Title: Dangerous Curves
Author: SIster Cuervo
Rating: R for adult language and themes
Disclaimers: All characters property of Joss Whedon, ME, et.al. with abject apologies to Dashiell Hammett and Firesign Theatre.

Summary: AU/ BTVS: #2 in the case files of Alexander Harris, Private Investigator. Xander investigates the case of the Blackmailed Blonde, while Spike checks out a Zombie Master. See: #1 Demons Are My Business for the back story.

AN: Picture if you will, a separate reality. A Sunnydale drenched in the lush darkness of Film Noir. A place where an unforgiving universe plays with the innocent and treacherous beauties and inexplicable villainy are the name of the game. Turn the blues down low, and enjoy with an ice-cold gin and tonic, mixed well and served with a twist.

Chapter One---Storm Warning

I swam up out of unconsciousness like a patient from anesthesia. The first thing I heard was the hard crack and hiss of heavy storm waves crashing somewhere close by. Even through my swollen eyelids, I could make out massive flashes of lightening out over the ocean. Kettledrums of thunder played a fusillade across the night sky. The air felt charged with electricity. Somewhere out there a sailor was praying for daylight.

I inhaled and coughed experimentally. As I suspected, not only had I gotten a hard knock on the noggin, but someone had given me a couple of sore ribs to go with it. They didn't feel broken, though. I raised my head up out of the sand and discovered my hands were glued down in a a rank puddle of something that smelled of low tide and cat urine. It matched the filthy taste in my mouth. All together, I've woken up from a three-day boozer feeling a helluva lot better than this. I tried to roll over and get up, but my stomach rebelled. There was a whirlybird turning over in there, and my head felt like it'd been kicked by a Georgia mule.

My socks and shoes were soaked through, and my second-best tweed suit was weighted down with sand and sea water. I was cold and miserable, not to mention a bit concerned for my health. There are a lot of hungry things that live around the shorelines. Some of them have extremely sharp teeth and an appetite for human flesh. I only hoped Mrs. Harris' only son wasn't going to be the featured entree on something's menu for tonight.

I gave up thinking about what might happen and just concentrated on getting my hands out of the muck. The sludge was as thick and sticky as ten year old motor oil. My face and fingers felt tingly and a bit numb, like your jaws after a trip to the dentist. I really needed to get myself out of this mess before whatever or whoever left me here came back to finish the job. Or for snacks.

There was no way of telling how long I'd been here or even where here was. One stretch of California beach looks pretty much like the rest. Sand, rocks, waves-- the occasional giant man-eating fish-creature.

My memory was blurred. I knew my name and that I had ten payments left on my old rattletrap of a car. It was how I got myself in this fix that were still fuzzy. I had a vague recollection of seeing fire or maybe smoke. Then, oddly enough, hearing the jingling of sleigh bells, just before I went down for the count.

I had no idea how I ended up here, face down on this beach. Knowing my luck and the fact that this was indeed Sunnydale, there's was bound to be a demon to blame for it. That's the way it usually happens around here.

When did all the weird get started? It's always weird in Sunnydale. It's like the city fathers all got together and hung out a big sign: Welcome to the Boca Del Infierno, Land of the Weird and Home of the Strange.

tbc

AN: Music for this chapter: Stormy Blues--Billie Holliday