would have thought after all these years, I'd find you in some joint like this?"

Samantha's red-lined lips dropped open in a humiliating 'O' of surprise as she watched her handsome date drop her arm like it was some sort of disease-ridden, leprous appendage, almost running over the short distance it took to get to the table that the two detectives sat at.

"Thatcher!" Starsky excitedly jumped off Hutch's lap and hugged tightly onto the dark haired agent, his eyes widening in surprise as Justin tipped him over his arm and gave Starsky a huge wet kiss on the lips! It was all Starsky could do to not wipe the kiss off on the back of his arm.

"Mmmm-mmmm baby, you still taste the same!" Justin teased with a smack of his lips. Green eyes roamed over the crowds and connected to familiar almond shaped eyes that glimmered with suppressed mirth. 'At least Mari was getting a kick out of all this,' Justin thought with a smug smile.

"Wh-what?" Samantha Elliot stuttered in disbelief as she watched her date rub his hand over Starsky's ass. "What the hell's going on?"

Justin turned to the brunette, as if suddenly remembering she was there. "What do you think is going on, sweetheart? Thought you could spot a gay dude from across the room. Should have known you were just a lying bitch!" Thatcher sneered as he eyed the buxom woman with undisguised disdain.

"Well!" Samantha fumed, indignation and anger reddening her face. "Well, I . . . I never!"

"Maybe that's why you didn't know a good thing when you had it!" Mari sneered, taking both Starsky's and Justin's arm in hers as she eyed the taller woman. "You had the best men around the whole time and you were blinded by your prejudices. Your biased perceptions made you lose someone so very worthy. I don't know you at all, but I don't need to be a psychic to know that you truly are an idiot!"

"Just who the fuck are you, you China tramp?" Samantha scoffed angrily, staring down the tall line of her nose at the diminutive woman who stood her ground.

Justin growled, green eyes narrowing with anger, "Her name is Mari. She's Japanese, not Chinese, and she's my wife to be."

Justin decided to ignore the look of shocked surprise that registered on Mari's face at his last statement, choosing instead to focus his whole hostility upon the record's clerk. "So I suggest you take your speculations and keep them to yourself; after all, it's your big, bitchy mouth that got you into this mess in the first place."

"It's too bad you didn't have more faith in Starsky," Hutch added softly, his light blue eyes softening as glanced at his silent partner. "You're accusations made you lose a great guy." The blond felt almost sorry for the curvaceous brunette as dawning realization hit her hard, her beautiful face blanching at the thought of what she lost.

"You mean . . ." Samantha began, turning to look at Starsky. "I mean, everyone said that you were gay, Dave. I just . . . I guess I just assumed . . ."

"You made an ass of yourself and him," Justin brusquely cut in, "Making assumptions always seem to do that."

"Oh, Dave . . ." Sam whispered, tears misting her bright green eyes, obvious regret evident on her face. "We can try again . . . I mean, I know you still love me . . ."

Mari looked at Starsky, seeing the hidden pain reflected in his blue eyes and she clutched tighter to the curly haired detective's muscled arm. "I don't think so, bitch," Mari said with a sneer, making her handsome partner snort quietly at her use of such foul language, crude words that usually only fell from his own lips.

"David's done with the likes of you. He and I have a date on the dance floor and then we're off to meet some of my girlfriends . . . ladies with more class than you. Looks like Dave will be stepping up in the world . . ." Mari grinned at the fuming woman.

Samantha Elliot's beautiful face scrunched together in an ugly scowl as she glowered at the shorter woman. "Is that true, Dave? You're going to dump me for her friends?" The attractive brunette turned to look expectantly at the dark haired cop who lifted sapphire colored eyes that hardened to a deep cobalt color.

"I don't know if you're up on current events, Sammy," Starsky said, his intense gaze never wavering from the beautiful face of his former girlfriend. Though he kept his voice soft, his words were very clear even in the din of the nightclub. ". . . But you've been dumped a long time ago, honey . . . and Mari's right, I am moving up in this world because now I don't have a baggage of trash weighing me down all the time."

Samantha's face reddened even more as everyone started laughing around her and it nearly killed her pride when she saw Starsky gazing at her with a look of pity. "You know what? FUCK YOU!" Samantha snapped at her ex, feeling a sense of satisfaction as his chuckling friends suddenly quieted. She expected to see something, anger, sadness, guilt, gloating . . . anything except the calm look of sympathy and understanding that crossed over the brunet's face.

Starsky continued to gaze into the jaded eyes of the woman he'd thought he'd once loved. Keeping his voice soft, but firm; the curly haired detective smiled then said, "I have fucked you, Sammy, remember? And no matter how good sex was with you, it would never, ever make me come back to you, because that's all it was . . . sex. It's over and I thank God for that. You're nothing to me now, except a bad memory."

With that, Starsky turned and gallantly offered Mari his arm, which made the beautiful Asian woman smile; her exquisite exotic features lighting up with joy. Mari clucked her tongue and she turned a gloating look over her shoulder at the angry brunette. "You're loss, girl!"

No one bothered a second glance as Samantha Elliot stormed out of the nightclub in a raging huff; the handsome men choosing instead to lavish their combined attentions upon the petite Asian woman who graced their presence with her quiet charm.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hutch pulled his old, battered car over to the curb fronting Starsky's house as his weary partner attempted to climb out the passenger side. Reaching over, Hutch gently encircled the wrist of his friend, stopping Starsky from leaving. "You okay, buddy?" the blond detective asked quietly, his voice soft like velvet honey.

Starsky snorted, "Still playing the mother hen role, Hutchinson?" At the lift of his partner's perceptive brow, Starsky shrugged half-heartedly, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he saw the blond's blue eyes soften to the color of the sky, understanding and compassion for his partner clearing written upon his Nordic features. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hutch. I'm fine."

Gently releasing Starsky's wrist when he felt the brunet pull back, Hutch eyed his partner. "Rough night, huh?"

Starsky took in a deep breath and sighed. "Well, don' know if I liked doing that to Sammy, but I guess she deserved it in a way."

"Payback's a bitch." Hutch murmured.

Starsky grinned lopsidedly, "Ain't it?" The brunet looked down for a minute before lifting sapphire colored eyes to his best friend in the whole world. "I guess I felt kinda bad for her though, like we were all ganging up on her or somethin'."

"Well, no matter how thinly you slice it, eating humble pie always tastes like shit." Hutch replied sagely.

Starsky gave his partner a weird look and said, "Ya know, Hutch . . . sometimes you sound like my ma."

Hutch chuckled. "It's the mid-western upbringing. Only perfection hails from the mid-west!"

The brunet smirked, fumbling for the handle of the door. "Well, you're a shitty kisser, Blondie. You need to work on perfecting that!" Starsky grinned as he got out and closed the door, only to lean over onto the opened window of the LTD.

"Wait a minute," Hutch protested. "I never kissed you tonight, Starsk. That was Thatcher!"

Starsky chuckled and turned to go. The handsome blond frowned in the dark interior of the car. "I pinched your ass, remember?" Hutch called out to the retreating back of his friend. The blond's frown deepened. "Starsk, come back here. I wanna know how my pinch felt? Was it any good?"

"Goodnight, Hutch." Starsky threw over his shoulder; a lopsided smile could be heard in the brunet's voice.

"Hey . . . come back here." Hutch called out to the retreating back of the brunet. "Hey . . . this conversation is far from done yet . . . Starsk?"

"Staaaaaarsk!"

~Finis~

A/N: Wow . . . it is done. Complete. Finished. Mahalo to all of you who chose to accompany me on this dark rollercoaster of a ride, it sure was a HOOT having you come along. Would love to hear what you thought of the story if you have the time. Thank you to those who took the time to review. As a great author once told me, reviews = love. Take care, and as we say in the islands . . . A hui hou, until we meet again . . .

Love and light . . . Shawne 'til Dawn